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tarousbaby · 7 months

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I CAN HEAR THE BELLS !

GETOU SUGURU STORY

wedding fever trope!

kinktober day three!

non-con recording, some dirty talk??

masterlist <3

on your big day, your best friend suguru tells you three different reasons why he should be your husband instead and why the runaway bride scenario is just so appealing.

word count: 2637

I CAN HEAR THE BELLS !

your reflection seemed fake, almost. the makeup powdered onto your face meant to make you look happy, and your tittering bridesmaids dresses in different shades of deep red bustling behind you.

nothing could calm your nerves, the raging storm ravaging around inside you.

one of the bridesmaid, some cousin of your arranged husbands, came up behind you and grabbed onto your arm.

“aren’t you excited?” she asked, beaming, “he’s going to be the best husband!”

sure.

he was influential, and you were pretty. your clan was dying, his was thriving. it was all the incentive your family needed to accept the marriage proposal on your behalf.

you hadn’t even been given a second to consider it, and your husband hadn’t been cruel but…you simply didn’t want to marry him.

you were too young, only fresh out of highschool with a good group of friends. you should’ve been partying, exorcizing curses, drinking so hard until you blacked out at the late hours of the morning.

but instead you’d spent the last few months sitting at home doing nothing because according to his clan it was unsightly to do regular adult things.

suguru had been your saving grace, always coming by and watching movies with you or having an at home dinner. he knew how lonely you were, stuck in your apartment more often than not.

you could really use him right now. he always knew what to say, how to calm you down. he was good to you. suguru was wise, careful with his words, knowing exactly what could set you off and calm you down.

behind you, your bridesmaids gushed about how beautiful they all looked. they wouldn’t notice if Suguru stopped by, right? you grab your phone from your purse, scrolling through your contacts before you find suguru’s.

“i need you,” you text him, “could you stop by?”

the response is almost immediate.

“i’ll be there in a second.”

even just by that text, you feel a wave of comfort wash over you. solace from the fact that in one hour, you’d be married.

your eyes raise back to the mirror, staring yourself down in the reflection. you looked like the perfect bride. makeup done immaculately, not a loose strand of hair in place.

your dress was stunning, you would say that much. the white lace and drill against your skin only made your complexion stand out more, enhancing your finer features.

running your hands along the hips, you smooth down the skirt of your dress, trying to make it poof a little less. you couldn’t wait to change into the after party dress, the light-weight red dress that made you stand out less.

that was when you could fade out into the background, become the wife, and let the fame and limelight go to your husband. you could be the pretty housewife he and his family had wanted you to be, even if your hands itched to exorcize a curse.

there’s a knock on the door, quick and cut, as if the person didn’t want to be on the other side too long. you already know who it is, and a bridesmaid is running to open the door before you can even fully turn around.

the girl peaks her head around the corner, murmurings things about how nobody was allowed to see you till the ceremony.

suguru’s voice drawls, “i’m her best friend, i suggest you let me in.”

the girl peaks her head back in, looking to you for clarification to which you simply nod.

meakly, she opens the door, and suguru waltzes in. you notice the way he halts in his tracks upon seeing you, but you’re too busy admiring how he looks.

even if you didn’t like him, your husband had good taste when it came to suits.

it was relatively simple, your average black suit and white undershirt with a red tie. but suguru was never one to be formal. the tucks of his white button up stuck out from underneath his vest, and he had no jacket in sight. his hair was in a loose half-up half-down bun, as it typically is.

his dark eyes sparkle with something unknown, and you feel yourself smiling against your palm.

he takes a few steps forward, taking your hand and kissing the back of your palm with a short bow. “you look beautiful,” he whispers, looking up at you between thick dark eyelashes.

“thank you,” you reply, but you can’t even find the words to describe him.

alluring, lustful, gorgeous.

you could feel the eyes of your bridesmaids as suguru stood up straight, a good amount taller than you, even in your heels.

“what’s wrong?” he asks lowly, trying to block the sound of his voice from the others. you sigh, looping your arm with his and leaning against his bicep.

“everything, i guess? it’s just…i really don’t want to do this, suguru.”

he hums, resting his chin on the crown of your head. “i know. i cant believe this.”

you give a huff, “if you cant believe it, how am i supposed to feel?”

suguru smiles, open and wide, before pressing s soft kiss to the skull of your head. you squirm, hiding further into the fabric of his blouse.

“think i could leave?” you joke, “i’ll be a runaway bride. wonder how much shame that would bring him, huh?”

suguru’s quiet for a very heavy moment, and you turn your head just slightly to look at him in the reflection of the mirror. his eyebrows are furrowed, his lips twisted in a frown.

you consider saying something, but your tongue feels like lead in your mouth. you let out a soft breath, squeezing his arm lightly.

“maybe you don’t have to go through with it…” suguru muttered, “maybe we can go, i can take you. nobody has to know.”

you pull back, apprehension written all over your body language. you don’t quite say no though.

“my parents love you, they’d hide you if his clan started looking for you.”

“suguru,” you say weakly. you couldn’t say no to him. “that’s not a good idea.”

“neither is this,” he points out. his eyes go soft. “just…i can keep you hidden.”

you lean your forehead against his chest.

“give me any valid reason, and i’ll run.”

the words escape you before you can even properly consider what you’re about to do. suguru smiles wide.

“how bout three?”

your bridesmaids stare, straining to hear your quiet conversation.

“anything,” you stress.

“one, you won’t be happy.” he isn’t wrong. you’d be miserable. housewife isn’t the job you wanted in life. you didn’t want to sit at tea with his brothers and cousins wives and talk about mediocre things and how amazing your husbands were.

“two, he doesn’t want you.” suguru wasn’t wrong on that either. he liked your face, and your body, sure but not you. he didn’t like that you enjoyed exorcizing curses. he didn’t like that you enjoyed going out with friends. he didn’t like that you had a life outside of him and his clan.

“three, i do.”

you pulled back so sharply it almost gave you whiplash. the look suguru gave you was akin to amusement, but you could see the careful consideration hidden behind his mask of indifference.

one of the bridesmaids approached, tapping him on the shoulder. “sir, the ceremony just started, i suggest you go take a seat.”

he stutters, before looking back to you. you swallow heavily. “your car is going to leave in five minutes,” you say slowly.

suguru’s never looked happier. he borderline runs out the door, not looking back because he trusted you.

inside your chest, your heart pounded, blood rushing to your cheeks. we’re you really going through with this? you couldn’t back out now.

you turn to your bridesmaids, and smile sheepishly. “i need to use the restroom…” you giggle, “pre-vow nerves, y’know?”

they look for each other, sharing looks and giggles and nods of agreement. you make your way into the attached bathroom and lock the door.

finally, you feel like you can breathe.

you survey the room for a window, finding a relatively sized one behind the toilet. it was a small fit, but it would work. sighing, you close the lid to the toilet and take everything off the back of it as quietly as you could.

fumbling with the locks to the window, you eventually pry it open, but it refuses to stay up on its own.

fighting with it, you take your first steps onto the toilet, leaving your shoes on the tile.

you shimmy through legs first, your feet dangling over warm grass. you struggle to breathe, your chest pushing against the window pane.

eventually you make it out fully, and desperately tug the length of your dress through. you land in a heap of limbs and lace on the dirty grass.

a little dizzy, you look up, not paying any attention to the hundreds of dirt and mud stains now costing your dress. you didn’t buy it, your husbands family did…so.

you hike up the ends of the dress, and run. you know soon enough those bridesmaids are gonna start knocking on the door, assuming they hadn’t already, and tell you that you need to walk down the aisle.

suguru’s car is exactly where you knew it would be.

he’s waiting for you, one arm slung around the passenger seat head rest and the other gripping the wheel.

you pull open the door, jumping in, uncontrollable laughter spilling past your lips. as soon as you’ve gathered up all your dress, you slam the door shut and scream, “drive!”

suguru listens to you, as he always does.

you aren’t sure how far you're driving, but soon the church becomes a far away place, and you end up losing your veil somewhere in the process.

suguru finds an empty car park somewhere close to an unused trail, and parks to take a breath.

he looks to you, his face split with his smile.

you look to him, a matching grin on his face.

you jump him, uncaring for the way your dress tugs and rips as you smash your lips against his. he groans into your open mouth, reaching for your hips and pulling you into his lap.

suguru licks into your mouth, his tongue swiping across your lip, smearing your lipstick and sucking on your tongue.

you whine against his lips, rutting your hips through the fabric of your dress, but getting no friction. suguru chuckles, and grips your waist hard to keep you still.

“ah, not yet. wanna savor this moment. maybe i should take a picture? send it to your bastard of a fiancé, show him what true pleasure looks like on you.”

oh, suguru was mean.

and you loved it.

“please,” you panted, only to be awarded with a harsh bite into your cleavage. he bit hard enough to break skin, a small trickle of red blood leeching down and staining the crystals of your dress bodice.

his tongue lapped at the mark as you hissed, back arching into his touch. more, more, more, your brain chanted.

suguru cared nothing for your dress, clearly, as he reached behind you and ripped the bodice straight in half. you heard the sound of thread snapping and crystals cracking as he threw it’s remains to the passenger seat.

now, he had full access to your boobs, and he didn’t take this lightly.

suguru bit up and down your chest, muttering curses and suppressing groans as you twitched and squealed at every brush of contact his lips made with your puffy nipples, peeking out and begging for attention.

suguru kisses a sweet line down the center of your body, mouthing open sloppy hickeys against your skin.

somewhere in suguru’s car, your phone rang with missed calls and texts. you found yourself giggling despite the ridiculousness of it all. you straighten, squeezing out of your skirt as suguru pushes his seat back. you were naked, save for your underwear and garter belt, a request of your fiance.

you can feel his cock outline straining through his pants, pressing into you, separated by the thin fabric of your clothes. you wiggle your hips slightly, letting his hands roam around your body. eventually, they settled over your stomach, before dipping lower.

he pulls back your garter belt, letting it snap back against your skin with a slap that has you shivering. “your fiance’s a creep,” he comments, but you see the way his eyes glimmer as he tightens it against your thighs, forcing the plush of your skin out.

you struggle to keep your breathing even as his hands lift, pulling down your panties. your stomach churns, anticipation swirling in your chest.

suguru cups your cunt with his palm, his middle finger dipping into your heat and slicking his finger. you whimper, biting down on your lip. sis finger drags up, collecting more of your wetness until he reaches your clit.

he smiles, and gives a few testing circles that have you mewling.

“still a virgin?” he inquires.

softly, you nod, lost in the feeling of his fingers on your clit. one of the things of being married to the future clan head, was that you had to be plenty fertile in order to produce an heir. in the eyes of your husband’s family, if you hadn’t been a virgin, you wouldn’t be fertile enough.

that meant Suguru would be your first. how scandalous.

his fingers speed up on your clit, and you can’t help but roll your hands into his palm, fingers reaching up to toy with your nipples. he presses a soothing kiss to your stomach, and then follows it with a gentle bite.

“faster,” you gasp, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open, “‘m almost there, sugu.”

suguru listens to you, speeding up so fast you almost scream. but then, he rips his fingers away, and the feeling disappears just as quickly.

“no!” you cry, “no! no! no! please, i jus’ wanna cum!”

suguru grabs you by the neck, pressing bruising kisses to your lips as his other hand intertwines your fingers.

“do you really want me to make you cum?” he asks, “tell me, tell me you want me to.”

“i do,” you shriek, “i do!”

your orgasm comes quick, slick pushing out of your pussy as you squeal, hips jerking and twisting. suguru grabs onto your waist, squeezing the plump of your hips and thighs and watching you twitch through the aftershocks.

he leans up, burying his face in your neck.

“feel good, baby?”

“more than good,” you sigh, smiling at him. “way more than good.”

your hands drift down, pressing against his dick. “let me help you…”

he shakes his head, breathing in the smell of your perfume. “no, baby, tonights all about you. gonna make you feel so good.”

you pout, “but i wanna feel you in me.”

suguru looks up at you, grinning almost cruelly as he looks at you. “no, baby, we gotta save that for the honeymoon.”

confusion settles deep in your bones. “huh?” you mumble, tilting your head. he jerks his thumb to the back, where a camera is propped up. the red recording button blinks, and your heart leaps in your chest.

his hand pushes against yours, fingers pressed directly to each other when you felt it. at some point, he’d slipped off your engagement ring with one of his own, a simple silver band glistening on your ring finger where your old stone used to be. in all honesty, you preferred his more.

“you’re evil, suguru,” you grin, and loop your arms around his neck to pull him into a searing kiss, imprinting the memory into your brain.

“only for you, baby.”

170 notes · View notes

minshookie · 3 years

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All Play, No Work.

Pairing | CEO!Yoongi x reader

Genre | yandere,angst

Summary | “your secret relationship with Yoongi is all smooth sailing,until Mrs Kim gets in the way.”

!warnings! | mature language, workplace bullying, gossip, and infidelity. Also some pretty steamy scenes, for readers 18+.

| this is not in anyway shape or form a true depiction or representation of BTS, this is a work of fiction and is not to be taken seriously. For entertainment purposes only.|(this is my work, please don’t repost or steal)

Requested [open for request] words: 2k.

A/N | “I’m so happy you enjoyed “meetings at midnight.” I never really expected over 100 notes that’s crazy! I may have gotten a little carried away with this one but I hope you don’t mind & enjoy it as well. I’ll probably be making a part 2, please take any mistakes as love ❤️”

The disturbing rattle of the air conditioner served as white noise while you toyed with the drooping noodles swimming in the savory sauce placed before you. A few of your coworkers droned on about their plans, their kids and undeserving husbands leaving you alone in the corner of the depressing break room to think about what to expect when getting back to your cubicle. Which was a little less depressing than the powder white painted room you resided in now.

“Y/L/N, Min is asking for you.” The conversations stopped and all three of us looked up into the door frame. Jimin,Yoongi's assistant stood with his hands buried in his stiffly pressed pants pockets. “I-I’m on lunch.” You slowly went back to your lukewarm meal, taking a few noodles into your mouth. Chewing, You waited for the heavy pitter patter of his polished leather loafers to exit, but You never get what you wish for.

“Y/N, please don’t make me have to run back up there just to run back down here and tell you the same thing….c’mon.” He came closing your tupperware, sighing as you pushed it into your lunch bag, embarrassment growing on your features as he stood over you. The stare of nosey coworkers followed as you stepped out of the bland break room. The clacking of Jimin’s shoes found your nerves rather quickly, closely he walked behind you like a school principal making sure you went where instructed.

Taking you past your cubicle to leave your lunch you could almost taste the jealousy being thrown at you like missiles. Disapproving and confused whispers and glares followed you out the area. Reaching the stairs, out of sight of your colleagues you out ran Jimin, the looks, noises and scoffs getting the best of you. You practically threw yourself through yoongi's door, your heart pounding in your ears.

“Hey! hey! Bunny, got here quickly didn’t you?” He walked over locking his loyal assistant out. Falling back on the couch struggling for your breath, closing your eyes, you heard him walk around you. “I told you I’d see you after work, we’d have all night together.” Sighing, he pulls you up by your arms. With a grunt he sat down and replaced your head on his lap. “I know what you said, but did you really think I was going to wait...why should i?” Opening your eyes you met his soft gaze. “Tell me you love me.” He whispers, almost ashamed in himself. Needy, needy,needy,always needy. “This can’t be why you called me in.”

“Why should I?” You laughed, obviously he didn’t share your sense of humor as he tugged harshly on a strand of your hair. “Well if I didn’t love you I’d quit Yoongi.” Rolling over you cuddled into his soft tummy inhaling his masculin scent, this here under him locked in his dim office was your safe place. “No you wouldn’t, I pay you too much.” He murmured petting your back with his large hands. “As if!” You giggled into his tummy, pulling back to look up at your lover. His signature smile displayed on his features, moving his hands from your back he places his limber fingers at the back of your knee. Locking eyes he slid skillfully under your skirt to massage your ass over your panties. “Who were you hiding from today hm?” Groaning you rolled your eyes, you hate how he knows you so well.

“Kim?” “Mrs Kim is the least of my worries now.” You grimaced playing with his buttons. “Mm good, can't be the new girl, maybe her boyfriend?” Your eyes shot open, “boyfriend?! Who?” He planted this topic in the conversation, knowing your interest in the drama of your workplace. “Yeah, she’s running around with the coffee boy.” Laughing, he cut himself off “Jungkook.” He laughed almost uncontrollably. “That’s so cute since when?!” He hums calming down, “uh since about last month, I’ve been watching them get all close and flirty jeon puts extra cream in her coffee, she blushes blah blah. And you know Jimin is the nosiest person in the population of this place.”

You chuckled Nodding in agreeance “learned that way before you did, he was my cubicle neighbor before he was your assistant.” Sitting up you go to his drink cart to grab a bottle of water. “Yeah they’re cute as long as they stay on task, Answer the question though, who’s bothering my baby hm? I hate seeing you that way.” He comes from behind gliding his hands around your front pulling you into his embrace “you have a whole cafeteria in the next wing, I made sure they served your favorite today, and yet you chose the shitty break closet.” His rambling turns into background noise as you look through the one way window. Watching as your coworkers attended their duties, Jungkook balanced coffees in his arms with skill the new girl watched in admiration...I wonder what he’s actually here for.

Yoongi’s breath fans your neck causing you to shiver against him. “I’m sorry what’d you say?” “You’re ok.” He turns you around swiftly kissing you passionately against the glass obviously you’ve missed something. Though unseen the act feels extremely dirty. Dropping your water you cling to his shoulders, legs around his Slender waist. “You're not paying me to make out with you I hope.” He pecks your nose, gnawing his bottom lip. “Huh looks like I am.” “Ah, as tempting as that sounds Yoongs-” “don’t ever call me that.” He nips at your neck in retaliation. “I have a stack of papers on my desk that Mr Jimin has been beating me over the head about.” Groaning he loosens his grip around you. Letting you gather yourself before going to his door.

“I’ll see you tonight yeah?” Pouting,he came kissing your lips once more. “I’ll be waiting.” He opened the door and watched you strut down the stairs.

Getting back to your respectful area, you notice something was off...where’d your lunch go? You could’ve sworn you threw it on your desk. Pulling out the rolling chair to take a seat, “I’ll find it later.” You whispered to yourself,taking a seat, directly in the cold remains of your lunch. “What the fuck!” A wave of laughter was given with your ill response. Noodles dangled from your backside as you turned to look at the mess on your office chair.

“Okay! What are we a bunch of middle school virgins?” Jimin shouted, his face turning a dark shade of peach. “I’m sorry y/n.” Rolling your eyes you tried to keep back tears of utter embarrassment turning away from you colleagues. “Uhm...it’s pretty bad, do you have anything to change into?” He takes off his styled coat and hands it to you. You can’t process over the harsh giggles and whispers, “yeah like I have a closet in my car, Jimin I don’t have shit to put on!” You hiss making him pull an offended expression.

“I could give you something.” Your head snapped in the direction of the quiet new girl in the far corner. “I have a few dresses in car I-I I’m in the process of…” she scans the room unsure of her words “moving.” You offer a smile to cover how distraught you are, unable to respond correctly. “Thank you luci, we appreciate it.” Nodding she smiles softly grabbing her bag going to retrieve the clothes. “Go to the restroom, please.”

Tying the coat around your waist you rushed with your head down to the bathroom, shutting the door behind yourself roughly. Taking off the grey coat Turing to examine your soup covered ass. You brushed the cold noodles letting them splat onto the tiled floor. Pulling coat off the conjoined sinks you found the spacious stall at the end of the row, stripping off your soiled skirt. Nothing better to do, but to sit on the cold stool and wait.

The creaking door of the bathroom cut your silent thoughts short, isn’t Luci a quick one? You chuckled to yourself getting up, about to tell her of your whereabouts…“maybe if the bitch didn’t have her head so far up Min’s ass she woulda saw it coming.” The unknown voice stopped you in your tracks. Her friend snickers. “Shh she could be in here.” “As if I give a fuck, she needs to know!” Peeking through the side of the stall you could see them in the mirror touching up their makeup. “Min’s probably got his head up hers too!” The quieter of the two spoke up.

“Ha that would explain my recent hours, I heard they fuck in the office, I wonder if the sluts any good.” She cleaned the edges of her lipstick, “I’ve fucked him, I know he’s good, really into all the rough shit, he’s crazy.” She tossed her makeup into her bag fixing her hair, “why’d you guys stop?” You felt your chest ache, yoongi never told you about him and Mrs Kim, what kind of fucked story is this? “Little miss pasta booty got the job, and Joon finally proposed...guess he didn’t want me any-” “y/n are you in here?!” Luci’s softened voice searched for you.

“I’m in here.” Responding slightly above a whisper, the soft steps of her pumps were trampled by the clicking steps of the two mud slingers who quickly bursted from the restroom. “I didn’t know what you would like, I have this blue one, it’s a cute summer dress.” She hung it on the door of the stall for me to see. “Or this white one, it’s a bit tighter but I think it’ll look great on you.” Randomly choosing you stripped of your top pulling the dress over yourself. “Thanks Luci, I owe you one.” Collecting your clothes and Jimin’s coat, you left the stall. “No no, I’m sorry Kim did that to you...I should’ve stopped her.” She coyly hangs her head, “not your fault...thanks Luci.” She smiles politely, leaving me alone in the bathroom.

Eunji That jealous bitch, yoongi has much explaining to do. You smooth out your dress bracing yourself for the environment behind the door. only to be pushed back. A deep blush pink shade covering his face, yoongi brings you back in, “you can’t be in here, this is the ladies.” He scans your body before looking at the dirty laundry in your arms. “This is my building. I can be anywhere in any room I want.” Scoffing you attempt to leave, grabbing your forearm he pulls you back. “What’s going on with you I’m here to check and see if you’re alright and here you are acting like an ass y/n” his face held a concerned stare.

“Yoongi the last thing we should be doing is huddling in the bathroom, we’ve drawn enough attention to ‘us’ already.” Unable to look him in the eyes you examine his posture, he propped your chin on his pointer finger bringing your face up. “And since when did you care?” “Ever since your ex painted my ass with my lunch.” He giggled darkly, “what?” Again you attempted escape, only to be overpowered and lifted with ease. “Okay sit the fuck down.” Placing you down in the sink like a child he took your skirt looking at the back. “And this just had to be the one I bought?.” He shook his head like a disappointed father. “What are you acting so mad towards me for, who’s supposedly my ex huh?” He took the skirt under the faucet scrubbing it harshly together with soap.

Why can’t he ever just leave you alone, drawing attention to your relationship was the last thing you needed today. It’s not like nobody knew, it was hard not to. But you hated the unwanted attention the favoritism brought you. “Who lied to you?” “You did.” He stopped the water, “y/n now you know I’d never.” He folded the cleaned wet skirt along with your shirt. “Yoongi, I heard Kim Eunji talking about it. She told her little follower about it while I hid in the stall.” You answered blandly, ready to be freed from the bathroom. His face shifted shades, “what? I’ve never fucked that bitch, all she does is lie and get into shit she has no concern for.” He gripped the sink roughly.

Like a switch, when the right buttons were pushed Yoongi’s temper was quick to strike….though never thrown at you. It can have harsh outcomes and you've seen it first hand. “She runs her mouth about you too much, I’ll have to help her out.” Aggressively released the marble counter, “Yoongi w-what, calm down.” He walked to the door, unsure of what to do. Naive of his wrath you followed behind. “She wants to get fucked? I’ll give her something that’ll fuck her up, something that’ll make her piss off for good this time.”

Not my image

439 notes · View notes

captainhotch · 4 years

Text

Dress | Jess Mariano

Jess Mariano x reader

Summary: Based on the song Dress by Taylor Swift

You flattened your palms against powder blue, paisley covered cami dress you were wearing. It fell right below your mid thigh and you absolutely adored it. You spotted it shopping with your best friend the weekend before and just had to have it, even if it cost you half of your paycheck.

As much as you hated to admit it, your first thought after sliding it on was what Jess’s reaction would be. Not that he was the most expressive guy out there— but a part of you hoped he’d at least tell you that you looked nice.

You didn’t need validation— you knew you looked good. You just wanted to hear it from the dark haired boy who occupied your mind way more then you’d ever admit.

Somehow the pair of you had become best friends, much to the surprise of everyone in Stars Hallow. You had quite a few arguments with Taylor defending the boy.

You spent so much time at Luke’s that you practically lived there and eventually Jess was forced to talk to you. Turns out you actually had a lot in common, specifically in the relm of music and movie taste. He’d spend his lunch and dinner breaks tucked away with you at your designated table towards the back of the restaurant, with a window facing the gazebo. You liked to look out on the lights while you listened to music on your walkman.

The second you layed eyes on Jess Mariano your stomach swarmed with butterflies. While you were looking at him, he was looking at Rory Gilmore.

You didn’t want to be just best friends.

You grabbed your bright pink purse, tossing Kafka’s Metamorphosis inside along with your walkman and slipped on a cropped white cardigan. A part of you hopped it wasn’t too dressy— the other part didn’t care.

You had sat in Luke’s in a full Wolf Man costume before, so it didn’t exactly matter.

The walk to Luke’s was short, with you sharing pleasentries with various townsfolk that you passed by. Miss. Patty was sure to compliment your dress.

Your headphones were already pulled over your head by the time you entered the dinner, shooting Luke a quick smile and wave as you settled into your normal seat. You always came after rush hour so you wouldn’t have to worry about it being taken— by then everyone knew who the seat belonged to.

You didn’t notice Jess’s gaze on your back as you stood facing the table, pulling the book from your bag as you took a seat.

An itch at the back of your neck prompted you to turn your head, catching his wide eyes looking in your direction. Knowing better, you didn’t think anything of it, only shooting Jess a grin and opening the book to your latest spot.

Luke shoved his nephew’s shoulder as he passed by, ripping the damp cloth from his hands, “Close your mouth before a bug flies in there.”

Luke thought you were both idiots. When one of you wasn’t staring, the other was. He had just about had it, honestly.

“I’m taking my lunch,” Jess muttered, throwing his notepad on the counter and sitting opposite of you at your table. His own book was in his hand, some Jane Austen novel that Rory recommended.

“Right,” Luke sighed, watching the two of you take turns looking over your books at the other person, “ridiculous.”

“Why are you dressed like an extra in Clueless?” Jess finally questioned, thumbing the pages of his small book.

You rolled your eyes, moving your headphones to rest on the table, “You watch romcoms often? Didn’t take you for the type— but no judgement here,” you threw up your hands, book still clutched tightly in the left one.

“Shut up, Rory made me watch it.”

Your jaw clenched at that, not that Jess would notice. “Right, well it’s called a dress. People wear them when they don’t wanna wear pants,” you replied, eyes returning to your book.

Not exactly the reaction you had imagined.

“What, you gotta date or something?”

“Yup,” you confirmed, not noticing the change in Jess’s demeanor, “Luke and I have been dating for weeks. We just didn’t want to freak you out, probably should’ve told you sooner,” you smirked, holding your blue checked mug out for the diner owner as he passed your table.

“Thanks, hun,” you winked at the older man.

“Never, ever do that again,” he instructed, pointing a finger in your direction before quickly walking away with the coffee pot.

“Then why are you wearing it?” He pressured.

Honestly you didn’t understand the big deal. You were half tempted to slap the back of his head and scream ‘i’m wearing it so you’ll notice me, idiot,’ but the fear of embarrassment quickly took that off of the table.

“It’s just a dress, I don’t understand why you’re making such a big deal out of it,” you shrugged, pulling at the sleeve of your cardigan.

Jess huffed out a laugh, “Whatever.”

“You know, you can just tell me I look nice and we can move on. I know you have the communication skills of a fifth grader, but I promise it won’t kill you. I’m not gonna mount you over the table if that’s what you’re worried about,” you replied, raising a brow in challenge. Something about the dress must’ve been helping your confidence.

Even Jess was surprised, coughing out loud for a few seconds before settling down.

“What, don’t know how to compliment a girl?”

“I know how to compliment a girl,” he finally smirked, leaning over the table with his arms crossed. Jess’s face was so close to yours that you could feel his breath fan your face.

“Oh really— shit,” you hissed, recoiling as coffee spilled down the front of your pretty new dress.

Jess quickly leaned back with wide eyes, realizing what he had done. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he stood up, walking over to you and helping you stand.

“What the hell happened?” Luke questioned, his eyes shifting between the two of you— more specifically the coffee all over you and his semi-clean floors.

“Slick over here,” you hissed, pointing a finger at Jess, “didn’t like the dress apparently.”

“So you poured coffee on it?” Luke questioned his nephew in exasperation, not putting anything past the boy.

“Wha- no! I like the dress, it’s a very nice dress. I just knocked the coffee over. Accidentally.”

“Very nice, huh?”

“We’re not doing this,” Luke interrupted what was probably about to be more flirting, “you two go upstairs. Let her clean up and borrow some of your clothes. And then you’ll pay for her very nice dress to be dry cleaned. Capiche?”

“Got it,” Jess replied, grabbing your arm gently and pulling you behind him.

“I knew you liked the dress,” you whispered as you made your way through the small diner and up the stairs.

“Shut up,” Jess grinned, opening the door.

You looked around curiously, waiting as he rummaged through his dresser. The space was very small— it was obviously a squeeze for both of their belongs plus the little kitchen and living room area. But it was very Luke. You imagined it was much more tightly before Jess came to town.

“Here,” he gestured for you to hold out your hands, handing you a tee shirt, some sweatpants, and a washcloth. The clothes were too long but it would work for the walk back home. “The bathroom is in there,” he pointed to the only other door in the apartment beside the closet and front one. “I’ll wait for you out here.”

You looked in the mirror, rolling your eyes at your appearance. Of course coffee would spill on your new dress because why wouldn’t it? You reached around back to pull down the zipper, cursing when your arms wouldn’t reach.

And now you’d be forced into the cliche of asking the cute boy to help you unzip. At least your initial intentions were coming true, even if they weren’t in the way you had hoped. The idea of Jess removing the dress had definitely come up in a fantasy while you waited in the checkout line.

You opened the door, sighing loud enough for the boy to hear. “I need your help.”

“You need my help?” He repeated with a question mark, looking over at you. He felt bad, sure, but the desire to laugh at your coffee covered frame was definitely present.

“Yes Polly, I need help. I can’t reach the zipper.”

You turned around, pulling your hair over your shoulder. Your eyes closed as you braced yourself, listening to Jess’s footsteps draw closer. You could feel his presence behind you as he came to a stop— seemingly a little unsure aswell.

“Speed it up, Mariano,” you grumbled, cursing the heat that rushed to your cheeks, “I don’t have all day.”

“Shut up,” he quipped, placing a hand on your waist to steady himself before grabbing the zipper with his other one.

He was slow to pull it down, the heat from his knuckes dancing down your spine as more skin was revealed. You could feel his breath hitch against the back of your neck, making your brows furrow.

He stopped right above the end of your spine, hands lingering in place as both of you refused to speak. The air was palpable, the heat of his hands permiating the thin cotton fabric against your waist. Slowly you turned your head, your eyes meeting his as you held your breath.

He brought the hand that was unzipping your dress up to cup your neck, gaze lingering on your once gloss covered lips. “You look really beautiful in this dress,” he muttered before pulling you in for a searing kiss.

It was fast, both of you out of breath after almost a few seconds— “I look really good without the dress too.”

#jess mariano imagine #jess mariano x reader #gilmore girls imagine #gilmore girls one shot #gilmore girls #jess mariano one shot #jess mariano

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ignitedbynatsu · 3 years

Text

Flour Bomb

A/N: Do I post at the most ungodly hours for my readers in the US? Probably. Do I screw myself by doing so? Yeah, I guess... BUt don’t care 🤷I have this weird obsession when I’m done writing something that I have to get it out as soon as possible 👀 That being said, here is the Natsu x children shenanigans @pro-crastinator14 requested! Hope you like it ❤️

Warnings: swearing

Genre: crack, fluff

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

"Please don't leave us with those three" Gray pleaded as you bid your goodbye to the guild.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go," you told the ice mage as you gave Mira-Jane a hug.

"Then take them with you" he huffed. He was absolutely not looking forward to spending the day with those three troublemakers, especially with you gone.

"I can't, it's some private stuff with the family about our father's will" you explained before giving him a reassuring smile "You'll be fine, I'll be back by tonight.

"Nalu! Kenji! Promise me you'll behave and don't make it too hard on your dad" you crouched down to their level, so you could look them in the eyes and show then you were serious.

"We promise mommy!" Your eldest promised as she placed her hand over her heart, her younger brother soon mimicking her.

"Natsu, the same goes for you" you eyed your husband as you stood straight again. He was in an intense staring contest with Gray but turned to you as soon as he heard his name fall from your lips.

"When do I ever not behave?" He smiled sheepishly. Happy piped up "how about never?"

Natsu shot him a glare before giving you a loving smile "We'll be fine. Now go, you don't want to be late, do you?"

You pressed your lips against his, lingering a little longer than you'd normally do, only breaking apart when you felt your children hug your legs. "Bye, mommy!"

And with that you were gone, leaving the soon-to-be chaos-filled guild behind you for the day.

"Alright so, you'll go to uncle Gray and tell him something's in your water bottle and when he bends down, you squeeze the bottle, spraying him with water" this is how nearly the whole day had passed. Natsu and his children prank everyone in the guild. From putting fake spiders around the bar to scare Mira-Jane to colouring Levy's glasses, resulting in her having dark circles around her eyes. No one was safe.

"Natsu, that's enough!" A covered in strawberry cake Erza growled as she towered over the fire dragon slayer. They had hidden a small balloon in her cake so when she went to grab a bite with her fork, the small dessert went flying everywhere.

Everyone in the guild had a matching expression, showing how fed up everyone was with the pranks. "Fine, fine we'll stop, right kids?"

"Yep! Here you go daddy" Kenji handed him a mug with what Natsu presumed was beer, so he took a swing. It didn't take long before he spits the beverage out, tasting soap instead of the bitterness of the golden liquid.

The two children ran away laughing "Oh no, what have I started"

Everyone was on high alert for the two little monsters that were your children "this is your fault" Gajeel growled as everyone was looking for them.

"We were just having a little fun, how was I supposed to know they wouldn't know when to stop?" Natsu tried to defend himself.

"They're your kids, are you really that surprised they don't have an off button?" Lisanna deadpanned.

Natsu grumbled, knowing she was right and that he shouldn't have let it go this far "has anyone found them?"

Everyone gathered in the middle with no success, unbeknownst to them, walking right into the two children's biggest prank yet "flour bomb!"

How the two managed to get that much flower up there without anyone noticing was an absolute mystery, but as the words fell from the two young mages mouths, an avalanche of white powder flew down, covering the whole guild and their mages in the process.

"Nalu! Kenji!" Natsu yelled at his children, but the two had already run from the scene, the only thing that could be heard was their laughter.

"Shit! We have to clean this up before (Y/N) comes back" the fire mage cursed as realization dawned upon him.

"We?" Gray laughed "Oh, good luck buddy"

Gray patted his shoulder as he and the others piled out of the guild "Wait! Where are you going?"

"To get cleaned up and go to another bar!" Cana called over her shoulder "have fun with your monsters"

A couple more profanities left Natsu's lips as he peered to the guild, hoping to catch even a glimpse of his children.

"There are footsteps here" Happy announced who had flown up to where they had last seen the two.

"Happy you're a genius!" Once Natsu had climbed up the two followed the trail that led them to a small crawl space underneath the roof.

The dragon slayer poked his head in and there indeed where the two troublemakers "Nalu. Kenji. That's enough. Get your asses down"

The two shared a glance, they had never seen their father this serious before. They obeyed his order and quietly made it back downstairs.

"We're sorry, daddy, we didn't mean to make everyone mad" both their head hung low in shame as they prepared themselves to get yelled at.

Natsu sighed, knowing that he was partly to blame in all of this "it's not all your fault, I should've put my foot down sooner."

"So you're not upset with us?" Nalu lifted her head as she looked at her father with glossy eyes.

"I wouldn't say that, but I think cleaning this mess is punishment enough, so I won't yell at you" Natsu patted his daughter's head.

So the four got to work, trying their best to get rid of all the flour, but it was literally everywhere. Halfway through, the two children had fallen asleep, leaving Natsu and Happy to get rid of the rest.

"What happened here" you gasped as you took notice of the mess in front of you. Both your children were covered in flour and knocked out on a table, while Natsu and Happy, who were also covered in flour, were sweeping the floor.

"(Y/N)! You're back early!" Natsu's eyes nearly fell out of their sockets when he heard your voice. Your eyes narrowed at him as you awaited an explanation.

He sighed as he placed the broom against a table and glanced at Nalu and Kenji "A prank that got a little out of hand, but" he rushed to say as you pinched the bridge of your nose in annoyance "before you yell at us, we all knew we were in the wrong and learned from our mistakes. We even decided to clean up as punishment for our behaviour"

Your eyes cast upon your children, still not saying a word so Natsu decided to continue with his apology "we're really sorry, I'm really sorry. I know you put trust in us, and we broke it"

"I'm never leaving you three alone again" you sighed "but it's fine, you saw that you were in the wrong and took responsibility. Let's finish cleaning up and get them home, shall we?"

By the time you were done, the moon was high in the night sky. "You sure you're not mad at me?"

Natsu's voice was hushed as he carried a sleeping Nalu in his arms while you carried Kenji. "No, you'll always be a troublemaker, but you're my troublemaker and I wouldn't have it any other way"

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sooibian · 3 years

Text

Catch These Hands

Pairing: Baekhyun x Fem!Reader

Description: Living with Baekhyun comes with its own challenges

Themes: Fluff (surprise!!!!), established relationship, make up artist and masseur Byun, a little bit of byuntae, and one (1) Eminem reference lol

Prompt: @/notyourenglishprofessor : You SAY you didn’t eat in bed but these crumbs say differently.

A/N: Happy Birthday @is-that-baekhyuns-shirt !!!! here’s your biggest pet peeve woven into a bbh fic! Hope you enjoy it XD

Word count: ~ 1.7k

Nights out have never agreed with you. It’s 2 a.m. and your feet hurt from the heels, your head hurts from the drinks, your little black dress (your best friend sure does have a penchant for party clichés) is mocking your food baby, your makeup feels clumpy - maybe you overused the setting powder but you wouldn’t know because the complex art of blending cosmetics has always eluded you. How do they make it look so easy in YouTube tutorials?

As you’re keying in the passcode to your apartment, despite all the malaise, a sudden surge of comfort courses through your veins at the thought of your adorable boyfriend asleep in a clean, cozy bed, engulfed in warm and fresh sheets that exude the fragrance of a spring meadow - courtesy of your brand new laundry detergent. You imagine he is dressed in his snuggly pajamas, with his lips slightly parted, dark hair tousled, and your ostrich plushie clutched to his chest. Ever since you started living with him, you’d never spent a night away from home but the one time you returned after a weekend long Neuroscience conference, you found your plushie resting in the comfort of his arms. The next morning he insisted that he didn’t know where it came from.

‘Time to catch him red handed’, you smile to yourself.

Kicking off your heels and scraping your hair up in a bun, you tiptoe to your bedroom and the faint melody of Baekhyun singing in a highly expressive croon falls upon your ears.

Tell me you’ll love again, come back to me again..

He should’ve been long asleep and while you can’t wait to crash out either, you allow yourself the pleasure of eavesdropping on his heavenly vocals that always sound especially sweet when he’s wrestling sleep. Until..until you hear it.. the sharp crunch of plastic which sends you barging into the bedroom with exasperation painted across your features.

Baekhyun clamps his mouth shut.

Instead of jumping out of bed to wrap you in his arms, he uncharacteristically stays burrito-ed in his duvet, fixing you with an apologetic gaze. Elbow crushing the pillow underneath him, shoulders crouched, lips pursed, hair dishevelled, pajama bottoms scrunched up to his calves, he tries to blink away the very apparent guilt in his eyes. Your ostrich plushie lay on your side of the bed as if its neck had been snapped like a popsicle stick.

As you loom over him, lower lip wobbling, he pushes his weight further down the pillow but the tail end of the red Orion choco pie wrapper teasingly peeks from underneath it, glimmering in the cozy golden lighting of the bedroom, already chuckling at the drama that is to ensue.

You’re too tired for this.

Without a word to him, you grab a bunch of blankets from the dresser, shut it with a loud bang and stomp out of the room while Baekhyun’s bearing is that of a frozen frame. As you’re questioning your life choices and are about to vent your frustration on the irreproachable couch, your weary gaze finds the bane of your existence again - crumbs. White, inelegant fragments of food conspicuous against your tan sofa.

They say the more you try to avoid something, the more you create it. This was unequivocally the worst quote you’d ever read. You created nothing! You were not the one to leave this slew of crumbs on the sofa neither did you leave a pile of crumbs on the bed! It was all Baekhyun!

You’re way too tired for this.

Drowsy, you lie down on the floor, curled up in the many blankets, although still cautious as your piercing eyes doggedly probe for more evidence of Baekhyun’s insolence. Surprisingly, the rug was clean-ish. It was almost as if he had planned on you sleeping on the floor tonight. This thought fuels the rage bubbling in the pit of your stomach so you force your eyes shut to avoid a shouting match this late in the night.

The shuffling sound of footsteps grows closer and you’re determined not to give him the satisfaction of even a glance. The sound comes to a halt and you feel a gentle caress of warm fingers ghosting over your cheeks which is quickly replaced with a smooth and cool touch of a cotton pad against your eyelids, cheekbones, jaw line, with a distinct scent of micellar water wafting in the little to no space between Baekhyun and you.

You continue to play dead as he’s quietly and deftly taking your makeup off while delicately holding you up by the back of your neck and you coyly move your face from side to side to allow him better access to every inch of your skin.

“Too much setting powder”, he whispers.

Darnit!

“Still so pretty”, he remarks in his dulcet voice. Your head now rests in his lap and he’s gently moving his thumbs in tiny circles under your brows, working his way from inside out and continuing the movement all around your eyes and ending back at the bridge of your nose, almost lulling you to sleep.

At this point every cell in your body is waging a war against your now weakened spirit that’s continuing to disregard him yet you find yourself revelling in his mellow affections.

“It’s a rookie mistake. Not to worry, baby, I’ll help you get it right the next time.” He reassures, planting a soft kiss on your pout.

“Right”, eyes still wilfully shut, you chastise him, “maybe when you find the time from eating in bed.”

“Yah! Don’t be like that.” Baekhyun whines, prying your eyes open with his fingers, not-so-gently.

You smack the back of his hand and sit up cross legged facing him. He stretches his hand out to pat your head and you smack it again invoking a look of pure confusion in Baekhyun’s soft features. His hand is now barely an inch away from your lips and he commands with a raised brow, “Now kiss it better.”

“Ew!” Your hand strikes the back of his, again. “How many times do I have to tell you not to -”

“Not to eat in bed!” Baekhyun completes your sentence with a deep sigh, “I know and I wasn’t -”

“Do not lie to me Byun Baekhyun!” Warning him, you wag your finger as annoyance betrays your voice, rendering your pitch shrill. Dusting the corners of his mouth with the pads of your fingers, you sneer, “These crumbs say otherwise. You know I hate it when you eat in bed! It’s ...It’s….disgusting! And -”

“And?”

“You always ignore my post-its!”

Baekhyun huffs and runs a hand through his hair. Letting on a forced smile, he reasons, “We’ve been living together for three years now. I think it’s time you stopped leaving ‘do not eat’ post-it notes on everything you buy!”

Tilting your head to the side, you explain animatedly, “First of all, you won’t let me buy snacks on our grocery runs because they’re unhealthy or whatever and you want to bring about a stupid dietary reform in the household which, by the way, is failing miserably - ”

“Yah!! We’re still in January, don’t be such a pessimist!”

“Do not interrupt me! The few that I do manage to sneak into the cart are mine and mine alone!”

“It’s just that..the ones that you buy taste better”, he mumbles, unveiling the most powerful weapon in his artillery - the pout.

“That is the most ridiculous thing that’s come out of your mouth today aside from the crumbs! I imagined you’d be...”, it’s nearly 3 a.m. and you’re starting to descend into a fugue state, “you’d be...curled up in bed like a...like a... cooked shrimp with a plushie clutched to it’s chest!”

Visibly offended, he flicks your forehead and bellows, “Cooked shrimp!? It’s called the fetal position. Look it up!”

“I know what it’s called!” Your livid expression eases into a rather ill meaning smile, “My apologies, I took you for a grown man.”

“What in the world - I am a grown man!” His lips stretch into a wide grin and the tips of his fingers tease the sensitive spot on your neck, “would you like to see?”

“You’re disgusting, Byun Baekhyun! A grown man does not eat in bed!” You smack the back of his hand. Again.

“Strike four! You’re obligated to kiss it better now!”

Tears start to well up in your eyes at the sight of his hand dangling so close to your face. “I’m tired”, you cry, burying your face in your hands as exhaustion and exasperation take over, “I really need you to stop eating in bed.”

“Babe, I -” His eyes grow into large brown circles at the sight of your distressed state and he freezes.

“I feel like the crumbs will, like, turn into ferocious ants and nibble at my skin while I’m asleep”, you break into full blown sobs and Baekhyun takes you in his arms, holding you tight against his warm and comforting frame and patting your head to calm you down.

“Hush, baby”, he sing-songs, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! You go get changed into something comfortable and I’ll dust the bed, okay?”

“Can you change the sheets instead?” Sniffling, you ask him with wide, pleading eyes, a sly smile playing at your lips.

His eyebrows shoot upwards and he exclaims, “It’s three in the morn-”

“Please?” You sing-song, a little too loudly.

He lets out a deep sigh, “Okay! I’ll change the sheets.”

With his slightly dispirited face sandwiched between your hands, you ask cheerfully, “And you promise to never eat in bed again?”

“I promise to never eat in bed again.” A dejected Baekhyun says to his knees.

“And you won’t steal my snacks?”

You had now started to push your luck with him, but it was a risk you were willing to take.

He flicks your forehead a little harshly this time making you squeal. “Can you stop with the stupid post-its, already?”

Rubbing your forehead, you surrender and get up. “Fine! I’ll go shower now.”

Baekhyun wraps his arms around your waist. Nuzzling your neck, he coos seductively, "I’ll join you.”

“Byun Baekhyun!”

#exowritersnet #bbh-net #exosnet #exo fluff #baekhyun fluff #exo #baekhyun #exo oneshot #baekhyun oneshot #baekhyun oneshots #byun baekhyun #exo x reader #baekhyun x reader #exo x you #baekhyun x you #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun fanfics #exo fanfic #exo fanfics

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acnelli · 3 years

Text

Coming Home

This is my little story for the HPRomione Discord Popcorn. @remedial-potions gave me the prompt “You can’t just keep pretending things are fine!” and I originally wanted to write some HBP angst, but then changed my mind and wrote this.

Up next is @dot-adsty and I give you the prompt “Flying higher than ever before”.

I also opened my Ask Box and accept prompts from this Prompt List.

Prompt: “You can’t just keep pretending things are fine!”

Ron comes home from a long Auror mission, and Hermione’s plans for the night don’t quite go as she imagined.

You can also read this story on AO3 and FFN.

*** *** *** ***

She had it all planned out.

Every little detail, every single thing Hermione needed to buy or prepare for tonight had been neatly written down in handy list form, categorized and sorted.

Around noon it actually looked like everything would be ready when Ron would come home from his Auror mission this late afternoon. Behind half of the points on said list, Hermione had added a green checkmark. The sight of her lists, especially when some of her tasks on it had been checked off already, always had something oddly satisfying.

To have enough time to prepare everything, she left work early today, stopping by the grocery store on her way back home to buy the last of the ingredients she needed for the roast she planned to make for dinner.

Cooking wasn’t really Hermione’s forte. When Ron was home and didn’t have to work ridiculous hours, the flat was always filled with the scent of some delicious meal or another, and on weekends they often enjoyed a cake or some cookies fresh out of the oven. In the last two months, she sure did cook for herself every now and then but she got to admit that these meals mostly consisted of pasta and sandwiches.

When she planned this day she first considered going with take-away, which she was sure, Ron would’ve been more than fine with. But then she quickly dismissed the idea, figuring that following the instructions of Mrs Weasley’s cookbook couldn’t be that hard. It might not win a contest but she was sure to manage something eatable, at least.

Before she went into the kitchen to start preparing the roast, Hermione observed their living room, mentally going through her list again.

On their couch table Hermione had set up the brand new chess set she bought last week while shopping with her mother. Hermione had discovered the set in the display window of a small, cosy shop she would’ve completely missed it if weren’t for the unusually bright colours catching her attention when she walked by. As soon as she had seen the chess set, she made her way inside the shop right away because it practically screamed Ron Weasley. While not exactly the same bright colour of the Chudley Cannons, the usually white squares and wooden game pieces were painted orange. If she wouldn’t have purchased it from a Muggle, it could’ve been easily merchandise of Ron’s favourite Quidditch team.

Hermione walked over to the couch table and placed two tickets for the next Chudley Cannons game this upcoming weekend onto the chessboard. A smile split her face when she thought about his reaction later. Over the past six months the Cannons actually showed some kind of potential to not end up at the bottom of the league at the end of the season, resulting in the tickets to have gotten a little harder to come by. At least, for top games and derbies.

She knew it was probably a little over the top, considering they had been separated for much longer than eight weeks over the last years, but the constant worry and the almost non-existent possibility to talk or write to him during these missions, increased her excitement for Ron to come home ten-fold.

Yes, Hermione definitely felt slightly ridiculous when she placed a giant red bow around the TV and put the fancy Muggle beer into the fridge, but Ron’s absence caused a restlessness she had to overcome somehow. It also didn’t help that the few letters she got from him made Ron sound mentally and physically exhausted. Even though she knew next to nothing about this mission, she could tell it affected him more than usual.

That’s why today was all about distracting Ron from work, and what would hopefully be the start of a long, stress-free weekend.

But, of course, it would have just been too perfect if anything went according to plan. Because one hour before Ron was due to arrive at home, everything started to blow up in Hermione’s face. Literally and figuratively.

While she tried to research a way how to fix overcooked meat, Hermione cursed herself numerous times for not doing a test run first. Hermione had plans for everything but when it came to cooking she was obviously rubbish.

I should have just ordered Pizza. Ron loves Pizza.

Giving up on the meat’s consistency she quickly decided that spices and a good sauce could somehow safe this. Just as she was about to add all kinds of spices, she heard the fireplace roaring to life.

Ron was here. And he was early.

Forgetting all about the roast, she bolted out of the kitchen and into the living room, almost tripping over one of the loosened bindings of Ron’s ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron she borrowed. And there he stood, shaking the floo powder out of his hair and off the Auror uniform.

When he looked up at her she didn’t waste another second and jumped into his arms. Something between a sob and a laugh escaped her when Ron hugged her close and she felt him kiss the top of her head.

Pulling back, Hermione took Ron’s face between her hands and tugged him down for a kiss. She waited far too long for this.

When they finally broke apart to come up for air again, Ron softly kissed her forehead. “Fuck, I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too,” Hermione said, “And I have a surprise for you!”

“So, you cooking isn’t the surprise?” Ron grinned at her.

“Oh, shut up!”

“Do I have time for a quick shower before dinner?” Ron asked as he shrugged out of his cloak.

“You do. And please take your time.”

*** *** *** ***

Ron couldn’t decide if he was more amused or felt more sorry for Hermione as the 3-course-dinner turned into a small disaster.

With the soup, it had been rather easy. It was incredibly salty and he probably dehydrated this very second, but with a good amount of bread and large swigs from his beer, he was able to pretend he liked it quite easily.

But then Hermione served the main course. As soon as Ron took the first bite he wanted to spit it out right away. It was absolutely inedible and he wondered how he could pretend to eat something which wasn’t tasting like the sole of his trainers.

Very slowly he reached for his beer, figuring it would be easier if he swallowed the bite without chewing. Just as he was about to take a swig, Hermione gave up all pretence.

“Oh my God, this is a complete disaster,” she whined, spitting the piece of meat into a hand towel, “Ron, you can give up the act now.”

As he too spit the overcooked shoe sole out of his mouth, he couldn’t stop the chuckle escaping him, and reached for Hermione’s hand.

“Not all is lost,” he reasoned, a little bit surprised about her being so upset about this dinner. Hermione’s attempts to cook or bake usually made for a lot of entertainment for both of them. “There’s still dessert, isn’t it?”

“Yes, right! Dessert!” She jumped up from her seat and ran into the kitchen with a hopeful glint in her eyes.

“NO,” Ron heard Hermione cry from the kitchen and he immediately jumped up to join her, “No, Pig! No, no, no, no, no!”

As Ron got into the kitchen he saw Pig sitting in a bowl full of what looked like vanilla cream, happily hooting at Hermione who appeared to be on the verge of tears now. Of course, Pig chose this very moment to finish his bath in their pudding as he flew out of the bowl with wildly flapping wings, coating both Hermione and Ron with a good amount of vanilla cream; Hermione’s hair getting the worst of it.

Ron slowly lifted a finger and swiped some cream from his cheek, licking it off as he was wearing a thoughtful look. “That is pretty good, actually.”

“Oh, stop it!” Hermione let out a resigned sigh. “You can’t just keep pretending things are fine! You have some terrible weeks behind you, and then you come home to your girlfriend serving you food that makes you probably crave the tasteless snacks they feed you with on these missions. I should’ve just-“

“Oi!” Ron interrupted her, not quite being able to hide his amusement. “Stop the rambling, barmy woman.” He took her face in his hands and leaned down, so he was at eye level with her. “All I wanted for today was finally seeing you again, Hermione. You never before got upset about bollocking up some cooking. What’s the matter?”

“I- I just wanted to distract you from this mission and make this evening somewhat special, and by now, Pig most likely decorated the whole living room with our pudding.”

Ron simply kissed her. His hands went from her cheeks inside her curly hair, changing their angle a bit to deepen the kiss. As Hermione let her hands wander from his chest back to his shoulders blades and down to the hem of his shirt, Ron decided to make it very clear to Hermione that everything he really needed to feel better, was her. This mission forced Ron to see things he’ll have nightmares about forever, and the only reason he was able to power through all of it, was the prospect of coming home to Hermione. To her touch, to her kisses, to her ramblings about work, to the simple comfort of just having her beside him.

With one swift motion, he swooped her up in his arms. “For such a smart woman, you can be very daft sometimes, love,” Ron said as he walked out of the kitchen.

“I know,” Hermione sighed as she took advantage of her position in Ron’s arms, and left open kisses along the side of his neck and his throat.

Without bothering to clean up the mess in the kitchen and living room, Ron walked them straight to the bedroom, leaving behind a merrily hooting Pigwidgeon who hopped and danced on top of Ron’s new chessboard, coating it with the only eatable dish Hermione produced today.

#hpromione discord #romione #romione drabble #romione fanfic #romione fanfiction #drabble chain #ron weasley #hermione granger #hp #hp fanfic #harry potter #hermione and ron #ron and hermione #ron x hermione #hermione x ron #ronmione #my stories #my fics

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flourishandblctts · 3 years

Text

She’s a Lady || 𝓕red 𝓦easley

ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋꜱ ᴍʏ ʙᴏɴᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʟᴀᴜɢʜ. -ᴄʜᴀʀʟᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴋᴏᴡꜱᴋɪ

Being the youngest child of Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy you were the princess of the family, your older brother Draco was your rock as he was always there for you he was 5 years older than you but in his eyes you were his baby sister that he will protect and care for.

It was easy for you to get away with everything, as a child you were very energetic and was found most of the time next to your mother or even joining your mother at the garden. Playing hide and seek and tea party forcing your brother to join your tea party with your other stuff toys, but behind all the youth days of yours was in the place of Lucius office with his wife who both looking down at the garden seeing you play with your older brother with the other elves at the side making sure you won’t get hurt as you run around, Narcissa’s eyes sting with tears as she knew she had no control to stop what his husband and your grandfather were talking about, which was your future.

Everything will be planned out, your school, house you must be in, your behavior and the man you must marry. As much as your mother hates how your life is now planned out all you have to do is obey to their wishes.

Leaning your head towards the cold window next to you, as you shut your eyes and close the book that you were reading the way to Hogwarts was going to be a while, you didn’t feel like interacting with your friends who were obviously talking about boys or the newest clothes, a knock was heard on your compartment and you saw your brother Draco, your friends all had a crush on him but you roll your eyes when Draco would shamelessly flirt back at them but you like the look on Pansy’s face when he does that.

Pansy was like a sister to you but you knew her intentions was just to get closer to your brother that she has been crushing on since then, opening your eyes meeting those similar silver eyes like yours you raise your brow at him “what?”

“Have you eaten yet? Ever since we left you have been awfully quiet.” His voice had a hint of worry you knew Draco was never going to let you go without seeing that your better. You nodded your head because even just for a bit you ate the pumpkin pasties your friend gave you. Draco didn’t want to believe you at first but he just let it go when Blaise started calling him. “Ladies please keep an eye on my sister, if something happens please tell me.” With that he left and your friend’s cheeks were beet red.

“You have awful taste in men, and none of you are going to date my brother.”

Arriving at Hogwarts and everyone headed to the great hall you told your friends to head first and you’ll catch up but what you didn’t saw coming was a pink shooting ball landing towards you, but you felt someone pull you back your back colliding on someone’s chest earning a groan from the person who just pulled you from that. Turning around you saw a tall, with freckles and ginger hair.

‘Weasley’ your head said, mentally rolling your eyes you knew this was the prankster twins.

“Look I don’t know who you or which twin are you but thanks for that, now if you will excuse me.” You were about to leave when you felt something hit your face and the hallways was erupted by his laughter.

“I’m so sorry” You looked up to see another Weasley who was identical to the one who was laughing, “The machine was broken and you just stood in the spot and then that.” You wiped the pink powder off your face using your sleeves but you felt a hand move it you were about to speak when he whipped his wand out and to your face, you didn’t catch what he said. “There all cleaned up.”

You rolled your eyes walking away feeling irritated by them, “Oh by the way, the name is Fred!” Not looking back and just decided to walk faster.

Ever since that day it was Fred who was following you around or sitting next to you whether it was in the library or in great hall, your friends would exchange looks and everyone else would just think your dating Fred Weasley, it reached up to your brother and he wasn’t even happy about you and Fred but you told him it’s nothing that he was just bothering you he even asked if you wanted him to hex Fred but you weren’t the violent type of person and you just told Draco to never do that.

Sitting down alone by the Black Lake your tears keep streaming down your cheeks, it has been hours you sat here alone ever since you got a black letter from your parents. The letter wasn’t the same as before them asking you ‘how are you’ or ‘do you need anything’ in fact this letter was telling you that after Hogwarts you were going to marry the man they find to be more suitable for you and for the family. You heard someone clear their throat, you whip your head to that direction and saw Fred standing looking at you but his face fell when he saw your red nose, eyes and cheeks. “I noticed you earlier and thought why were you running here when usually no one likes to be alone in the black lake.” You just sighed and patted the spot next to you, “join me?” you looked back at him again “please?” he moved to the spot sitting next to you “care to tell me why your crying?” This was the side of Fred not everyone gets to see he was usually pranking everyone especially the Slytherins, that’s maybe the reason why your brother doesn’t like him because of how he was. Other than that he was a Weasley.

“I’m getting married after Hogwarts, I’m not even sure if I’m ready by then.” You said hugging your knees close to you, tears brimming in your eyes again. “Do you even love the guy?” He looked at you with his brows furrowed looking at you with those eyes, you shook your head indicating ‘no’ “I don’t even know him and I am yet to meet him.” Fred scoffed which made you look at him “What?” “Your living as if your a doll, your being told what to do and what you shouldn’t do is this how you like to live?” You know deep down you knew your life has also been about obeying your families wishes for and that you have no choice but to follow them because they think their always right and what they do will lead you to a better path, “No, I’m tired of living like this.” You said softly sniffing and wiping your tears away but Fred caught your hand on his and he used his thumb to wipe your tears.

“Then be with me and I’ll show you how life should be darling.” As tempting as it sounds you knew you should’ve said no that day but you didn’t and you can’t tell if this was something your going to regret or was just a best mistake you have ever done. You took his hand standing up he followed your action, “Then show me how we should live then.”

It was wrong you know but life has been much better you realize how dull and cold it was before but with Fred showing you happiness it was much different than it was before, being with Fred made you realize you should’ve met him before he left Hogwarts which made you upset however you get to see him whenever you go to Hogsmeade, he showed you him and his twin’s business which you supported him but what you didn’t know is someone had their eyes on you and they laughed because you were with a Weasley.

On the holiday break you sat down with the rest of your family, the table was filled with different variety of food and you took the empty seat next to your brother. But you noticed how gold your father’s eyes were on you ever since you came which you can’t help but wonder. After supper your mother called you and this is were the mess began. You were crying begging to your parents to leave Fred alone and you to have the rights to marry and love whoever you want but this made Lucius blood boil because he didn’t want a Weasley apart of the family who associates themselves with muggles, Narcissa was at the corner feeling helpless to her own daughter who was crying for the last few minutes she wanted to just wrap her arms around you but it was her husband who had to say what must happen even if she wasn’t pleased about it as well, “You don’t go around anymore with that boy or else I will make you move into a different school! The man your marrying is from Drumstrang don’t make me move you there so you can both know each other properly with more time and day and soon after your going to marry him.” You fled from the office but you heard your father calling for you but you just ran upstairs to your room, sobbing your heart out as you bury your face on your white pillow.

Fred hasn’t seen you since then and it hurts because even until now he was still waiting for you.

It wasn’t until he heard the door bell ring and the twins were about to greet but they saw Draco instead which cause the twins to frown instead. “Can I speak to you Fred?” Draco who seemingly asked nicely which cause the twins to exchange look because their not use to this, he just nodded and led Draco to their office. “Why are you here?” Fred asked crossing his arms to his chest, Draco scoffed he didn’t really want to be in here but for his little sister’s request he would do anything for her anyway, Draco didn’t like the Weasley’s but the way his sister talked about that’s when Draco thought maybe their not as bad as his own family think they are. “Here, I know it’s been clearly days that you haven’t seen Y/n she insisted I give you this letter.” The letter was in a dark purple with black ribbon and a stamp of her first letter of her surname ‘M’ in a color of white with golds in it.

“I’ll be off, I hope that letter answers all your question about where she is. And I’m sorry for everything I have been towards you and your other siblings.” With that Draco left the room, the silence was too loud and Fred just stared at the letter in his hand debating whether he should open it now or later when they pack up the shop and close. He decided not to first since he felt his heart hammering inside his chest the rest of the day he felt nervous- no- anxious of what was inside the letter.

When they finish up he bolted into his shared room with George and sat down next to the window, opening the letter he suddenly jolted up and ran out he ignored George’s calling him and where he was going he kept running and running he wasn’t even stopping, he stopped by the Lake where the letter told him to be there because all his questions will be answered when he shows up there. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turning to his back he saw Narcissa and Draco but the person who was in front of him was Y/n. He couldn’t hold back as he swiftly wrapped his arms around her and picked her up spinning around as her laugh filled the cold night. Putting her down he placed his hands on either side of her face, “I thought you forgot about me already.” Fred said looking down at her eyes, “I would never leave you not when I told you to show me how I should live, it’s how we should live because Fred I choose to be with you and not someone else it’s you and only you.” Fred felt his heart thumping even more he felt happy to hear those words even more he was grateful it was night no one can see how red his ears was.

“Then be with me darling, let’s be together until the end.” You placed your hands on his hands and took them off you released a heavy sigh which made Fred wonder you’d say “No, I’m sorry Fred.” he’s face fell and he suddenly felt cold but you laughed at his face and he looked confused, “I’m sorry this was a terrible prank, I can’t believe you just fell for that.” You held onto your stomach as you laughed even more and Fred can’t believe he fell for that indeed. “I’ll get my revenge next time but now I’m freezing cold, come on shorty I’m taking you with me.” He carried you like a bridal style and you were just happy to be out of your families rules and ridiculous plans for you, and you were right to say yes that day and be with Fred. Taking the risk your life needed.

the gif is not mine, credits to the owner.

#fred gideon weasley #fred weasley #fred and goerge weasley #fred wealsey fic #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasely fluff #harry potter #hp #harry potter fanfic #harryimagine

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problematicfavesareproblematic · 4 years

Text

Ignorance is Blitzed (Part One)

When you come into contact with some substance that makes you sick while on a routine building search, Ron realizes he may not be as emotionally detached as he’d thought initally thought. WARNINGS: you get poisoned and feel pretty shit, there are some potty words, but all in all pretty tame (FOR NOW).

This will probably be at least a two part-er, so let a sister know if you want to be tagged(?)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You’d barely had a chance to get out of the building you’d been searching before you coughed so violently you fell to your knees, a horrible gasping sound tearing its way out of your throat before you even have a chance to scream for a medic.

You were dying. You had to be dying.

You’d found an ivory crushed tablet at the bottom of a footlocker you’d found inside of the bombed out general store the Nazi’s had been using as sleeping barracks, and instantly pinched some of it between your fingers for closer inspection, rubbing the chalky dust between your fingertips to see if it had the same texture as aspirin.

It wasn’t uncommon for one of you to find medications and other rations in footlockers and other personal items during an inventory search, and most of the time you could easily figure out what it was and whether or not it was something Doc or someone else might need.

But this tablet and it’s powder were unfamiliar (aspirin would’ve had a more obvious, sour odor that you would’ve clocked the minute you’d opened the footlocker’s lid), and when you brought it to your nose to sniff it more critically you instantly regretted it—the smell was chemical and harsh and it burned your nasal passage in a way you’d never experienced before. Your eyes had instantly watered and you’d exhaled sharply through your nostrils in a vain attempt to make the hurt go away.

The pain spread up your head and spiderwebbed into your brain. A bursting prickle of pain behind your eyes flared like a burning star, your face had begun feeling hot and your head was ringing.

It’s too hot in here, I have to get out of here so I can breathe.

You pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes as you stumbled back out the way you had come, bumping heavily between the rough stone of the wall and your friends as you desperately tried to remember the way out.

You felt sick to your stomach as your skin breaks out into a cool sweat. Panic was setting in, with your ability to breath compromised as well as your hearing beginning to go white.

“Y/n?” you think you hear Martin calling your name through the fog that is taking residence in your ear canals, and something is trying to pull your hands from your eyes. “Hey kiddo, what’s wrong? What’d you find—?”

“DON’T!” You blurt, opening your eyes and wishing you hadn't when the room begins to spin. You see the light of the doorway over Bull’s shoulder-Bull? When did he get here?- and you close your eyes and forget everything else except for forward and outside and I can't breathe….

“Hey!” Someone (Luz?) growls as you shove the shape of him out of the way, and you don’t think you’re making sense but you’re talking all the same.

Stop talking, you need air!

When your knees hit the hard ground you barely have a chance to catch yourself on your hands before you dry heave so hard you can feel the ache of it in your ribs. Your heart is beating too fast and hard in your chest and if you could feel your hands you’d use them to tear some of your layers away because you’re boiling alive and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“Fuck, what happened—WHAT HAPPENED?!”

With a great deal of effort you crack your eyes open again and spot Ron Speirs’ signature glare coming your way, shucking off his vest and bag without breaking stride as he neared. You’re aware of Martin and Bull by your sides, but you can’t seem to figure out what they’re saying.

Why is no one helping me? Can’t they see I’m dying?

“Don’t touch the tab- cough cough….the footlocker….!” you try again, tasting blood in your mouth after you released another hacking cough, and you’re dimly aware of Bull pulling your hat off of your head and sigh at the blissful chill of fresh air on your clammy skin.

“We got it, no one’s gonna touch it, y/n—” he murmurs somewhere to your left, and you think you nod in understanding but you can’t be sure/

“What’s happening?” Ron snapped, his rough hands grabbing your face and tilting it up so he could look at it. “Where does it hurt, y/n—?”

“I can’t breathe! It's so hard to breathe— Fuck, i think my brain is melting…”

“Your brain?” his voice is lower in volume now, yet your head still throbs as if he were shouting. Your head is thudding in time with your heartbeat, and you don't realize you’ve been crying until his thumbs brush away from the tears clouding your vision.

A tremble runs through your body and you squeeze your eyes shut as the world tilts from side to side unreliably.

His rough hands are abruptly snatched back, but you can’t open your eyes to keep track of where they have gone.

Suddenly, a set of arms hook under your knees and shoulders and you're lifted from the ground, your head reeling.

“Don’t!” she gasps as the person carrying her begins to quickly walk back the way you’d seen that Speirs had come from. “I’ll get sick on you—!“

“Then get sick on me. It’s not the worst thing to happen to this coat.” Ron says matter-of-factly, making his grip on you painfully tight as he begins barking orders at people around you.

“Ron—” you try again, but your body spasms in his arms as the pain in your head crests to new heights. “Oh, God, I think I’m dying—”

“Shut up.” He hisses, and you think you hear a stain of panic in his command. “Just shut up and try to stay awake”

You sob as you lean your head against his shoulder, your bones too big for your body and your skin aching.

The next time you blink Roe is suddenly there, and your mouth is so dry your tongue creaks as it moves in your mouth.

You’ve been set on a lumpy mattress somewhere and Ron, Nix, Bull, and Roe are standing around you and talking amongst each other too quickly for you to catch.

By some miracle you are able to shove Roe away from your side just in time to avoid your vomit as you lean over the side of the bed and throw up painfully onto the ground where his feet had just been.

Your head is so foggy now, and everything hurts so badly you wish that you would just die and be done with the whole thing.

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up about that?” you hear Ron chide, and hands are smoothing your hair off of your face and neck with a gentleness you didn’t expect from someone so rough. “You heard the Doc, didn’t you?”

You shake your head because you honestly had no idea what Eugene may have said (because up until recently you hadn’t even known he’d been there), letting another set of hands push your shoulders back until you were laying on the mattress again.

You felt Roe rubbing at the skin inside of your elbow as he prepared some sort of injection, and you tried your best to hold still so he could find a vein.

“C’mon, y/n,” Nixon’s voice was far away, and in your delirium you could’ve sworn he sounded just like your dad. “I know it’s tough but try to stay still—”

Home, home, should’ve stayed home. Wouldn’t have died like this at home….

“It’s okay, darlin’” Roe mumbled, cursing in French as another spasm of trembling runs through you. “It’s gonna be over soon—”

Before you can even begin to panic about that promise, hands grab your face again and turn your head away from the doctor, and when you open your eyes all you can see is Ron.

“It’s not poison, you’re not dying, Y/n- look at me! Good, now just look at me and the Doc’ll give you something to make you feel better—”

Th poke of the needle makes you cry out like a baby, but rather than getting angry with you Ron just nods and makes a soft tsking sound under his breath.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.”

You watch those dark eyes of his harden as he shoots a look towards Roe. “How long till that shit kicks in—?”

“Seconds. It may not knock her out, but she should start feeling better right away—”

Speirs didn’t bother waiting for the man to finish before looking back down at you and softening his gaze once more.

He must be scared, he wouldn’t be acting like this in front of other people if he wasn’t scared i might not make it.

Whatever Roe had injected you with was cold in your veins, blissfully cold, and you could feel it turning your spasming limbs to lead with each slowing thud of your heart.

Taking what had to be the first deep breath you’d taken in hours, you watch as Ron nods and makes a point to sync your breathing, his breath cool of your damp face as he exhales with you.

“Good, good. That’s good, sweetheart….”

Your eyes lose their ability to focus, eyelids now too heavy to keep open.

But the idea of letting them close and going to sleep filled you with dread, and even though you couldn’t articulate your concern Ron seemed to read your mind and you felt his lips at the shel of your ear.

“I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise you that you’ll be okay, okay?”

You weren’t sure if he was saying it more to you or to himself or to the other men in the room, but you nodded all the same.

A cool cloth is wiped across your brow and you feel yourself sinking into whatever medicated slumber Roe has concocted for you.

“What the fuck is Pervitin and what the hell was it doing in an SS footlocker?”

Bull’s voice sounds like it’s underwater, and the harder you try to listen and see what the answer is, you quicker you slip into the cool and inviting darkness that curled around the edges of your mind.

I could rest, you think with resigned exhaustion as you let yourself fall from consciousness. It’s been so long since I’ve rested….

The weight of Ron’s hand on your cheek was the last thing holding you to the world, and when that slipped away you followed suit.

And nothing hurt anymore.

******IMPORTANT HISTORICAL CONTEXT:

After discovering boxes of tablets labeled Pervitin on a downed German supply plane (if i remember this correctly), the Allies realized that the Axis countries had developed a performance enhancing drug that would: 1. Keep soldiers awake and active for days at a time without needing sleep/food, 2. Increased aggression and confidence in battle, and 3. Kept soldiers from slipping into ‘shell shock’.

BIG PROBLEM THOUGH, BC PERVITIN IS LITERALLY JUST METH. REALLY REALLY PURE AND CONCENTRATED METH (which is BAD!)!

So, the Allies said to themselves: “Self, self here. Listen- what if we came up with our own Pervitin for our soldiers so they too can be better/faster/stronger?”

So, the Allies came up with Benzedrine- WHICH IS ALSO METH AND STILL VV BAD FOR YOU!

In this story, reader stumbles across some accidentally and unknowingly ends up ingesting it and you get vv sick (which is also a thing that happens to ppl who accidentally inhale amphetamines). Bc I’m a nerd I looked it up that nowadays you’d probably be given some sort of Benzodiazepine/nourishing fluids cocktail to counteract the side effects, so we’re gonna pretend that’s what the cure is in the 40s MKAY? MKAY.

(also tagging @mrsalwayswrite bc rumor has it they also have a soft spot for our dashing murder prince with nice hair and death in his eyes)

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #ron speirs x reader #ronald speirs x reader #it's vv bad but I'll just add it to the pile of already burning garbage pile that is my bibliography #Also sorry for the word play I've been hanging out with my dad too much

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fascination-street-writing · 4 years

Text

Be With Me Tonight | Guido Mista x F!Reader

Regret is a sickening temptation - and you have ruined everything.

Content Warnings: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content (Oral & Implied), Implied Past Attempted Sexual Assault, Potentially Dubious Consent, & Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics (Past & Present)

You said you would do your own makeup. And yet, here you sit on a thrifted barstool – never mind the tweed upholstery that digs into the underside of your skirt-clad thighs, when you paid less for the stool than you would a loaf of bread – and flinch as your sister nearly prods your iris with the mascara wand clutched in her tremoring hand. She smells of hair spray and counterfeit perfume. You look to the mirror that hangs above the vanity.

“You really should change before we go,” she tells you while returning the wand to its tube. Fingers toil through your hair: she scrutinizes your appearance as though you are a porcelain doll and she your maker. You suppose that, in a way, she is. “You won’t catch anyone’s attention dressed like that.”

The reflection of your cherry-red lips mimics the frown upon your face. “Maybe I don’t want to ‘catch anyone’s attention,’” you retort. “I’m not even ready to start dating again.”

She groans. “You’re not still caught up on that perdente, are you?”

You do not have to bite back a quip because you do not have one. Instead, you bite your stained lips and look away. Though the relationship with your most recent ex had ended on mutual terms, the separation stings nonetheless.

“You know, you’ve always had bad taste in men,” your sister continues. Varnish to a wall, she rubs powder across your cheekbones. “First there was that pervertito when you were fifteen, and now a convicted murderer.”

“Can you stop?” you demand, clenching your fist. “He’s not a murderer. It was self-defense.”

“Regardless of what you think, he still killed three men. I can’t believe the landlord hasn’t changed our locks yet. I asked him almost a year ago now, ever since he was released from prison,” your sister insists, ignoring your plea. “You should’ve asked for his key back.”

“He has a name, you know.” Guido Mista – a name that once tasted like honey on your tongue, now bitter as cigarette smoke.

And your sister refuses to speak it, for she hates the taste of cigarettes. A hum dies on her lips. Her smirk bequeaths to you an urgency to cower in shame; however, the distressed look in her eyes tells you how much she fears for your welfare.

As if she has anything to genuinely be afraid of.

Guido Mista has, for most of your life, been something of an extended acquaintance to you. His is a recognizable presence in crowded hallways; after all, who else amongst the student body could muster the same courage to break the dress-code by donning a purple beanie cap atop their head? You will admit to him that you look forward to the days when a teacher confiscates his cap because it means that you get to admire his rich chocolate curls all day long from your seat at the back of the classroom. He will chuckle in response and press a sloppy kiss to your cheek while running his calloused fingers over the sides of your belly, drinking in the laughter that bubbles through you, as if you are the fountain of ever-lasting love itself.

But it was not always this way. Before Mista came a boy whose name you will etch from memory in time – remembered as a boyfriend, but never as a partner.

At your locker, he leans over you, waiting for you to stack your textbooks away. You are fifteen, and he asks you to join him behind the bleachers of the gymnasium. No more than a pet tethered by a chain, you follow him blindly to where his companions wait. You know their pubescent faces but you seldom speak to them. Their names do not matter anymore, either.

In a school dress, pitted against three boys who surpass you in height – you never stood a chance.

The squealing of the gymnasium doors and the slamming of the lock is not enough to stop them. It did little more than encourage your perpetrators to wedge you between their clothed bodies as they fist your hair and tug at the skirt that your father has only just purchased for you after you spilled grape juice over the previous one. You spot the purple beanie over your boyfriend’s blazer-clad shoulder and cry out to him – to Guido Mista.

His cap has fallen from his head, and they beat him until he gasps for air and spews bile from his throat. But he never begs them to stop because it keeps them from attacking you again. He can hardly put up a fight when every attempt to stand is quelled by the diving of a loafer-clad foot into the pit of his stomach Your boyfriend grabs him by those beautiful curls and ushers his face against the waxed floors. The glint of a pocketknife catches your eye.

The school-bell blares. The boy who had held you back throws you to the ground. The pocketknife clamors with you, just beyond the grasp of the tips of your fingers. Your ex-boyfriend (for you no longer consider him as anything more) and his boyish companions dust off their blazers, straighten their ties, and hurry off for their next round of classes. They leave you with your unsettled clothes and a boy with a broken nose.

Clutching the rungs of the bleachers, Mista pulls his body upwards: a buoy in the sea, and you the only vessel on the horizon. You press his discarded beanie – which you cannot help but to notice smells comfortingly so of cedarwood – to his nose. Red blossoms seep into the delicate threads. “Are you okay?” he asks you with a cough and a grimace for, as you will come to discover, he has cracked a rib.

“Yes.” Compared to his injuries, you cleared the scuffle relatively unscathed. Mista had stepped in before anything beyond the tearing of your uniform could happen. And yet, his concern is of you and not for his own well-being. “Thank you.”

He flashes you a lopsided grin. You are glad to see that, though laced with the blood that seeps into his mouth, he has not lost any teeth. His repose is infectious, and his ease illuminates your own composure. You help him to stand and together you walk to the nurse’s office, his arm slung over your shoulders and yours around his waist. Your attackers are expelled; their testimony of falsified innocence could not hold a candle to security footage, or a pocketknife engraved with damning initials. Despite everything, you make a new friend. The two of you will become lovers at sixteen – utterly inseparable.

Until the very end.

You prefer sweeter cocktails, but you accept the gin and tonic from your sister and lift it to your lips anyways. The relief of the ice pooling in the cavities of your mouth is a reprieve from the suffocating atmosphere of the nightclub. Too many bodies, too much sweat – too many different smells, and suddenly your mind whirls. You place the emptied glass atop a table and only then do you realize that you never juiced the translucent lime wedge curled around the rim.

The circle of women whom you find yourself dancing with are strangers; you sway as though you have all known each other for a lifetime. You do not understand the words of the American pop song that resonates from the wall speakers, but it does not matter; after all, even an illiterate man can read rhythm. Across the dancefloor, your sister drags two men with her towards the restroom.

A pelvis presses against your backend – or perhaps, it is your backend that leans into the nook of the clubber swaying behind you. A pair of hands falls to your hips, though you take the lead in rocking side-to-side to Laura Branigan’s cadence. Over the sound of music, the woman to your left suggests that you all swap cellphone numbers. The woman to your right agrees with a drunken nod of her head and, giddy with excitement, clasps your hand. The woman directly across from you offers to order a round of shots to commemorate this newfound comradery. Instead of a tray filled with cinnamon whiskey, she returns with an olive-toned man clad in orange leopard print pants and a blue cross-patterned sweater that exposes his midriff.

“Hey, ladies,” the woman calls out to your circle. The lights ripple across her flushed skin like water. “This is Mista.”

You freeze, your hips suspended mid-beat. Your dance partner pouts and pulls away. Mista does not look to you, and you are grateful . . . Until his coffee-colored eyes do fall to your face after a hiccup jostles your chest. His brows furrow, gaze darting between you and the man behind you. Before his steadily parting lips can utter your name against the clapping of the bass, you are gone because you are not ready.

The winter breeze makes you shiver. The nightly chill is preferable to the sweltering sanctuary behind you, where only moments ago you bobbed along to pop songs and impulsively contemplated friendship with intoxicated patrons who will not remember you in the morning.

The green dial of your cellphone flashes and reflects upon scattered puddles. You text your sister and tell her that you are going home – don’t wait up. Your affinity for clubbing has gone sour.

“I thought that was you.”

Your heart races quickly, so much that it might burst from the nook between your breasts and land on the ground before his white boots. “Yeah, it’s me,” you say. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“You too. So, what’ve you been up to?”

“Just stuff. And things.”

Mista laughs. “Stuff and things?”

“Y’know, work,” you tell him with a nod. “More work.”

“Me too.” You fidget with your purse. “I saw your sister – or, the back of her head, actually. How’s she doin’?”

“She’s good.”

“Good.”

A man stumbles through the door. He reeks of cheap bourbon and rye. You and Mista step aside and watch the man as he struggles to walk away from the club. The scene has created a lull to your painfully cumbrous conversation; you reap the opportunity, for it becomes your self-proclaimed cue to leave. You open your mouth to bid Mista adieu. The taste of your own lipstick leaves you sputtering.

“Hey, so uh, are you busy?” he suddenly asks, cutting you off. You have always believed that he could read minds. In this moment, it is as if he knows your intent – as if shuffling in your heels and tightening the grasp on your purse were not telltale signs of your discomfort.

“Not really,” you insist. “I was about to head home.”

“Cool, cool. I was just wondering because you left something behind at my apartment. I’ve been meaning to give it back, but I didn’t think it’d be right to just show up at your doorstep or something.”

“It hasn’t stopped you before,” you chide.

“I know, I know. I just figured it’d make sense to stop at my place, since it’s on the way.”

It gnaws at you – the voice in your head that tells you to leave him be, here and now. It will not do you any good, stepping back into walls once sacred to you. He stares at you, wide-eyed, and gages your reaction. Dark curls poke out from beneath the rim of his cap. You wonder if he still uses that cedarwood shampoo.

It would not do you any good to go with him. The prospect of sipping a glass of wine whilst soaking in a warm bath beckons you home. There is little trouble that you can muster with an idle night, for the night is still young and you have not given up. Though the moon has reached its peak, you cannot surrender. You have made your choice.

“Sure.”

But you never intended to make the right one.

You were sure to slip on a set of shoes before stepping outside. Through the hallway, down the elevator, across the lobby, and onto the street you wander with little more than the glow of streetlamps and passing headlights to guide your way through the dark. You find him in the alley between your apartment building and the next. The stink of a prison cell has imprinted itself onto his skin.

He slips a single nickel-plated key into your hand. “Your sister probably wouldn’t appreciate me having this,” he says.

“You can keep it. I’ll tell her you forgot it.” When he does not accept the return, you reach out and tuck the key into the pocket of his cargo pants. “Just so you have something to remember me by.”

The look in his eyes – the sheen of gloss that coats his irises – churns your stomach. In that moment, Mista reminds you of a dog scorned by his owner. In a way, that is exactly what he is. “You still have that sweater I sent you, right?”

Mustard-yellow, and one of your favorites. And one of Mista’s, too. You had sent it to him during his second week in holding. “Yeah.”

“Keep that, too.” A revolver rests in inside the waistband of his pants. It is a new addition to his appearance. It does not unsettle you, because you know that this man who killed three mobsters without hesitation would never hurt you. “Mista, I’m sorry.”

“I am too,” he sighs, kicking at a discarded soda can that had drifted from a nearby trashcan. “But it’s for the best.”

“It is.” The soda can rolls your way. You stop it with the sole of your foot; it crinkles beneath your weight. “Maybe one day, after you’re tired of working for that Bucciarati, we can pick up where we left off.”

“I’d like that.”

You smile. “Me too . . . Well, I should get going before my sister realizes I’m gone.” In your final moments together – before a pair of lovers once again becomes two separate beings – you embrace. Face buried into the crook of his neck, you speak: “You’re a good person, Mista. No matter what happened between you and those men or whatever does happen, you will always be good.”

He clutches you tighter.

“Don’t let them get to you. Don’t let this job get to you. And please, stai al sicuro, amore: stay safe.”

Back in your bedroom, you shed your clothes and don a mismatched set pajamas. Ever the optimist, you retire for the night with a heart not yet ready to be broken.

And an inescapable evocation of loneliness.

You are shocked to see the stack of hastily packed cardboard boxes. The words fragile or giunca are crudely scribbled with black marker across each one. All that remains is a worn couch with springs that poke into your skin and a square television, which sits on a box labeled libri e altra spazzatura – books and other trash.

The uniform pinholes in the barren walls are a reminder that imitators of your face, frozen in time, used to adorn the room.

“You’re moving?” you ask Mista as he tosses his hat aside and runs a hand through his hair.

He stops and looks to the boxes. “Yeah, actually,” he confirms. “The rent’s too damn high to afford on my own. I’m moving in with some coworkers.”

“You mean other gang members?” You do not miss the way he bites his lip in response. You regret your words as soon as they leave you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“N-no, it’s okay – you’re right anyways.” He trails off. “So that guy you were with. He your boyfriend or something?”

You struggle to recall your dance partner. “Oh, no,” you insist, caught between a scoff and a laugh. “I don’t even know his name.”

Something flashes behind his eyes. He hides the smile that creeps on his face behind the back of his hand, though he does not speak. Not another word is spoken.

It does not sit well with you, the silence that manifests in the still of the room. You are a trespasser – but so is he, for this realm no longer belongs to him, either. “Um, where’s this thing I left behind?” you finally ask; your voice echoes through the emptied space. It makes you shiver.

Mista disappears past the threshold of the bedroom that you once shared – you wonder if he still uses the cream-colored sheets you bought for him as opposed to his preferred navy blue – and returns with a shirt: it is your mustard-yellow sweater. It is wrinkled and smells just like him and something new (gunpowder, perhaps). The dried drool marks tell you that he sleeps with it bundled in his arms. “Here,” he says, holding it out to you.

You do not move to take it. “I gave it to you,” you remind him. A crushed soda can is under your foot and again, you are back in the alley saying farewell to your love. “I want you to keep it.”

But there is no alleyway – only a vacant apartment suite. He does not wish to return it; in a hasty, split-second decision back at the nightclub, he wagered his ownership over what has become his most cherished possession. Just for the chance that you might say yes.

Just for the chance to spend one last night with you.

He rolls his wrist, extending his arm further. “No. It’s for the best.”

And so, you pluck it from his grasp and tuck it inside of your purse – the final harvest from the tree, to be seeded and planted elsewhere. “I’d better get going,” you tell him. “I wish you all the best. It was good seeing you again. Really good . . .”

The doorknob hovers under your palm. “Wait,” Mista suddenly calls. You stop. He rubs the back of his neck. “Would you like to stay for a bit?”

“I shouldn’t. It’s late.” Your tongue betrays your heart. It is treason within your very soul. “Besides, it’s probably for the best if I go.”

Your reverberation of his words makes him wince. More than anything, you want to drop your purse and climb into his arms – to feel his warmth again. You need to leave. Yet, you step away from the door and take a seat upon the flattened cushions of the couch. You still remember where to sit to avoid the broken springs. “Unless, I mean . . . I guess if you really wouldn’t mind.”

Mista perks up. You mirror his grin. He takes the spot beside you, careful to leave a considerable amount of distance between your bodies. He reaches for the remote. The reception has not improved – it remains fuzzy, pixelated, and colorless.

“I’d offer a boardgame, but . . .” He gestures to the boxes; you get the hint. The channels flash by. “Any preferences?”

“I’m fine with a cooking show,” you tell him. “Or a movie.”

He settles for the latter. At some point, you leave Mista to fetch two drinks from the kitchen. The refrigerator is nearly empty, save for a few bottles of water. When you return with your beverages, you find that he has fallen asleep. You leave him be and watch the reminder of the movie with nothing more than his heavy breathing and the voices of the actors to keep you company.

You turn the television off once the end credits begin. Mista has not moved. If not for the heaving of his chest, he might have been a dead man. Without a clock on the wall, you cannot tell the time. Prediction is all you have – and so, you predict that it is just after midnight. Regardless, you have overstayed your welcome. It is time to leave.

Your fingers brush across his arm as you lean over his hunched form to rouse him from his slumber. You would hate to leave without saying goodbye. “Mista . . . “ you coo; your speech slurs and it is only then that you realize your own exhaustion. “I’m gonna go home, ‘kay?”

He stirs beneath you. Eyes puffy from sleep, he ogles at your figure. You hover over him, your breath close enough to ghost his cheeks. His long, dark lashes twitch when you breathe too sharply – when he parts his legs for you to slide in between them so that he might capture your lips with his own. One hand to the base of your neck, the other to your waist: he pulls you flush to his body, caging you with arms that feel unfamiliar. More muscle, you suppose.

You press against his chest and detach. His grip loosens, although only enough for you to raise the back of your hand to puckered lips to wipe the saliva from your face. He has already lost you – once more and it will become a life sentence.

“Mista,” you warn, turning your head away to resist his second kiss. The twinges of early love bloom again in the core of your belly. You want him. But you cannot have him. “We can’t.”

Your lipstick stains his mouth. It makes him look undeniably pretty.

“One night,” he pleads – yet his hands leave your body. “I know what you said, about waiting until I’m finished with Passione. But that was easier said than done. I can’t leave them; not now, maybe not ever. They’re mia famiglia. And so are you.”

Your head falls limply. “You can’t have us both.”

“Why not?” He speaks your name when you hesitate to answer. A finger hooks beneath your chin, tipping your head so that you must meet his gaze. “Why not, cara?”

He demands a truth that you have never professed. Not to him, nor your sister – and never to yourself. “I’m scared, Mista,” you finally admit. Confession weighs you down in his grasp. “Because I know the day will come when you won’t come back. It’d be better if I’m not around for it.”

A faint smile, laced with sorrow, etches upon his face. “Do you have that little faith in me?” he asks.

Faith? It was never for the lack thereof. You trust Mista with every fiber of your being because he saved you. And it was not just you – he took the lives of three men to protect the virtue of a woman whom he had never met because she could have been you. She was almost you. That night, when he had heard that woman’s screams and saw the man crouched over her bruised form, Mista felt as though his body had projected itself back into the gymnasium of the school you once attended together. Only this time, he knew how to put up a fight. He acted in the way that the constraints of boyhood had once held him back from.

No, you do not place your mistrust on Mista – you place it in the souls of every man and woman that poses a threat to his safety. The fact that you do not know how to convey this to him mystifies you. Actions are far easier than words, and so you press your lips to his once more. You feed off his touch alone.

You recline against the backing of the couch, hands pressed flat against the cushions. keening into Mista’s palms as he slides your skirt down – past your thighs, past your knees, and past your ankles. Your panties follow suit. His mouth presses against your slick folds; as touch starved as you have become, it takes little more than his kisses to stir your core. As if commanded by muscle memory, your legs coil around his shoulders and yank him closer the moment his tongue slips past your heat. He groans against you, low and gravely. It makes you gasp when his teeth graze over your hardened nub. When he brings his finger to join his tongue, you find that you are unable to stop your hips from rocking against his lips. A second finger coaxes you, and then a third – you come undone in his mouth, heaving for air.

You cry out his name in prayer. Mista pulls away, letting your legs fall back down. The spasm of your thighs turns your abdomen to jelly. You cannot move. You draw him in for another kiss, savoring the taste of your balm that coats his skin. He mutters his desires and you nod, eager to feel him fill you again. He hoists you into his arms and carries you to the bedroom.

It fills you with gratification to see that the rumpled sheets and folded pillows beneath you are in fact the color of sweet cream.

Soft snores leave Mista’s lips. He sleeps on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes, and the other tucked beneath your head. Unlike your lover, you are wide-awake. You stare at the browning wallpaper of the bedroom wall, willing yourself to believe that the stagnant flowers are truly billowing against the wind in a field elsewhere.

You toss the duvet from your body and stand, careful not to wake him. The mattress breathes in the absence of your weight. In the darkness, you collect your discarded clothing and don your clubbing attire. You cast one final look to the sleeping dark-eyed boy before clicking the heavy door shut behind you.

A tiny voice cries out – a child from the next apartment suite perhaps, startled by nightmares no doubt. Though, as your ears strain and listen, it almost seems as though the child is calling your name. It is a ludicrous idea. Still, it unsettles you, for there is something familiar in its tone. You tighten your grasp on your purse, readjust your heels, and leave.

Regret is a sickening temptation – and you have ruined everything.

| 4291 Words | Masterlist |

#guido mista x reader #mista x reader #guido mista #jjba reader insert #jjba x reader #vento aureo

157 notes · View notes

lupinlongbottom · 4 years

Text

Practically a Weasley pt. 1.5

Charlie Weasley x Reader

Summary: Writers block gets the better of (Y/N). Her loving boyfriend, Charlie, now on the brink of baking genius, plans to get her out of her funk. With a war looming above the world, it seemed only fitting the path that lay before the couple. This path also happens to rhyme with ‘hoping’.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: A few swears, nothing major.

A/N: AH! Eloping! Feelings! Charlie! To say I got sappy in this one is an understatement my dudes. I haven’t had this rush of inspiration for a fic in forever. Seemed fitting Dragon Boi once again pulled me from it’s clutches.

Part 1 ... Part 2 ... Part 3 ... Epilogue

The sweeping hills and dipping valleys of the reserve went on seemingly for miles. Patches of greenery freckled with the fairest pinks and yellows of the wildflowers surrounded the dragon sanctuary, enveloping the tiny village of wizards and dragons alike. Various cottages were sprinkled along the dirt paths, the gentle sloping of their roofs matched that of the hills in the distance. Upon one of the quaintest cottages, an open window allowed the aroma of a freshly baked pie to escape.

“Cherry?” (Y/N) groaned, stretching her arms above her head. She had been cooped up in the study, feverishly working on her next book.

“Nope,” Charlie hummed, rubbing the light dusting of flour off his apron, watching the white powder sprinkle to the floor. “Apple.”

“Damn. Here I thought coming out of my dungeon would allow me to reap the benefits of my favorite pie,” said (Y/N), wistfully looking at the pie, now sitting on the windowsill. “But I guess not.”

“We were out of cherries, flower,” Charlie laughed. “Maureen’s wife had some extra apples from her tree, brought them into work yesterday. I figured a pie is a step in the right direction to get you out of your creative funk. Besides, you know I love to bake.”

“Creative funk?” laughed (Y/N), weaving through the counters to reside closer to the pie. And perhaps her boyfriend.

“You said so yourself,” the clatter of dishes hitting the sink rattled throughout the kitchen. “You’ve been trying to write that book of yours for months now.”

“I never said creative funk!” (Y/N) exclaimed, more laughter trailing the end of her words. “I just can’t figure out where to take the story next. My mind has been preoccupied—”

“I know,” Charlie motioned to his maroon smock, tied just above his hips. “You really can’t get enough of me in this apron, can you?” His brown eyes flickered mischievously.

“Preoccupied with the war, Charlie,” (Y/N) cocked her eyebrow. “I thought that after the move, being closer to the dragons and you, of course would’ve helped my writers block…”

“My poor princess, locked away in her tower, day in and day out, plagued with a terrible curse,” Charlie sighed, hand clutching his chest. “If only her valiant and ruggedly handsome prince could help… perhaps, with a pie, made with the love of a thousand men!” Now on one knee, Charlie motioned to the pie, resting still on its perch in the window.

“But will a pie slay the dragon along the way? Or will the prince do the dirty work himself?” (Y/N) mused, playing along with Charlie’s fantasy.

“Flower, you know how misrepresented dragons are in the media,” He mumbled. “I could never slay the dragon protecting you, after all,” He rose to his feet, inches away from his girlfriend. “They only protect the finest of treasure,” He leaned in for a kiss, capturing (Y/N)’s lips with his. The crisp taste of apples danced between the two, as Charlie couldn’t resist a mid-baking snack. (Y/N) laced her hands around his neck, feeling his hands do the same to her waist. “Well,” He paused. “That and the eggs.”

“You’re an egg.” She rolled her eyes, continuing their kiss. This was truly the domestic bliss they’d dreamed of.

“I’m sorry that you’re having a rough time with your work,” Charlie whispered. “The Order is doing all they can at a time like this. I’ve been working non-stop, recruiting other members for our cause, protecting the dragons. No one expected it would escalate the way it has.”

“I know you’ve been working hard,” (Y/N) mumbled, releasing herself from Charlie’s grip. “Hell, this is your first day off in about a month,” She motioned to the pie. “And you spent it baking for me, when you could’ve—should’ve been resting.”

“I can rest when I’m dead,” He felt the icy look (Y/N) had shot him in that very instant. “Which I’m not planning on doing anytime soon, don’t worry.”

“All I can do is worry, Charlie. You and your family are apart of something great, something that can help end this war. What am I doing? Writing children’s stories? Living in my own little world and pretending the world isn’t going to shit?”

“You know how I feel about you joining The Order,” Charlie’s hand moved to the back of his neck, as if holding his head upright, the tension growing. “I want to keep you safe.”

“I’m not going to argue about this again. You know I’m a more than capable witch,” This time, it was (Y/N)’s hand flying to her chest, making a point. “I want to help. I want to support you.” The air in the kitchen was growing thicker, the words lingering around them.

“I’m not saying you’re not capable, love. Don’t you think I know that more than anyone? I just want to protect you!” Charlie blurted, not intending to raise his voice.

“Then protect me!” She huffed, voice cracking. "Let me be by your side! You can’t protect me if you are hundreds of cities away, can you?!”

Charlie was silent. The gravity of his girlfriend’s words hitting him square in the chest. “You’re right,” He mumbled, voice low. “You always are.”

“Glad you could come to your senses,” (Y/N) crossed her arms. “I hate fighting you on this, but you need to know how important it is for me to be by your side. Through all of this.”

“You’re right,” His eyes flicked upward, meeting (Y/N)’s. “I want—no—need you standing by my side.”

“I’m very persuasive, I know that I can help recruiting new members! I can pack my bag in two ticks if you can tell me where your next meeting is!” said (Y/N) excitedly, clasping her hands together.

“No, not just that,” He shook his head. “I need you standing by my side forever. Especially after this war.”

“Well of course I will. I’m your girlfriend, Charlie.” (Y/N) giggled airily, slightly confused at her love’s sudden seriousness.

“You need to be more than that,” Charlie shook his head again. “Let’s go to the courthouse, right now! Change our titles.” He laced his fingers through (Y/N)’s, tugging her towards the front door.

“I’m not following?” She glanced at Charlie, fumbling to put on his brown leather boots.

“You want to stand by my side forever, yeah?” (Y/N) nodded. “Let’s go get bloody married, then.”

“Married? Right now!?” (Y/N)’s eyes widened, shifting between both of her boyfriend’s own rapidly.

“Right now.” He nodded, only ever so slightly.

“Are you mad? Do you have a fever?” The back of her hand reached Charlie’s forehead. He pushed it away in jest, sitting upon the last few steps of the stairs.

“I’m not mad! What’s stopping us?” Charlie grinned, finally lacing up his boots successfully.

“For one, a lack of a proposal?”

“Alright, then,” Charlie moved from the stairs to his knee, grabbing (Y/N)’s hand. “Will you marry me?”

“Well of course, but—”

“Consider yourself proposed!” He laughed, the sound echoing throughout the cottage. “Put on some shoes, let’s go get married!”

“I’m hardly dressed for a wedding,” (Y/N) motioned to her pajamas, a green top and light pink sleep shorts. “As a matter of fact, neither are you!”

“You look ravishing as always, flower,” He sprang to his feet. “Besides, you love the apron.”

“I do,” (Y/N) sighed, momentarily distracted. “This is all happening much quicker than I could’ve imagined.” She laughed, a hand running through her hair.

“But you’ve imagined it before, yeah? Let’s go and do it,” Charlie clasped his hands around hers, looking (Y/N) dead in the eyes. “You mean more to me than anything in this world. I don’t know what I would do if something were to happen to either of us and I didn’t make you an official Weasley.”

“If you died I could’ve married Fred or George,” (Y/N) chuckled, merely teasing. “But you’re right. I suppose tomorrow isn’t promised. Let’s get married.” The two share a kiss. Softer than their kitchen escapade earlier, somehow sweeter than the apples before. “But please give me five minutes to change.”

The trip to the courthouse was quick, thanks to their Apparition. Hardly any wait to fill out a marriage license, not many couples were getting married on a Monday afternoon. Charlie rapidly filled out his portion of the license, almost letting the ink flow directly from his heart into the quill. (Y/N) filled it out just as fast, freezing only at the place where she needed to sign. In a beat, she let her name hit the tip of the quill, tracing itself onto the paper.

(Y/N) Weasley

“Alright you two, let’s make this quick,” said the judge. He was a short man, round in every sense of the word. “As much as I love doing these… ‘end-of-the-world’ weddings, I have some chocolate frogs to attend to.”

“Jim, we’ll repay you in plenty of chocolate frogs, I assure you,” Charlie laughed. “Thanks for doing this on such short notice.”

“In my few years of knowing you, Charlie, short notice is the normal amount of notice,” Jim chuckled heartily. “But I’ll take you up on those frogs.”

“As you should,” (Y/N) nodded. “Charlie may need a reminder, though.”

“Well, with a beautiful wife like you, Charlie won’t have much to worry about,” Jim smiled. “Alright. Stand together and listen to me…”

The judge began to speak, reading from a small booklet about the size of a deck of cards. The words flowed into the air, though neither the bride or groom cared to pay attention. Their focus was solely on one another. Charlie granted (Y/N) the five minutes she had requested before, allowing her to change into something more bridal. Close enough to it, anyway. An off-white dress, glittering with small pink roses, growing larger near the hem. She looked ethereal, the very definition of a bride.

Charlie’s bride.

“…and I suppose the two of you have vows?” Jim huffed, glancing up from his book. “Or did you not get that far?”

“Well, I suppose we didn’t have time to write anything down,” Charlie motioned to his apron and chuckled. “But I reckon I could come up with something now.”

“I could too. I’ve drafted mine a few times before,” (Y/N) flushed, glancing down. “Only to help with writers block, of course.”

“I’ll start,” Charlie grinned, gently grabbing (Y/N)’s hands. “(Y/N). My gorgeous, courageous flower. I never thought, nor did I ever dream I could find someone as witty or as tenacious as yourself to love. Blimey, I hardly imagined loving anyone more than dragons if I’m being honest.” (Y/N) chuckled, rubbing her thumb across the back of Charlie’s hand. “Honestly, when I learned that you were best mates with my twin brothers, I thought perhaps you were a bit deranged. But I learned that of the three of you, you’re the one that carries their shared braincell.”

“Hey…” (Y/N) muttered, taken aback slightly.

“I’m only half joking, love,” Charlie beamed. “But, besides your amazing good looks, I love you for your heart and soul. I promise to always take care of you, to prepare your favorite tea when you’re cold. I promise to cuddle you when you’re sick, even when you say you don’t look cute. I’ll even promise to indulge your wildest fantasies, putting this apron on whenever you ask. Even if it’s the only thing I’m wearing,” Another chuckle. “I love you, (Y/N). I can’t wait to spend the rest of my days with you.”

(Y/N) could hardly keep the tears from falling. A gentle droplet rolled down her right cheek, hanging delicately on her chin. How could she ever top the sap that flew from his lips? Surely her drafts of her vows were written in a dream-like state, normally jesting to herself a reality that wouldn’t come to fruition until much later. Hardly could she imagine standing in the quaint shack—the reserve’s excuse of a courthouse—sharing these feelings with Charlie. But, she had to try.

“Charles Septimus Weasley,” (Y/N) croaked, barely able to recite his full name. He flinched at the mention of his title. “No amount of divination could’ve predicted I would end up becoming a Weasley. I admire the little things about you. Your beautiful brown eyes, warm as the morning sun, ready to accept me at any moment. The never ending list of scars and burns that litter your skin in different patterns, stories of your bravery and kindness,” Her thumb stroked against a seemingly simple scar on the edge of his finger, relaying her point. “Your dedication to your family is the strongest sense of truth that comes from you, Charlie. Hell, how many people would willingly break into a school to rescue a dragon, all to help their younger brother?”

“Not many.” Charlie boasted, puffing his chest slightly.

“Your sense of humility is solid too,” (Y/N) quipped, smirking lightly. “I promise to always be your shoulder to cry on, especially when the dragons ignore you more than usual. I promise to never let you fall too deeply asleep on the couch, always welcoming you back to our bed, even if your feet are colder than the Dementor’s breath,” Another chuckle. “But, above all, I promise to love you, Charles Weasley. I’m dedicating my life to stand by you, through this war and beyond. I love you.”

It was Charlie’s turn to weep. How long had he been crying? Surely (Y/N) crying had been the stepping stone to get to his current emotional state. A sniffle was heard between them, causing the couple to whip their heads towards the noise.

“In all my years,” Jim sneezed, filling his handkerchief with snot. “I have never seen more beautiful vows. Normally it’s the same, rushed shtick. But you two,” he sneezed again. “You two are perfectly in love and I just—”

“Jim...” Charlie started.

“Let me do my job, Charlie!” Jim cautioned, holding a single finger up. “Now, the answers seem obvious, but for legality reasons I need you to answer after me,” Charlie’s ears perked up. “Do you, Charles Septimus Weasley take (Y/N) to be your lawfully wedded wife? Through sickness and—”

“I do,” Charlie professed, eyes not leaving (Y/N)’s for a second. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have said all that sap before, no?”

“Right,” Jim scoffed, a bit annoyed. He turned to (Y/N). “Do you, (Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N) take Charlie to be your—”

“I do!” (Y/N) chanted, too eager to allow the judge to continue.

“Where was that sense of urgency when reciting your vows?” Jim mumbled, flipping through his book. “Seriously, the one part I get to do…” He took a deep breath. “Well, by the power vested in me by the Wizarding Council, I now pronounce you man and wife. You can, uh, kiss the bride.”

Charlie wasted no time kissing his blushing bride. It was the moment he had dreamed about since laying eyes on (Y/N) in that coffee shop only a few years prior. The promises of their love were overflowing between the two in their shared moment of pure bliss. Never had a kiss felt like this, like a growing spark begging for release. Neither of the newlyweds wanted to part, remove themselves from this moment.

“Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,” a woman sang, momentarily stunning the couple out of their bliss. “Congratulations.”

“Ah,” Charlie faltered, face surely shining with the brilliance of roses. “Thank you, Maureen, for being a witness on such short notice.”

“It’s not a problem,” She cooed, waving her hand. “I’m honored you thought of me, Weasley. I’m also glad my lunch break lined up for your happy day,” She laughed. “When the two of you have an official ceremony, make sure to keep Lauren and I on your list, yeah?” Maureen clicked, quickly signing the marriage certificate before exiting the small courtroom.

The certificate was handed to the receptionist, who didn’t seem jaded by the quick marriage that had taken place moments prior. She smiled up at the couple. “I’ve seen plenty of weddings here, but you two,” She paused. “You two give me hope in these dark days.”

“Thank you,” (Y/N) stammered, touched by the stranger’s words. “Thank you, to both of you,” She motioned to Jim. “I assure your payment in chocolate frogs will be arranged promptly.”

“A woman of her word,” Jim cackled. “Shame she’s taken.”

“Taken she is.” Charlie responded, placing a gentle kiss to his wife’s knuckles, his fingers still interwoven with hers.

The couple decided to take the long way home, enjoying the purple sunset that blanketed the valley. In almost no time at all, before the sun dipped beneath the earth, the newlyweds entered their cottage. The aroma of pie not yet left the quaint building.

“Shoot,” Charlie mumbled. “I was supposed to carry you across the threshold!”

“It’s fine, Charlie,” His wife laughed. “We’ve been going against tradition anyway. What’s one less thing?”

“I just want to make our wedding day memorable, flower,” Charlie stroked (Y/N)’s hair. “But I suppose I could just carry you to our bed?”

“Oh?” She cocked an eyebrow.

“We have to consummate it at some point.” Charlie grinned, eyes slanted down towards his wife.

“I’ll take you up on that, my husband,” The new title rolling off her tongue almost mockingly. “But we should have some of your pie first, no?”

“I suppose so,” He hummed. “We should have a proper dinner, I wouldn’t want to spoil dessert.” Charlie’s hands trailed down to (Y/N)’s sides, quickly grabbing a handful of her backside.

“Charlie!” (Y/N) gasped, watching her husband retrieve the pie from the windowsill, acting as if nothing had happened. Before he could shut the window, an owl flew through the crack, landing on the counter.

“This doesn’t look like a letter from The Order…” said Charlie, grabbing the purple envelope from the owl’s beak. In an instant, the owl flew off, back to where it had come from.

“What does it say?” (Y/N) asked, drawing closer to the counter, curiosity growing stronger.

“It’s a wedding invitation. For my brother, Bill,” Charlie laughed, continuing to read. “Blimey! Set for the first of August!”

“I guess this war is causing everyone to jump the gun and get married, huh?” (Y/N) smiled.

“At least we did it before Bill,” Charlie mirrored the grin. “That’s something I can hang over his head until the day I die.” He lifted (Y/N) up onto the counter, sealing her lips with his.

“But,” (Y/N) fought the kiss. “The pie?”

“Consider my appetite spoiled,” Charlie mumbled against her lips. He sucked lightly on her bottom lip before continuing. “I’ve decided that I want dessert first.”

“Charlie…” (Y/N) moaned, deepening the kiss, hands pulling at Charlie’s hair tie, letting his unruly locks fall into her fingers. She tugged lightly.

“(Y/N),” Charlie groaned, enjoying the sensation. “We should move this to the bedroom. Have to tire you out for a good night’s rest if we’re to travel to France tomorrow.”

“France?” (Y/N) panted, pulling away slightly.

“For The Order recruitment.”

“But I thought you said—”

“—and I was stupid for saying anything of the sort,” Charlie agreed, placing hot kisses down her neck. “You had said so yourself, my family is apart of something great,” More kisses. “You’re part of that family now, yeah?”

(Y/N)’s eyes glistened with tears, threatening to fall. She shook her head, determined to not cry any more that evening. She held her breath, a realization struck her. “My stars! Your family!”

“Not exactly a good way to keep the mood going, love…” Charlie continued, working his way across her collar.

“What are we going to tell your family?” (Y/N) gasped. “My family! They hardly know we’re living together, let alone eloped!”

“That’s the excitement of eloping, isn’t it? Not telling our families?” Charlie paused his ministrations, looking at his wife. “But I suppose our families didn’t know about our relationship until a few months in anyway, what’s the harm in keeping this our little secret for a bit?”

“I suppose…” (Y/N) trailed, recalling the passionate feelings their past secrecy had given them. “I suppose it could be a bit of cheeky fun.”

“Now you’re getting it,” Charlie beamed, planting a wet kiss to (Y/N)’s lips, lingering for a moment longer. “Come on, indulge your husband.”

“I just might,” (Y/N) wrapped her arms around Charlie’s neck, allowing him to pick her up like he had previously lamented about missing out on. Bridal style. “My dear husband…” Her voice fell to a whisper, leaning in to sing sweet nothings only Charlie could hear.

“Keep the apron on.”

General Tag List: @maralisa124 , @leighxlover , @hey-its-me-rai , @missihart123 , @biatheintrovert , @luna-xxxxx , @chocolaterumble, @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy , @missmulti

Charlie Weasley Tag List: @sungoddessra , @crescent-ia , @phantom-pheonix , @dccomicnerd-world , @marveltrash99 , @graymountaingal, @storiesbycaroline, @mytinybaguette , @garbdump

want to be added to a tag list? hmu in the replies or ask box with what characters you’d like to be tagged with!

#Charlie Weasley #charlie weasley x you #hphm #charlie weasley x reader #harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagines #charlie weasley imagines #dragon boi #hogwarts #fanfic #fluff #Harry Potter Hogwarts mystery #charlie canonically doesn't have a middle name so DAMNIT i gave him one #it's his grandfather's name ya heard #also yay love and stuff

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slothgiirl · 3 years

Text

the trash pile: alex turner x reader

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

He takes it.

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

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

They've moved on.

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

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

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

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

She smiles, tilting her head, before leaning in.

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

Alex always has been a romantic.

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

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

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

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

"That's a shame."

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

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

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

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

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

There was the launchpad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alex grabs the smallest oranges.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Just repeating the party line," he admits.

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

"Can I get your number?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"None."

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

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

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

"Tisiphone."

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

Too many crevices to hide in.

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

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

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

** ** ch 2

The ceremony drags on.

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

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

It sets his teeth on edge.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No."

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

Fuck.

What the bloody hell!

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

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

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

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

He hadn't tried to contact him again.

"Three weeks."

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

He'd been traveling to the Base.

No one had bothered to tell him.

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

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

Alex frowns.

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

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

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

"Alexander Turner," a voice calls out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A man's dead.

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

But why bother?

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

It happened easily enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Time stamped to 05:46 am.

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

Tisiphone.

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

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

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

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

Someone would have heard in those older habs.

The time stamp reads 6:24am.

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

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

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

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

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

"Good luck Mr. Turner."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

** *** ch 3

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

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

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

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

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

Things can never go back to the way they were.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The hallway is empty.

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

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

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

The casino had seen better days.

And more occupied days.

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

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

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

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

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

Needle and floss.

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

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

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

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

It's all very incriminating.

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

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

Then he takes a seat and waits.

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

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

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

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

Even when he goes back to sleep right after.

A red boot steps inside.

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

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

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

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

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

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

" 'fraid so," Alex nods.

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

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

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

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

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

"Lots of people wanted him dead."

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

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

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

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

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

He can't just let her go.

"He knew too much," Tisiphone shrugs.

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

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

"Let me help you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No."

"Then you have no jurisdiction," she counters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He can work with that.

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

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

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

She doesn't meet his eyes.

** ** ch 4

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tisiphone was none of those.

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

Her now shoeless feet revealing mismatched socks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Opening for new immigrants were few and far between.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alex takes the plasma charges with him.

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

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

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

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

Alex snorts. That's what they cared about.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods.

Alex takes in the bloc.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tisiphone had entered first.

Why not kill them both at once?

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you really the mutineer?"

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

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

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

Cong hums, slurping her coffee.

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

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

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

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

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

But why come in and stab him after?

Who were they trying to frame-

They were after Tisiphone.

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

But their plan had gone to the pits.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There's no way they know he knows.

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

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

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

Bloody hell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Agent Khan coughs to hide a snigger.

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

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

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

Tisiphone is counting on him.

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

Tisiphone.

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

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

Alex clenches his jaw, and walks out the door.

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

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

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

The problem is the IDB has been made.

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

Fuck.

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

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

Humanity is ever expanding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Obviously," Tisiphone scowls.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Smart girl.

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

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

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

"It's okay."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. Not the same woman.

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

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

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

But he'd died.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There's a knock at the door.

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

Fucking hell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This trip was supposed to be about Matt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Terrans were only allowed one child.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Matt shoves his way in.

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

"Matt!"

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

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

"She's no-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Visas for foreigners pretty much nonexistent.

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

Matt dramatically covers his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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aka-indulgence · 3 years

Text

Hey, this hasn’t happened in a long time. Stress headache for writing. Guess its time to write a small fluff once again,

Also with my favorite skeletons because I want multiple skeletons shhhhh it’s just pure self-indulgence without any rhyme or reason to why anything happens...

Ice cream. Cookies. Milk. Chips. Chocolate bars.

All things that you shove into your basket as you walk around the convenient store with a scowl on your face, biting your lip so you don’t scream and cause everyone around you to think you’re crazy. You’re just getting everything you think you want, to treat yourself after feeling so... so... much!

You feel your heart speed up just thinking about it and you squeeze the handles of the basket hard enough that it starts to bend.

Ugh, I just wanna go HOME, you cry in your head as you wait in line.

You’re just stopping yourself from tapping your foot restlessly when your eyes spot a surprise near the registers.

Candy cigarettes?

...

Oh what the hell.

You throw them into the basket too. You’ve never tried it, but it looks like something fun to show at home and surprise the guys.

You put up a pleasant face for the cashier (no need to make a retailer’s job even more miserable) and happily decline the plastic bag. One good thing that happened today: you remembered your reusable bag!

It’s certainly something? To cool your temper.

You walk out and you’re back to walking fast to get home as fast as possible, almost checking shoulders with people when you think the ones in front of you are walking too slow for your current mood. You see your home in the distance, thank god, and make a little sprint towards it, half-hoping a little bit of TLC once you’re there.

You peek in the window as you go to the door, and though you don’t see anyone, you shrug and attempt to bowl over the door, only to curse up a storm when you find that it’s locked, of course. After more hissing and quiet yelling at the handle that dare get in the way your angry relaxation time at home, you shuffle your keys out, haphazardly unlock the door and slip inside- slamming the door just a little harder than you should’ve and march towards the sofa.

(After throwing your jacket, your shoes and socks, and your whole bag on the floor next to the door.)

“(y/n)...?” You hear Snow’s voice from the kitchen as you throw yourself into the cushions, bouncing a bit while the contents of your bags jumped with you.

“Hey Snow,” You say while you make a “pbbbff...” noise with your lips, turning on the TV to look for... you don’t know what, just something to take your mind off things.

Just his voice cools your chest.

You take out the bag of chips and rip it clumsily, with some of the chips tumbling out of it and onto the floor. You make another exasperated noise but make no move to clean up the mess, instead choosing to shove a mouthful of chips into your mouth.

(To be honest, you’re not even properly eating the chips. Just... biting it harder than you needed to, making more of an angry mess on your crinkled shirt.)

Maybe you’re doing it to get attention, you don’t know. You just feel so “aaeghegshrg”.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to make even more of a fool out of yourself, and you see a shadow fall over you from behind.

You sigh when your frustrations simmer down at just the idea of him being there for you... you really weren’t the kind to hold onto anger for too long.

“is... something the matter...?” Snow’s gentle voice comes from behind you, soothing you even more.

You make another sigh, but you look up to him with tired eyes. “Yeah. But it’s hard to say... I’m just not in a good mood... sorry.” You apologize bashfully, feeling silly when you see the mess you’ve made. You hear Snow chuckle, his deep voice shaking your core, making you want to drown in it. The big skeleton rounds the sofa and sits beside you (where the bag isn’t), and his weight pulls you a bit towards him.

“don’t be sorry.” He smiles at you, his sockets crinkled. “is there... anything i can do...?”

Feeling his warmth right there, you start leaning into his chest. “You’re already doing plenty. Just having you here makes me sleepy.” You titter. “Uh. Not in the bad way, I just... I feel relaxed already. I think I’m just tired, I don’t wanna feel... I dunno, spiky?”

“isn’t that red’s thing?”

The new voice surprises you enough to blink your eyes open (you really were starting to doze off on Snow’s chest) and sit up. You look to the darkened hallway (as the sun was setting and the lights haven’t been turned on yet), and see a pair of white lights, until you see the blue-clad skeleton that emerges out of the shadows. It’d be a good horror movie scene if he didn’t look so.... like Sans. Relaxed grin, lazy sockets, slouching a bit, pink slippers shuffling against the floor.

“hey...” Sans starts, his eyelights darting to the chips on the floor. “my little shoulder-chip. what’s wrong?”

“she said she feels... spiky,” Snow repeats as you nibble on a big chip, letting his knuckles ghost your cheek. You don’t say a thing, so he keeps on going.

“mind if i make some space?” Sans points to the bag and you make a little nod, and Sans moves it to the coffee table and sits beside you.

“I dunno... i’ve just been feeling like... this,” You say emphatically, pointing to the chip in your hand. “I feel... like a potato. Just... I dunno... stuck? I don’t know, I just feel,” you make vague, aggressive hand gestures in the air, and slump back down. “Like that,”

Sans takes a breath to say something, but you’re all suddenly aware of the sound of a... clang?? Somewhere outside the house, a door being thrown open.... the heavy steps of feet as someone’s running towards you-

“ilikepotatoes.” Red’s voice suddenly breaks into the room, as all three of you turn your heads around to where he is in the hallway, panting and sweating a bit, his grin a bit too wide with his eyelights dilated in his sockets. He’s sweating.

“Red... how,” You breathe, “Did you even hear that?? Also why did you run here?”

“... dramatic effect?” Red shrugs as he saunters easily to the sofa. “anyways, what i’m saying is,” He says as he folds his arm on the back of the sofa behind you, “i like potatoes. in fact i jus’ love to eat ‘em.”

He bounces his brows at you. “what i’m sayin’ is, if yer a potato, i’d love to-”

“oh my god shut up red,” Sans covers his face with both of his hands, apparently blue in the face from embarassment.

“ey i’m tryna make the girl blush what’re ya-?”

“that’s so stupid i’m getting second hand embarrassment,”

“oh fuck you.”

The exchange gets a giggle out of you, and all three skeletons get a spark in their eyelights.

“Ok, so I’ve been feeling pretty... ehhh today, but this is turning things around,” You smile, looking at the dumbasses while you lean on Snow.

“that’s good to know,”

“i aim t’ please, sweetheart.”

Snow sits up a bit more, bringing you with him, and points to the plastic bag on the table. “so... what’s all that?”

“Oh,” you blush a little, feeling a bit embarrassed for all the things you’ve bought. “It was... an impulse thing. i wasn’t feeling so great, so I wanted to buy everything I wanted to eat. There’s ice cream, candy, chips, just... a bunch of snacks. Oh, I also found candy cigarettes in the store,”

“what,” Red immediately sounds behind you, his smug expression now just a baffled huh???

“the fuck’s candy cigarettes? d’ya... smoke candy ‘r some shit?” Red asks incredulously, prompting a hearty laugh from you. “aw c’mon doll i gotta know!”

“Well,” you start to explain-

“humans’re weird.” Sans says plainly, fishing out said snack from the bag.

He gives it a shake, and you see Red’s eyelights dilate at the sound.

“I mean, don’t pretend like monsters aren’t,” you say as you take the box out of Sans’ hands, “this aren’t like actual cigarettes, Red. They’re just candies that look like cigarettes, so when you put them in your mouth to eat it it looks like you’ve got a cigarette in your mouth. They also have powders inside of them you can inhale and exhale so it looks like smoke... I read kids used to love them exactly for that reason? i don’t know what they taste like,”

You took one more look at the packing and tilt your head. “Oh... it’s chocolate cigarettes, so this one’s just... milk chocolate in the shape of a cigarette,”

“c’mon open ‘em, i’ve never seen ya with a cig darlin’,” Red chuckles, a playful expression on his skull.

You take out the old-timey box and open it. Inside as about 12 “cigarettes” all wrapped in paper. The chocolate sticking out of the ends does make it look like a cigarette. You pull it out and look at the three skeletons, expectations on their faces...

And you stick it into your mouth, moving away from Snow to sit back on the couch and put on your most stereotypical “criminal look” as you put your arms on the back of the couch and fold your leg over the other.

...

“Ey...” you say with a hint of confusion, taking out the chocolate to blow nothing into the air.

“HAH-” Red barks out behind you, slapping his teeth with his bony hand with a clack, doubling over behind the sofa while his shoulders bounced erratically, wheezing as he tries to hold in his laugh.

His absolute giddiness at seeing you with a “cigarette” in your mouth only makes the rest of you giggle and chortle, unrestrained, and the cigarette almost pokes into your throat when you accidentally breathed the whole stick into your mouth.

“Pweh-” You spit out the cigarette (it still had the paper on!) and laugh when you see Red, still unable to pull himself together as he looks like he’s actually struggling to breathe. “It wasn’t that funny!” You tell him, but your own chest is shaking when you see how Red looks like he’s dying.

“i... ha, i don’t fuck’n know!” Red unfolds himself and puts a hand on his chest as he tries to control himself. “i didn’t expect ya t’ say ‘ey...’ heheh... hehahah!”

You unwrap the chocolate from its papery confines and pop it in your mouth, biting it in two so you could chew on it. You take deep breaths before you swallow to make sure you don’t choke on it.

“gimme one of those,” Red reaches over you and takes a cigarette, propping it in between his teeth. He then proceeds to take a few steps back, leaning against the wall. He closes his sockets as he takes a “hit” and makes... the weirdest shape with his mouth (like he was trying to close his ‘lips’ while he was trying to withhold a smile) and makes a pout to exaggerate him “blowing smoke out”. He then keeps that weird mouth shape as he lids his sockets (one was lower than the other what the fuck,) and you watch the edges of his grin bend upwards.

“eyyyYYyyYy.” Red says, mimicking you.

You practically end up crying from how stupid everything is (why are you even laughing? It’s not supposed to be funny!) and the four of you end up on the couch poking fun at each other while eating all the snacks you’ve bought, until eventually Snow stands up to make a real meal for the lot of you.

You forget all about your stresses for the rest of the night, and even fall asleep with a smile on your face.

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smol-fatale · 3 years

Link

GN Reader x Ace, Angst with a Happy Ending, TW for mentions of self-harm, depression, and the result of arson (involuntary of course), ~1800 words

Person A wants to bake a cake for Person B’s birthday but ends up lighting the kitchen on fire instead.

Ace really wants to bake you a cake for your birthday. However, instead of him cheering you up, you cheer him up. After all, he's more important than your birthday anyway.

This is for @burnthoneymint‘s b-day event. Happy birthday my dear! Also read down below.

Involuntary Arson

Ace would be the first to admit that he had an obsession with fire. He was a pyromaniac though he never lit any living thing on fire and nothing bigger than a flatscreen TV. However, he hasn’t lit anything on fire in the past nine months which is an accomplishment for him. He has found other ways to relieve his stress, some of them including you.

You had done much in the past to care for Ace and Mr. Freckles over here was dying to return the favor. Your birthday was at the end of the week and the genius that is Ace thought it was a great idea to make you a cake, even though there is a literal five-star chef in the friend group.

Ace pestered said five-star chef until he caved and taught him the basics of making your favorite: chocolate cake. Ace practiced in Sanji’s kitchen, writing down all the steps and committing each of them to memory. By the time the cake was done, Ace was confident, maybe overly so, that he could recreate the dessert perfectly the next day. He even suggested for Sanji to give away the cake they made together since his was going to turn out better. (A joke of course as Sanji is the most talented chef in the world.)

***

On the day of your birth, Ace was ecstatic to show off his baking skills.

Ace laid out the ingredients neatly in a row and got started on melting the chocolate chips on the stove first. Sanji suggested for him to use cocoa powder instead since the man was fire-prone but he refused and insisted on following Sanji’s recipe exactly. Surprisingly, he managed to melt the chocolate perfectly without burning it. Becoming a little more confident in his skills, he set the chocolate on the lowest flames (as some more had to be melted) and started sifting the dry ingredients in a bowl. Afterward, he folded the chocolate into the bowl, just as Sanji had shown him. Finally, he added avocado which was weird sure but he did trust Sanji with anything food-related. (The cook insisted on it as it was healthier than oil or butter and makes the cake richer in comparison.) Ace then spooned the mixture into a cake pan and placed it in the oven for thirty minutes.

Fifty minutes later Ace woke up to not only a burnt chocolate cake but the stove on fire as well as everything else between it, the kitchen sink, and the window. The smoke is what woke him up and his fire training kicked in as he immediately ran to get the fire extinguisher to put out the flames. He then called down to the station insisting that he was fine and there was no need for the team to come over, except maybe Marco who was a fire inspector.

Luckily they lived in a brick building so the structural integrity was saved. However, the same couldn’t be said for the kitchen. The entire thing had to be excavated and revamped. Anything metal and plastic melted. The rest burned to ash. It was found that the fire was caused by the oven being almost seventy degrees hotter than it should’ve been causing the cake to cook faster than intended. The entire process would take weeks and it cost thousands in repair. Ace considered just buying another apartment but that was cowardly as he would only be running away from his problem. Plus, he still had to pay for the damages regardless.

***

Ace was devastated. He knew you were indifferent to your birthday but he wanted it to be extra special for you because he was so damn happy that you were born. It took everything in his power not to start a fire in another part of the apartment due to how stressed he was. He kept a match between his teeth and flicked a lighter nervously waiting for you to come home from your half-shift.

After what felt like centuries he heard the click of the lock as you arrived home. The loud gasp you took as you walked inside reminded Ace that the kitchen was the first thing one encounters when walking into their home. That made him recoil into himself more in his place behind the couch.

***

Meanwhile, you took the time to survey the damage to the kitchen. It was hard to tell that the color scheme was navy blue and stainless steel as everything was charred black. The sink worked but just barely and most of the cupboards were...well...half were burned away leaving nothing but an imprint on the wall and the other half were hanging on by a nail. The oven was the worst of all. It was so badly burnt and mangled, it was only due to its place in the kitchen that you even recognized what it was. You stood in the kitchen until the smell aggravated your nose. Then you left to find your boyfriend.

You searched everywhere: in the bedroom, spare room, and bathroom before finding him behind the couch in the living room. He wasn’t crying but he was shaking. He had a lit match between his teeth that was dangerously close to burning his lips. This was an internal “game” he played when the stress became too much. He would light a match between his teeth and if he put it out, then he knew he wasn’t worthless. If he didn’t and got burned, then he felt as though he deserved every negative thing that happens to him, whether it was his fault or not. It took years for you, with therapy, to convince him that he was worth living and to stop this dangerous “game.” However, he still did it occasionally when his dark thoughts overcame him.

You crouched down next to him and blew out the flame. His unseeing eyes then snapped towards yours as he broke and started to cry. You scooped your boyfriend into your arms and soothed him as the tears freely flowed.

“I fucked up.” He sniffled into your chest.

“We all make mistakes Ace.” You combed your fingers into his hair allowing him to calm down after the tears stopped.

“What happened?” You whispered into his ear as to not disturb the unsteady peace that surrounded you two.

“Iwantedtobakeyouacake.” He squeezed you impossibly tight to muffle the words and to hide his shame.

You looked to the island in the middle of the kitchen. Half was a beautiful blue. The other a smoldering black. You squinted and spotted a medium black disk in the center.

“Thank you. I bet it tasted delicious.” You were grateful for his attempt and the honesty in your voice sparked a new round of tears.

“Why are you with me?” He asked quietly after settling his face into the crook of your neck.

It broke your heart to hear the love of your life sounding so despondent as if he wasn’t worth every single star that speckled the night sky. You knew that he had issues of self-worth. That he appeared as confident and strong as a maverick wave but was just as turbulent as the ocean on the inside. Somedays, he felt as though he didn’t even deserve life itself and you always, always, contradicted that statement. Yes, he made be reckless and make idiotic mistakes but he had the biggest heart you’ve ever seen. No questions asked he would give you the shirt off his back. You’ve witnessed him give his boots to a total stranger and then proceed to walk the streets barefoot for half an hour in search of a shoe store. One time he missed a date with you because a child was lost in the park and he waited with them for over two hours for their parents to pick them up at the station. He became a firefighter because no matter how much he wanted to burn himself with flames he wanted to rescue people from them even more. His heart shone brighter than the sun and the world would be a much colder, let alone darker, place if he wasn’t around and you made sure he knew this.

“Because there is no one else I’d rather be with. Your heart rivals the sun and I’m eternally grateful for every single millisecond that I get to spend with you. Out of 7.5 billion people in the world, I choose you. And I will continue to choose you until the Earth drops out of rotation and the sun dies out. Do you understand?”

Ace didn’t say anything but gave a small nod into your shoulder confirming he heard all that you said. You two sat in a calm silence until an idea popped into your head which was sure to perk up your boyfriend. You softly shifted him out of your arms and he watched you silently in confusion. You went into the kitchen towards the fridge that was miraculously undamaged from the events of the day. From it, you pulled a small package that contained two chocolate snack cakes with white icing in the middle. You then went back to sit in front of Ace. You gestured for him to splay out his legs so you could sit on his lap and he did, albeit a bit warily. You unwrapped one of the cakes and placed a match in it. Then you took the lighter from Ace’s limp hand and lit it.

“Thank you for making this the best birthday ever,” you said holding the small cake between the two of you before blowing it out.

Ace studied you carefully as you took the match out and broke the cake in half exposing the icing. You took some and smeared it on your boyfriend’s lips, covering the various little burn marks on them, before kissing him. It was sweet and wet, reminiscent of the first kiss you two shared in the rain. You pulled back and though the smile you received was small, it was the most ethereal thing you have ever witnessed. You repeated this process with every single freckle on his face, including eyes and nose, before moving on to his neck. By the time you finished you completely rid the cake of its icing. The result was an Ace softly chuckling as your little kisses tickled him. He took you into his arms and laid back so your head rested on his chest. One hand was on your back while the other slowly massaged your scalp. You laid still in his arms until his arms went lax and his breath evened out. The stress of the day finally drained him of his energy.

Was this truly your best birthday? Well, that’s subjective but it does have the top spot as of now. Who’s to say what will happen in the future. What you do know is that you aren’t a liar and you loved the man beneath you more than life itself. Every birthday was the best if it was spent with him no matter what happened that day. With that, you kissed his chest, over his heart, and settled down to sleep on top of the man of your dreams.

Masterlist

#birthdaycheer #one piece #Portgas D. Ace #ace x reader #one piece x reader #OP Ace #words of ki

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nothing-fancy94 · 4 years

Text

Accidental Love - Part 1

Hello people of tumblr! I’m back with another 2 part short! This time it is a Shadamy inspired by an ask given by @muffinbuttonfan to one of my best friends and fellow writers @another-sonic-blog! Please be sure to also check ASB’s version Love Potion

STORY SUMMARY: All Amy Rose ever wanted was to have Sonic love her back. But when a mistake with a love potion turns her world upside-down, will she chose an old or new love?

ENJOY! AND PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT!

ps. I didn’t proof read this, so apologies a head of time for errors ;)

~Part 1: The Mistake~

“Come on, Sonic! Just take a sip!”

“No, Amy, I’m not thirsty.”

“But I made it special for you!”

“Why are you being so insistent? It’s just a smoothie…”

Sonic’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Amy skeptically. She was standing before him with bright, pleading viridian eyes, and her little button nose twitched as she thought about the answer to his very simple question. She was wearing a different dress from her usual red and white trimmed one; a flowing soft pink sundress that gently fluttered in the summer breeze. And as he squinted, he noticed she’d put make-up on. It was something she hardly ever did, and as a result it was a bit sloppy. He would’ve thought it was cute if it wasn’t for the fact that Amy tended to only put in this amount of effort when she was up to something.

He looked down at the offered drink in her hand. It looked innocent enough, a watermelon pink with small flecks of red, indicating small bursts of fresh strawberries. It looked good enough that he almost took it from her, especially since it was a hot summer day and the cold, icey, sweet drink. Almost. However he had fallen for her tricks in the past and he didn’t plan on doing so again. In the past, she had resorted to sleep medicine to kidnap him on a date. He shivered at the memory. And as if to confirm his suspicions, Amy broke eye contact and looked off to the side while shuffling her feet.

“Just… I-I wanted to give you something nice on a hot day like today. I figured with all the running around that you do, you might want to have a cold smoothie…

“I put protein in it.” She added as though this would be enough to convince him to take the drink.

He scoffed and folded his arms across his chest as he looked her over.

“If there’s nothing wrong with it, then you won’t mind taking a sip before I drink it.”

Now it was Amy’s turn to narrow her eyes on her hero. She didn’t understand where the lack of trust was coming from, it wasn’t like she was gonna drug him… that hadn’t worked. Well, can I blame him? Especially considering I diiiid put love potion in the drink… She hadn’t planned on giving it to him, at least not at first.

She’d been window shopping with Cream in Station Square, and as they’d passed one of their favorite clothing stores, she had noticed a small shop that was wedged between the store and the alley. It was a store that Amy had never seen before despite having passed by this spot multiple times in the last few months. Stranger still, the store front looked like it had lived in the corner for fifty years.

Amy stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes following the curves of aged wood, peeling white paint, and landed on a small hanging sign that read in faded cursive: Regina’s Apothecary and Oddities.

Cream hadn’t wanted to go in, but the pink hedgehog ignored her friend’s pleas. Something was calling to her, whispering in her ear… and before she knew it she had twisted the rusty, iron door knob and entered the shop with the tinkle of a bell. The inside was full of shelves that seemed to carry on for miles into the store. Which should’ve been impossible considering the size of the exterior. The floor was made up of aged wood that at one point had been an attractive light brown, but was now almost black from spilled substances and ground-in dirt. There was a light mist of dust in the air, and barely any lighting to brighten the store. Bottles filled with herbs, unknown liquids and powders filled the shelves. Each one a different color, and size, each one carefully labeled and priced.

The ones closest to the door were sparkling in the small stream of sunlight that filtered through the foggy windows at the front of the shop. But as Amy looked at the ones a bit further away, she could make out a thin layer of dust settling onto the glass. Curiosity peaked, Amy made her way deeper into the store. Cream followed close behind, her trembling hands clinging to the hem of Amy's dress in a death grip. Her large brown eyes frantically darted around the store as they reached the dust covered bottles. Amy lifted a hand and wiped away dust to read the label. An Eye for an Eye.

“Looking to give someone a taste of their own medicine, dearie?”

The two young girls jumped and screamed, their arms instinctively wrapping around each other as the two turned to see an old, female cat. She smiled at the two girls from behind half-mooned glasses. One of her eyes was a startling amber color that shone as brightly and richly as the sun, while the other was white and unseeing. She chuckled and leaned forward on her cane.

“Sorry dearies, didn’t mean to frighten you. I’ve been told by other customers that I should wear a bell.” She laughed at her own joke while shaking her head. The two girls just stared at her with wide eyes and open mouths. The longer they stood staring at the old feline the more unsettled both girls felt. There was something in the air that hadn’t been there before, and it caused their hearts to race, and trepidation began to worm its way into them.

“Now don’t just stand there staring dearies, what can I help you with? I have a potion for any conceivable thing you could wish for!” She hobbled closer to the girls with a wide gaping smile, forcing them to press themselves against the shelves. Little tinks and clinks from jostled bottles rang through the air, but that didn’t stop the old feline from putting her hand beneath Cream’s cheek. The poor girl stood petrified, her large brown eyes close to tears.

“Maybe you want a way to grow up faster, but be careful that you pick the right potion. You may end up with one that will not change your age but make you taller than a skyscraper.” The woman cackled in humor, but it only served to make the young bunnie cower behind Amy.

“Oh, maybe a potion of courage for the young rabbit. I sense a wish to be brave in the face of danger. Do you have a tendency to run away, dearie?”

“L-leave her alone!” Amy finally managed to exclaim, her arm shooting out to block Cream from view.

The elder’s one good eye moved slowly to stare at her, while the other one stayed still and stared ahead. The eye was unwavering, and as it bore into Amy, she felt as though she was clawing through the young girl’s very soul. Searching for her innermost desires, emotions and fears. Amy felt a mental shiver at the sight, but refused to expose any fear in front of the old female. The cat’s lips curled upwards, and her only remaining fang glinted in the small amount of light.

“My eye can see there is no need for courage with you. Your determination rivals that of the most passionate minds of all time,” the female lifted herself on her tiptoes, and looked Amy up and down with her golden eye.

“Hmmm, maybe beauty…” The feline’s hand snapped out quicker than lightning and grabbed Amy’s hand, swiftly removing the white glove in one fluid motion.

“Hey!” Amy cried out, and tried to remove her hand, but the hold was ironclad. The shopkeeper’s tail flicked back and forth as her fingers brushed over the lines in Amy’s palm like the kiss of butterfly wings.

“You have a male who refuses to reciprocate your heart’s desire, do you not?”

Amy’s face twisted in horrified shock, and she once again tried to remove her hand but to no avail.

“No! How do you -”

“I can give you something that will make every male turn their eyes to you. A potion to make you the most beautiful female on Mobius. At a price of course,” the feline’s raspy voice cackled once more.

“No, thank you.” Amy stated firmly and finally succeeded in removing her hand from the cat’s grip. She turned, grabbing hold of Cream's hand and made for the door.

“Come on, Cream, let’s go.”

The small girl nodded in agreement, and quickened her pace. She wanted to leave the creepy store and more importantly, away from the terrifying feline who lurked the dusty isles.

“Not interested in vain looks, admirable. But what would you say to a... love potion?”

Amy’s feet stopped, and her ears twitched backwards in curiosity. A love potion. Something that she had read about in old books when she’d been researching ways to make a male turn their attention to her. She had thought that it was a myth, a legend that was as fragile as the pages she read the inked words on. However, an odd hope, no, desire, was awoken within her at the old shopkeeper’s tempting offer. Something about this store had called to her the moment it had appeared. The way it had appeared also solidified an odd weight to the elder’s words. It was a mysterious shop, with a shopkeeper, who while being creepy, was also oddly eccentric. Something about her told Amy that her offer was not an empty promise, and that this potion likely had a chance of working. How could she pass that up?

“Amy…?” Cream tentatively asked, her arm pulled at Amy’s, trying to guide the girl from the store. She looked up to plead with Amy, but she saw that fire burning in Amy’s eyes that only ever appeared when she was thinking about her next scheme to win the heart of her love. And when it came to Sonic and romance, there was nothing that could stop Amy from doing what she wanted.

“Love potion?” She whispered with her back still turned to the old feline.

Seeing that she had finally hooked one of the girls, the shopkeeper grinned from pointed ear to pointed ear.

“Oh yes. A harmless substance, meant to unlock the cage of the heart. Just a drop would be enough to turn your beau’s eyes in your direction.”

Amy’s body twitched, and Cream felt panic rise to her throat. She knew where this was going.

“Come on Amy… let’s just go.”

Unfortunately it was too late… Amy turned and tilted her head.

“And you’re sure this works?” She asked, taking a step closer to the cat. The elder smiled, and pulled her shaky finger twice diagonally across her chest.

“Cross my heart and call me a witch. 100% satisfaction guaranteed.”

“And it won’t hurt him, or make him grow an eleventh toe or some other crazy side effect?” She was almost to the old female now. The cat scoffed and made a face that looked like she was offended.

“I use only organic ingredients, and a splash of white magic, of course.”

“Amy… I really think we should just -”

“Show me.”

Amy moved forward and out of Cream’s grip, leaving the girl standing alone. Cream moaned in distress and looked at the door with wistfulness before following her friend deeper into the store.

They walked for a few minutes, while the tapping of a wooden cane was all that could be heard. Finally they reached a shelf with pink and red bottles. The shopkeeper ran her finger over several bottles, muttering all the while.

“Mother Knows Best, no… Scarlet L, well that’ll give desire, but not love… Puppy Love, no. Ah! Here we are!” Her raspy voice announced excitedly as she rubbed the label on an elegantly shaped bottle. As the dust cleared, they could see a very soft pearl shine on the pink glass, and the bottom of the bottle curve upwards into an inverted tear-drop. There was a crystal heart stopper plugged neatly into the opening, and the whole item was no larger than a jam jar.

The old feline blew on the bottle, and then thrust it into Amy’s hand.

“There ya are dearie! One Eternal Love potion for one lucky blue hedgehog!”

Cream almost gasped in surprise. How did this stranger know that Amy’s crush was a blue hedgehog?! She looked over at Amy, expecting the girl to be just as aghast, but instead Amy was smiling with jubilant eyes at the crystal vial in her hand. Either she hadn’t heard the old female, or she simply didn’t care.

“How much do I owe you?” She asked, and almost as if in a trance, Amy’s hand reached into her dress pocket and pulled out her wallet. The elder shook her head and pushed Amy’s hand down.

“No dearie. I deal in many worlds and places, your rings will do me no good!”

Amy’s ears drooped, and she felt her earlier excitement dwindle as a flame dying on a candle wick.

“Don’t worry, dearie, you may have something I want…”

“Tell me!” Amy replied, her face bright and hope once again filling her heart. Her desire outweighed her caution, and she was almost willing to give just about anything in return to have the potion.

“Do you wear those bracelets everyday?”

Amy blinked in confusion for a moment before looking down at her golden bracelets. She had worn them for as long as she could remember and usually forgot that they were even there.

“Yes, I do. Did you want them?”

She was hesitant to give up her favorite accessory, but then again she could always buy another pair, whereas she felt an odd sensation that this was her only chance to purchase the one thing that could give her what she wanted most. Sonic the Hedgehog’s heart.

“One will do dear. Gold worn by a pure maiden in love is difficult to come by.”

The fact that she didn’t have to give up both was enough to motivate Amy. Cream watched the scene unfolding in disbelief. How could Amy be so ready to trust this weird cat? It almost seemed like the young girl was under a spell. Amy quickly pulled her hand through a bracelet, and handed it over. The old witch snatched the jewelry like an angry viper, and shoved it quickly into her pocket.

“I don’t accept returns, dearie.” The old feline said hurriedly, and then began shoving the girls out of her shop.

“Now, I really must close, it’s time for me to do some cleaning. Enjoy your love!”

And with a final tinkle and slam of the door, the girls were back outside.

“Amy! Mobius to Amy!”

Amy blinked, her mind muddled from the memory. She looked up and saw Sonic staring at her with a concerned look. Right. She was with Sonic and trying to get him to drink the smoothie…

“Sorry, Sonic!”

“Jeez! If you weren’t so young, I would’ve thought you were having a stroke! Is everything okay?” Sonic stepped forward and looked closer at her face, trying to see if she was sick. Amy felt her cheeks burst into flame from their close proximity, and took the opportunity to shove the drink into his chest.

“I will be, once you drink this smoothie.” She replied with a smile. All concern immediately washed off Sonic’s face to be replaced with annoyance.

“Oh right… almost forgot. But it seems you also forgot that I’m not gonna take one sip of that until you try it first.”

Amy sighed in frustration. Chaos this hedgehog was stubborn. Well what's the harm right? I mean I already love him so drinking it shouldn’t do anything to me. She looked up at his smirking face, oh how she wanted that smirk to turn to a loving smile. To have infatuation gleam from those emerald eyes rather than arrogance. So she called his bluff.

“Fine, if taking a drink will convince you of my good intentions, then I’ll do it.”

She closed her eyes, and placed her lips around the straw and sucked. Sweet strawberry and banana flooded her mouth, and cooled her warm cheeks.

“Mmmm, see Sonic, it’s tasty!” But when she opened her eyes, Sonic was no longer in front of her. She blinked, but he still didn’t appear. Confused, Amy quickly turned around to look for him, when she bumped quite roughly into someone. The chest her head connected with was hard, and she saw stars at the edge of her vision. Smoothie splashed onto her pretty peony dress, and the unfortunate soul she had smashed into.

“Oh sorry! I didn’t mean to -” Her apology died on her lips when she looked up into the most blood red eyes she had ever seen. Beautiful, she thought.

“Chaos-dammit! You got smoothie all over this damn jacket Rouge forces me to wear. I’m never gonna hear the end of it.”

Amy blinked dumbly, unable to peel her gazed from his fiery eyes. They sucked her in, made her heart tremble, and her mind go blank.

“Sorry, Amy!” Sonic called as he came up behind her, his hands clasped together in apology, “I saw an old lady with a cane struggling to cross the road,” He laughed nervously at his excuse for ditching the girl. He’d learned from past experience that abandoning her was never a good idea.

“You know me, I can never turn my back on a lady in need!”

When she didn’t respond, and instead kept a steady gaze on the person in front of them, he tilted his head. Usually she would gush over what a gentleman he was for helping someone in need, but she barely even seemed to register that he was there. He looked up to see who had the girl’s attention and was surprised to see a dark, and pissed off hedgehog.

“Oh, hey, Shadow. Surprised to see you walking about during the day,” Sonic laughed, causing a growl to emit from Shadow. Sonic removed his hand from Amy’s shoulder and brought his hand to his chin as he looked the glaring hedgehog over. He noticed the pink drink dripping from ebony fur and leather jacket.

“Oh, looks like you did me a favor!” The hero laughed again, placing a hand on Shadow’s shoulder. The ebony male growled and smacked Sonic’s hand away.

“Don’t touch me with those weak hands, faker.”

Sonic smirked, and folded his arms, his lids lowered mockingly.

“Oh? Someone wake up on the wrong side of the cyro sleeper today?”

Shadow growled once more, his fists clenching in anger. He was about to insult the blue hero further when suddenly a pink barrier popped up between him and his object of hate. Both male hedgehogs looked down in confusion to see Amy standing with her legs spread in a firm stance, and her hands shoving into their chests. They’d forgotten that Amy was there, and she was looking back and forth between them with a stern expression.

“Stop it!” She commanded. Shadow rolled his eyes at the dramatic display, here we go. Another lecture from the number one Sonic Fangirl, on how to play nice with the blue imbecile. He really had no time for this, all he’d wanted to do was try a new cafe that had opened up and raved about their bitter americano. All he wanted was to drink an ice cold, bitter, refreshing drink, and yet he was cursed by these two idiots. Screw it, I’ll just -

“Don’t you dare talk to Shadow like that! He didn’t do anything wrong, I was the one that bumped into him!”

A pregnant silence fell upon the hedgehog trio as both males looked at each other and then back to the young girl in shock. She wasn’t glaring at Shadow like she normally would have. No, instead she was glaring fiercely at her self-proclaimed boyfriend.

“Shadow is the Ultimate Life Form! You should show him some respect!”

Silence. Sonic blinked rapidly, and stuck a finger into his ear to clean out any imaginary wax.

“Uh, Ames… what are you saying?” The hero asked, his expression was entirely stunned and confused, a comical look for the self assured hero, if the situation hadn’t been so bizarre. Amy huffed and stuck out her bottom lip before grabbing Shadow’s arm. She yanked it to her chest and stared at Sonic from behind it while sticking out her tongue.

“Wow! You really are dumb! Do I need to repeat myself twice?”

Sonic’s mouth popped open like a toaster, and his eyes flicked from Amy’s aggressive sneer to Shadow’s frozen face. What in Chaos's name is going on?

“HAHAHAHA!”

Sonic and Amy jumped from the unexpected sound, and were surprised to discover that it was Shadow laughing his ass off. Neither of Mobious’ heroes had ever seen Shadow smile let alone full belly laugh before.

“Looks like someone finally grew a brain! How does it feel to have your fangirl burn you like that faker?” Shadow chuckled some more before removing his arm from Amy’s grip.

“Well this has been interesting, but playtime is over.” His expression had returned to its usual glower, and he turned to make his way to his destination. He had only made it one step when he was yanked backwards by a pink hedgehog.

“Where are you going? Can I come?”

Shadow looked over his shoulder in disbelief to see Amy holding his hand and staring up at him with large puppy-dog eyes. What the fu -

“Amy! What the heck is going on? Is this some kind of joke or trick?!” Sonic exclaimed, his expression deeply concerned now. Amy was acting completely out of character as though someone else had taken control of her body. He had hardly ever seen her talk to the ebony anti-hero, let alone cling to Shadow like… well like she did with him.

Amy turned to look at Sonic once more, but she didn’t let go of Shadow’s hand.

“Nothing’s ‘going on.’ I just want to spend time with Shadow.”

Shadow flinched at the words, just what was this girl playing at? Spending time with someone she constantly berated as being ‘no fun,’ ‘dark and gloomy,’ and just plain mean. It was unbelievable, impossible. However, here she was, desperately holding onto his hand, and against his better judgement, he felt something stir within him.

“Seriously, Amy! You trying to make me jealous with another guy is so overused. Just drop the act!”

“What are you talking about?” Amy scoffed, and smiled sweetly up at Shadow. Shadow felt his heart stop for a single beat as he stared into clear jade pools of adoration. A look so honest and so raw that it cut through all of his barriers and walls, and pierced his ice-cold heart. Then those sloppily painted lips part, and a voice sweeter than honey announced,

“Shadow’s my boyfriend, of course I want to spend time with him!”

#sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sonic games #shadow the hedgehog #Amy Rose #Shadamy #love #love potion #romance #comedy #fun #fanfiction #writing #short story

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