#thank you so much for the countless hours of joy sharing ideas back and forth

[moireia]

moodboard — quinn murphy by @lorettastwilight

"I am someone who did not die when I should have died." — Anne Carson

[txemrn]

Faded

Book/Pairing: The Royal Romance; Leo x Madeleine

Warning: angst (some dark discussion that would give away the plot); smut 🍋 (awkward, NOT sexy); language

Word Count: 3008 (+/-)

Song Inspiration: Faded by Alan Walker ft. Iselin Solheim (lyrics quoted in the text)

A/N: This is a Royal Roulette, technically, but then again, RR was created specifically for Wacky Drabbles, and I just couldn't get the word count down! Oops! Anyway, this idea came to me when I heard this song, and this story needed to be told. Some of it is canon; some of it is creative canon; some of it, well, we'll call it creativity. lol Any and all of these ideas came from my head, but I acknowledge that others have probably written similar stories (purely coincidental).

Huge special thanks to some of my sweet writing friends: @ao719, @charlotteg234, and @kat-tia801. This took a group effort, and I love you ladies so very much for pre-reading and making this story better. And as always, these characters belong to our friends at Pixelberry!

***

He was a rushing wind; my billowing sails drift me into the unknown, but I don’t care. He’s an incinerating inferno: every tradition I was taught was set ablaze by his touch. My caged heart was unlocked by him; he set the monsters running wild inside of me. In my world of propriety and decorum, he taught me to live; more importantly, he dared me to love.

He broke free: from the customs, our culture, the captivity of our world. He broke free.

Without me. And the mess is all mine to clean up, left with only a picture of our passion--a photo of the love we once shared together. But even that is fading, and will be lost.

I’m alone with my thoughts this morning on my walk. The bite of salt in the coastal breeze tickles my nose, inviting my platinum strands into a carefree dance amongst the sunrise. Adjusting my oversized tortoise-shell sunglasses, my bare toes leave the comfort of the white sand beach only to discover the sting of the barnacle laden steps to the stone jetty. But, the shallow waters never met what I needed. My soul craves to commune with the waves from the deep.

I’m lost; there isn’t enough time in the world to think this through, and yet somehow a decision has to be made. God, where are you now? Was it all in my fantasy? Were you imaginary?

Many described our relationship as ‘destiny’--no, not exactly the romance you read about in foolish fairy tales or hear about in silly love songs. Our families ran in the same spheres of wealth and power. Politics. We are royalty. Since we were close in age, we would spend countless hours together throughout our childhood and teenage years. Being the oldest son to the king, he is--well, he was--the crowned prince of Cordonia; an agreement to our nuptials started well-before my formal training specifically for his social season.

But, something was different about Leo and me. We grew quite fond of each other, a friendship that developed into sharing secret kisses in darkened corners. Was this normal for friendships? Or did we have something deeper? Was this love?

As long as I can remember, I was taught my body was not my own; I was born with a greater purpose, and in that purpose, I would bring honor to my family and my name. I would earn my place in history: a woman who gave of herself everything she could for the sake of a country. Even love.

My reputation is to be held in the highest regard. My efforts in style and wardrobe would be subject to conversation and scrutiny. My eloquence and table etiquette could determine whether or not I’d be fit to be a queen. Every eye movement, every smile, every response could bring honor or dishonor to my family. No one cared about me as long as I presented a pristine package to court, a sacrificial lamb for king and country.

But, when the moment came for me to be chosen as his bride, I felt the swelling of joy inside my chest, bursting like strobes of light for everyone to witness. Suddenly the ideas of ‘the one’ and ‘happily ever after’ that I read about in the great classics teased my senses; I wanted to cry, to scream, to laugh. My body had a sudden thirst, a yearning for him that I didn’t understand.

In my innocence, this could only be one thing.

“Countess Madeleine,” he knowingly grins, “will you do me this honor?”

Swallowing thickly, her jade eyes flutter open at the sound of her name. In a handsomely fit tux, adorning his family colors in full regalia, her future husband, the future king of Cordonia, takes a knee to present the stunning canary solitaire. The dread melts away as the butterflies overcome her nerves.

Keeping with propriety, she nods her head while curtly dabbing away tears. But, something is distracting her: she is to be relishing in her accomplishment of winning the honor, for winning all of the glory, for winning the crown. She is to be the next queen of Cordonia.

But she is overwhelmed by all thoughts of him, her husband-to-be, the father to their future children. Suddenly the life she had been training for didn’t matter; she was betrothed and in love.

Smoothing out the tightness of my heathered linen pants, I take a moment to stare at my empty ring finger. I feel soreness from the collection of tears, but I refuse to allow anymore drop on his behalf. Today is hard enough.

I hug my body, remembering the warmth of his intimate touch. I had kept myself pure for him. Until that night.

Within an hour of making his intentions known to the court, Leo scurries away with his future bride, leaving only a trail of giggles and whispers along the way to his chambers.

Shrugging off his jacket, Leo presses her petite body against the locked door. His hand gently cradles her head, his thumb tracing the length of her jaw. His lips hungrily search hers, wolfishly devouring her mouth before she can react.

“Is this okay?” he whispers under his breath, his smoldering gaze entraps her innocent eyes. Breathlessly focused on his swelling lips, she nods her head dutifully.

He places his hands on her waist before sliding them intently back onto the curves of her ass, grabbing at her fullness under her whimper. A growl becomes his breathing, staring at his prey.

“Do you love me, my future queen?”

Love. Was that love?

The hypnotic rise and fall of the waves is starting to sour my stomach, but the ocean spray is so inviting and calming on my clammy skin. Finding a smooth stone, I seek refuge from the surge of the sea’s tantrum. Relaxing under the gentle rays of the morning sunshine, I close my eyes, only to see him.

He cheats her out of her next breath, his tongue overwhelming her mouth. His eager fingers find the zipper to her ballgown. He paws at her back, his fingers brushing against the secret skin of her body.

Her bra tosses to the wayside; admiring his new found treasure, Leo’s hands plunder her supple curves. His mouth plummets to her hardening nipples, his teeth teasing her nerves with fear. The sudden twinge of pleasure thrashes her head against the door.

“Shall I continue, beautiful?” he exhales, catching his breath; but, before an answer is uttered, he stumbles back into the temptation of her perfect body. His fingers tease across the waistband of her petal pink briefs; her eyes cinch closed, her mouth unable to hold back a moan.

“Someone is enjoying themselves,” he chuckles, standing to tower over her. He kisses her cheek, leaning his mouth close to her ear. “Is this what you want?” He tucks a strand behind her ear.

“Mhmm,” her lips curl slightly, leaning into his touch.

“Do you like what I am doing for you?”

“Yes,” she softly groans.

“Yeah?” He reaches into her panties, her knees buckling to the wandering of his fingers. “Mmmm,” he pulls his hand out, licking his fingertips, “that’s my good girl. You love my touch.” He stands back, shaking off her body. Locking his eyes with hers, he casually steps backwards until he reaches the bed. He slides off his belt, unfastening his slacks.

“Come here,” he motions for her to step closer. “Show me your love for me.”

Madeleine’s eyes focus on his growing girth, bulging from his unzipped pants; but, then her gaze darts around the room. Surely he knows that she isn’t well-versed in such endeavors.

“Maddie?” he combs his fingers through her blonde tresses. “I love you. You know that, right?”

She closes her eyes. The words send a jolt of happiness through her veins. She was experiencing love. She was prepared for everything else, but this?

"Then, let me show you,” he growls, pushing her back onto the bed. Hungrily ripping off her panties, he exposes her to his touch. Youthful and pure. "Are you ready?"

He spreads her legs apart, her thighs trembling. She grips the sheets with her tiny fists. Her doe-like eyes stare into his hunting blues as she feels him touch her again; but this time, it wasn't his fingers.

With an inexperienced push of his hips, red flashes before Madeleine's eyes as she squints her eyes in pain, hiding the gathering of tears. He thrusts again; her teeth gnash at the breaking of her body. Her head thrashes back and forth, groaning as she serves a penance under his rhythmic plunges into her warm, narrow core again and again. Harder and harder. Faster. Deeper.

Without warning, the beating of her body stops, leaving her stretched, completely filled with him. Moaning her name in the company of obscenities, his breathing becomes quick and shallow despite his efforts to slow down. Sweat gathers across his brow as he savors the delicate tightness of her depths. Stumbling into his ecstasy, he loses control, pouring himself into her. The sudden rush of fullness makes her whimper, the sting begins to dull as a smile crawls across her face. His lips meet her soft, glowing skin. Finally, it’s over.

That night: it was so long ago. But, I can still feel it; I can still feel him. The smell and taste of him lingers on my tongue. I miss him.

And with that, my breathing labors as I choke out a sob. I press the back of my hand to my lips as tears cloud my vision from the Mediterranean horizon. A sour pang creeps up my throat as I cradle my tender belly with my other hand. Clenching my eyes closed, I hope to hold back the downpour of tears from my soul. God, please not again.

Madeleine's head rests on Leo's shoulder, his strong arm securely around her exposed body. Her marigold diamond catches the pale moonlight perfectly, it's brilliance mesmerizing the bride-to-be as she subtly teeters her hand on his well-structured chest. He suddenly engulfs her hand with his. Turning towards him, her lips meet his perfectly like the final piece of the puzzle, locking seamlessly in place.

"Runaway with me, Madeleine."

The flecks of evergreen in her eyes sparkle with curiosity. "What--?"

"This life, Maddie," he gently rubs her back, "is this really the life that you want-- that you'd want for us?"

She sits up, taken aback from the peculiar question. "You mean the life we're living right now? Us? Being engaged?”

“Yes--I mean, no. I--” Leo stumbles over his words, dragging his hand across his face. “I love you, and I want to be with you--” he pushes a platinum strand behind her ear, “--but do you ever wonder what it’s like out there? Out in the real world? Away from all of this pressure? Away from all of these rules?”

“Away from the public eye? Living life--” she titters into a big smile, “--like everyday people?"

"Yes." He sighs, pressing her hand against his heart. "Before long, we will be in charge. In charge, Maddie. Of an entire country." There is a quake in his voice, a quiver that even makes her feel chilled. "I don’t think I’m cut out for this,” a breath hitches in his chest. “Will I even be a good king?"

“Of course," she whispers, offering a doting smile, “Of course, Leo," her voice becomes stronger, authoritative. “You can do this. You were made for this. And while, yes, you are the king, you’re not alone.” She laces her fingers with his. “You’ll always have me. You have my support--” she kisses the back of his hand, “and most of all, you have my love.” She leans down to kiss his hand again, but rather he captures her in his arm, bringing her to his lips, making her squeal.

“I love you, Madeleine.”

She moans into his pout as he kisses her once more. “I love you, too, Leo.”

The creaminess to his baritone voice dissipates from my memory, fading away much like our love. How could I have been so foolish? I gave him everything--I promised him everything. My life, my whole existence was for him, and I naively thought that love would somehow stitch us together, that somehow we would be the monarchs that did have it all. Wealth. Power. Love. A happily-ever-after that could join the rankings of the greatest love stories ever told.

But, it wasn't enough. I wasn't enough.

The sudden rapping on the door abruptly wakes Madeleine from a deep sleep. The sunlight pours mercilessly through the windows as she grabs the sheets to cover herself.

The door suddenly tramples open, Constantine bounding first into the room, followed by his head guard Bastien. “Where is he? Where’s Leo?” The king sneers as the blonde trips out of bed, reaching for clothing. “For God’s sakes, couldn’t you two show some fucking self-control?”

Madeleine cinches the high-thread-count sheet around her body, leaving her slender shoulders and décolleté exposed. As a blush crawls across her face, the question begins to haunt her: where is Leo? He wasn’t in bed this morning. In fact, his clothes are missing from their disheveled heap that was next to her discarded dress. His watch and cell phone were missing from the bedside table. But, otherwise everything seemed to be in place.

Madeleine rushes to the ensuite bathroom, hoping to find a logical clue to Leo’s whereabouts there.

"Call him. Now," the king growls at the anxious countess.

"He's not answering us, Countess Madeleine. We assume given your current relationship with his majesty--" Madeleine nods in understanding.

"I'm sorry, but the phone number you're trying to reach has been disconnected or is no longer in service."

Her eyebrows furrow as she ends the call. "I--I--I don't understand," she stammers, rubbing her forehead with her fingers. "His phone has been disconnected--"

"Fucking ungrateful--” growls Constantine, ripping the phone from Madeleine's tiny hand, “--selfish son of a bitch!" He throws the phone against the wall, shattering it into pieces. He gruffly turns towards his future daughter-in-law. “Are you certain you dialed the right number?" He spits. Madeleine braces herself against a wall, turning her face away from him. She carefully nods, refusing to make eye contact. “Unbelievable!” Constantine knocks over some antique silver candelabras before exiting the room, leaving Bastien behind.

“Sir?’ Madeleine quietly calls to the guard, drawing closer to him, ensuring her body is covered. “What is all the commotion about? Where is Leo?”

“Leo failed to report to his morning engagements about last night festivities. According to our cameras, he left this morning through the northwest gate in an unmarked black Sudan around o’four hundred hours.”

Madeleine cups her mouth as she stumbles to sit down on the bed. She nervously combs her fingers through her tangled tresses. “What does this mean?” She spouts nervously, her body shaking with tears gathering in her eyes.

“Please try not to worry, ma’am,” Bastien carefully places a comforting hand on her bare shoulder, quickly withdrawing it when their eyes awkwardly meet at the gesture. “Um--” he clears his throat, “--I don’t know what he’s doing, but we will find him.” He turns on his heel to leave Madeleine alone when suddenly a thought hits him. “By any chance, did he mention anything to you?”

‘Runaway with me, Madeleine.’ One simple request. He asked me to just simply follow him. I thought he was joking or simply making a hypothetical request due to his uneasy nerves; but, my love for him aside, this was my calling: to serve him. If I had chosen to honor him rather than challenge him… if I had chosen to remind him of responsibility and duty rather than trying to win him over with ludicrous ideas of love in marriage…

Leo abdicated the throne.

No one speaks about royalty relinquishing their responsibilities. We’re born into this; we were made to do this. We spend our entire lives preparing, being told that it is an honor to bear such greatness, it is an honor to host such power. No one speaks of the alternative. Truth be told: if we knew there was a way to escape, to renounce such a life as this, how many of us would take that chance?

It’s been seven weeks since that awful morning. Seven weeks of silence and darkness. Seven weeks of broken dreams and false hope. Seven weeks of only one absolution: Leo had found his freedom. He wasn't coming back.

I pull out the photograph of our love just one more time as the tears gather once more in my eyes. Leo’s last words to me were ‘I love you;’ but somehow as I trace my fingers amongst the black and white print, I have to say, ‘goodbye’ for both of us this morning.

“Ms. Amaranth?”

“Yes, ma’am?” Madeleine wakes from her daydream, her voice trembling. She chews incessantly on her nails as her crossed legs bounce nervously. The sterile white walls around her seem to be closing in around her; the air grows thick, stifling. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

The dark brunette stands to come closer to the blonde. She straightens out her white coat while fixing an endearing smile on her face. She sits down next to Madeleine, taking her hand. “I asked if you are sure about this decision?”

If Madeleine had learned anything in the past two months, it's that she could only be sure about nothing. She stares at her bobbing toe, hypnotically entranced with the clicking of the clock in the exam room.

“There are other options," the doctor continues. "Adoption. Keeping the baby.”

I tear up the ultrasound picture in my hands, letting the wind chase it to the sea. The tattered pieces drift for a place to rest, sinking to the depths my soul will forever crave, a secret place far too precious for this world. For my world.

Goodbye, love.

***

Tag List (please please please let me know if you need to be added or removed!): @ao719 @bbrandy2002 @burnsoslow @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @choiceskatie @dcbbw @forallthatitsworth @gkittylove99 @glaimtruelovealways @iaminlovewithtrr @jessiembruno @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268 @mainstreetreader @neotericthemis @nestledonthaveone @phoenixrising308 @sfb123 @shannonwrote @shewillreadyou @taniasethi @texaskitten30 @thefrenchiemama @twinkleallnight @yourmajesty09

[ohheyitsokay]

Okay I’m super curious to see how you handle #4 on the soulmate list! As for the character, maybe Din? I love the idea of him sitting alone in the Crest when everything is quiet, just writing messages back and forth on his skin to his soulmate 🥺 - ScribbledGhost

Hi Ghost :)

I did my darndest to keep this drabble length but thank you, as always, for the inspiration!

Wordcount: 1.1k

No warnings, only run-on sentences and a cumulus cloud's worth of fluff

>>

Din was excited to get home. Excited to launch into hyperspace, excited to put the bounty in the carbonite and the little one to bed, and exited to let the armor fall off his body onto the floor.

Weeks ago, before you, this had been the worst part of the day. It was quiet and boring and lonely, looking at all the stars flying by, or sitting, vulnerable, in the darkness of his room. Now he felt as giddy as the child during snack time, eager and restless to shed his layers and be with you.

Well, as with you as he could, for now.

The sleeve of his shirt was unceremoniously pushed up so expose the tanned skin of his forearm and his heart ached happily inside his chest as he read your last words to him.

Be safe, please.

Din wondered briefly how much he would judge himself tomorrow if he buried his face in his pillow and yelled. Those little, sweet, caring words from the love of his life were too much for him to contain.

Tossing the thought aside, he busied himself in digging through the compartments of his armor, fishing out the new pen he’d bought from the market.

Trying to steady himself through deep breaths, he wrote in his absolute best handwriting the phrase that carried him through the day:

For you, I am safe.

One more deep breath, and he added:

I missed you.

He had debated writing miss or missed the entire way home. Logically, it was probably impossible for him to come on too strong, but he was still nervous.

After countless hours filled writing little notes back and forth with you, Din was more than in love with you. Besides the obvious, your words told him enough about you to make him sure the universe had made no mistakes. You’d tried to share your faults, both of you pursuing honesty with each other, but between the lines your words whispered about the other side of you, telling him of a person who was kind and strong and caring and capable.

The desire to be worthy of you - for you - had filled him surprisingly quickly. Added to his new role with the little one, his whole world was upside down, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. To the universe, he could be cold, calculating, and powerful, but inside the Crest, under his armor, he was enjoying being… Din Djarin. Just a man, who might in some ways be an adoptive father and… and your future riduur.

You wrote back quickly.

Thank you, and then I miss you too.

As ridiculous as it would be, it occurred to him that he wanted to jump into the air, his heart making him feel light. Despite his long day, Din was pacing around his space, putting things away absentmindedly, and he was jittery. He thanked the Maker for his Mandalorian training and discipline, because without it, he was sure he would’ve made a fool of himself on his missions.

How are you?

Without a doubt, his handwriting would become decreasingly neat, but for now, it was still legible. Out of tasks to do, he forced himself to settled into his bunk, resolving to get a few hours of sleep at least… just after you caught up for a bit. Rest was important, after all, he was going to meet the love of his life soon. He could just tell.

-

The laws of this ridiculous universe prevented Din from just asking where you were, how he could get to you, but he was trying not to let that annoy him too much. His hands were full of chaotic green child, and besides, fate always seemed to be a step ahead of him anyway.

He hardly thought he could prepare anymore. The few weeks of talking had given him ample time to familiarize himself with your habits and needs, and he was confident everything would be better than fine if the cosmos would just let him find you already.

Whenever he was on a mission, Din had become exceptionally grumpy. He stomped his way to the cantina, huffed in his helmet through the interrogation, grumbled to himself as he laid the trap, got distracted looking at pretty clothes while trying to imagine what you looked like… And when he caught the bounty he might’ve been slightly rougher than he needed to be.

He yanked the complaining gambler back through the market to the cantina and shoved his way into the stupid building, traded the idiot for credits, and dragged his feet back towards the Crest before stopping in his tracks.

At the edge of the village was someone who didn’t belong.

From the three seconds he saw you before his brain stopped working, Din had processed that much. Your eyes were too lovely to be seeing only sand, skin glowing too much to be dusted in dirt, and most of all, you made his heart beat far too fast to belong anywhere but close to him.

You had caught sight of him too, and were floating towards him as in you were almost in a trance. Even in his full armor, you knew him. 

When you were within arms reach, you pulled up the sleeve of your shirt, revealing a little, mediocre drawing of a mudhorn.

He’d started leaving that as part of his final note to you three days ago, as an additional identifier. Next to it, in his handwriting scrawled:

Stay safe. It had become the unspoken - unwritten - I love you. 

Barely processing it, his own hands fumbled to pull of just enough to expose his forearm. The words there mirrored his, and you both wasted no time pressing closer to each other.

Grumpiness completely gone, Din was more than gentle as he grasped your hand. His body ached to hold you, yank you into his arms, kiss you, and he was never more aware of his armor, of his size. 

“Hello,” he whispered, saying your name with disbelief and adoration.

“Hello, Din,” hearing your voice, his name in your lips, it made his eyes infuriatingly misty.

“I know… I know I asked before but… will you come with me?” he had to ask, had to make sure.

You nodded, your hand clinging to his as he tugged you back to his ship, almost tripping with nervous excitement. Finally, finally everything felt right.

When he woke up the next morning, eager to have his first full day with you, Din looked at his arm out of habit. To his absolute joy, it read:

Good morning, handsome.

He looked at you, heart full, and your sleepy eyes affectionately met his from the cot he’d set up next to his. It was a good morning, indeed.

<<

taglist:

 @fangirl-316 @0celestialbitch0 @scribbledghost

[illyaana]

Credits to @breakingpengui1 to the Tendou fanart! Do check them out, I stalked them for almost two hours- ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

Fantasy Collab by @bluebellhairpin

God I'm sorry it took so long TwT I wanted to make this really good so TwT (don't think I did it) Do check out the other works involved!! I am also thinking of making this a three-part series 'cause I have some ideas on this and I took way to long on this, so let me know if you want me to do it!!

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Like my writing? Do you want a drabble specifically made for you about your love life with a character of your choosing? Check out my 50 followers event over here!

Tags: Fantasy AU, Soulmate AU, Fluff, Angst, Royal! Y/N x Werewolf! Tendou

Word Count: 2611

There was a time when the world of the supernatural was one of peace and harmony.

Magia, the realm of magic and the supernatural being, was one filled with mysteries and beauty.

Plants would dance to the rhythm made by the woodland creatures. Fairies and elves would sing songs in praise of the wondrous views and people who nurtured the lands and made it the beauty it was today.

Mermaids and the life under the wide oceans and seas shared the riches of the water with those on land to make both worlds something to gaze upon.

Yet, it all changed when humans found something within them.

Greed and Pride - the recipe to the fall of Magia.

Now, the land of the supernatural isn’t like the ones stated in fairy tales and stories by the Grimm Brothers of Hans Christen Andersen.

It is one where sins are not shunned but encouraged.

Kings and queens interfere with the peace once built by the people to become one of villainy and devilish intentions - pillaging and conquering lands to become stronger and “better”.

The ones labelled “magical” or “not human” were either killed or hidden far away, never to be seen once again.

You were born into this - this world filled with anguish and pain.

You were born to be on the top of the food chain - to rule a twisted and dark country: Thelphs.

“Y/N, don’t writhe in pain. You are next-in-line for the throne - a simple wound like this should not make you fall.”

“Y/N, a leader never hides away from death - they face it and make it their weapon.”

“Hold your sword higher! You need the correct angle to slice through someone cleanly!”

“Do not taint the name of Thelphs, young one - death is not the thing you should be worried of but me.”

“If you don’t win, you are no longer my kin.”

Your father’s words rang in your head as you reached the land of Aldis - the land that never fell to the wants of humanity and shunned it.

Aldis protected the supernatural world. They were the ones who held onto the desire to make Magia what it was many, many years ago.

It was known for the beauty it held - the flowers were said to sing songs every day and every night and the mountains shook the ground once a month to say thank you to their valiant effort in protecting what the world of Magia should be.

And yet here you are; leading a line of men wielding swords and cannons aplenty to kill the very thing the world should be.

“Onward,” you shouted as you and your man marched down the stone roads of Aldis, “Fight, my people - fight for Thelphs, fight for your King!”

You pulled the sword sheathed in your belt and pointed towards the land before you. Soon, an uproar formed from the men behind you as you all marched towards the lines of houses.

You begged your humanity to hide as you wielded the weapon in your hand and slashed through hundreds of innocent people.

You begged your ears to close just for a few hours so that the screams of children could not enter as you pillaged their homes, reaping all their goods.

You felt the ground shake below you, trying its best to stop you from killing any more living things, yet you couldn’t.

A haze formed in front of your eyes, hiding all of your caring sides. You could only feel bloodlust - the need to slaughter and to feel the blood of others on you.

It was no use. Your feet, despite being on a moving floor, were still holding on to the ground, The grip you hand on your sword didn’t loosen and tightened.

If you were meant to be a machine designed to kill, you needed to carry out your job properly to ensure you aren’t thrown away.

The fairies soon came to attack you and your men, but you couldn’t kill it.

It was the first time you saw one that had magical abilities. The beauty it held entranced you.

Their wings were translucent. The light that hit it would change colour thanks to the dust that left its wings, forming somewhat of a halo around them. Their hair reached the very bottom of their legs. It swished back and forth as they flew towards you.

A pang was felt in your heart when you remembered your father’s words.

He said the fairies were ones who never cared about humans and instead mooch humans to live.

They were pests that needed to be killed, according to him.

But they are fighting alongside humans right now to protect their homes.

It was clear your father’s words were far from the truth, yet you needed to follow his wants, his needs.

You begged your limbs to move on their own so that you didn’t feel the piles of flesh go through your blade.

But you couldn’t.

You had to stay conscious through all the pain and misery you were giving to those who didn’t even deserve it.

The mixture of both human and fairy blood soaked your inner shirt, forever staining it.

The once grey tiles that covered the floor of Aldis now are forever painted red, and it was thanks to your orders.

You walked through the mountains of bodies, the blood streaming from them staining your shoes.

This was your fault.

This was all your fault.

You looked up to the sky, praying for the rain to fall and wash away your sins, but you could only see the clear, blue sky staring back at you. The clouds moved slowly through the pale blue background midst hiding the Sun’s blinding light away from you.

Semi, your commander soon stood beside you.

“My liege-”

“I killed them - I killed angel-like fairies. I killed humans, I made the ground shake - literally - and I killed the first-ever fairy I have seen. How did my father do this and still walk around Thelphs with no regrets?”

“Y/N...” Semi said, trying to console you.

But you could only laugh.

This.

This is what it means to be human- to kill those who don’t deserve to be killed.

“I can’t handle this anymore, Semi. I want to end this - all of this - so badly, yet I can’t even fight my own father.”

You turned your face to look at your childhood friend.

He too felt the same way you did - his eyes said everything.

Behind the coffee-coloured eyes hid guilt, sorrow and pain.

His face filled with the dust and smoke from the bombs that your men slung to this land. Yet, some streaks were starting from his eyes to the ends of his chin that were clean. Blood dripped from the top of his forehead down to his lips, leaving half of his face coloured in crimson.

Your thoughts rang clearly after looking at the man before you.

It was no longer about wanting to end it, you had to.

You placed your hand on his shoulder, “I will end this, Semi - this unneeded suffering and killings - I’ll end it all.”

He gave a teary smile to you. “Please, Y/N. I don’t think I can do this until I die.”

You pulled a handkerchief you kept in your pocket and proceeded to wipe the blood off his face.

“I can’t, too. This guilt,” you shook slightly, tears threatening to fall, “This guilt is too much to bear.”

He raised his hand and wiped off the tears.

“My liege, you need to be strong. We’re going to face the people we’ve committed countless sins against. Impersonate the devil - be the evil person you aren’t to protect the name of Thelphs.”

He took the blood-soaked handkerchief from your hand and threw it to the floor, “After all, what but devils would do what we did?”

Your heart broke at the words muttered by the man before you.

He was the furthest thing from a devil.

He was the man who comforted you when you were crying.

He was the man who took your pain and gave you nothing but light and joy.

Yet he stood in front of you - covered in blood both his and others with a strong resolve.

You stared at him, anger flaring in your orbs.

“You are the furthest thing from a devil, Semi Eita. But, we are controlled by one. Innocent ones like you should have never fallen into his tricks.”

He was taken aback by what you said. Tears soon fell from his eyes, sobs that he hid from you all these years came flowing like an endless howl.

He placed his head against the corner of your neck. Your shirt slowly began taking in his tears as they trickled down your neck.

You wrapped your arms around his figure. It was your time to comfort him.

Once he stopped crying, he wiped his tears and gripped your shoulders. “We need to go to the riverbank now.”

You nodded and let Semi lead you to the body of water.

You saw how the people tried to protect themselves from your men. They formed a circle with the younger ones in the middle. The ones on the circumference of the circle gripped on their small blades as they threatened your armoured soldiers.

They cared for each other.

The strong wanted to protect the weak; they were willing to sacrifice their lives so that the legacy of Aldis lived on through the young.

“Bring out the carriages,” you told your men. They immediately nodded and proceeded to follow the orders issued.

You turned to the people you’ve captured. A smile managed to reach your lips as they looked at your figure with fear.

“I do not wish any harm on you. We’re just going to make all of you line up and bring you to Thelphs - that is it,” you finished.

Most of them nodded in fear, yet there was one who refused to listen.

His hands had burned aplenty, instantly telling you that he was an ironsmith. He wasn’t rich - the clothes he wore were tattered, many of the holes were formed through his hours in iron crafting, presumably. Yet, you didn’t doubt his skill in fighting. The way he held the sword spoke more than words. The way his fingers comfortably wrapped around the leather handle made you feel some sort of pride within.

He was a person of valour and determination.

In almost seconds, he lunged in your direction.

You didn’t want to take out your sword. It felt like the man needed to hurt you in some way to make himself feel relaxed.

You gripped on the handle of your sword but didn’t have the heart to pull it out of your sheath.

You closed your eyes, waiting for the small tip of the blade to pierce through your skin. You wanted to feel your skin tear from the man’s undying resolve.

But it never came.

Instead, you heard the clashing of metal against metal.

Semi had rushed to protect you using his shield.

He stared at you, anger visible in his eyes.

“You made me a promise, Y/N. Don’t you dare take the easy way out.”

You could only smile and nod at the ash grey-haired male in front of you.

You teared your gaze from Semi to the man before you.

The disappointment and vengeance in him began to grow. The flame he once held within grew into a blazing fire.

“Why? Why attack us?” he began.

“We did nothing to you. We protected ourselves and helped others who needed us. We never bothered Thelphs - not even once, so why?”

You couldn’t reply - your morals would’ve gotten the best of you.

“Chain them all to each other - take all their weapons or anything sharp. We’re going back to Thelphs as winners, we don’t need the scars to prove it.”

You heard the roars of the men who stood before you. In their eyes, they believed all they’ve done is for the betterment of the world you all lived in.

But you knew what hid behind the tapestry that was woven by your father - destruction.

You bit your lip, not wanting to ruin the cheerful moment your men were having - all you could do was stare at Semi and let your eyes speak of all the pain you were feeling.

From afar, you heard a howl that woke up your numb senses.

Werewolves.

Joy graced the victims of your purge.

Their saviours came, ready to vanquish you and your men.

“They said the future leader of Thelphs was one ruthless and evil miscreant, yet they seem awfully sad for someone who led their troops to glory,” a werewolf said as he emerged from the bush beside you, “They do have a heart, after all.”

You stopped the minute you saw the male that now stood before you.

His red hair framed his sharp-jawed face. His obsidian eyes stared you down, a passion forming within the two of you. His olive skin gleamed under the soft light of the Sun. As he moved, you saw the scars painted on his skin - slashes made by swords and vicious beasts shifted in variations of his peach skin.

The ends of his lips raised as his eyes raised up and down, taking you in slowly.

“Mine.”

He rushed to you, his hand finding its place around your throat. He gripped softly, but strong enough to keep your soldiers on alert.

“Stand back!” you said, urging them to move back.

“Oh? - So my mate actually does care for me, don’t they?” He said, his mouth reaching the base of your neck, “How sweet of you, my love.”

Mate?

“State your business here, werewolf.”

“Well, in the beginning, it was to help the people you’ve captured,” his hand travelled to your waist, pulling you in, “But I think my prey has changed.”

You tried to pry yourself off of him, but you knew, deep inside, you wanted to pull him closer. You wanted to throw the troubles you had, all the roles you were born to play, to cast away the men who viciously fought under your order - all of that, just for a male you have just gazed upon.

The pull, the connection - it was instant. It was present, unrivalled.

Its wants and needs rang so clearly in your head.

But you had a promise to Semi - to the country you loved.

“Let go of me, wolf.”

“You don’t mean that love,” he said as he placed his head in the crook of your neck, “You want me just as much as I want you.”

He placed his hand on your cheek and you instinctively melted into the soft touch of his.

“Look at that,” he whispered, “You have already felt it, too - you know you can’t look back.”

“I can’t just give it up,” you tear.

“Then change it. I’ll stand behind you - change your homeland to what it was; a beacon of hope and freedom,” he smiled as your eyes softened, “This connection has to be proof that you were meant to be the change Thelphs needs, Y/N.”

You stare at his black eyes - more specifically the brown flecks that danced within them. They sang of nothing but determination and want - he wanted you, but he knew you had a want to change your homeland. He knew it all - just by a few minutes of just glancing at you.

He kissed your cheek, warmth spreading by that small action.

Your thoughts ran clear, the blinds holding back your judgement drawn.

“No.”

[m4g0rtz]

'The Teal Suit' - A collaborative linocut print by @m4g0rtz and @pygmy-puffy. Inspired by @magpiefngrl's fic dirtynumbangelboy.

The bell rings more insistently. Harry takes the stairs two at a time, rubs his palms on his trousers, and yanks the door open.

Malfoy’s on his doorstep, lighting a cigarette, hands cupped around the flame. He glances up and smiles, smoke curling out of his lips. ‘Hey.’ He’s in a teal suit.

A fucking teal suit.

‘Hey,’ is all that Harry can say. Malfoy looks absolutely unreal, a mirage in the burnished street light, the teal shade bringing out the best in his skin tone. He made his look edgier by messing up his hair and adding a hint of eyeliner and a couple of silver rings: he’s absolutely striking. Harry feels a dazed smile on his face and a rush of blood that he’s careful not to examine too closely. Malfoy steps closer, runs a long finger on Harry’s jacket and murmurs, ‘Not bad.’

Magpie - I have been a fan of your writing for as long as I've been reading Drarry. Your fics have brought me countless hours of joy. I knew I wanted to make a print for you as a way of saying thank you for both sharing your work and for being such a positive force in this fandom. Last year, you mentioned in an ask that you would like to see art for this scene and making this for you has been stuck in my head ever since. I hope it conveys to you a fraction of the love I have for your writing.

Pygmy-puffy - I had barely started making art for this fandom when I first came to you with my idea for this print. I had admired your work so much and was ecstatic that you were immediately on board. And the drawing you came up with blew me away. I mean LOOK AT HIM. 👀 The back and forth while we honed the drawing and readied it for the printmaking process was such a delight. Thank you so much for working with me. I loved making this with you so much!

I'm capping this series off at 20. Send me a DM if you'd like a copy. Check my tags to see how many have been claimed. I'll keep it updated there.

[softjeon]

The perfect Illusion | Pt. 2

• Pairing: Geisha!Jimin x Namjoon | Side-Pairing: Geisha!Jungkook x Yoongi • Genre: Fluff / Angst  | Geisha!AU ( → Gifset Trailer) • Words: 9,8k | ↳ AO3 • Disclaimer: mentioning of abusive behavior

*** please note that this story doesn’t mean to represent accurate geisha tradition, it was solely inspired by the beautiful art form, giving it a modern twist in a fictional universe and therefore has been dramatized for entertainment purposes.

written with @cassiavioletblue

↳  He was the perfect illusion. The getaway for anyone who didn’t want to face reality. And yet, there was something in his eyes, something vulnerable and hopeful as if he was dying for someone to see through him, to care for him enough to look behind the mask and draw out the real Jimin. And Namjoon couldn’t wait to do exactly that.

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Yoongi’s eyes were following Namjoon’s movements for more than ten minutes now. He was walking towards his desk, sitting down for a couple of seconds only to get up again and walk over to their flipchart to stare at it intensely. He had long put his pen down, leaning back to observe whatever Namjoon was doing. There was nothing the other would need to be nervous about, no meetings to prepare but their usual everyday business. 

Yoongi hummed, raking a hand through his hair while his eyes followed Namjoon once more as he walked to the little fridge and got out some water to gulp it down hastily. “You’re behaving strangely,” Yoongi finally spoke up, “Did you take drugs or something? Is this some after effects? Or is this your new workout routine?”  He pointed with his finger back and forth between his desk and the flip chart.

Namjoon almost choked on his water. Normally Yoongi could be silent for hours when he was immersed in his work and he hadn’t expected the other to observe him let alone notice what he was doing. “Ah, no, I’m… I’m just…” He knew that he was just making it worse with how flustered he was so he sighed and decided to come clean. “To be honest I am thinking about the tea house again. Or rather the dancer, Jimin. I was wondering if there was any business thing that I could use as an excuse to go there and then I wasn’t sure if that was such a good idea because if I can’t concentrate now I definitely won’t be able to concentrate then when he’s right in front of me so I thought I should schedule something alone with him but then I wasn’t sure if an appointment alone with a geisha is even possible as they are supposed to entertain groups and I was scared that they might tell me off or think that I want to book Jimin like some kind of… homeboy so I thought if you maybe wanted to come along but it is a lot of money and I know you’re busy with your designs right now.” Yoongi had been quietly watching him while he was talking and walking which only made him more nervous so he plopped down and sheepishly smiled at him. “Yeah so that’s what I was debating while walking up and down.”

“My goodness!” The smile on Yoongi’s lips grew steadily. “You really actually have a thing for that dancer, don’t you?” He shook his head, “Out of all people I would have never thought that you would be one of the unfortunate and romantically inclined people to fall in love with a geisha!” 

Namjoon quickly interrupted him, “I’m not in love, Yoongi, I barely know him! I’m just.. interested. Intrigued. Curious.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Add ‘horny’ to the list. As far as I know you haven’t had action in months. Maybe it might help to get rid of the excess hormones in your bloodstream. If you got laid and still want to sappily gaze at that dancer with your heart eyes then I’ll agree to help you meet him again. Do we have a deal?”

Namjoon just simply ignored the „deal” and looked at Yoongi thoroughly. “Says the one who hasn’t had gotten action as well,” He reminded his friend about his boyfriend-less years, “I just want to talk to him again. Nothing more. Don’t you want to see that maiko again?” He winked at his friend playfully, knowing very well that he had Yoongi wrapped around his finger already.

It was the perfect agreement. For Yoongi, as well as for Namjoon. Neither really sure on how to do this, but both focused on seeing the dancer and his maiko again. They were let in easily, leaded to one of the more open tea rooms - not a private one this time. They had asked, but there was no big show tonight, but from where they sat now they could see a boy dancing to the sound of a shamisen. His movements were beautifully flowing, but still he had nothing on Jimin - at least in Namjoon’s eyes. “Do you think he will be here tonight?” Yoongi asked, his eyes searching the room and once more both men were thinking about two different boys. 

“We’ll see.” Now that they weren’t in the privacy of their own office Namjoon tried to tone down the excitement a little. It flared up all on its own again when he saw Jimin at the door together with Jungkook. They were talking to each other and after a quick little bow it was only the Maiko who entered. Namjoon couldn’t help the disappointment that rushed through him at that. Yoongi on the other hand perked up as if Jungkook had been the one he had been waiting for. 

Jungkook’s eyes widened immediately, not being able to hide the surprise and excitement he felt when he saw the two young businessmen again. He bowed deeply, not trying to hide the smile. “You’re back,” Jungkook said and his eyes glistened with joy, as he reached for the tea can to start preparing, “I hope you enjoyed your last stay. Unfortunately, there won’t be no show tonight, but there will be some dancing later.” He bit his lip quickly, pouring in the hot beverage realizing way too late how chatty he had become just because he got a little excited. 

It brought a smile to Yoongi’s face how happy the younger had looked when he had seen them and he reached out with his tea cup. He almost told him that he was looking forward to get tea spilled on him again as long as it was by him but he had a feeling it would destroy the younger’s confidence too much so he kept his mouth shut and just observed the Maiko while he was pouring in their tea. 

“I’m sorry I’m talking too much,” Jungkook apologized quickly as he finished pouring himself a cup. “Are we celebrating something again?” He asked, blinking back and forth between Namjoon and Yoongi. It wasn’t often that Jungkook really enjoyed a visitors stay. He had discussed this with Jimin a couple of times and how there were different kind of visitors. There were the ones who came for the show, the artistry and enjoyed the cultural aspect of it all and then there were the ones who were just looking for the attention of a young geisha or maiko. Jungkook by far liked the first ones better.

“I don’t think you could ever talk too much with us. I like your voice. So when you feel like it please talk as you’ll know now that it makes me happy. And making a customer happy is what you’re working for, right?” He gave him an encouraging smile and then leaned over a little so he could tone down his voice. “This time we’re solely here for pleasure. Namjoon here didn’t really like tea houses before. But somehow your geisha made him change his mind pretty quickly. Do you think he’ll have a chance to see him tonight? Is Jimin the one dancing?”

Yoongi was so close that his warm breath against his neck send a shiver down his spine and his eyes flickered to Namjoon. A blush appeared on his cheeks. “P-pleasure?” He asked a little unsure what Yoongi was referring to, “Oh, Jimin? No. He won’t be here tonight.” Shaking his head, Jungkook pointed somewhere behind him. “He is taking a lot of private appointments. He is barely in the main room like everyone else is on normal days.” Smiling at Namjoon reassuringly, Jungkook leaned a bit over the table, “Jimin is a really great teacher and dancer. He has a habit of changing people’s mind. You’re probably not the first one.” Jungkook giggled softly, before taking a sip from his tea, “If you want to see him again, you have to book him privately.” There was a weird feeling tingling in the pit of his stomach. Excitement blooming at the thought of Namjoon wanting to see solely Jimin again. Looking back at Yoongi, Jungkook wondered if the other was back for him as well – just like he had promised the last time?

Namjoon swallowed harshly at that. Not the only one. Jimin probably turned a lot of heads and had countless men and women happily booking him. Of course he had heard Yoongi spilling the tea on him and he was ready to pinch him for it when Jungkook willingly gave out information. The shy boy had warmed up to them - or Yoongi - quickly or so it seemed and he suddenly wondered if the interest Yoongi had in that boy really was one sided. Sadly he didn’t have that luck. He sighed. “I’m not sure if I like that thought. You must feel like personal servants if you’re booked privately like that  right?”

Jungkook shook his head immediately, “I don’t think we are servants, Sir. We are here to entertain you, to destress you, to take your hand and take you onto a journey. To make you forget about everything else existing outside of this tea house for a couple of hours. We don’t just serve tea. And if you’re really worried, Jimin likes private sessions way more than the main room. He loves to perform, no matter where or for whom but it’s especially fun if you do it for someone who appreciates the art form. I heard you really liked his dancing.” A soft smile played on his lips.

Jungkook had said exactly what he needed to hear and he looked so genuine about it, so happy to share his passion that Namjoon could feel his worries melt away just like that. “Thank you for your insight. I’ll book Jimin for a private session soon then. And as we’re already sharing secrets and Yoongi had no problem with sharing mine before I can tell you that Jimin isn’t the only one making customers happy with his presence.” Yoongi’s narrowed eyes were worth the smile he brought to the maikos face.

The smile couldn’t be wiped off his face the whole evening and when Taehyung reprimanded him to keep his posture, Jungkook still smiled and even the cleaning of the tea rooms didn’t seem as much of work that night.

“Are you good to go?” Jimin yawned, leaning against the door frame as he watched Jungkook fluff up the cushions one last time, placing them back neatly. The geisha was already fully dressed in his casual clothes and now that the heavy make up was gone, Jungkook could see the exhaustion in Jimin’s face. The young maiko quickly caught up to his geisha, following Jimin outside and through the garden towards the main house.  

“Minnie!” He caught up to the other who wasn’t exactly fast but determined to go to bed as quickly as he could. “Wait, I have to tell you something! The business man from before, he was here again with his friend. You know the one you mentioned meeting at the market? And he was specifically asking for you so… I told him that he could book you privately and he said that he would. Minnie, he’ll book you and you can play all your charms and maybe he’ll fall for you and then he can become your sponsor and you… can get your own tea house or marry him and…” 

Jimin stopped immediately and his heart picked up its pace when Jungkook kept on talking, making him feel only more confused and… He reached out for the young maiko and held onto his arm to stop him. “Jungkook,” His voice had gotten softer and his smile turned from surprised to faint quickly. “You are right, I will play all my charms and he will fall for me. For the illusion, for the perfect picture and dream I portray for him. That’s what we do, Jungkook. That’s what a geisha is for. Nothing more.” He soothed over Jungkook’s arm and turned to walk ahead, opening the door to their small shared room. “It is a sweet dream that you have there, please hold onto it. For yourself, but not for me. My debt is way too high and you know that.” Jimin held his breath for a moment, biting his lip as the image of Namjoon’s smile crossed his mind and he wondered how he had been holding onto that imagery for so long. He would be lying if he didn’t say that he wasn’t excited to hear that he had been in the tea house again, asking for him…but Jimin knew better. He always knew better. 

Hoseok would never let him go.

Jungkook’s eyes turned sad. He couldn’t take it when Jimin talked like this so… so hopeless. And the worst was that he was right. Jimin had been in the tea house since he had been very, very young so his debt for the food and clothes and care that he got for about two decades had been piling so high that even his mizuage couldn’t pay it off. He was still so much in debt to Hoseok that he would either need a wonder or would have to work the rest of his life for him. Jungkook’s heart ached for his friend - and it also clenched tightly in anxiousness about how much money he would get himself for his ceremony. If it wasn’t enough he would be in the same position than Jimin. Though maybe he could keep a little bit of it, just a tiny little part and he could get Jimin a day off and they could eat Patbingsu and sit in the sun or visit the market and he would make sure to make Jimin forget everything that burdened him.

“Some people are made for love,” Jimin reached under his pillow to take out two fans and gave one over to Jungkook, “And some aren’t. And some…still need to practice their skills.” It was a weak attempt to make Jungkook drop the topic.

The little stab had Jungkook gasping in fake hurt. “What? Are you saying that I’m lacking? I didn’t even pour tea on anyone today how dare you insult my skills.” He threw a cushion at Jimin, trying hard to wipe the sadness from Jimin’s face - even though he secretly wouldn’t give up on his hopes for a happy end for the both of them.

“Pouring in tea and dancing with fans are two different things, Kook.” Jimin laughed, falling back to sit on his bed, “Now go wash up and then we practice.” He send Jungkook off with a wave off his hand and then let himself fall onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. What Jungkook had said repeating itself on his mind, fighting over wrong and right. Jimin had no idea how he was supposed to ever pay back any of the money he was owing Hoseok. When Jungkook came back, Jimin’s lips quickly curled up into a smile and he waved the younger over to sit right next to him. “Now just follow what I do, okay? I know you have training with Hoseok tomorrow…and I barely saved your ass because you rushed into the tearoom with Taehyung, remember?” Jimin chuckled and began moving the fan delicately, balancing it out perfectly. “Just keep your eyes on it. Imagine it to be like a butterfly.”

“A butterfly would never be stupid enough to let itself be waved around by me,” He mumbled defiantly though he was actually ashamed that Jimin’s had to cover for him again. Hoseok could be ruthless in his punishments and even if he would have just given him kitchen or waste duties for a week it would have meant a painful punishment in his case because his mizuage was so close and he needed to be seen, to show off his charms or else his biddings would be low and he would have to sell his virginity for just a fracture of his debt which meant there would be a pile of it left and each year it would get more as he would be still living here and a geisha that couldn’t even pour tea or dance with a fan properly was worth nothing and would never make it. 

Although it was late they both gave it their everything and Jungkook soon started to sweat so much that he had to wash up again. When he came back they decided to do it again one last time… and then another… and when they really couldn’t dance any more they sat down and Jimin told him more about the posture and what he should portray. Jungkook tried to focus but he was so sleepy that he only snapped out of his haze when he realized that it had become too quiet. “I…I’m sorry, what were you saying?” There came no reply and when he turned a little to see if Jimin was pouting he saw that the other’s eyes were securely closed. He had fallen asleep like that; leant against his side and back against the wall.

A fond smile appeared on Jungkook’s lips. Not really thinking about it further, Jungkook simply took the fans and placed them aside before gently making Jimin lay down and drape the blanket over him. Instead of going to the other side of the room to his bed, which stood just a few metres away, Jungkook laid down beside Jimin, letting the geisha cuddle up to him, who sighed softly. It wasn’t the first time they had slept like this. They had done it many times before. Sometimes because the thunder was just too loud and scary for Jungkook and on other days they just liked the comfort of not being alone. 

…

“Jungkook!” Jimin’s voice echoed through the whole powder room, searching for his maiko in the pool of Geisha’s getting dressed. He was halfway in his costume as well, only that it was hanging loosely around his shoulder right now and Jungkook was nowhere to be found. 

“There you are! Can you please help me?” Jimin turned around, so the maiko could dress him up, soothing over the robe before he adjusted the belt. 

“I’m sorry, Taehyung asked for help with something. I needed to get his robe all the way from Jin’s,” Jungkook was still feeling a bit breathless from the little sprint he had done to be back on time. “You’re not too late for your appointment, yet right?” He asked carefully, visibly relaxing when Jimin shook his head. “I’m fine, but Jungkook you aren’t.” Jimin said and Jungkook furrowed his brows in confusion.

“You’re makeup isn’t done, yet. I told you to always get yourself ready first before you do tasks for others, remember?” Jimin took the younger by his wrist to pull him towards his makeup table and sat him down. He soothed over Jungkook’s hair and placed a finger under his chin to make him look up. “Hold still, will you.” The geisha took out his brush and red lipstick, starting to apply it carefully to his lips. 

“You will dance with Jaehyun and Joowon in the main room today. Remember to guide them a little, okay? They are younger than you and it’s their first time performing. You’re the oldest maiko here.” Jimin smiled proudly, touching up Jungkook’s cheeks with a bit more rouge. “Hoseok will watch you closely, so I want to hear only good things when I come back tonight. I sadly can’t see you as I’m booked for the rest of the evening.” He pursed his lips into a pout, taking Jungkook’s hand to pull him up and into a hug. Sometimes it felt weird to see Jungkook so grown up now, when Jimin had the image of the young, shy boy still imprinted on his mind. On some days, Jungkook still was that boy but tonight he seemed more confident, ready to take on a new step into the direction of his mizuage. “Break a leg,” Jimin squeezed his hand one last time, before letting go, walking into the exact opposite direction that Jungkook was suppose to go. 

Quickening his steps a little, Jimin was hoping not to be late now. Checking the number of the room once more, he quickly got onto his knees right in front of the door taking in a deep breath. Having only one customer for the whole night could either be really nice and calming or stressful and long, depending on what the visitor was awaiting to see. Jimin had it before that a visitor wanted him to dance all night, thinking that he was some kind of robot that could dance without a break. His knees had felt so wobbly that he almost had fallen down the stairs that night. Although it wasn’t fun in that moment, it now had turned into a fun memory and Jimin couldn’t help but chuckle low. By now Jimin had learned how to say ‘no’ in a polite way and without angering the customers - so he was sure he would be fine. Sliding the door open, the dancer instantly bowed deeply, doing his usual greeting - that was until his breath got stuck somewhere in his throat when he saw who was waiting for him. 

“Namjoon…”

“You remember my name!” Namjoon greeted him with a soft smile. Jimin looked gorgeous, just like he remembered him, wearing a colorful robe with ornaments and an embroidered obi again. His make up brought out his eyes and even though it looked good on him Namjoon wondered why anyone would mask a face as naturally beautiful as Jimin’s. The surprise on the geisha’s face to whom was expecting him was evident so he had probably only gotten a notice that he had been booked by ‘Mister Kim’. And his last name wasn’t exactly rare. 

Namjoon bowed slightly and then motioned for Jimin to come in. He could see the younger’s gaze flicker around the room and he started talking right away because he was nervous. “It’s just me this time. Yoongi’s still at the company. And as he’s the one who knows all your rules I’m a little nervous about accidentally doing something impolite again. I tried to memorize everything he told me about how to behave in a tea house so I hope I’ll leave a good impression on you but if there’s anything that I’m doing wrong then please tell me right away. And don’t worry.” He gave him a little smile, “No touching this time. You can relax. I won’t disrespect you again.” He didn’t want the other to feel uncomfortable around him especially as he was sure it must be nerve wracking for a him to be in a room with someone who had broken the rules before and overstepped the boundaries of forbidden skinship.

“Just you?” Jimin asked astonished. Usually people came by to celebrate with friends, to see the show, to have a nice evening out. Namjoon was certainly not the only one, it was rather rare for just one person to book an evening with a geisha. As it was tradition, the Geisha usually sat down next to the one who was the ‘money giver’ the one who had initiated it all and because Namjoon was the only person here, Jimin sat down right next to him. “If you want…and you’re eager to learn,” Jimin placed a hand on Namjoon’s thigh and turned to look up at him, “I can teach you all about the rules. Because I heard that you haven’t been into tea houses before?” Jimin let go off his thigh and began to prepare the tea and snacks onto the table, unwrapping the chopsticks for Namjoon as well for himself. “Tell me, why is that? What changed your mind?” A mischievous smile played on his lips, curious if Namjoon was going to hold his opinion back or sugarcoat it for him.

He was more than surprised about Jimin’s hand on his thigh and almost asked about if before the geisha suggested to give him an insight into the world of their tea house and he happily complied. “No, I have actually. I’ve seen a few from the insight when business partners invited us or one or two times with Yoongi as well but I wasn’t really interested in that world. Not like I am now at least.” He didn’t come clean with the reason right away as he was embarrassed about voicing it out loud - and he also had a suspicion that Jimin already knew what or rather who had changed his mind about all this.

“I’m glad something made you change your mind then,” Jimin chuckled softly and motioned for Namjoon to take some of the snacks that were perfectly prepared for them. Jimin wasn’t allowed to start eating before he did and he was starving, waiting for Namjoon to finally pick something. “You can ask me anything you’re interested in - anytime,” The geisha smiled genuinely, taking a sip from his tea. “And I will answer honestly. Will you be honest with me too?” Jimin had reached for Namjoon’s arm, his eyes blinking up at Namjoon’s so sweetly. 

“Yes, I will,” That was a basis that Namjoon could work with and honestly now that he had the chance he was burning with questions and had to hold himself back not to delve into the private area right away. He wanted to know how Jimin had gotten here if he had family how he felt about his job, if he would leave if he could, what he had wanted to be when he had been little, if he still wanted to become someone or something else. Instead he decided to start with a question he had more ‘right’ to ask it directly affected him. 

“I’ll start then. How is it that you are touching me so casually now when I obviously overstepped a line while touching you? Is it generally like that; that you are allowed to while I am not or are there different rules in the private rooms because no one else is looking? You’re not… this isn’t… I mean you entertain me, right? Nothing more?” He was a little scared of the answer and it must show on his face.

Jimin couldn’t help but giggle softly at Namjoon’s first question. “I am allowed to touch the customers in a certain way of course,” The geisha cocked his head aside, explaining carefully, “We’re trained in the featherlight touch. But I do have to admit that when someone is exceptionally handsome I can’t keep my hands to myself as much as I probably should.” He bowed his head in apology, a light blush appearing on his cheeks. Jimin had said he would be honest, so now he had to live with the consequences, even if it meant blushing uncontrollably. “You’re not allowed to pull me, hold my hand or touch me in a way that is ‘claiming’. That’s why I startled when you held me back. But don’t worry too much. I didn’t feel threatened, it just surprised me. As a Geisha, I control how much I let you in, not the other way around. But if you come back an earlier evening, you can link arms with me on a walk through our garden if that is what you like to do one day?” 

It made sense the way Jimin explained it and Namjoon nodded lightly, a smile forming on his face at the thought of talking a walk together with the beautiful boy besides him. “I’d love that.” Then he sat up a little, his gaze on Jimin as he mentally prepared himself for what the other might possibly want to know. “Your turn now. I guess you didn’t asked me to be honest without a reason. So what is it you want to know?”

The geisha turned a little more towards Namjoon, taking a deep breath before saying, “Actually there’s two things. First, I’d like to have your honest opinion about something…and you tell me if you like it or not, okay?” Gazing deep into the other’s eyes for a moment, Jimin got out a small usb-stick. There was a keychain dangling from it on one side, with something that looked a lot like a small calico cat. “It’s not done, yet. And I’d like to have someone else’s opinion but Jungkook’s. Will you watch me dance?” 

“O…of course!” Whatever Namjoon’s mind could have come up with this wasn’t it. Watching the younger dance had been a pleasure and so he didn’t understand why Jimin was even asking. The cute key chain with the kitty pendant was like the cherry on top of Jimin’s natural cuteness and he would have made a bet that Jimin was one of those people who got all soft and smiley around animals and were loved just as much by them in return. the only question was who would be softer; Jimin or a cuddly cat?

The younger smiled and got up from where he sat to get over to the music box, searching for the right number. “Imagine this with thousands of butterflies all around me.” Jimin turned to look over his shoulder to Namjoon and got up, rolling his shoulders back to get into the right mindset. But before he closed his eyes Jimin added cheekily, “And can you please eat something? I am starving and I can’t eat when you don’t.” There was no chance for Namjoon to answer, when Jimin began to dance. 

It was mesmerizing.

It was like the boy was in his own world and Namjoon was just lucky enough to catch a glimpse of it. Jimin moved fluidly, as if he was a butterfly himself, riding the wind with opened wings. Namjoon had no idea how the younger could dance like this with his eyes closed when he himself managed to fall over chairs and ran into tables with his eyes wide open. He had reached out for a snack with rice with heated cheeks, to not keep Jimin from eating any longer - but as soon as the music started the snack layed forgotten. 

How could he do something as mundane as snacking while there was pure art happening in front of him.

The geisha only opened his eyes again, when the music faded out. He instantly locked eyes with Namjoon, anticipating and waiting for him to say something. When there was still silence, Jimin began to get nervous, fumbling around with the fabric of his robe. “It’s…it’s not done, yet. It’s just something I thought about. You know how butterflies are always seen as so mesmerizing, so delicate and touching them is deathly. For the beautiful creature at least. People don’t care. They hang them, show them off. Sometimes I feel like that, too.” He gulped heavily, when the last words had come over his lips so quickly, but so quietly that he just hoped Namjoon hadn’t heard them. Jimin turned around and turned down the volume of the music, letting it play softly in the back, before returning to the table. He would have loved to stuff his mouth with food now not to keep on talking – but again, Namjoon still hasn’t begun to eat anything. “Was it okay?”

“Okay?” He couldn’t help but stare at the other who seemed so shy, so insecure all of a sudden, baring his thoughts and his soul so easily through his dance while everything else in his life was pretty obviously controlled by other people’s rules and boundaries. “Do you really not know how amazing you are? How stunningly beautiful you look when you move, like art come to life or the veil to another world ripping so that your viewers can get a glimpse of it before it closes again the second you stop moving? It was beautiful Jimin, a little sad, a little bittersweet but it made me feel  and I guess that’s what you wanted to achieve, right? To make the viewer feel what it’s like to chase after perfection, to try for completion while it’s always out of reach, just a hair’s breadth away, too close for you not to try and reach for it but too far to ever achieve it.” He saw Jimin’s eyes flickering towards the food and jolted. “Oh, I forgot!” Hastily he stuffed a snack into his mouth and then motioned for Jimin to eat as well. “I hope I don’t have to eat every time for you can take a bite because I’m not that hungry and I’d rather watch you enjoy the food than eat it myself.”

Jimin didn’t know what to say. He was just blushing, averting his gaze and trying to calm his rapid heartbeat. 

“I…I…’m…” It was a weak try to thank Namjoon for his kind words. “You’re probably the one doing a lot of the deals, right? You have a way with words, Namjoon. Thank you. I still think I can tweak it a bit. I wish Mr. Jung will let me perform it one day. Imagine the stage filled with flying paper butterflies hanging from the ceiling. Wouldn’t that be beautiful?” He bowed his head again, shyly reaching out for a snack. “You just had to take the first bite and now I can eat as much as you let me. I would have eaten something before, but I had to get Jungkook ready. He’s having a performance in the main room tonight. I hope he’s doing alright.” Jimin’s gaze wandered off to the door for a moment, before turning back to Namjoon, “But enough about me.”

He laughed, “You see right through me, hm? But I can assure you that I never tell my business partners how beautiful they are - and that I absolutely meant what I just said.” He watched as Jimin took some snacks, quick and still a little shy, eating them with little careful bites as if he was prepared to jump up at any second to do whatever he was supposed to. He liked listening to Jimin talking and he nodded encouragingly while the other shared his ideas with shining eyes. “He’s a sweet one, your little Maiko. I wouldn’t have dared to book you for tonight if he hadn’t reassured me.” He confessed, a little surprised at his own courage. “Oh it would be a pity if that’s all I got to know about you tonight. After all that’s kind of what i’m here for.”

Jimin’s eyes widened, just for a second, before he regained his posture. So, it had been true what Jungkook had told him: Namjoon came back to get to know him. Him – out of all people Namjoon could choose. 

Customers came back a ton of times for him and almost every week he got a new proposal but none of them had interested him in any kind of way because deep down Jimin knew it was dumb to get involved with something. His debt was too high and not even marrying would get him away from this tea house. What else did he have anyways? This was all he knew, all that he was good at. Hoseok had made it clear dozens of times that he’d probably end up as a stripper if he tried to make it as a dancer outside of this establishment. But still, Jimin had dreamed about making it. One too many times. He wasn’t a catch for someone like Namjoon. He was the perfect illusion. The getaway for anyone who didn’t want to face reality. That was all there was about him. “Jungkook is really sweet,” He finally answered, feeling a little breathless, before speaking softly, “I’m just a Geisha, Namjoon. There’s not much to get to know about me.”

“Ahh, I see.” Namjoon’s voice softened a little. “So Geishas have no past? No dreams and no future?” He could understand why Jimin was hesitant to open up to a stranger that he’s barely met a handful of times but still he didn’t want to leave it at that. Because even though Jimin tried to tell him that there wasn’t anything to tell about him there was something in his eyes, something vulnerable and hopeful as if he was dying for someone to see through him, to care for him enough to look behind the mask and draw out the real Jimin. And Namjoon couldn’t wait to do exactly that. 

“Then maybe, just maybe you want to tell me what you do or what you think about when you are not busy being a geisha? Surely you must have free time every now and then?”

The geisha smiled at Namjoon, his hand reaching out for the collar of his suit jacket. He got onto his knees, getting a little closer to him to soothe over the soft fabric. “Technically when you become a geisha you fully let go off your past and embrace what it means and stands for entirely. Not everyone has a dream, Namjoon. Having dreams is a luxury that a geisha can’t afford.” Leaning in a little closer, Jimin began fixing his jacket while explaining, “A geisha is a dream. Your dream. My day is filled with duties of a geisha, from the moment I wake up to the moment I close my eyes. I practice, I do my laundry, I practice some more with Jungkook and sometimes, when I’m lucky and put enough money aside or gotten a good tip, I go out onto the market and buy new fabrics for my robes. And when I’m even more lucky, I will stumble upon a handsome stranger.” He winked playfully, but the breath got stuck somewhere in his throat right after. Jimin only realized now how close he was to Namjoon, nervously soothing over the man’s chest one last time. Maybe just to feel how the shirt was stretching over Namjoon’s chest so tightly, wondering how the buttons were still holding on and feeling his heartbeat for a moment under the palm of his hand. “I’m sorry, it bothered me the whole time. Your collar was all twisted.” 

Namjoon’s skin was tingling where the warmth of Jimin’s hands had seeped through the fabric. Jimin’s words were spoken so lightly, so nonchalantly as if their meaning didn’t hit Namjoon right where it hurt. He leaned in and as Jimin was still close he could almost taste the other’s breath against his lips. “What if I told you that there is something that bothers me as well? Something that isn’t as easily fixed as a collar.” He came even closer until he could whisper right into Jimin’s ear. “I think you are lying right to my face, butterfly. Didn’t we agree on telling the truth? I think you do have dreams. And if you tell me right now I might forgive you for breaching our agreement.”

Jimin was frozen, his hand had gripped tightly into the fabric of his robe when a shiver ran down his spine the moment Namjoon’s breath was tingling against his own skin. He was glad that the other was whispering into his ear though, this way he couldn’t see his unsure gaze, the sudden stunned expression that only lasted for a moment, before he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He sat back onto his legs (feeling a bit more secure now because standing on his knees had made him so nervous that he was shaking) keeping Namjoon at an arm’s length distance from himself. 

“I wouldn’t call it a dream, but I do have a wish,” Jimin’s spoke softly, very carefully choosing his words. He didn’t want to offend Namjoon. He was right, they had asked for honesty and so Jimin would give it to him in return and still he would try to keep his dreams to himself. He had sworn himself to never dare speak them loudly. They were dreams after all and not meant to become real. And still he had those dreams, wishes, those ideas of his life becoming better - different maybe. It was the stupidest wish to have, Jimin was very well aware of that, because to people on the outside world it may seemed he had a lot. Beautiful robes, jewelry, makeup and a place to live but nothing did he call his own. In the end it all belonged to Hoseok, just like he, himself belonged to him. 

“I wish to have something that I could call my own.” Jimin looked at Namjoon with a faint smile, “Just mine, you know. That I don’t need to share with anyone else but myself.” His eyes widened, when Jimin realized that he had spilled a little too much, had sounded a little to self-centered. He was a geisha. He was suppose to put his own needs far back. If Hoseok would have heard him…Jimin gulped heavily and bowed his head quickly, “I apologize for sounding selfish, that wasn’t my intention. Please forgive me.”

Namjoon’s eyebrows went up. He had not expected something so small, something that was so natural for most people that he hadn’t even considered it something Jimin could wish for. “You mean… you don’t have anything that’s yours?” He shook his head in disbelief. “What about the robes you buy on your own? Or the gifts you receive from admirers? I’m sure you have a lot of those, don’t you?” Even he had been ready to gift Jimin with something after their first real encounter. It wasn’t ready, yet or he hadn’t brought it with im but he had meant it when he said that he wanted to give Jimin something from his company that was designed for him.

Jimin softly shook his head. He was telling Namjoon too much already, but there was just something about him that made Jimin want to share a part of him. Namjoon just seemed so honest, so pure and kind. “I don’t. I am not allowed to keep gifts out of different reasons. The clothes I wear all belong to the tea house. I am allowed to chose the fabric sometimes, but that’s it.” He smiled faintly, “None of this is mine. It never was and it never will.” He took in a sharp breath, blinking at Namjoon, his voice sounding so small and quiet that it was barely audible. “Not even myself, but I guess you figured that already.”

Now he had finally said too much. And still it had spilled out of him, like it never had happened before. No one had broken his Geisha persona so easily like Namjoon did. With just a simple look. His eyes looking at Jimin so honestly. Almost as if he had seen right through Jimin and he had no choice but to speak from his heart. Hoseok always said it was his only weakness – but he’d also said he would train it off. Why did he break now? Hastily, Jimin got up. 

“I am sorry. I know I said I would be honest but there are things I can’t tell you. I already said too much. I am very grateful for Mr. Jung and this establishment.” He bowed his head deeply, taking a few steps back, feeling way too shaky on his own two feet right now. What if Namjoon would tell on him? That he was an ungrateful person? That he dishonored Hoseok in just a couple of sentences for making sure he had somewhere to live. 

Jimin looked so scared, so shaken that Namjoon forgot his initial decision to not give into his urges this time and only approach Jimn when he was absolutely sure that the other was okay with it. He couldn’t just keep his distance now and let the other stand there on his own, looking so small and vulnerable, eyes wide and fearful as if he expected someone to jump out from behind somewhere and punish him for talking. 

“Jimin…,” He reached out his hand for him and when Jimin didn’t flinch back he got closer, careful and slow, watching the younger attentively to react to the slightest discomfort. He placed his hand on the boys shoulder as a soft reassurance before he told him, “No one can own you. Ever. They might think they do with buying your time and… and I’m no different really, forcing you to be with me but… no one can really have you if you don’t let them. Your soul is entirely your own. No one can touch that against your will.” 

Jimin scoffed, but gave in to Namjoon’s touch, just because it felt good. He leaned against the hand on his shoulder, wishing that he would take him into his arms - just once. But instead, Jimin just took a slow, deep breath and looked up at the handsome man. “Can’t they? I see you’re not familiar with the world i’m living in. It’s okay, I don’t blame you.” With a shaking hand and a fast beating heart, Jimin reached out for Namjoon, placing his hand against his cheek, just to feel the soft warm cheeks under his palm. “You’re so sweet, Namjoon. Too kind. Please don’t think you’re forcing me.” His gaze wandered over the soft features of his face, the sweet dimples that showed, the warmth in Namjoon’s eyes. It was luring him in, way more than Jimin wanted to admit.

“I’m not?” Namjoon’s heart beat faster at that as hope was blooming in his chest. “So if we had met under different circumstances and I had asked you out on a date - would you have accepted?” He hesitated torn between his morals and his heart’s desire, his logical thinking and his stupidly strong feelings for the other. “Is there.. is there still a way where you could do that? Date someone I mean? I don’t want to take advantage of you or save the money or anything it’s just… it  feels a little strange to be with you like this. Could we go out somewhere where no one would breathe down your neck or control what you’re saying? I meant it when I said that I want to know you… and I mean you, Jimin, not whatever you think you have to be to fulfill my fantasies.”

The geisha’s eyes turned wide while his heart was beating so fast and hard that Jimin was sure it would jump right out of his chest. Many men had asked him to marry them before, but no one ever dared to ask him out to date. He was completely overwhelmed, his face paling visibly. 

“Y-yes m-maybe,” Jimin whispered but let go off Namjoon, his hands wandering down his shoulders, “But there are no different circumstances. You really don’t know much about this, hm. Maybe you should ask your friend.” He squeezed Namjoon’s arm softly, biting his lip, “Maybe then you would understand a little more.” There were many things Jimin wasn’t allowed to talk about - his past, his debt and the way he had been brought to the teahouse. Leaning in carefully, Jimin placed a barely there kiss on Namjoon’s cheek. “Please come back,” He whispered, before turning on his heel quickly, sliding the door open a bit too hastily that he almost bumped into the person standing in front of it. 

“Oh, there you are!” Hoseok chuckled low, glancing over Jimin’s shoulder and bowing to Namjoon. “I’m sorry to interrupt sir, but as you had been over your time for a bit now I was wondering where my geisha was.” He easily discarded Jimin and walked in to shake Namjoon’s hand with a firm grip, “Mr. Jung, nice to meet you…Mr…? I’m sure you understand. It’s just safety measurements. I hope you had a good evening with our sweet little gem. Was everything how you wanted it to be?”

Namjoon didn’t have to ask who that person was. The way Jimin had straightened his back and cast down his eyes and the way the person in front of him acted told him enough. When he called Jimin ‘my geisha’ it confirmed his suspicions: This must be Jung Hoseok, the owner of the establishment. 

“Of course, I understand. I take care of what is mine as well.” When Hoseok didn’t correct him his eyes flickered over to Jimin. So the geisha hadn’t exaggerated when he had hinted at being treated like some kind of possession. “Everything was to my delight. He exceeded my expectations, even so I’d like to book him again very soon.” He was talking to Hosek, polite and distanced but what he was trying to do was telling Jimin that he would come for him again very soon. Now that he had gotten a glimpse into the youngers mind there was no way he could just forget him and move on.

“Oh, that’s wonderful to hear,” Hoseok said and looked over to Jimin, whose gaze was fixed on the floor. “The reception downstairs will be very happy to help you find the perfect date for your next appointment. Unfortunately for now, I have to take Jimin with me.” He smiled at Namjoon sweetly, wishing him a good night with a bow. The moment he turned around; his smile faded. He placed a hand on Jimin’s back pushing him further out of the room and down the hallway with him. 

“Since when are you going over the time? There’s a time limit for a reason, Jimin. Do you think I got the time to go and search for you each time?”

“No, I am sorry, Hoseok. I didn’t mean to…,” Jimin stumbled a little, because Hoseok was walking fast and his own shorter legs in comparison couldn’t hold up with the large steps he was taking. “You should be sorry,” He hissed under his breath and came to a halt, just to pull Jimin by his wrist and into the room at the end of the hallway. Despite it all, his expression turned softer the moment he looked at the geisha, his finger trailing along Jimin’s jawline until he could lift his chin just a little. “My sweet Jimin,” Hoseok hummed melodically, “You really don’t want to anger me, right? Not with something as simple as coming too late…”

Namjoon looked after them and when Hoseok placed his hand at Jimin’s back there was suddenly something bitter in his mouth that he couldn’t swallow down. There weren’t all those rumours about tea houses for a reason and even if Jimin hadn’t said it clearly he had told him enough for Namjoon to feel anger at the thought of someone telling Jimin that he “owned” him and treating him as such. He knew he should go, he couldn’t interfere now, there were rules and if he didn’t follow them it wouldn’t help Jimin it would only lead to him not being able to see him anymore. 

Namjoon had just forced himself to turn when he saw how Hoseok pulled Jimin aside, the younger obviously struggling to keep up and visibly uncomfortable - and Namjoon just acted. He would so totally regret this, especially when Yoongi kicked his ass for this but he couldn’t tell Jimin he was interested in him and that no one owned him and then let him be bullied a second after. Hurriedly he ran after them and then knocked at the door; a formality really as the walls were so thin he could have just started talking. “I’m so sorry to interrupt and take even more from your precious time but… I fear I’m kind of lost. It’s my first time in this private area and I seem to have lost my orientation. Would it be too much of a favour to ask for your geisha to show me the way to the reception? I’ll make sure to pay him for his overtime of course. I don’t want him to get into any trouble because of me.”

Hoseok opened the door, fake smile perfectly in place while Jimin was sure he would faint any second now. He wanted to tell Namjoon that he was fine, keeping up a smile himself and looking at him with a warm gaze. “Oh, it’s simple, Mr. Kim…” Hoseok was just about to start explaining the way when Jungkook passed the corner. “Our lovely maiko will show you. Jungkook!” He called out loudly making the younger startle and turn around quickly. The maiko bowed the moment his gaze fell onto his superior and Namjoon. “Show, Mr. Kim the way back to the entrance, will you?” The younger nodded eagerly, glancing inside the room just for a second to see Jimin staring right back at him. “T-this way, please.” Jungkook motioned towards the stairwell, but his eyes were on Jimin and only when the younger formed the words ‘I’m okay’ did he return his attention to Namjoon. 

This wasn’t what Namjoon had wanted but he couldn’t say no now or insist on it being Jimin who went with him so he had to smile and bear it and with a little bow he did just that, thanking Hoseok for the help while trying not to make it obvious that all he wanted was to make sure that Jimin was fine. When the door closed behind them his smile fell and with a frown he followed Jungkook in the direction of the reception that he absolutely knew how to find.

“You shouldn’t worry, Mr. Kim,” Jungkook spoke up as they reached the last step, giggling softly at Namjoon’s confused expression. “I can tell that you are. If you keep on frowning like that you will get wrinkles…at least that’s what Jimin always tells me.” He said, playing with the fan in his hand while he accompanied Namjoon. “You shouldn’t put too much attention onto yourself like this.” Jungkook’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper as he gazed up at the taller man, “It won’t help any of us. Especially not Jimin…if that is what you are trying to do, Sir.”

Namjoon almost startled when the boy started talking out of nothing. He took it as a good sign that Jungkook trusted him enough to talk freely, even more so than Jimin even though he had barely talked with the Maiko. However he couldn’t let go of it just yet. He stopped before they came near the reception so that it was only them with no one else around. “Could you tell me a few things please? Jimin told me that he’ll be honest but I think it scares him a lot to do that. You are not scared, are you? So… would it be okay if I asked you about him? I could pay you if you want. Not as a bribe to make you talk but as something to give back in exchange for your trust. You can take it to buy something for you and Jimin or save it up, that’s entirely your choice.”

Jungkook stood frozen, his mouth hanging open in an attempt to say something but there were no words coming out. He looked up and over his shoulder into the direction that Jimin was right now and then back to Namjoon. “I get him into a lot of trouble all the time, Sir. I can’t take your money and I don’t want it.” He sighed deeply, lowering his voice, “Even if I could…I wouldn’t be able to buy us something or save it up. I would need to pay back, just like Jimin. He only has it worse than I do.” Namjoon’s sudden change of expression made Jungkook gasp, “Oh. You don’t know?” His smile was a weak attempt at lighting up the mood a little, “Sir, if you really like Jimin, please keep your head down. I don’t want you to get into trouble…not you or your handsome partner. That’s all I can tell you. I am sorry.”

“But how can that be? You’re younger and as far as I know you can only book geishas so how can Jimin have it worse? Does the geisha attire cost so much? But  I thought that was what the mizuage was for, to pay for everything the Maiko needed to become a geisha and in return…,” He broke off, embarrassed about talking about Jungkook’s virginity that the younger would lose sooner or later in exactly that way, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be insensitive. I just… don’t get it.” He lowered his voice, concern still evident in it, “Hoseok doesn’t… hurt you, right? And as the guests aren’t allowed to touch you… you are safe, aren’t you? You’re not… you don’t have to be afraid of…” He didn’t even what to think about it let alone speak it into existence. It might be cowardly but the thought alone tightened his chest painfully. There was enough pain in the world. He didn’t need to see the one he liked involved in it.

Jungkook was getting nervous the more Namjoon was talking and at the same time he only grew fonder of that man that seemed to have taken an interest in his geisha. “No, no, we’re okay, we’re safe.” Jungkook tried to calm Namjoon quickly, his hands up in defense not to stir up any drama or cause a scene. “A mizuage can’t always pay off a lifetime’s debt.” Jungkook anxiously motioned for Namjoon to walk further, “You really have to go, Sir. I mean it…please.” Jungkook felt out of depth, pushing Namjoon slightly to finally move along.

There were still so many questions on the tip of his tongue but he understood that Jungkook had to go back and he didn’t want to get the boy in trouble (apart from the fact that Yoongi would kill him if he would mess with ‘his little maiko’) so he nodded and thanked him and apologized profusely for keeping him for so long. If he could only get sneak peaks from the boys during situations like that he had would have to go back to asking Yoongi and hoping what the other told him was true and not something Yoongi had heard from others who didn’t knew a thing. He didn’t want to feel so clueless all of the time (which was new for him because normally he was the one holding the facts and explaining it to others.) 

While walking home he got out his phone, calling Yoongi even though the other would be certainly busy at that time. As he expected he got straight to voicemail but it was better than having to wait to call him tomorrow. “Yoongs, it’s Namjoon. I… I was at the tea house again. And I need you to explain it to me. Everything. Because I think I might have… I mean… I really like that Geisha. A lot.”

A/N: Here we go again!!! Thank you so much for the great feedback we got on the first part. Cat and I really appreciate it! ❤❤❤ And we hope you like this chapter, too ;) Don’t forget to leave us a comment on what you think is going to happen next hihi

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[vgilantee]

Personal Ghosts || Dick Grayson x Reader (part 7)

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Description: After solving the murder of her little sister at the age of 15, Y/N moved to Bludhaven to leave her Gotham life, and memories of the murder behind. Now a detective of the Bludhaven Police Department, with Dick Grayson as her partner, Y/N thinks that she has escaped her past. But when a toddler gets murdered, Y/N finds out that the murderer has returned and is after revenge on the young cop.

Words: 2.4k

A/N: yikes okay so it has been nearly a year since the last chapter, and I don’t really have any excuses outside of procrastination. Anyway thank you to those who have bared with me. I’ve also change from present tense to past tense, and the “reader” is now a detective. I also nearly replaced the name “James” with the real name of the person I’m based James’ personality off

“I forgot how pretty some of the places in this city are.” You pulled your jacket closer to you trying to fight against some of the wind blowing through Gotham Central Park, cup of cheap coffee held close.

“I’m sure Bludhaven is better.” James nudged you with his elbow and you let out a breathy laugh.

“I mean it’s cleaner but you know what they say,” you paused and throwing your arms out in a sarcastic dramatic fashion, “there’s no place like home.” James turned around, noticing you no longer by his side, and just laughed at you. And seeing him just laughing, carefree and happy, you joined in trying to capture some of his happy bliss. You let yourself laugh and for a brief moment, you forgot why you were home and everything else that was going bad in your life, and just laughed. You were so lost in the pure joy that you don’t notice James had moved closer until he pulled you into his arms and was laughing with you into your ear. 

“I’m glad you’re home. Even if it’s just for a little bit.”

“Alright, alright,” you shoved him off with your shoulder, “enough with the sappy shit, I wanna get one of Donny’s food truck burritos before he runs out of actual burritos.”

--

A day spent laughing, talking about new and old memories, and wandering around what is considered to be the beautiful parts of Gotham, all with the backdrop of cars and the occasional gunshot. As much as you fought against it in the beginning, you were glad that James had forced you out of the house. Working as a detective was stressful enough as it was, but with your father out, stress was at an overwhelming level that you didn’t know it had reached until you were sitting on the roof of James’ apartment building, eating fries and watching the sun set. It was in that moment when you realised that as the city was settling that the weight you had pretended not to carry finally hit you.

And that weight, and realisation, was what left you crying, sobbing really, into the evening air. 

“Hey.” Just as you finished the last couple of fries, James’ voice sounded from behind you. Hastily, you tried wiping the tear tracks off your face, hoping your eyes weren’t too red. Apparently, though, you weren’t quick enough and he saw the frantic wiping as he sat beside you. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” The scratch left in your throat from the crying was clear in your voice, and you realised that even without the red eyes, he would have known. “Okay, no. But hey, a good cry never hurt anyone.” As you spoke, you leaned into him, head on his shoulder. “‘M tired now though.” The sentence ended with a breathy laugh, exhausted and broken. 

“You wanna go inside then.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, head on top of your own. You shook your head in response, wanting to stay out in the cool air, the brief moments that Gotham had before nightlife crawled back out to play. 

“I like the brief moments of peace that Gotham has.” He hummed in response. “Before the gunshots begin again of course.” As if on queue, a distant echo of a gunshot, many blocks away, reached you. 

“It’s gonna get cold soon.” His voice was soft as he reminded you that Gotham temperature drops quickly.

“I wanna wait for the Bat-signal to light up, haven’t seen it in a while.” He hummed again, squeezing your shoulder. 

Once the cloudy sky had been lit up with the bat-signal for the night, James had offered his hand to help you up before you both made it back inside his apartment, splitting ways for the night, where he promised to leave you to tracking down old files on your father for the rest of the week. 

--

Another early morning and another pile of files. Phone pressed to your ear as you called Arkham after waiting hours for the line to open, seeing if you could pick up your father’s files from the time he was there. You were getting to the point where your anger was about to bubble over. 

“The files are classified.” Was the first thing the bored woman on the other side of the phone said. “You can’t just be given files on an escaped prisoner. It’s a GCPD issue now. Ask them.” You argued with her back and forth but she wasn’t having it. On top of the anger growing, the idea of breaking in and stealing the files was becoming rather appealing.

“Fuck it.” Was the last thing you muttered before hanging up on her. “Fucking useless.”

A mug of coffee was silently passed to you by James before he said goodbye, rushing out the apartment door. 

You sipped the coffee as you dialled the number for the GCPD, hoping that they could help and you wouldn’t have to resort to B&E.

“GCDP, how can I help?” A less-bored sounding male spoke.

“Hi, I’m Detective L/N with the Bludhaven PD, I’m working the Dale L/N case. He recently broke out of Arkham and murdered multiple toddlers and their families in Bludhaven?” You tried keeping your voice authoritative, but the previous call had tired you out and gotten on your nerves. “I was wondering if I could visit the station later today and pick up some files that could help with my investigation.”

“Of course. I’ll let the Captain know and put the files aside for you.” You very nearly fist-pumped into the air, glad that it went so smoothly and that maybe, just maybe, you would start actually getting somewhere in the investigation.

“Thank you so much. I’ll be there at around 10.”

“See you then, Detective.”

Throwing back the end of your coffee, you raced to have a shower and get ready. 

--

“Excuse me? I’m Detective L/N. I spoke to someone over the phone earlier today about possibly collecting some files on an open investigation.” You held your badge out to show the young-looking officer sat behind the tall counter.

“Oh yes,” he looked at your badge then up at your face quickly, “that was me. The captain has the files on her desk. Just one minute.” He turned away from you, pressing a number as he picked up the phone. “The Detective from Bludhaven PD is here to see you.” He glanced back at you. “Okay, I’ll send her in.” Placing the phone down, he handed you a visitor pass and pen before turning back to his computer. 

Walking through GCPD again was a strange feeling. The first time you had been there, you were with your mother and were filing the official police report about your sister’s death. The last time was when you were getting reprimanded and thanked for hunting down the evidence to get your father arrested. Between then had been countless visits with your mother, sometimes crying, sometimes not.

It had been years, and despite the fact that you were now in the police force yourself, you felt like a child again. And that was the strange feeling. It was the feeling that even though you had grown up, matured, gotten a career, in the GCPD you still felt like a child.

You only had to knock on the captain’s door twice before she called out for you to enter.

The woman sitting at the desk filled the room with an air of authority that you were used to from your own captain. Her dark hair was pulled tightly back with only a couple of grey strands visible. She gestured with a single finger to sit in one of the dark leather chairs sitting on the opposite side of the desk to herself, not looking up from her computer. You did as she instructed and waited, listening to the rapid clicking of her keyboard. You glanced around her office, out the window, at your phone. Anything to pass the time and keep your eyes off the stack of files and paperwork on her desk.

“So, Detective L/N,” her voice startled you and your eyes darted back from out the window to her stern face. “You are one of the leads on the L/N case in Bludhaven?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Silently, you hoped that she wouldn’t notice ask about you sharing the same surname. “My partner is still in Bludhaven, but I’m here to see if I can collect any information you have still on file about the case.”

“Of course.” A small smile crosser her face and you couldn’t tell if it was simply polite or if it was something else. “I just have a couple of questions.” That simple sentence told you that, no, the smile wasn’t just to be polite, it was to draw you into a sense of security.

“Anything, Ma’am.” You gave a tight smile back, knowing that she was about to ask, just as your captain did, if you were too personally involved in this case.

“Are you the same Y/N L/N that initially collected the evidence against Dale L/N for murdering his young daughter?” Despite the cold expression she kept, her tone sounded as if she was impressed.

“Yes, I am, Ma’am.” You were only given a nod in response. “Is that a problem?” Shuffling uncomfortably, you watched her sit back in her tall chair as she eyed you.

“No problem, Detective.” Although you tried not to, you eyed her slightly. “I spoke to your captain before you arrived. He doesn’t think you should be working this case, thinks it’s too personal.”

“I know, Ma’am. He told me that himself.” You knew it was bad to interrupt her, but you were still apparently ready to fight after this morning.

“I am aware, Detective. He told me.” Her eyes narrowed at you slightly, warning you. “However, I told him that you are an adult and capable of separating work from personal life. And that you had done this before when you were a child.” While making her mini-speech, she had lent back to rest her elbows on the desk.

“Thank you, Ma’am.” You were thankful that the GCPD captain had vouched for you with your own captain. 

“I was one of the detectives working that case, if you were wondering why I agreed to you taking these files and disagreeing with your captain’s want for you to be off the case.” You felt your eyes widen and your jaw drop slowly. All the captain did in response was let out a small chuckle. “Your evidence helped us close the case. And I would like you to be able to do it again. This time as a cop, not a child.”

“I- uh. Thank you, Captain.” Lifting a hand, she placed it on a 3-inch high pile of paper.

“This is all the files we could pull from the archive that we have here, and this,” she picked up a single piece of paper off the top of the pile, handing it to you “is the form you will need to take into Arkham to go through their archives and to take any files you need.” She then turned her chair slightly and picked up a plastic briefcase from behind her desk. You watched as she placed all the paperwork into the case. 

“Thank you, again, Captain.” You stood, shaking her hand as she passed over the case.

“Not a problem, Detective.” You walked towards the door, case in hand. “Good luck catching your father.” You stuttered to a halt, empty hand halfway to the door handle. You nodded before turning the handle, exiting the office. 

--

Before looking through the files or heading back to James’, you drove to Arkham. The drive led you through to the outskirts of Gotham, where the trees were dying and the buildings empty. All of Gotham was dangerous, but living within two blocks of the asylum was suicidal, signing your own death certificate.

But when you finally arrived, after five or six security checks, you made it to the front desk of Arkham.

“Excuse me?” The woman who had previously been facing away slowly turned in her chair to face you through the glass screen.

“Yes.” Even though her voice was no longer through a phone, the drawl was the same. Your fists flexed open and closed as you tried keeping the anger at this woman held down.

“I’m Detective L/N with the Bludhaven PD.” 

“Yeah, I remember you.” Her eyes rolled, which caused you to pull the folded page from your pocket and slam it onto the counter.

“Captain Carter from the GCPD gave me this form. She said that it gives me the legal permission to look through all your archives to find and take copies of  the files I need for an on-going investigation.” She didn’t bother to look at you as she took the paper off the counter, reading through it. 

“Please wait here.” Then she got up and left you standing. You stood, waiting for a few minutes, listening to the occasional crazed laughter or hazy screams that made it through the thick walls and long hallways of the asylum. This was one of the places in Gotham you had never visited. You never had reason to, and Arkham asylum was not a place visited for fun.

When she finally returned, a guard walked through the metal door to the right of the admin desk. 

“This way, please, Detective.” Not once were you asked for your badge, or to hand over your gun or your phone. The only real security was the many doors that needed unlocking from the guard. 

The hallways were laid out like a grid, and you were only taken through ones that skirted around the edges of the main building. When you finally stopped at a proper door and not a gate, you had been walking for over half an hour. The guard unlocked the door and opened it for you, handing you a walkie.

“Use this to let me know when you have found what you need. I will come to collect you and walk you out. There is a copier on the wall on the left, feel free to make copies of whatever you need. There is some new and blank USB’s in the top drawer below the computer beside the copier.” He then nodded and pulled the door shut, locking it. You turned and sighed, preparing you for the long search ahead.

--

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[the-dork-neko]

The Last Rose (Doctor Nez, one-shot)

[Summary] After having his invitation refused for the first time, the 9th Doctor finds advice and incentive in an unexpected place.

[Disclaimer] Doctor Who, its plots, universes, characters and medias, belongs to BBC and the authorized enterprises. The Monkees (band and songs) belongs to those wonderful, charming musicians; the TV show, to NBC, Screen Gems and Columbia Pictures; and the albums, to Rhino and Warner.

The crossover Doctor Nez (Mike Nesmith as a Timelord) was an idea by the wonderful authors @revychumso​, @rose-of-pollux and @carlisliesimms fountains of wisdom to both fandoms. Please, go find them on Tumblr and give all the praise they deserve.

The One Rose (Left In My Heart) is, at once, a waltz and a country music classic, originally composed in 1930 (!) by Del Lyon and Lani McIntyre, and recorded in several other covers, in which we can count Mike Nesmith's, as part of the trilogy with The First National Band, in his first solo album, Magnetic South, of 1970.

[Initial Notes]Sorry, I'm not a native speaker, and this story was first conceived and written in Português. So, if you spot any grammar and spelling errors, please, don't be ashamed of pointing them (and your opinions in general) in the box below! :)

 She didn't want to get into the TARDIS with him again.

After that fiasco, he couldn't say anything against her.

Nevertheless, she didn't pass the impression of a conformist person, or of someone who'd enjoy routines and predictability. Also, she'd never look like a coward. No way.

To find out the true nature of the beings that stole faces, or got hosted into the mannequins, she did everything beyond the call of duty to her job and her family, until the final consequences. Including an alliance with a complete uknown, unable to inspire any trust.

But, when they triumphed over the enemies, and everything went back to normal, she'd rather end their brief partnership.

He could never judge her, didn't have this right. Even so, the rejection hurt in both his hearts.

On the other hand, it was nearly reassuring, to see that his hearts still had any influence over his young, newly-regenerated body, and his equally young mind, hyperactive in spite of the age, but both so tired after long centuries of battle.

The War could have ended to the planets involved - some of them, with their entire population, were not amongst the existant anymore, by his fault - however, to him, the war was infinite. His lonely torment, impossible to describe, a prison without walls, walked along with him, infinite and inexorable, until the end of all worlds.

And there was not a living soul to guide him back to sanity.

He was worthy of such punishment, as the genocidal of countless people, inluding his own.

Cass ran away from him, like she'd do against a monster or a demon. She wasn't wrong. The amazing girl from Babylon tried to save him, and ended an outcast, a horror story eternally haunting her own people. Rose, after a brief glimpse of his monstruous nature, and his utter inability of saving all of the innocents who crossed his path, followed the wise female intuition, and stayed home.

He didn't have a home to go back to, so he left the choice of the next stop to the TARDIS. It was always a wise movement. No other technology on time-space machines could compare its driving skills with the super smart Old Girl.

To his surprise, they stopped facing more water. Not a river, like the Thames, but a titanic immensity, the Pacific Ocean, lulling the continent in sleepy waves, peacefully dozing through entire geological ages, and conveniently hiding the sound of the dematerialization.

Anyway, it wasn't hard to enjoy a long walk on that desert beach, and go unnoticed.

Nonetheless, they had company. Someone who sang to a nearly extinct bonfire, and a beautiful blonde guitar, well-sheltered in long, thin arms.

*********

Mike didn't expect to have that much fun. He should have gone around town, looking for work, to himself and the band. But Pete got a gift from some neighbors, in the form of a good lot of several leftovers, and proposed a picnic on the beach; as a suddent opportunity to chill out, sing and eat well, close to the fire.

They savoured hot dogs, baked potatos, enjoyed some desserts, and sang, in delight and harmony, with the sounds of the waves, the sunset, the moon and stars ascending into the sky. (2)

The hours advanced, and the young men gave way to exaustion, a pacific sleep, even better to be enjoyed, in a rare time when they were all safe and well-fed.

In spite of being as satiated and tired as the friends he tucked into bed, like a bird zealous of its fledgling cubs, the musician couldn't sleep. He got hold of the custom made guitar, went out the door, crossed the street, and sank his feet in the sand of the beach.

That moment of insomnia brought to him, for some mysterious whim, a bittersweet nostalgia for his motherland.

Michael would never regret migrating to California, pursuing his dream. Quite the opposite. He found a loving, protective family, with whom he could share his anxieties, his needs, and his music.

He had a fond remembrance of the moment when Micky asked him to sing the first song he learnt; and Davy's fiery insistance for having him singing on gigs too. He remembered Peter's unexpected and genius idea of proposing duets and vocal harmonies that needed the whole band, as a subtle way to force him to sing, and get the attention he also deserved, as part of the band, an imperative necessary part of the group.  (3)

And it was with shame that he remembered the difficulty in believing that their appreciation, for his voice and his skills, was true, since the very beginning. After some lonely,  bitter months living the life of a homeless unemployed, and suffering the complete rejection of any audience, besides having to put up with horrible people jeering at him for sounding like a "hillbilly", it seemed impossible that he ever could findd other professional musicians, inspired by  unresistible empathy and creativity, who would enjoy his company and his compositions.

And against all odds, all possibilities, and all advices and common sense, they adopted him, welcoming him into their home. They were the brothers he never had, the precious companions for whom he worried, the people with whom he could live in mutual love, care and protection.

But that didn't mean that he couldn't, once in a while, miss the perfume and the colors of the angels' trumpets, the calls and runnings of the prarie chickens, the impossible heat of the desert air, and the way it turned into a green fountain of life, in the rainy seasons. A whole kaleidoscope of all possible shades of green, beyond where the eyes could see.

Nothing could be better, to take this blues away, than singing something that could bring forth the remembrance of motherland. The brief time of the song would bring him back to somewhere under the graceful sunrise that painted the sky with all shades of rose. He could return, even for some fleeting moments, to that poetic, lonely place where it was impossible to know where the earth ended,  and the sky began.

A waltz. A love song. Back then, back there, this kind of music never brought him any luck; finding someone who wanted to hear him was a homeric task; and any of the girls at school ever wanted to dance with him.

Indeed, his past life was exactly like the one lived by the character of this song.

However, there was a man who liked dancing with Michael. Micky would hug him to the sound of the music, invite him to enjoy life, play and dance along with anything. Or he would jus smile at him, with his hazel-colored eyes lit with true joy, enough to light a whole town.

Both the drummer, with his nearly angelical voice, and the percussionist, with his elegant British accent, made crystal clear all about the honor they felt, in singing the shy westerner poet's compositions to the alternative scene of Malibu.

The young struggling musician didn't need to dream about the loving perfume of a rose, thankful for the caring and nurturing. After his long journey, he left the desert behind, and got to a garden, with three exotic plants that grew taller, flowered and with plenty of fruits, under his tender care and concern. They extended, like the refreshing shade of robust trees, an aura of friendship, mutual comfort and protection in his life.

*********  

He didn't want to stay in the TARDIS,  with only his own storm of negative thoughts for company. He neither wantes to go out and face aa stranger who would ask nosy questions.

Even so, there were undeniable magnetism and empathy in that strange's music. That juvenile, but deep voice could be the voice of someone who knew him as well as his own tormented conscience. The poetry of the song felt like composed at his request.

A poetry that was worthy of being heard live, carried throught the nearly cold sea air, instead of filtered by the cameras and scanners of the console.

Once out on the beach, he leaned on some rocks, away enough to avoid any contact, close enough for his accurate hearing catch every letter and every note.

Loneliness and sorrow suffocated the memory of experiencing true love. However, in the middle of the torment, immeasurable as earth after the catastrophe, a flower grew. A rose, a little, brief, fragile life. But also the unforgettable symbol of a kind, giving and restoring feeling.

Lonely hope, wandering endlessly on the dephts of the conscience of the exhausted, the defeated, who traveled aimlessly through the Universe.

Though, her courage and kindness could save him, regenerate him, more than the stubborn nature of his cells ever could, when they gave him a new body and personality, as it happened during his past ten deaths.

So he left the slumbering beach, and the solitaire singer who haunted it, yodeling like a mystic figure howling to the moon, before going back into his box, and setting the coordinates to that exact moment.

If she'd decline again, he'd go away. She would be lost, along with his sanity, drown into uncountable billions of bittersweet recallings.

If she accepted, he'd be honoured for travelling with her. It would be the only and best way of sharing the rest of his life with her, the perfect silent, yet meaningful gesture of his love and gratitude towards her.

Exactly like the person in the song, the Doctor would be saved by a Rose.

 [End Notes]

1. The official explanation for poor 9's recovery after being "dumped" by Rose is one of the chapters of the wonderful collection of short tales 12 Doctors, 12 Stories. (Brazilian Edition: Rio de Janeiro: Rocco, 2015). If you haven't read the book and don't like spoilers, please, skip to the next note.

The 9th Doctor's short story consists of a nice trip to the ancient Babylon, where he finds his next temporary companion. She's not human, though. But, throughout the text, it's easy to feel how irrelevant this was to the Doctor, and how he was the only one who actually treated her like an actual person. They chat and pour their souls out to each other, and she becomes a cute protector of his, and gives him a lot of advices.

2. A shameless transposition of some verses from the song Auntie's Municipal Court, composed by Mike, for the band's fifth studio album, The Birds, The Bees & The Monkees.

3. The found family unit, drawn together before the band and the TV series, and Mike's chronic lack of confidence due to his voice, are headcanons taken from other authors in the fandom, @nezclaw and @averyextraordinaryscene, from Tumblr, also @Lisa_Boon1966, at AO3.

Like lots of other headcanons, these tales have a certain touch of truth. One of the comic/ narrative resources that was repeated throughout the whole series is poor Mike's "hillbilly twang".

This "exotic drawl" could probably be the final "proof" to make the executive producer in charge of the show, Don Kirschner, dismiss all of the guitarist's compositions, and his voice as well, jeering at them and calling them, with his most delicate words, "non-comercial".

Michael even denied, for decades, that he ever sang or composed certain songs in the show's OST, until someone who worked at Rhino dug out some old recordings from the 1960s, to be used at the remasterization of The Monkees' discography. And this blessed person sent him a copy of the demo version of the song The Girl I Knew Somewhere.

It's easy to imagine the fictitious personality of this young man suffering under prejudice and hostility, just for being unable to sound like the singers from the "big city", and developing the unbreakable belief that nobody would ever want to hear him. :(

Thank heavens that his adoptive children convinced him about the contrary - which was the truth!

[50shadesofjakemckenzie]

Hey! can u do a jake x mc where mc dies ? (dark ik) thanks lol (extra angst is always appreciated)

Ah yes, I’m nervous. P.S. I cried while writing this.

-

I tried to focus on the feeling of the sand underneath me, the cold waves crashing against my feet, the sea breeze enveloping my body. I couldn’t seem to sense any of them. My body was numb, my soul was numb, my heart was numb.

Too many tears have fallen from my eyes the past three days. Too many times I caught myself imagining her in my arms. Too many times had I lied, promising everyone I was okay. I was falling apart, my world had fallen apart.

The day she was taken from me, I found myself questioning my existence. Why couldn’t it have been me? I couldn’t fathom as to why she was stolen from the world, her joy and her love never to be experienced again. She was my light in the never-ending darkness and now she was gone.

I had begged her not to confront Rourke on her own. I felt it within my gut that something was going to go terribly wrong. So when she snuck out from under the warm covers of our bed that night, I didn’t hesitate to follow her. She had navigated through the jungle, eventually arriving at the Celestial. I had silently stalked behind the girl I loved, watching as she made her way towards his office.

His eyes laid upon her immediately as I stayed hidden within the shadows, not wanting to make a wrong move and result in her being harmed. They had quickly begun to argue, my princess blaming him for the catastrophe he caused. As the two continued back and forth, he had revealed the only escape off the island. It was then the cold words dripped from his lips, “Now that you know, I have to kill you,” 

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. I watched as he pulled the pistol from his waistband, training it on her, on the love of my life. My body emerged from the shadows, sprinting towards her. He fired the gun, the noise causing my ears to ring. I watched as the bullet penetrated her chest, her blood spilling across the floor as her body collapsed. 

I had charged towards Rourke, tackling him into the tiled floor. My fist pummeled into his jaw a countless amount of times, my knuckles bruising as I punched the man unconscious. I was going to kill the fucking man. But her weak voice called to me, “Jake,” I pulled myself from the murderer abruptly, racing towards my princess. 

My body fell to the floor beside her, my hand putting pressure to the bullet wound. I propped her head up with my other palm, her eyes struggling to stay open. “Stay with me princess, please stay with me. You’re going to be okay,” I begged, tears beginning to spill from my eyes.

A weak smile crossed her perfect lips as she spoke, “Get them off this island Jake. For me,” I shook my head in denial at her words. She wasn’t going to leave me, she couldn’t.

“You’re going to get them off this island princess, because you’re going to live through this,” My voice chokes, sobs beginning to rake my body. Her eyelids fluttered, threatening to shut at any moment. I pressed my lips to hers gently, surprised when she responds, her body attempting to reach towards mine. 

“I love you, Jake. Don’t you ever forget me, Top Gun,” She stated, her voice straining as she spoke her very last words. I watched in silence as her eyes shut forever, my body beginning to shake. I had removed my hand from her wound, shocked at her blood covering my hand. I pulled her lifeless body to mine, holding her in my weak arms as I sobbed loudly.

I was there for hours that night, refusing to let her go. She hadn’t really left me. I refused to believe she was gone. As the sun began to rise on La Huerta, the group came sprinting into the office, their mouths agape as they witnessed the pathetic scene before them. The unbreakable man sobbing as he held his dead princess in his arms.

Craig and Sean both had to pull me away, I had fought back like a maniac. They dragged me from the room, leaving the rest of the group to mourn over the one I loved. The pair had to lock me in a random suite, trying to force me to calm down. 

As I was left alone, all I did was sob. I curled up in a ball on the bed and cried for hours. The pain in my chest was too great to ignore, the image of her being murdered replaying again and again in my mind. 

Diego had come to retrieve me from my prison cell. He led me toward the beach, holding my hand as if he was afraid to let me go. As we reached the rest of the group, the sight before me hurt just as much as watching her die. My princess was cleaned of the blood, flowers in her long hair, a silk dress adorning her skin as she lied peacefully on a makeshift boat.

I choked back my sobs, not wanting to cry further in front of the group. Diego squeezed my hand tighter, the sight obviously painful for him too. “I loved her,” I whispered aloud, trying to understand what had happened.

“I know,” Was all Diego had responded with.

Raj began to say a few words about my princess, describing her radiating joy and her admirable courage. Once Raj had finished his piece, the rest of the circle began to speak, reflecting on their favorite qualities of her and how much they would miss her. It was so incredibly hard to hear. 

It soon came to Diego, and he began to speak, my hand still holding his, “As you all know, M/C was more than a best friend to me, she was my family. She had accepted me when no one else had and I’ll forever feel in debt to her for that. Of everything we shared together, I’m going to miss her smile the most. Her smile had the ability to light up the room, no matter what the circumstance. It was enough to make you feel welcome, joyful, and just grateful to be alive.

“I’m happy that she found her true love on this island, that she found her family. And I’m happy that she spent her last moments with him. She didn’t deserve to die as young as she did, but she sure as hell deserved to die happy and I think she got to experience that. I’m going to miss you so much, M/C. Life will never be as happy or as fun without you. I love you with all of my heart,” Sobs began to wrack Diego’s body, and I didn’t hesitate to pull him into a hug. I rubbed his back as he cried into my shoulder, tears falling from the eyes of the rest of the group. He had composed himself after a few moments, pulling himself from me.

I sigh aloud, trying to think of the right words to say. My mouth opens as I begin, “I’ve never really known what love is. I had an idea, but my princess completely changed that the moment I met her. I’ve come to learn that love isn’t just something that happens. Love is something you fight for, and she always did just that. You each all had a special place in her heart and she showed that through everything she’s done on this island. The way she’s led us all, the sacrifices she made, her death, it was all because she loved us and she wanted to save us. I just wish I could have saved her.”

“I was going to marry that woman. I was going to propose to her the moment we got home and spend the rest of my life with her. I don’t know why someone had to take that away from me, but they did. The ironic thing is, I vowed to myself I would never get close to anyone after Mike. I always thought that people are destined to hurt you, but she had to go and try to prove me wrong. And of course, I’m left here breaking apart because she’s gone. I’ll always love her. I’ll always be grateful for her because she taught me to truly love when I didn’t know how. I’m going to miss everything about her. I’m going to miss her touch, her kiss, her ability to see the best in me when I only see the worst in myself. I love you princess so God damn much, and I’m going to miss you for the rest of my life,” 

As I finish, I had begun to cry. Diego wrapped an arm around my shoulders as we watched Craig and Sean push the raft into the bright blue ocean. We all sat along the beach, watching as the white sail of the boat floated far into the distance until it completely disappeared from our sight.

Diego and I stayed on the beach that night. We sat in the sand, we cried, we shared our favorite stories of her. As the moon rose in the sky, we fell asleep in the sand, awaking the following morning. Diego had left sometime that afternoon, I didn’t dare move from my spot.

I sat there for ages, different people bringing me out food and water, forcing me to consume it. After three days, I was still numb. Unable to accept the fact she was gone.

The third day, I stood from the beach, clambering towards the hotel. I had one last promise to my princess that I intended to keep, I was going to get us off this God forsaken island and get us home.

[5hfanfiction]

Leaving All I've Ever Known - Chapter 1

This is a story of what happened to Camila after she left Fifth Harmony. It’s December 2017 & it’s been exactly 1 year since Camila started her solo career. She’s been a success so far, charting alongside Fifth Harmony who’ve just finished their 3rd album & tour.

With all 5 of the girls’ life heading into directions they’d only thought could happen in their dreams, will they ever cross paths again? Or are Fifth Harmony & Camila destined to pursue their already seprate singing careers alone?

Read the next chapter @1000camren on Wattpad

——-

“So something like ’I have always encouraged you to be fearless, to do what makes you happy…’”

“I want to write ’to live your life in the name of love and do what makes you happy.’”

“… Sure. That’s fine. Now mention how excited you are to finally start your solo career and do your own thing.”

I look up at Roger, slightly taken aback but not completely surprised by his bluntness. My eyebrows are furrowed. I’m deep in thought trying to think of the best way to voice the ideas he has for me in my response to Fifth Harmony’s letter.

“How about ’as scary as it is to take the leap’…” I pause, trying to think the best way to address the fans. “I am excited and full of joy because I know that no matter what happens, I am following my heart.’?”

From the corner of my eye, I see Roger pacing back and forth, trying to come up with a better idea than my own for my final goodbye letter to the harmonizers. It’s a tense time. I’ve hardly gotten any sleep. What Roger and I decide to present to the world will impact mine and the rest girls careers. We have to be smart about this.

“That’s good… keep that. Just end it with ’I hope to see you on my journey.‘ We’ve got to keep as many of those harmonizers on our side as we can.” Roger laughs, amused by his comment.

I briefly smile at his response that I knew was a joke. But what if they do abandon me? I know for a fact some will hate me. But will there be enough fans that like me remaining? Am I nothing but a wannabe solo artist that used to be in a girl group?

My breath begins to pick up and the pounding in my head, that hasn’t stopped since last night, intensifies. My anxiety is out of control at this point. Everything from worrying about the fans and their uncertain loyalty to me, to worrying about my family and the repercussions this letter might have on them and to my bandmates… or ex-bandmates. To Fifth Harmony… to Fourth Harmony? To Ally, Dinah, Normani and Lauren.

“Uhh, then put ’yours sincerely, Camil-”

“-Wait, I’m not saying goodbye to the girls?…”

Roger stopped pacing to look at me. I don’t think he expected me to be so serious.  Which I was, very serious. I had been on this 4 year long journey with 4 people that have dictated and moulded who I am today. Waking up with them, eating with them, even being in the spotlight with them changed everything about me.  The least I could do was write a paragraph detailing what I know is an endless list of things I want to share with them. The memories, struggles and bonds I’ve had with them individually. If not for them, then for the harmonizers. Let them see how much I loved every single one of the girls. It’s a love that will in no way ever deplenish. It’s forever expansive because as they grow and I grow separately, the memories that forefront Fifth Harmony will be the good ones, and not the bad ones that have been tainting my recollection of being in the group lately.  I couldn’t imagine a stronger friendship between 5 girls formed from something so plastic.

I looked down, clearly upset that this letter, that’s meant to convey everything my heart had left for Fifth Harmony, for one last time, was being edited and composed almost without my hearts input.

“We would be crossing too many boundaries that me and Fifth Harmony’s management have already worked long and hard for to exist. Distancing you and them is the key Camila.”

That’s what Fifth Harmony’s management seem to be trying to do to with the letter they wrote about my departure from the group.  The girls didn’t write that, I’m certain of it. We had discussed and talked about how I was feeling, way before today. Being in Fifth Harmony became too much for me, not the singing or touring or meeting fans, no, not what the world sees. But the countless hours in the studio, having to regurgitate the same 5 sentences over and over again to press. There was no room for expression. No self expression. The only way I could do that, was during the rare moment I had to myself. Those seemed to reduce over the years, especially in 2016. And I guess management didn’t like our forms or retaliation, or when we confronted them. So getting my own manager and collaborating with other artists, gave them the perfect opportunity to present me as an individual from the group.

I weakly nod my head anyway. This is how things are now. In many ways, this is how things have always been. Management got the last say, but this time, I’m alone to accept and deal with it all.

“Just write ’yours sincerely, Camila.' and post it.

"How about ’love, Camila.’, you know, make it a bit more heartfelt?” I can’t believe I was asking Roger for permission on how to end my letter.

“Okay. Then send it.”

I looked down, typing out the last words that I’ll ever be allowed to direct to Fifth Harmony.

C - a - m - i - l - a.

That’s it. Goodbye Fifth Harmony.

“One minute, let’s me check if everything’s correct.”

Roger began scanning the text that I feel like I’ve wrote and rewrote 1000 times already. “Frozen yogurt, blah blah blah… live your life… my journey, love Camila. Good. That’s good, now post it.”

My finger hovered over the publish button. Once this is out, it’s out.  There’s no doubt people are going to scrutinise and pick on everything I said. They’ll manipulate my words. They’ll do everything they can to ruin me.  By 'they’ I mean my ex-management. Maverick will make up false rumours. I’m calling them out, and to retaliate, they’ll try to ruin me.

Maverick and our labels ruined everything I’ve ever cared about in the group. They completely cut our creative outlet, we barely got a choice to what outfits we wear. They’ve ruined friendships… relationships.

They will do as they please, so why not push it that extra bit further?

When Roger turns away, I add in an extra 4 letter long word after 'love’. A final middle finger to management and the label. They know exactly what the word means to me.

o - n - l - y

*click*

I press send and wait for the world to react.

——-

Hi! Thanks for reading my new fanfic! To read chapter 2, go to @1000camren on Wattpad :)

[locofcpsgirl]

The Immediate Future

I remember the feeling of graduating from college being elation and satisfied exhaustion.  When you know you’ve given the absolute most of yourself and the outcome is nothing but optimal.  I remember how proud of myself I felt to be announcing that everything I had worked for was now coming to fruition.  After 4 long summers of working in political media I was finally moving to Los Angeles and working at a big name media brand. My dream...or that’s what I thought.  Los Angeles wasn’t what I thought it would be at all.  It was a land of struggle and strife and immobolizing anxiety that reawakened some of my biggest insecurities.  It wasn’t the work I was doing, or the fear of failure.  It was the people.  I felt alone in the crowded room and perpetually like I, the densest object, was always sinking to the bottom of the glass where everyone else floated at the surface.  There is nothing about LA that I miss and nothing about it I want to go back to.  When people I know or love or both describe Los Angeles and tell me how they love it, it’s almost like they’ve revealed to me this other side of themselves.  Like a shadow cast of a lake or a cloud hovering in front of the sun for too long.  And I wonder...do I really know them?  Most of what kept me mentally stimulated during countless hours of editing reality television clips and providing meaningless updates for social media was the knowledge that I was leaving.  I knew I was moving to Spain and embarking on my next amazing adventure.  I was not stuck there to rot and reek of abandoned dreams and “could have, should have, would have”.  I know LA was no longer the place for me and I was ready to release myself from it’s strangling embrace.  Coming to Spain was also not what I thought.  I believe my time here has taught me to be quieter and more...internal about the things I do.  There is no one here for me to blabber to all of the time, no one to be constantly expresses my thoughts and feelings to...and that, I think, has been good for me.  It’s challenged me to feel things and develop thoughts and opinions before expressing them to the world and how to work in silence with faith that sheer force of will is going to bring my art to fruition.  I am feeling accomplished right now having just finished my first documentary episode.  I’m proud of it and I’m happy to unveil it.  I don’t know what will come of it, but if there’s one thing I know it’s that intention is everything.  It’s time to start developing intention for my art and forging a path for its way forward in the world.  It’s crazy how creation and artistry makes you a mother.  How you feel protective over it, but wanting to see what it can do for itself all on its own simultaneously.  I want that for my art, for my videos, for my words, for my writings.  I want to see what they can do.  I want to share it with the world and see what it snowballs into.  Creating and visualizing and bringing forth stories is something that gives me indescribable joy and purpose.  I feel like I am in “flow” when I’m writing or creating or editing...and my intention is to create more opportunities like that for myself.  My year with Fulbright...on this beautiful island that it has taken me 5 long months to not view as my adversary...is on its decline.  It’s going slow and steady and building up to something all at once.  And I don’t know what leaving looks like.  I don’t know what coming home looks like.  And I am terrified.  But excited all at once.  I know I’ve got some choices to make about whether or not to move to the big city and experience something altogether knew...or whether or not to move back to what I know because the work I would be doing aligns more with my values.  And then there’s the option to maybe just give thanks for all that I have right now?  To cast the net wide as I have always done and not worry about where the roads I’m on is leaving, but start building paths in all directions knowing where they’ll go so that when my time in the forest is done, and I have cut down all the trees so that I can better see I will know where the paths lead and I’ll be able to pick one with certainty and ease...obviously when put like that what I have to do is obvious.  I’ve got to cast the net wide and see where it goes.  I need to follow my gut and ride the ways of this experience.  The storm has passed and I am riding the ripples back to shore.  I just hope that when the time comes I’ll know what my soul needs.  My two biggest internal dilemmas are that a) i can move to New York and work for a big name media company...but at what cost?  Making someone else’s dreams and ideas come true?  I’d be just another piece of someone else’s puzzle, the supporting actor of someone else’s life.  Or I can find opportunities that feed and develop my craft.  Places that want to see me grow and change and develop my skills for the sake of the story.  My intention is to do what I have set out to do.  Become an international journalist, documentarian, environmentalist, and storyteller.  It’s who I am, and who I WANT to be.  The opportunity in Alexandria excites me for a number of reasons.  One I like how detailed it is and how much in encourages job growth.  Two it’s in a city that I know I can save money in and it’s close to lots of other opportunities to make the type of media I want.  If Carlo were to end up working there we’d get to be together.  But also I just don’t want to go home to the town I tried so hard to get out of.  Okay I’ve gotten kind of side tracked with this post and I think I need to end it, but needless to say I’m excited for the future and ready to do what it takes to make my dreams come true.