#v; the crown weighs heavy upon me

[checkmatecalculations]

@healerkissed has been formally asked to the royal ball

----

   Another ball, another dreary night of socializing, fake smiles and empty words tossed around without a care. Nobility was a façade that was worn to hide the true intentions of human hearts. . . At least, that was what Langston had come to believe over the nineteen years of his life. Not only that, but the cruel weight of the expectations cast upon him as the heir to the throne. . . Seeing how he was the only child.

      Ah. . . He often found himself occassionally ENVYING those who had free time. . . Whose parents sought to see their children smile, instead of see them perfect themselves down to the last iota. He was a genius, surely it was an easy matter for him of all people, right? But even he found himself faltering at the idea of the so called PERFECTION his father sought from him. 

   The worst part of all of this. . . Was the near crippling loneliness. People oft avoided him because of his status and those who sought him out only saw him FOR his status, and not as himself. So much had he adapted to this way of thinking, that more and more of a shell came to form around his heart. . . To keep it safe. Safe from those whose intentions were vile and conceited. 

      A room with so many people, a floor with so much mirth and laughter, as music played, and ladies tried for his attention, despite the fact it was fruitless to try to woo him -- His hand had been spoken for many years ago. Though he spent time often with the princess from the nearby kingdom, his heart was never HERS, but he knew love didn't exist for a man of his pedigree.

   Marriage was a political affair after all, not an act of love.

       Yet, after he waves off another hopeful maiden, blue eyes do come to rest upon a young woman with bright red hair. She seemed out of place here, hands nervously clasped together, emerald hues searching the room as if trying to find the nearest escape -- Only to have a couple knock into her, they not giving her a second thought. A sigh leaves him, he shaking his head a little, before he makes his way over, extending his hand out to her.

            ❝ Perhaps. . . We could both use a bit of fresh air. Come join me out on the balcony, away from this noise and chaos? ❞

[theroyalhouseofwindenburg]

The Black Death: Part 6

On the fifth night of Wilhelm's confinement within the dungeon, he had become extremely ill. Boils covered his pale, sickly body as he sat feebly in the corner of the cold stone room. In his final moments, he looked up and couldn't believe his eyes. Before him stood three spirits—the ghost of his late wife Fiona, her severed head floating in front of her body, clearly enraged. She looked to Wilhelm and said, "You thought death would spare you from the consequences of your malevolence, Wilhelm. Your cruelty did not die with me; it festered and grew in the heart of our daughter, whom you callously mistreated after my passing. You dared to execute me when our child was but a tender three years old, denying her a mother's love and subjecting her to the darkness you embody. Your reign was built on the foundation of my demise, but now, in death, I return to witness your kingdom crumble and your soul wither in eternal torment. The suffering you've sown will be your only legacy."

Wilhelm looked blankly at the spirits, unable to fathom what he saw before his eyes. Before he could respond, the spirit of his father, King Wilhelm IV, interrupted, "Wilhelm, my son, you may have taken my crown 29 years ago, lifting the burden that weighed heavily upon me. Yet, as I gaze upon the path you've chosen, my heart is heavy with disappointment. The legacy you've crafted is one of cruelty and callousness, and in your pursuit of power, you've lost the essence of true kingship. May you find redemption in the afterlife, for your deeds have left a stain on the very realm you were meant to protect."

Finally, the sad spirit of King Wilhelm's dear uncle Arthur stood before him, bearing a somber expression. Arthur extended his hand to his nephew, and Wilhelm reached up to him.

The following morning, as the guards were doing their rounds, they saw that Wilhelm had met his demise, lying lifeless on the cold stone floor, covered in markings of the plague. The plague doctors were called to collect the King's body and deliver it to Westsimster Abbey. They wrapped him in a thick blanket and sealed it with wax to prevent further infection. Meanwhile, upstairs in the castle, Cordelia, Augusta, and Prince Wilhelm sat in their chamber reminiscing. Suddenly, the doors flung open, and guards poured in, accompanied by Sir Oliver Coles, the King's advisor. He was holding a note which he immediately read out to the family.

"It is with deep sorrow that we announce the passing of our sovereign, King Wilhelm V, who reigned over Windenburg from the year 1320 until his demise today, on the 4th day of winter, 1349. In mourning his loss, we reflect on the challenges faced during his rule. With the final toll of the bell, we bid farewell to a dark chapter in our history."

Oliver and the guards looked to the young Prince Wilhelm and bowed before him, stating, "The king is dead, long live the king." Wilhelm was blown away by this news; he couldn't believe his ears. Now at only 11 years old, he would have to rule a kingdom. Cordelia was shocked upon hearing the news, and sadness overcame her, more so for the lost potential in her late husband, now consumed by death's final grasp. Yet, Augusta was clearly overjoyed by this. The young King looked down to his guards in disbelief, knowing the weight that has been thrust upon him and the struggles he was bound to face.

On the morning of the 6th day of winter, crowds gathered around Westsimster Abbey for the funeral of King Wilhelm V. Many couldn't believe he was really dead. Wilhelm's body was placed on the altar that held many of his ancestors before him, guarded by two men. The young King, his mother Dowager Queen Cordelia, and his half-sister Augusta stood off to the side, staring in disbelief at the body. The King walked up to the altar and stood before the mass of citizens.

"Good people of Windenburg, Today, we gather not just to mourn the passing of a king but to acknowledge the pain caused by a chapter in our history. My father, King Wilhelm, ruled with a heavy hand, and the consequences of his actions weigh heavily on our hearts. I stand before you, not only as the heir to the throne but as a son who witnessed the suffering of our people.

In the wake of my father's tyranny, I extend a heartfelt apology to each one of you. The darkness that shrouded Windenburg under his rule will not define our future. It is my solemn promise to rebuild this kingdom, to mend the wounds inflicted upon it, and to restore the prosperity that once graced our land. To guide us in this journey, I advocate for the regency of my mother, Queen Cordelia. Her wisdom, compassion, and unwavering love for Windenburg make her the beacon of hope we desperately need. Under her leadership, I believe we can forge a new era—a chapter marked not by oppression but by unity, justice, and prosperity. Henceforth, I choose to be known as King Edward, taking my second name as a regnal name—a symbol of breaking free from the shadows of the past. No longer shall our kings be shackled by the mistakes of their predecessors. I aspire to rebuild Windenburg, not as an echo of the past, but as a beacon of hope for a brighter future."

With those words, King Edward concluded his address, his voice echoing through the abbey. The crowd remained silent for a moment, absorbing the weight of his words, before erupting into applause. They knew that they had a king who would lead them with compassion and determination, a king who would guide them through the challenges ahead. In the back of the crowd stood a group of religious figures, members of the Jacoban clergy, stood with anger etched upon their faces. Back at the Parish of St. Jacob, Paul Leudemond, the high priest of the Jacoban church, was particularly vocal in his opposition. He argued that Cordelia's regency would lead to a weakening of the kingdom, as it would undermine the authority of the king. He proposed that Richard, the late King Wilhelm's cousin and a staunch supporter of the Jacoban faith, be appointed as lord protector of King Edward. This move, he believed, would ensure the continued dominance of the Jacoban church and restore order to Windenburg.

"The appointment of a woman as regent is a grave mistake," Leudemond declared, his voice echoing with conviction. "It threatens to unravel the very fabric of our society. We cannot allow a woman, especially one of Bagley blood, to wield such power. It goes against the natural order of things."

Leudemond's words were met with murmurs of agreement from the clergy gathered around him. They nodded in unison, their expressions reflecting a shared sense of urgency and determination.

"We must act swiftly to rectify this situation," Leudemond continued, his tone growing more impassioned. "We cannot allow Cordelia to undermine the authority of the king. We must appoint Richard as lord protector of King Edward. He is a man of strong Jacoban faith, and he will ensure that our traditions and values are upheld."

The clergy listened intently, their eyes fixed on Leudemond as he spoke. They knew that their plan was bold, but they were willing to take the risk. They were prepared to challenge the authority of the crown in order to safeguard the future of Windenburg and the Jacoban church.

[ruiniel]

Remember

Fandom: Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba

Pairing: Kokushibō x fem!Reader/Kokushibō’s wife

Count: 1.8K

Rating: 🔞

Chapter Tags & Warnings: Blood, Injury, POV Second Person, Sengoku period, Flashbacks, POV Kokushibo

Part I

On AO3

V.

A stronger wind sways the branches of the weeping willow. Below it, a lone figure.

Seated on the wooden bench, you’re weaving a small basket, focused on the task with a tense expression, a crease between your brows. Your hair is in disarray, strands like silk whipping against your stony features. 

Nearby, Michikatsu stands by the still mirror of the pond, gazing up at the sky. There will be heavy rains this season. The idle thought melts away as he turns, his attention drawn by the movement of your hands. The silence continues for a long while. 

“Their lives weigh down upon me.” His men. All of them dead in the events two weeks prior. He still feels the thick slime of their blood smeared over his clothes when he awakens. He failed them. 

Your hands pause, then resume their nimble movements. Somewhere in the distance, you both hear Genji’s laughter, caught in his play. Michikatsu feels ill at the thought of leaving that laughter behind, but what gnaws at him is stronger: a beast with teeth of iron that once bit at his heart, asleep for many years, so deeply he thought it had died. But recent events on an ill-fated night had all but revived the sickness within, and now it suffocates him. He must do this, whatever it takes. 

“Hisami, do you believe me?”

You swallow emptily but keep your peace.

“Akai’s fever has abated,” you say then. Your daughter has been passed to the nursemaid for the time being, and after the initial fright, her state has been steadily improving.

“I know,” he says, and since he knows you, he also knows what you’re doing. It will not change his resolve, though a side of him wishes it could. Michikatsu walks over and slowly sinks to his knees, facing you. “I must do this for them. They are gone, their families grieve, and I am to blame. Do you see? Others fight the creatures, Hisami. They have been doing so since ancient times.”

“And… now you think your place is among them.” Your words are bland, void of inflection. Your eyes stay on your work, never on him.

“For a while.”

His hand grasps your knee; your fingers cease their frantic work, and you finally raise your gaze to his. “Please… tell me why.”

“I… do not understand.”

“We’ve known each other for a lifetime, and yet…” your hands are fisted in your lap. You take a deep breath. “I never faulted your honesty, and I always had your trust. Why? Why must you leave? Ever since you’ve returned, you barely eat, and you stare at the children as though they were strangers—”

“That is not true and you know it.”

“Your body is here…” you go on, unabated, “but your mind is nowhere near.” 

He rises, turning away from you. A sigh leaves him. “If I fail again, one day we might be in line as prey. Is that preferable?”

“Michikatsu, please…” your voice breaks, the words torn at the stem. You fall silent again. 

The wind whistles through the tree’s flowing crown. “I want to be prepared,” he speaks after a while. “Joining my brother is the best course to follow.” 

He knows you understand. He knows you hurt. But he knows he cannot stay or else the beast within will eat at him until nothing is left. “I will find you later.” With that, he makes to leave the garden.

“We are a family... are you not happy? Are you not content?”

Your voice is small in his wake, and Michikatsu pauses, his back still turned.

No, no he is not. His peace was shattered the moment a red blade cut through his impending death that same night, when the flash of familiar eyes and inhuman reflexes reminded him how his goal was another, and how his life had been empty of it. 

“It is only for a while, Hisami.” Your name is bitter on his tongue as he leaves the garden.

Your eyelids shiver from a teasing ray of light. A lingering ache intensifies as you move your head, one hand instinctively placed at the source—your neck. Images disperse as you free yourself from the weaving of yet another dream, this one more vivid than the last. You can still see the pond before you and remember the chill of the wind tugging at your hair, accompanied by the sounds of a child’s laughter. And someone... How odd. The haze lifts from your eyes as your fingers come upon … bandaging? Focus skewed, you rise like one who’s had a cup of sake too many. You haven’t felt as weak in a long time, as though a sudden illness has taken over your body and dulls your movement. Dizziness makes your head spin so you take your time, breathing deeply for a while before standing.

And then, you gain a reminiscence of the previous night. Not an illness, but blood loss: that’s the culprit. “Ngh…” You bring a hand to your face, rubbing at your temples. 

You’d offered this, but in hindsight, perhaps it was indeed stupidity, or either way a lapse of reason, that moved you to it. The sight of him had been so strange. He looked so weak, swallowing emptily while fisting his hands to hide a tremble, his gaze so intense it stripped you of reason; there was yearning, but not for you as much as something within you.

“Blood, is it?” you wonder aloud. 

More fool you, thinking such a being whose nature is foreign to you might be gentle, and concerning such an act no less. You should’ve known better, of course, but then you’d always had a cursed sense of curiosity. Your fingers trace the bandage at your neck as you catch sight of yourself in the mirror: his doing, presumably. Made a tidy work of it, too. Despite the damage he’s done, he took the time to tend to the wound. What a peculiar fiend. Why bother? 

And what if he returns specifically for more of this?

As you unwrap the cloth you see the area around two punctures has turned a mottled crimson, widening towards your collarbone, like crushed red spider lilies on your skin. But another aspect unsettles more than this sight: it began as one of the worst sensations you’d ever experienced, but then, slowly, weavings of pleasure wracked your body even as you asked him to slow, to give you a reprieve, the pain confusing your senses when laced with the heat and pressure of him at your veins. 

“Again, what the hell is happening to me…”

His explanations beforehand had made little sense, in hindsight. All that talk of demons, creatures who roam the night. His appearance you thought might be a sort of disguise, but who’s to say whether you simply have a madman on your hands? And yet. 

The priest. You recall his warning concerning the Paradise Faith leader, but why should you believe anything he says, after what happened? He’s not even given you his name, has he? He did say they may only roam at night. 

“Very well,” you take a piece of cloth and dip it in clean water, wincing as you dab at the abused area. “Then, I will go during the day.”

“Have you gotten any further insight?”

“No, Muzan-sama.”

He’d traveled far and wide, he’d changed form and infiltrated human society in the most remote areas, and yet there is no such notion of what his master has been seeking for centuries now. The blue spider lily, if it ever existed, has perished as a strain or is hidden in faraway lands. But, of course, he sees no reason to expose these thoughts to one who will never renounce this search. 

This chamber of the castle with its furnishings reminds him of the Edo era. Nakime likes to keep things diverse in her domain, it seems. 

“Is that all you have to say?” Muzan is staring at a table laden with a Go board, the black and white stones trembling against the wood from vibration. 

Throughout the years, Upper Rank One has learned many a thing, not least when the mood is foul, and now is one of those times. “I will continue my search in the territories to the South.”

“Searching, searching, searching…” The Go stones tremble again. “Always searching with no result… damn this world.” Muzan speaks in his mind as he usually does, and Upper Rank One always welcomes him. Their history together is built on aligned interests. 

“You know, you’ve always had my trust,” his maker goes on, “more than anyone.”

“Yes. I know.”

Muzan picks up a black Go stone, staring ponderously at it. “And yet, recently, when I sought for you, you were not there. It was as though… you were blocking me. Perhaps you of all people have been... distracted lately?”

“Distracted?” What is this, now? The most he’s done was to… Your taste still lingers on his tongue, he realizes: sweet and coppery, the flavor faded but the effect still strong. But surely that is not even worth counting as something to impede him. “I have nothing to hide.”

“Be that as it may, Upper Rank One. I need your continued aid, just as you needed mine many, many years ago.” Muzan places the Go stone down on the board.

Kokushibo breathes once—and his master is there within reach, so close he can smell the heavy incense of black lotus on his current disguise. 

“Do you remember?” The voice is soft, nearly seductive. A hand is placed on his shoulder. 

There is a sudden, swift graze along his throat, no more than the touch of a rose thorn. 

He fails to understand, his hand shooting to stave the sudden blood spray from a deep wound. None is faster or stronger among demons than he; none but the one who now stands close behind him.

Muzan rounds him. Long, pale fingers take him gently by the chin, raising his blurring sight to eyes of a hematic luminescence. The slit pupils regard him coolly, burrowing into his own as the ruby flow seeps and stains his kimono a darker pattern. “Who helped you? Who mended you when you nearly lost your head to your brother that blood moon night?”

The gash burns his flesh, and though he keeps regenerating, it will not close; crimson drips like a shallow spring down his chest; he wavers in his stance. “You did…”

“That’s right. I did,” Muzan says aloud. “And do you know why? Because you, are my most valuable ally.”

His master releases him and the demon falls to his knees, both hands at his throat, attempting to seal the wound—but his flesh will not listen to him, and will not heal. Not when someone stronger than him has dealt the blow. He lowers his head, struggling with his breaths like a drowning man. 

“Whatever it is that keeps you from your duties... Get rid of it. Do you understand?”

Upper Rank One nods once, gasping and choking, a hand pressed to the floor, the other to his throat. He does not even notice when his master is gone. He focuses all his abilities on regeneration, performs it over and over. The blood continues to pour.

Part VI

[gaiuswrites]

World's Best

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!Reader

Summary: Not every day is easy. Frankie makes it better.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 2.2k~

Warnings/tags: smut, vague-ish descriptions of depression/mental health, hurt/comfort, fluff

Notes: Do y'all ever get into a funk and then attempt to write yourself out of one? Well, this is the v self-indulgent product of said instance heh. I have tagged a random assortment of potentionally interested people but obvi no pressure? idk? :) Sending so much love and well wishes to you guys. x

Masterlist | Read it on Ao3!

A sea of knotted sheets spans between you—as tangled as your legs—too tired, too leaden to unweave. The fan rotates in the corner, blowing stale air your way every few clicks. You dangle a foot off the bed, skin prickling as the weak breeze sweeps over you and a bead of sweat licks from your knee to slope down your calf. Morning sun leaks through the window— the finch perched on the tree just outside it chirping once, twice, before flitting off.

You’ve been reading the Sunday paper for a solid twenty minutes—which, in all honesty, is an overstatement; you started and quickly abandoned the Sudoku after a measly ten, and you’ve been staring at the same sentence in the local section for the other half, blinklessly hovering over the fine print.

You’re not here today. Not all of you.

There’s this sinking feeling, hollowing you out and unmaking you. It’s as if something unseeable is oozing over you - dripping - something treacle, something thick. You’re far away from yourself—far from the cornflower blue walls and the framed photos hanging on them—the happy faces in the pictures smiling back at you— far from the plants basking in the tines of filtered light by the sill, far from the body lying beside you.

You’re not always this way. Not every day drags like an inky smear, your mind meandering sluggishly in circles, holding you hostage in a prison of your own making; but you can’t say it’s foreign to you either. It’s old, familiar—like that sweater in your closet you’ve had for centuries and rarely wear, but can’t bring yourself to get rid of. You know it well, this slog—you have unwillingly memorized it’s sodden intricacies, and today you feel it. You feel every single one of your days—each grey hour— weighing heavy on your very bones.

heavy heavy

heavier, still.

If you’re not careful, you’ll sink straight through the mattress. You’ll nestle deep into the springs and make a home in the down. You’ll sleep there until you become it. Comfortable. Catatonic.

Frankie sips his coffee. He doesn’t look up from the email he’s skimming. “What’s wrong?”

The baritone of your boyfriend’s voice sucks you back to the present—to the tick of the clock marking the seconds, the whir of the fan. The paper crinkles as you lay it to your chest—big eyes feigning ignorance as you blink up at him, chewing your lip. “Hmm?”

“Baby, I know that face.”

“What face?”

“The one you’ve got on,” he replies, “that’s your ‘I’m-upset-and-I’m-trying-to-hide-it’ face.’”

“I-” you frown, “no it’s not.” Gingerly, you pat a hand around your temple, your cheek, as if you could see your expression through touch.

“Uh huh.” Frankie rolls his digit upon the mousepad, clicking and scrolling down the webpage, and your vision glazes over again—ugly thoughts fogging up the panels of your mind—

“You gonna talk to me about it?”

You blink, swallowing, “nothing to talk about.” You flap the paper, ironing out the pleats, and scan for that pesky paragraph you never managed to finish.

“Mhm,” he replies absentmindedly, bringing the mug to his lips and drinking with an all too obvious slurp.

“Really, I’m fine,” you say weakly. You’re not that convincing—you barely convince yourself.

“Sure, sweetheart. If you say so.”

He’s too casual; he’s letting it all go too easily and God, he’s gotten good at this—at coaxing the truth out of you. He doesn’t even have to try any more. He’s so kind and open and sincere, all he has to do is crack the door ajar—tempt you with an inch of space, with only a sliver of leeway—and immediately you want to plunge through it and chase after him, like a dog and a bone.

He makes you want to share; not because of what he says, but by everything he doesn’t—the welcoming gaps he leaves you with, the gaps you’re urged to fill. This happens every time—it’s pretty damn annoying, actually. You’re so miserably predictable. After three and a half years together, sometimes you think Frankie might know you better than you know yourself.

A scary thought—wonderful, too.

“I’m just-” You run a hand over your face, pressing into the bridge of your nose and you grunt, frustrated. Exhausted. “I’m just tired.”

Frankie settles his coffee cup on the hill of his sternum, closing his laptop quietly. He swivels his head to you, hair mussing into the wall.

“Of anything in particular?” he asks, linen soft.

“No, yes—I don’t know,” you heave—an errant thing fluttering around in your chest as you fold the newspaper, letting it float to the floor with a splat. “It’s just-” you worry the inside of your cheek raw, fumbling with the blur of your emotions. You shake your head. “It’s just a bad brain day.” Your voice is small as you slump into him, letting your body go limp.

“I’m sorry I get like this. I’m okay—I’ll be okay,” you mumble, face burrowed into his arm. He smells summered, like sweat and heat and the promise of long days fading into even longer nights, and you take a heady drag, inhaling his scent.

You hear him sigh, stretching as he sets the mug and computer down on the side table. He shifts back to you, snaking an arm under your body as you coil your own around his center, hugging him close.

“You know, it’s alright if you’re not,” Frankie murmurs into your hair, planting a kiss at the crown of your head. “And you know you don’t have to hide from me when you aren’t.” His thumb finds your arm, the chewed nail bed scratching soothing circles along your skin.

Your gut somersaults, flipping and purring, and all you can do is press your lips to the cottoned shoulder of his tee shirt—the one with the holes in the collar and motor oil stain on the hem; all you can do is tighten your grasp, wringing around his cozy waist.

“And you know that nothing you say is gonna scare me away, right? I’m always going to be here for you.” Frankie gives your forearm a reassuring squeeze.

God, this man.

You nuzzle further into his chest—snuggled and swaddled in the safety of his warmth—and you mumble something incoherent, muffled against his relaxed body. His beard catches on your fly-aways as he dips to hear you better. “What was that honey?”

“I said,” you crane your neck, lifting out of his side, “you really are the ‘world’s best uncle’.”

A ripple of confusion twists over his features before you bat your eyes up to meet his, shooting a glance over to that exact phrase wrapping itself around the ceramic cup beside him.

You got stuck with it at some terrible white elephant exchange last Christmas. It’s fucking tacky and aggressively large—not even you - you, in all your caffeine dependency - can chug that much coffee fast enough in one sitting without it going cold— and neither of you have any nieces or nephews to speak of…

Naturally, it’s become your favorite mug.

Frankie barks out a laugh, his stomach flexing against your grasp. “Oh yeah? Is that all I am?” he smirks, a glint of mischievousness reflecting in his irises as he bores down at you.

You quirk an eyebrow, a coy tug blooming across your lips. “I dunno,” you drawl sweetly, “you going to prove me otherwise?”

His face is split into a grin now, wide and aching and unnecessarily endearing. His hair is a mess, wavy tufts jutting out every which way, and his eyelids are still puffy from what little slumber he was lucky enough to get in your hot, cramped apartment.

You really can’t keep putting it off—you need to buy an AC unit.

His focus dances from your eyes to your mouth, breath hitching as he watches you skip your tongue over the plush mound there. “I just might,” he growls playfully, maneuvering you onto your back with one broad swoop, pinning you to the bed.

/

He makes love to you like a man unburdened - untouched - by time. He fucks into you slowly, unhurriedly—at a pace that’s mind numbingly measured and patient. Frankie devastates you, dragging himself through your walls from head to hilt, letting you feel every ridge, every vein of him; filling you up so impossibly well—his thick cock sauntering in and out, and in and out again. Each roll of his hips makes you gasp, his blunt tip brushing against that deep, uncharted chasm within you that tempts you into oblivion. Your legs are locked around him, crossed at the ankles, and the perspiration at the pits of your knees slicks his sides.

Frankie’s palms dimple the fitted sheet as he brackets your head, burying himself into the crook of your neck. He moans—hot breath ghosting over the prickled skin there, babbling disjointed strings of guttural praise into your ear.

Fuck baby—fuck you feel good

How’d I get so lucky, how’d I-

God, you’re a— fuck

You’ve got the perfect pussy—made for me

Made for me, made for me, made for-

You turn your head and capture his mouth with your own, whimpering into him as he nips at your bottom lip and bites. You scrape your fingers through his scalp, pulling at his locks, and Frankie whines a tortured noise—giving an especially hard thrust that pries a yelp from your throat. He rears his head back, catching your gaze, a concerned line creased into his brow. “Y-You okay?”

“No- nono, yes Frankie. Again, right there,” you beg, lashes fluttering.

He darkens—the timbre of his voice made husky and raw as he drinks in the sights and sounds of you mewling for him, splayed and needy. “You like that?” Frankie drives into you again, sharp and searing as he bottoms out, the smattering of curls at the base of him soaked with your gloss. “You need it hard, baby? You want it rough?”

You whimper, clawing desperately at the nape of his neck. “I just—I just want you, all of you,” you pant as you hold his stare—the gorgeous, chestnut gleam of it—and the wordless expression that crests over his features makes you want to cry. The precious indent in his cheek, the stubble littering his jaw, his sculpted nose and clever lips, the sad rings under his eyes—the grooves he thinks you don’t notice, the grooves he tries to mask by always taking care of you, always putting you first, even when he shouldn’t.

Fuck, he’s so beautiful—he’s so beautiful you could weep.

“You have me,” he rasps breathlessly, bowing to meet you in a messy whirl of tongue and teeth before breaking away—forcing himself up off his hands and back onto his shins. He hooks an elbow under your knee, letting the other frame the outside of his hip. “I’m right here—you have me, you have me-”

Frankie’s hips are frantic now, pulsing in short, strong bursts as he grinds into you. He dips a hand to your center, pad of his thumb working erratic, sloppy flicks over the sensitive nub of your swollen clit. Your feet arch, the muscles there constricting as the tension in you mounts.

“Babe.” You’re whining now, vulnerable and shaking and fuck, you’re going to come apart—any moment now, any unbearable second, you’ll snap. “F-Frankie, baby oh god—”

You clamp a hand over your mouth, eyes screwing shut as you shatter. Like a vase crashing onto kitchen tile, you break into a million jagged fragments. Your cunt seizes, legs spasming against him as he fucks you through your orgasm, and it doesn’t take long for the tight contractions of your heat to yank him right off that same ledge. The both of you—tumbling and fracturing into terrible, perfect shards—to be intermingled and scattered among each other’s glass pieces.

Indiscernible. The same.

When you glue yourself back together again, you will find parts of him there - here, within you - filling your jigsawed cracks like golden ore.

Frankie slips out of you with a squelch and a huffed groan, collapsing to the mattress in a panting heap. His cum dribbles from your apex and you shiver at the feeling of it—at the feeling of him, warm and wet and lingering inside you. He rests his cheek on your breast while you both catch your breath—rising, falling. Waxing, waning. Two pitter-pattering hearts beating in time.

The sheets have been sloughed, lazy and forgotten, to a crumpled pile on the wood floor and the steam once rising from the mug on the nightstand has long since disappeared. It’s too muggy for you two to be this entwined—his leg draped over you, a big arm slung across your belly—but neither of you dare move. Neither of you have the energy, never mind the desire.

The clock whispers in the morning quiet.

A new bird claims the branch the finch left—she sings now, roosting there in the birch.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur sleepily, drawing patterns into the valley of his spine, mapping out his freckles and moles and scars. “Thank you,” you say. Thank you for putting up with me, thank you for understanding me, thank you for listening even when I cannot speak. “I love you so much.”

Gently, silently, Frankie tilts his head, bristled hair peppering your flesh as he mattes your skin with his lips; laving along your breasts, across your clavicle and up the plain of your neck—each kiss a response, each kiss a truth.

You don’t have to apologize

You don’t have to thank me

I love you

I love you

I’m right here

I love you

tags:

@pedros-mustache @roxypeanut @frannyzooey @djarinsbeskar @read-and-rec @keeper0fthestars @krissology @greatcircle79

[captkillianjcnes]

new tags 4/?

(( updating my tags as I type this… ignore the ‘mess’ of a blog update as things are a little wack right now. ))  

[thepastelpeach]

Of Crowns and Thorns: plots and stuff (cont.)

it was a long time coming, but here we are!

Roman tries, and fails, to push the incident out of his mind the entire ride back to the castle

The vibrant rose weighs heavy in the clip of his waistband

He finally makes it into the little city town that resides outside the castle walls just as the sun is beginning to set

The town is still bustling with life however and everyone he passes calls out in greeting

He returns each and every pleasant hello with a smile and wave

He even stops everytime someone approached him looking for help on a matter

It’s when he’s mid-conversation with the blacksmith, who’s wondering after the metals she had ordered that had yet to arrive, when her son peeks out from behind her legs

He waves shyly at the knight, seeming to want to ask him something but being too soft spoken to speak out loud

Roman smiles kindly, swinging down from his horse to kneel in front of the child, “And what could a noble knight such as yourself wish to ask of me?”

The boy giggles and points at Roman’s waist, “That flower is very pretty, did you find it all on your own?”

Roman startles, looking down at said flower and slowly picking it out of his belt

He brings it up to the child, “No, as a matter of fact it was given to me.”

The boy lights up, “Like a present?”

Roman has to stop and think about that for a moment, “...yes, I think so.”

The child doesn’t question his unsureness, he seems entirely transfixed on the rose carefully held between Roman’s fingers

The knight bites his lip hesitantly, the stranger’s words replaying in his mind

But it was just a simple rose, right? It wouldn’t actually do any harm to give it to the child, and at least then Roman could be rid of the flower and the promises given with it

So he offers it up to the boy whose face lights up in delight, “Of course I would be honored to gift it to someone as kind and noble as you, young sir. Will you accept this favor?”

The boy nods excitedly and immediately reaches out before Roman can warn him

He yelps, cradling both the flower and his pricked finger to his chest

Roman jumps to inspect the child’s finger, but finds only the smallest droplet of blood that he carefully wipes away with his handkerchief

“Please forgive me, sir, it would seem I forgot to advise caution as this rose's thorns are especially sharp! Are you alright?”

The boy sniffs, but nods and beams up at the knight, pain seemingly forgotten, “Yes, thank you so much sir!”

Roman’s heart swells, as it always does when he’s made a citizen happy, and he pats the boy’s head affectionately

The rest of the interaction goes smoothly, the mother thanking him both for hearing out her concerns and for his kindness towards her son

He waves both thanks away, “It’s but my duty, ma’am, and I am more than happy to be of help” but he can’t deny the pride he feels at the gratitude

He swings back on in horse and sets out again, only being stopped a handle full of times before finally arriving at the castle gates, which raise immediately upon his arrival

It’s not until he’s already handed his trusty steed off to the stable boy (not before patting Phillip the horse lovingly) that he notices the item wedged into his waistband as if he’d never moved it to begin with

He yanks the rose from his belt, somehow avoiding the thorns, and observes it with a sickening feeling settling in his gut

He moves to toss it to the ground, to crush it under his boot and be done with it, but he stops

Pulling his arm back he stares at the rose, the deep red of the petals nearly hypnotic, and he simple can’t bring himself to destroy something so perfect and beautiful

He tucks it safely back into his belt, trying to push away the sick feeling settling like a weight on his chest

A few more days past and the rose remains on Roman’s person at all times, having migrated from his belt to his uniform’s front pocket

No one even bats an eye at this new addition to the knight’s uniform as it just seemed to fit him

Not even Virgil, who’s usually cautious about everything, questioned why Roman suddenly developed an affinity for roses

Doesn’t seem even remotely worried when he spots the knight present the flower that had been attached to him for a week to a lovely kitchen maiden, as it seemed like such a Roman thing to do

Virgil does quirk a brow when moments later, after the maiden had already walked away, he sees another rose in place of the one Roman had just given away

kinda short but, eh, what can ya do

taglist<3

@amazable01

@dragonflamefire

@tacitlyanimated

@cinquefoilelove

@pandagirl0730

@chill-and-gay

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@severe-fangirl-syndrome

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@minshinxx

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@zodiac-awesome

@kitsunecake7

@dottyem56

@puppypadrepatton

@0piggle-queen0

@mindspacce

@estrella-sirena

@changeling-ash

@magdazwolska

@khadijalkubra

[hellospunkiebrewster]

Dysphoria - Part VII of Duty

Author’s note: As always, thank you, thank you, thank you for reading. You all inspire and excite me. I hope you all enjoy, I am up entirely too late because I couldn’t sleep with this worming inside of me. If you’re new here:

Part I: Déjà Vu - Part II: Hopelessly Cold - Part III: Bitterness - Part IV: Rage - Part V: Promises - Part VI: Oath

These characters aren’t mine, I’m borrowing them for a bit. Thanks Pixelberry. Portions of my ceremony were adapted from the coronation of a King or Queen in the U.K.

Summary: On the day of Ellie’s ceremonial coronation, Riley struggles with the expectations placed on herself and her daughter. She finds solace in an interesting place.

Word count: 3124

Tags: @queencatherynerhys, @theroyalweisme, @mfackenthal, @crayziimaginations, @boneandfur, @hopefulmoonobject, @lizeboredom, @pbchoicesobsessed, @madaraism

After their return to the palace, days turned into weeks and weeks into months as the chaos and bustle of their lives returned. Riley longed for the days spent in Valtoria, taking a hike, playing a game, baking cookies, and fishing. The time away was much needed, but entirely too short. She found herself dreaming of being on that dock once more, her only worry whether or not Ellie was enjoying herself in the quiet. If she closed her eyes, she could almost see the way the sun reflected off the lake. She could almost feel it warming her skin in the crisp mountain air.

Riley allows herself a short moment of this in the middle of the throne room. Her eyes close and she’s suddenly surrounded by the stillness and silence of a couple months before. It isn’t the sort of quiet and stillness that’s unsettling, it’s comforting and relaxing.

A light elbow to her ribs breaks her from it. She glances sideways to Bertrand, clad in his formal wear, a medal hangs around his neck from a ribbon. Riley returns her gaze forward and watches as Liam’s large, heavy crown is lowered onto Eleanor’s tiny head. Her neck bobbles slightly but she quickly rights herself. She stares ahead of herself, directly through the ceremony officiant who has yet to step back from her as he helps adjust her cape and hands her a scepter. Eleanor’s eyes are wide and nervous, shifting momentarily to her mother, out of reach at the front of the audience.

The bishop steps back from Eleanor but remains facing her.

“Be strong and of a good courage, Eleanor Charlotte Rhys, stand firm, and hold fast from henceforth.”

This was the cue for the regents to step forward and pledge their loyalty and counsel to her. Riley leads the committee of regents to the step below Eleanor, where they kneel. Riley looks up at her daughter and throws her a proud smile before launching into the pledge alongside the other regents.

“I do become your liege of life and limb. Faith and truth will I bear unto you, to live and die, against all manner of folks.”

The committee rises and a group and moves to return to their places in the audience. Riley takes a moment to reach out for Ellie’s free hand, catching her from her anxious daze. Eleanor takes a deep breath and smiles at her mother before looking again at the bishop, who is waiting for Riley to return to her spot by the other regents. She bows her head and steps away from the throne.

The bishop leads the rest of the room full of nobles through their pledges before announcing Eleanor to the room. Riley claps along with everyone else, but watches her daughter’s expression, sad and distant from the pomp around her.

Eleanor is helped from the throne by the bishop who follows her as she exits the throne room to the Great Hall where there will be a small reception before the larger Coronation Ball that night. Riley follows closely behind the bishop and shuffles quickly around him once they are out of sight of the other nobility to help her daughter.

“Ellie, sweetheart, you did amazing.”

“Can I take this off now? It’s heavy,” she whines.

“Absolutely, and let’s go see if we can find some of those chocolate cupcakes we ordered special for you.” Riley helps lift the crown from Ellie’s head and feels it’s true weight again. It was rare Liam used this ceremonial crown so she hadn’t gotten the opportunity to truly hold it for long. Liam told her, not long after their wedding, that the crown was thousands of years old, dating back to when Cordonia was first founded. Parts of it had been repaired and modernized over the years. Liam had shown her portraits and pictures of former rulers and what was once a quite simple spiked silver crown, was now jewel encrusted. The crown weighed about five pounds and sparkled from every angle. A steward, flanked by royal guards, steps forward and takes the crown from Riley leaving the room quickly to return it to its vault. Few people knew where exactly in the palace this was located, if it was in the palace at all.

Riley takes Ellie’s hand and helps her navigate the crowd, avoiding the chattier nobles and making their way to the dessert table where a spread of Cordonian sweets and chocolate cupcakes awaited the child queen. Food at these events was often more mature and adult oriented, consisting mainly of fancy and expensive hors d'oeuvres, but Riley insisted that they provide something their new queen would actually enjoy.

Ellie’s eyes light up upon seeing the table, set out mainly for her. Before reaching for anything, she looks at her mother unsure what she’s allowed. Riley smiles at her daughter.

“Today’s a special day Ellie, you can have whatever you like.”

Riley reaches for a small apple tart and takes a bite. After watching her mother, Eleanor immediately grabs a cupcake in each hand, then looks frustrated at the fact that she can’t unwrap them.

“Riley, a word?” Bertrand has approached the two of them and motions for her to follow him as she takes a cupcake from Ellie to unwrap. She unwraps it and hands it back to her, taking her time to unwrap the second one as well.

“Surely there’s someone in the palace who can help Eleanor with her snack that isn’t you.”

“Bertrand, there’s plenty of time to mingle. We’ve got all day, and Ellie won’t be attending the ball.”

“Unwrapping cupcakes hardly seems like a good use of your time.”

Riley takes in a deep breath, pushing down the urge to shout at Bertrand for scolding her for spending time with her daughter, who only just over two months previous, lost her father. She instead takes a bite of the apple tart she had picked from the table with Ellie and chews it thoughtfully.

“I’m sorry Duke Ramsford,” she says, venom in her words, “but I happen to think unwrapping cupcakes for my daughter is a perfectly good use of my time.” Riley turns on her heel back towards her daughter, avoiding any nobles along the way.

--

It had been another late night discussing how the committee planned to divide the various state visits and travel for the coming month. Riley hardly had time to eat lunch, let alone check in with Ellie. She opened the door to their suite quietly, not wanting to wake Ellie since she was most likely already asleep. The residence was darkened, but not entirely dark, the lights were still on in the kitchenette. As she stepped from the foyer into the living room, she carefully placed a few documents and her phone on the kitchen bar. Drake and Ellie sat together on the couch. He was watching a soccer game, the sound low, while Ellie slept next to him, her small arm draped across his wide torso.

Riley approached them from behind the couch and placed her hand on Drake’s shoulder. It was then that she noticed the comically large bowl of popcorn on the table in front of them. She looked at Drake with a questioning look.

“Movie night,” he whispered, looking down to make sure he didn’t rouse Ellie.

“And it required a five gallon bucket of popcorn? Seems legitimate.”

“You should know the palace kitchen never does anything half-assed.”

He shifted slightly, holding Ellie up as he slid from under her. With one quick but surprisingly gentle motion he lifted her from the couch and carries her to her room. Riley plopped to the couch, reaching for the large bowl and placing it beside her. She grabbed a handful of popcorn as Drake returned a minute or so later.

“Another long day hmm?” Drake rounds the couch and sits leaving the large bowl of popcorn in between them.

“Yea,” Riley sighed, looking off into the distance. “I was really hoping I’d be able to have dinner with her or read her a story for the first time in a week.”

“She misses you, didn’t want to go to bed until you got home. So I kind of let her stay up later than usual.”

“That’s sweet of you, you big marshmallow,” she teased.

“Watch it, someone could hear you.”

“Your cover would be blown.”

“I’ve got a reputation to uphold.” Drake chuckled.

“Is that… glitter?” Riley laughed, touching his face. He recoiled slightly at her touch, as if it shocked him. She shifted in her seat, placing her back on the arm of the sofa, the bowl now in front of her and surveys him head to toe. Aside from some glitter under his left ear, he looked perfectly rugged as usual. In the month after returning to the palace, Drake had stopped drinking and seemed to be finding some actual happiness in his couple days a week with Ellie. Riley smiled fondly at him, unable to look away, waiting for his response.

“There may have been princess makeovers involved.”

“Oh please tell me there’s pictures.”

--

Riley takes Eleanor to the royal residence later in the evening while the rest of the nobility and guests are sitting down for dinner. When they arrive, the smell of pizza greets them.

“Ah, Uncle Drake delivered. See, I told you there’d be pizza Ellie. How could this day get any better?”

“If you didn’t have to leave.” Ellie’s words, while harsh, do not come as a surprise to her. Today was probably the most time they’d been able to spend one on one in weeks, and they were in a room full of nobles and distinguished guests all day long. The small talk alone exhausted her.

“You know what? I don’t have to leave.” Riley turns and kicks off her shoes towards the entrance for when she has to leave for the ball.

“Really?” Ellie and Drake say in unison.

Drake enters the room from the hallway, smiling at both of them.

“Really. Now let’s go get a little more comfortable.”

In her room, Riley slips out of her daytime dress and into some leggings and a baggy t-shirt. Her ballgown hangs in her dressing alcove, she had chosen a midnight blue gown, embellished with dark crystals. The illusion skirt is what she loved most about the gown, it allowed her to get away with something a little more her style in a stuffy ballroom.

Ellie meets her in the hallway in her pajamas.

“Kitten PJs, a fantastic choice,” Riley compliments her daughter.

The three of them sit down to the pizza and as Ellie recounts the day and number of cupcakes she’s eaten to Drake, he seems distracted. He watches Riley as she smiles at her daughter, looking relaxed for the first time in weeks. Riley notices and grins at him, her gaze falling down to her plate after she feels like she’s been looking at him for too long.

Thirty minutes later, after Ellie has somehow stuffed herself with three slices of pizza, no crust, Riley notes, like her father, she starts to fade and hard.

“Ellie can you take your plate to the sink and go brush your teeth?”

Wordlessly and in a haze, Ellie does as she’s told and trudges sleepily to her bedroom.

“I’m going to go change and say goodnight,” Riley tells Drake. “A night nanny should be arriving soon, but I really should get back before Bertrand stages a coup.”

“Whatever you need.” Drake shrugs as he clears the plates and boxes from the table.

Riley shuts the door to her room and changes into her ballgown. She can’t seem to get the zipper all the way up on her own and puts on her jewelry instead. Her make-up, slightly worn from the stress of the day, she decides not to waste time touching up and she crosses the hallway into Ellie’s room.

Her daughter is already in bed and smiles when she enters.

“You look pretty mommy.”

“Thank you sweetheart,” Riley says, sitting delicately on the edge of Ellie’s bed. “I’ll see you in the morning okay? Sweet dreams.”

“I love you mama,” Ellie says as Riley places two small kisses on each of her eyelids. Her words are heavy with tiredness.

“I love you the most.”

Riley rises from the bed quietly, moving to the door slowly as she drinks in every inch of her daughter’s sweet face. She pulls the door closed behind her as lightly as possible. She’s lost in images of Ellie’s tired face when she enters the great room, Drake standing in the middle.

“You look… wow.”

Riley is shaken from her thoughts of Ellie and laughs. “You’re very eloquent Drake Walker.”

He lets out a small laugh, it’s barely there and more like an exhale.

“Oh! Could you uh… zip me?” Riley turns her back to him and lifts her hair exposing her back.

“Uh,” he pauses, holding his breath, “sure.” Drake crosses the room to her and places one hand on the side of her ribcage while the other grabs hold of the zipper. She feels the zipper travel up her back and when it meets the top, his other hand lingers, leaving a tingling warmth where it once was.

“I think there’s a… like a tiny hook too.”

“Of course there is.” Drake mumbles as his rough fingers run over the nape of her neck. He fumbles with the hook for a few seconds before finally stepping away. Goosebumps pepper Riley’s back, all her tiny hairs standing on end.

She turns to face him. “Thank you.” She’s looking at him with a different look, like she’s noticed something for the first time.

Drake clears his throat, interrupting the quiet between them.

“I guess I’ve got a ball to get to.”

--

She slips into the ball quietly and she’s positive no one missed her aside from Bertrand who shoots her an exasperated look. Rolling her eyes, Riley reaches for a flute of champagne from a server’s tray. She grabs one, takes a beat, and plucks another from the tray with her free hand. Immediately she sucks down the first, depositing the glass on another server’s tray. Bertrand and Savannah approach her.

Savannah smiles at her and excitedly gushes over Ellie. “Eleanor did amazing today. That was a lot of pressure for her. And she looked adorable.” Savannah’s hand finds her stomach, round and beautiful. She glows.

“You’re too sweet Savannah. My goodness, you look amazing, how long now?”

“Another month or so,” she smiles even more.

“Riley, it seems you missed dinner. Do you want to inform me on where you’ve been? You missed the Cordonian waltz.” Bertrand interrupts.

“You can’t be serious, I guarantee no one actually missed me.”

“You can’t simply skirt events because you’re not feeling up to them anymore. There’s no one to stand in for you any longer. Liam’s gone.”

“I know, but thank you so much for reminding me about my dead husband.” She fights back the urge to cry right then and there when the familiar sting of tears hits the back of her eyes. Savannah stands there, stunned, looking at her husband her mouth agape. “If you must know, I was having dinner with my daughter, who I haven’t seen for longer than fifteen minutes a day for the last week. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Riley pushes her way past Bertrand and towards the exit.

“Seriously Bertrand?” Savannah hisses and stares at him in disbelief. She walks away shaking her head. Savannah finds a seat across the hall and pats her baby bump as she watches Maxwell work the dance floor.

The ballroom, large and grand, is suddenly suffocating and she bursts from the door and into a hallway. She finishes the glass of champagne still in her hand and walks in the direction that will get her to the least travelled part of the palace tonight.

She turns the corner into what she knows should be a deserted hallway. She had to escape them and the whole debacle. Riley leaves the room of nobles and dignitaries behind, unable to tolerate the entire disaster for one more moment. Surely they didn’t expect her to spend all this time away from Eleanor when she had just lost her husband, when Ellie had only just lost her father. Her mind races towards one thing only, her daughter and how much they needed each other right now. Their wounds have only just begun to heal. The committee is asking too much of her right now.

The hallway should’ve been empty, there was no reason for another person to head in this direction unless they were headed to the library. The entrance hall was in another direction entirely and the ball was far from over. But still, there was someone in that hallway. The only person she could see herself welcoming right now stood at a window five meters from her. She didn’t think Drake would’ve remained at the palace after the night nanny showed up.

She knows she looks like a mess right now and she certainly feels like it, but she approaches him, slipping next to him at the window.

He doesn’t say anything when he notices her and she’s relieved. He’s looking at her though and she feels his gaze on the side of her face. When she notices it, her breath hitches in her chest. After weeks of not being heard or taken seriously, after months of having everyone expect the world of her, he was standing here, not wanting anything of her. She didn’t need to speak or smile or do anything and it was enough.

Riley turns to face him and leans against the wall beside the window. She’s itching to reach out to him and her fingers tremble at the sight of him. Her breathing finally returns to normal and stops immediately afterwards.

Somehow the distance between them closes and something is drawing them together in this moment. They collide, her lips on his. She doesn’t know who started it or who ended it but in that same tiny instant, it was over. His eyes roam her face for an answer she doesn’t have but her hand finds his cheek and she’s pulled into him all over again.

--

Part VIII: Toska is here.

[sailorscooby]

Next Time (Rei/Minako)

Or

The Five Times Rei and Minako Died, and the One Time They Didn’t

Word Count: 5,327

Referenced Canon: Sailor Moon Classic - Stars Episodes 45, 90, 96, 97, 101, 102, 109, 136, 194 Sailor Moon Crystal Episodes 10, 12, 30 Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon Manga Acts 10, 11, 12, 13, 41, 43, 52, 58 Codename wa Sailor V Volume 16

Read on AO3

I. The crust of the moon was acrid and burnt, sticky dark red painting the once beautiful silver ground.

They had lost the princess. They had lost everything.

Venus felt cold, a numb emptiness spreading through her veins. Mercury and Jupiter couldn't be reached--hadn't checked in over their link in too long. She knew they were gone too.

Corrupted infantrymen from earth were everywhere, and she had felt the awakening of the last soldier across the stars.

Tired cobalt eyes scanned around, ears sharp, body alert for the next thrall of Metalia to charge at her. A chunk of debris fell loose from the far pillar and she locked her aim, palm outstretched as far as her exhausted arm could push, prepared to expend the last of her energy on one final shower of light.

Her muscles tensed as the figure appeared, raven hair and silken uniform stained that same sickly red.

"Mars!"

Venus climbed over debris, breathing ragged by the time she reached the other woman. Pulling Mars into her arms, she noted the limp arm and fading body heat. The Martian wouldn't stand much longer. Their foreheads pressed together, messy wet bangs clinging to slick skin.

"Venus," it was quiet, so full of fear unlike anything the blonde had heard her lover say before, "they are all-"

Mars sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, and Venus' hands rushed up to her companion's jaw.

"You felt her too. The Soldier of Death is coming." Venus shook, hands and arms trembling, held up by strained legs. Mars' weight had never felt heavier than in this moment.

"Yes." Brilliant amethyst was framed by bloodshot crimson. Venus couldn't look any longer, stealing a desperate kiss from Mars' lips.

Sounds of shouting and the crunch of rubble beneath boots broke their kiss. Mars looked afraid, and Venus knew her lover wouldn't be able to aim her fire without use of both arms. Slowly, as gently as she could, Venus helped Mars slide to the ground. One strong hand held Mars' jaw once more, a fierce kiss pressing to her crown. Venus' eyes stung as tears threatened to fall. Mars gripped her thigh with purpose. "Venus...next time..."

Mars was gone too.

Venus stood, fists clenched tight and shaking with adrenaline.

"Over there!" She bit her lip, knees nearly buckling as she readjusted her stance in front of Mars. Forward scouts of the battalion were drawing near, urging other men to their position.

"Crescent..." Serenity was lost to them. Mercury, Jupiter, all their soldiers. Even the prince of Earth, for all her conflicted feelings about him, hadn't deserved the end he met. More of the corrupted men poured into their space, spears and shields raised as they advanced closer. "Beam..." Mars... The beautiful warrior lasted long enough to find her, long enough to give Venus one last kiss. The unit was so close now.

And Mars was gone.

"SHOWER!"

Brilliant lights danced, illuminating the courtyard and striking each man, undoubtedly revealing their position to the larger forces. Her legs gave out, falling back against the pillar. Her breathing was labored, and she knew what was coming next. Venus grasped for Mars' hand beside her as blinding purple light blanketed the stars above.

"Next time, Mars..."

II. Beryl had to be stopped in order to bring Metalia's reign of terror to an end. Rei didn't remember everything of the past, of the era of peace that supposedly came in the Silver Millennium, but she didn't need to right now. They had to do this for everyone on Earth.

She saw in Ami's eyes that the end was coming, watched the genius girl devise a trap clever enough to give the rest of them time to charge forward. Rei didn't want to ask if anyone else had felt it when Ami was gone--the soldier she had known the longest outside of their Princess. God, the princess--Usagi had been there the whole time, Serenity right under their noses. She always wondered if their newest addition to their team, the stalwart leader Aino Minako, had thought the rest of them to be fools for not knowing sooner.

The blonde's eyes were sharp, intense as they fought through the cold and the caves to reach the heart of D-Point. The holy sword weighed heavy in those lean arms, but Minako looked... right. Like the weapon from the moon was meant to be in her hands.

"On the right!" The order was barked out in time for Rei to see the hulking monstrosity in the archway. She fumbled to make her signs, wanting to bring fire to life and burn it to a crisp, but the crackling static of Makoto's power brought her to a halt.

"Go! I can take him!" The brunette was strong, Rei knew this, but an uneasy feeling washed over her. This all felt so familiar.

"Mars!" Rei blinked away the after images of war that she couldn't quite piece together and spared a final glance Makoto's way before following Aino. Sounds of thunder followed their footsteps until there was suddenly nothing.

"Mako-"

"We have to keep going. Before we lose her again."

Aino's voice was always so strong, full of unending confidence. This was the first time Rei had heard any trace of vulnerability from her.

Rei knew Aino remembered more than the rest of them, but she didn't know if that was a blessing or a curse.

They ran together through the empty passageways until they heard her; Beryl, traitor of earth and its prince.

"I don't see the princess," Rei admitted it quietly, not wanting to give away their position. She watched as Minako's eyes flicked across the room, brow furrowing further before nodding, tight.

"Find her. I'll hold Beryl back."

Her golden mane shimmered when Aino stood upright, and Rei's breath caught in her throat.

"Minako-" Soft gloves touched her own, making her pause. She met her leader's eyes, heart clenching to see the other girl smiling.

"It sounds nice when you say that. Don't wait next time."

"Next time..."

The words rang in her mind from another place. Another time.

Minako dashed out into Beryl's line of sight, proclaiming the corrupted woman would fall at her hands, while Rei took the opening to run.

She could hear them fighting, and felt it when it was over, stumbling to a stop to twist around and look. Minako had done it. The holy sword pierced through Beryl's heart, victorious blade glinting with slick red out Beryl's back. A cheer rose in Rei's throat, excitement flooding her veins.

And then she saw.

Beryl wasn't the only one who lost.

Trembling hands rose to cover her mouth, eyes wide in shock and fear. "No..." As Beryl's body faded away, Minako slumped. Rei couldn't move. The sound of approaching enemies, ravenous without their false queen, would descend upon her soon. Rei looked away, eyes closing tight as her fists. "Next time..." The heat of her fire was all she could feel in the end.

III. Of course Rei had been the first target. Kind, gentle, stoic--pure of heart. Her heart Crystal glittered so beautifully in the sun beneath the first Sakura tree. It made Minako sick, at the time, crushing the possession monster into dust. When Rei had explained it to her after the fact, Minako's stomach dropped out. "It was...a form of death," the miko had admitted over tea. Her hands trembled around the cup before setting it back against the table without taking a sip. Ami had asked practical questions, Makoto thinking more of the monster who had done it. Usagi and Mamoru both overflowed with compassion, directing the conversation to Rei herself. All Minako could do was watch her trembling hands.

Makoto had been next, followed by Ami. Both had been quietly affected by their attacks. They agreed with Rei--death felt similar.

Even Usagi, their beloved princess, was targeted. It made more sense than any of the rest of them, but it felt like a personal failure to not protect her.

Worse was the jealousy.

Minako hadn't been targeted, and it left her questioning her worth. What did it mean to be pure of heart? What was wrong with her that she... she wasn't.

Was she even fit to lead the senshi if her heart was...

"Minako?"

She blinked, clearing her head for the moment. Artemis was in her lap, looking up at her with concerned eyes.

"It's nothing. Are you coming with me today?" She knew the white tomcat was meeting his companion at Usagi's place. The question was out of habit, though Minako didn't like the way he seemed to be considering her offer. It would be better if she could think about this alone.

Artemis shook his head and jumped off her lap, stretching long and lazy on the mattress: "You're a good leader, Minako. Don't forget that."

She shook her head with a scoff, embarrassed at how easily he could see through her. Forcing a smile, Minako pushed through her door.

Twenty minutes later found her at the bottom of the stairs to the shrine, hands in her jacket pockets. She could go, and spill her thoughts and worries and fears to her friend, her comrade. She could even take Rei up on the promise of a free fire reading or card fortune.

Minako shook her head and walked away towards the shopping district. What if the fire only confirmed her fears? What if the way her heart pounded just that much faster when she was around the Martian soldier was apart of all this?

Maybe another day.

The bookstore was relatively quiet, allowing Minako to take her time reading all the spines in the shelves.

'Ten Steps to a Healthier Heart, Maiden's Purity, Mana and Chi; How Your Heart Smiles,' title after ridiculous title stared back at her. None of these would have information about the pure hearts Witches Five were after, let alone any real definitions of purity. That didn't stop her from skimming each one.

Nose-deep in 'Guide to a Pure Heart,' Minako was jolted from her thoughts by the sharp sensation of someone watching her. She straightened her back, glancing side to side.

She turned with a fake smile plastered on, one hand tingling with the energy to pull her transformation wand from subspace at any moment.

"I never thought we'd catch you studying, cutie."

Tenoh Haruka and Kaioh Michiru, the beauties of Mugen Gakuen who kept their relationship under wraps--not that they could hide that from Minako's expertly trained eyes. She had snuck into one of Michiru's concerts, disguised as a boy thanks to the Crescent Compact to hide her shame and attraction, but up close it was hard to ignore.

"Well you know me, selfless and pure of heart, always wanting to better myself..." she laughed, but it was too tense. Oversharing was not the key to a successful getaway.

Haruka smirked, but Michiru only studied the book in her hands.

Minako needed to get away from them.

She made some excuse, side stepping her way to the door and out of the shop.

Minako wandered then, thoughts a jumbled cacophony she couldn't parse, until landing in the seat of a park swing.

"Pure of heart..." She mumbled, digging her toe deeper into the ground.

She considered trying to go see Rei again to talk. Of all her friends and comrades, she was the most pragmatic. And Minako also... Heat crept up her cheeks and she stopped her swinging to stare at the skyline. She had kept a mix of memories from Venus about Mars, but it was more than that. It was the years spent together here and now in Tokyo, not the Silver Millennium, that had softened Minako's heart.

She sat there with a small smile pointed at the ground for a moment, breeze pushing at her thick golden locks.

And then the world was searing pain.

Her chest felt cracked open and exposed. With a ghostly gasp she looked down.

The others were right and wrong. It did remind her of dying, to an extent, but what it really felt like was the final battle against Kaito Ace, when memories were forced through her, system flooded with rage and sorrow, adrenaline and shock. Living torture.

Her heart crystal shined so beautifully. She was pure. She was pure!

A maniacal smile stretched across her face and she laughed, hysteric.

Minako slumped forward, arms encircling the crystal before her. Every second hurt like awakening, like death.

But her heart was pure.

She ran as fast as she could, blood burning through her veins as her muscles screamed. Or maybe that was her soul.

It didn't matter.

She vaguely recognized the shapes and colors of her friends, Usagi's shining silver life force taking the pain away, if only for a moment.

She felt the heat of fire--not Mars' fire though, and that made her scared.

Then the world, at last, went dark.

When she woke up again, covered in blankets and cold packs strapped to her forehead, the others cried tears of joy. After Usagi gushed, Ami lightly chastised, and Makoto fed her, Rei had leaned in close. Close enough for Minako to be thankful for the excuse of the blankets.

"Don't scare us like that next time..."

IV. The concept of dream mirrors terrified her. Rei saw enough of dreams, of premonitions, of what "could be" through the fires. But it was so clear what this enemy was doing, how they looked into the deepest hopes and desires of their victim's hearts.

Sweat beaded her brow as she drew the next arrow back, holding it long enough to adjust her aim.

Thwump!

She stayed upright, staring at the bullseye. A long, slow exhale finally let her relax and wipe her forehead. The others had been nudging her to find an extra curricular for ages. Her Super awakening had given her something to practice.

Minako had lost the ability to transform, nearly falling to her death over the dream mirrors. It was the first time any of them had seen Artemis look like anything but a cat, and he was beautiful. The way he had carried Minako free of danger, finally allowing her to transform again once her dreams were restored...

Rei's next arrow missed and she sighed, bringing her bow back down. She didn't know why this was bothering her.

She walked towards the trees to retrieve the arrows, knowing she was lying to herself.

The feelings she felt towards Minako were...complicated. The fringes of memories from the Silver Millennium had certainly made her interested, but the girl here and now in the present was much more compelling. A leader, ready to be a decoy at any moment, a physically strong young woman with muscles formed from years of volleyball and crime fighting, bilingual in Japanese and English, well traveled, and not as bad of a study as she would have everyone believe...

Rei knew these things after the years spent together, fighting side by side. She finally gave in and told Minako's fortune after Pharaoh 90 was dealt with, and found herself enjoying the company more often than not. And each private moment made her pulse race.

She could feel the heat on her face when she reached down for the last arrow.

Having all one's hopes and dreams exposed to evil, potentially to anyone close enough to look into the glass... Rei imagined it was a fate similar to death. Minako hadn't been close enough to anyone but Artemis and the enemy for her desires to be revealed, and seemed mostly unbothered when asked about it.

Minako also possessed the confidence to chase her dreams and desires without shame.

If Rei could chase her dreams... A few scenes crossed her mind, but blonde hair splashed across the images. Eartips as red as the feathers of her arrows, Rei tried to close the door on that train of thought.

Minako was waiting at the top of the steps, a casual smile offered in Rei's direction with a wave. She offered a small smile and a nod in return.

With Grandpa so sick, it was all she could do to keep the shrine open for visitors. Minako's brilliant idea had been a joke, get a man who could help out and inherit the shrine with her.

"Aino Minako, reporting for 'son-in-law' duty!"

Of course, Rei thought with a grim, half hearted smirk, Minako didn't quite understand the depth to which Rei meant it when she said she hated men.

The sound of brooms against stone was peaceful. With Phobos and Deimos relaxing in the branches nearby, and Minako keeping a serious attitude on the work, Rei almost felt... content, letting the time slip by.

"Ta-da!"

The noise startled her, transformation wand already in her grasp as Rei let her broom clatter to the ground. Alert, ready for the threat sure to come.

"Hey... Rei."

She blinked, finding herself face to face with her leader.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Fine. Perfectly fine," she breathed deep, letting her wand fade away on the exhale, "Let's just get changed. They won't wait for us forever."

Concerned cobalt was her only answer. Rei couldn't shake the feeling that she'd seen that exact look before.

--

By now they knew the circus was dangerous; a front for the malicious designs of Zirconia and their minions. The atmosphere had every detail perfect to be fun and inviting, but the warriors knew better. Rei knew better.

She still jumped at the chance to investigate the hall of mirrors on her own.

"No reflection..."

D O  N O T  W O R R Y!  N O  T R I C K S  H E R E!

Rei jolted, spinning but finding no entrance, no paths she could take.

Y O U ' V E  A L W A Y S  W A N T E D  T O  B E  H A P P Y.

She reached for her pen, into the subspace that was always so near.

"What trap is this?"

T H E Y ' R E  H O L D I N G  Y O U  B A C K!

T H I N K  O F  N O T H I N G  B U T  Y O U R  O W N  H A P P I N E S S!

Palms met glass, unyielding and unbreaking, and Rei's breathing grew harder. She reached inside herself, reciting the words that for so long had banished any demon or evil before her, even before Mars' power found her.

W H Y  F I G H T?  

Y O U R  M I N D  A N D  B O D Y  A R E  M I N E  T O  D E V O U R  N O W!

Blinding light, a cacophony of noise, so much, too much--it overwhelmed her.

The headboard came up, bolts clicking in place, and when she looked down--

"No!"

Her mirror. Perfect and pink, surrounded by bows of blue like all those she had seen before. Beautiful voice and bright blonde hair flitted across the glass, raven and amethyst close behind. Laughter, quiet, sighs, brooms against stone...

"Well well well, what is this?"

Tiger's Eye circled like the predator he was born from, and Rei swallowed the fear in her throat.

"Stay ba-!"

Tiger's Eye dove beneath the glass of her mirror and Rei screamed, desperate and afraid.

She would rather be dead than let anyone see.

"No pegasus?! Argh!"

Tiger's Eye ripped his way from her mirror, furious and growling. And Rei...

The glass above them shattered, vicious screeches of crow overpowering every other noise.

"Phobos... Deimos..."

The explosion of green and blue and pink were familiar, a comfort. But the orange and yellow that blew Tiger's Eye away, leaving nothing but a scared animal in its wake, opened her eyes.

"Mars!"

She reached for the pen again, just outside of her conscious. Heavy, warm, and bright...

The flames licked her heels as she pulled the bow back, not taking the time to breathe between transformation and attack.

And then Tiger's Eye was gone.

With a shudder she let the weapons fade away, fists still balled and eyes cast away.

Two soft gloves cupped her cheeks, forcing Rei to meet those same worried cobalt eyes.

"Don't go it alone, next time..."

V. She never wanted to feel this pain again.

Minako clutched the sides of her head, fingers catching on the edge of her tiara, for all the good it was doing her now.

Mercury and Jupiter... no... Ami and Makoto... they were gone. Not like the other times, not like the Silver Millenium, not like Beryl, not like Pharoh 90, not like Nehelenia...

They were gone.

"Where are they?! Where did you take them to?! Bring them back!!"

She screamed, because she had nothing else.

"VENUS!!"

Uranus' slap was hard enough to leave her cheek stinging. Minako shook herself, blinking back tears--from the pain of the slap or her friends' absence, she didn't know.

Rei was still alive, she could feel that. Usagi, Haruka, Michiru, Setsuna and Hotaru. All of them were here to face the Aluminates, and the Starlights.

The Starlights... her anger renewed, she burned holes with her gaze at the three standing across the roof. They were enemies, not to be trusted. Not to be let anywhere near her princess or her comrades.

"No... Galaxia must have them... We've got to save them!"

Her fist clenched tight before her chest, swearing to anyone who would listen. If she shouted loud enough, maybe no one would see the fear that cast a shadow over her heart.

--

The next morning she met Rei at the bottom of the steps, looking no worse for wear. But Rei knew. She always knew these days, didn't she?

"...Minako," just her name was enough to rekindle the beat in her heart, "we'll protect her."

The warm, slender fingers gripping her own gave fuel to the promise, even if it felt like a lie.

They met Usagi at her front door, and while Rei put on the act of scolding the princess for studies--who could possibly think of studying at a time like this--Minako took a long, deep breath.

"Uu-saa-gii~!"

She tried to be chipper, playing her own role as the overprotective leader. The man walking his dog could be the enemy, after all.

"Or they could be posing as some nice lady separating her trash!" Rei joined in, nodding towards the poor woman on the street, smoldering amethyst eyes meeting Minako's.

Minako felt the jolt, the feeling of someone watching too intently. She knew Rei could feel it too. With a quick scan while her princess was occupied, Minako searched for the threat.

"Or," she began, metal in her voice as she locked eyes with the intruder, "they might be pretending to be an electrician to spy on you from a utility pole!"

She pointed with force, the crescent beam on the edge of her sense if she just took one step further.

When Usagi turned her gaze skyward, Rei laughed loudly, a forced noise that was unnatural but enough to draw the princess' attention.

"That would never happen!"

Usagi giggled, holding back a sniffle as they continued on.

Minako met Rei's eyes again, strong and unwavering.

"You never know!"

They continued the charade all the way to the high school, trading off with Haruka and Michiru at the gate as the two older girls walked Usagi the rest of the way to class.

"Are you ready?"

There was her Mars, stoic and to the point. It almost brought a real smile to Minako's face.

"To the roof then."

--

The emergency stairs were quiet, empty save for their footfalls.

"You know, Rei," Minako began, voice betraying her own fear of what they would meet in mere moments, "that uniform looks great on you. Who knew my uniform would fit you so perfectly?"

She caught Rei's gaze, calm and expectant.

"It reminds me of that time I snuck into your school."

Rei smiled, and Minako felt the fire of courage build just a little bit more.

"It would have been nice..." Minako turned in the doorway at the sound of Rei's voice, looking back at the woman she considered her closest friend, "If I had gone to this school, I could have been with you more. With all of you."

The sky was dark, cloudier than it should have been. Minako felt her hair stand on end, her volleyball uniform offering little to shield her from the chill.

"There's no going back after this battle. It's like nothing else we've done before..."

"Stop!"

Minako couldn't take it, not the cryptic words, not the stoic calm, not the fear or the pain that was coming. She stepped into Rei's space, clasping her hands and tracing her lips with a finger.

"We made a pact. We would rescue them both. We would protect the princess. This is no different than anything else we've done."

She lowered her finger, but Rei's hands tightened around Minako's.

"Everything will go back to normal. We can lead high school girl lives, and find love, and go on dates, and work hard! We'll find those dreams, and I'll accept nothing less!"

They were close now, foreheads together as Minako whispered her promise to no one but the two of them.

"Rei, I..."

"Stop fooling yourself."

In an instant, they broke apart, transformation wands in hand and ready to fight.

"Starlights," Minako grit the word out like a curse, unmoving.

"You both already have someone in your hearts, who you live for."

She could feel Rei tense next to her at Star Healer's words, but Minako couldn't help the grin that pulled at her lips.

"You know... you're right."

She reached for Rei's waist, leaning heavily into the other girl. Minako's heart jolted when Rei met her, holding just as tight.

"We don't need men..." the stoic voice was hypnotic, almost electric to Minako's ears.

"Is that so bad?"

It didn't actually matter what Fighter, Healer, or Maker's answer was. She felt the flames rise up next to her before being surrounded by her own bright, metallic burst of light.

She was Venus in the next breath, powerful and confident.

And ready to fight.

Or at least... that's what she thought.

Maker, Healer, Fighter... they weren't allies, but they weren't the enemy...

Galaxia's power was blinding, cold and sharp as it tore away at every hair, every thread, every nerve. Venus groped at the air, desperately searching out her second in command—her Mars.

This was too familiar but so much worse.

The warmth of fire was the last tangible sensation Minako felt, before there was nothing.

Everything was dark. Cold. Just like-

"Rise."

The sultry voice was commanding, and Venus felt herself awaken for the first time in what felt like centuries.

The gauntlets were dark, and tight against her skin, but it didn't hurt. Nothing felt... full.

Did she have a purpose? A mission...?

"Gah-!" Pain tore through her, and Venus toppled to her knees. All around her were the faded, darkly worn skirts of others like her...

"Do you remember your mission?"

"Yes, Lady Galaxia!"

It rang out like an empty prayer from the others. And her own lips too. She stood once more.

"Erase the light of hope. She will be here shortly..."

Golden heels clicked across the marble stone. Who were they? Who was the light? Who...

Red and black and amethyst invaded her vision, the other soldier cutting a path to where they would lay in wait.

"Ma...rs..."

The bracelets around her wrist sparked, dark and painful, and the flame went out.

Kill Sailor Moon, and steal her crystal.

The orders were clear.

Venus watched with something resembling pride as Mars unleashed her attacks against their opponents. The rabbit's guard were nothing compared to them.

The others attacked relentlessly too, and the dark power coursing through Venus' veins compelled her to step forward after all of them.

"Venus love and galaxia shock!!"

It was... different. Not quite right. Though every thought like that brought more pain coursing through the bracelets to her nerves.

But at least she was side by side with Mars again.

Venus felt so confident. So assured. They would win for Lady Galaxia and then...

And then...?

"No...Serenity...Mars...?"

The world tumbled past her lips, eyes scanning frantically for...

Cobalt met amethyst with a promise.

Next time. Finally, next time.

The light washed over them as the princess freed them from the darkness, one final time.

VI. For the first two weeks, they all stayed together at the Outers' mansion. It was almost like a sleepover, but the desperate, frightened, yet palpable relief running through them all set it apart. They would never be the same, after Galaxia. But it would make them stronger.

They had to go back to reality, eventually. One by one they each returned home, quiet and introspective of what the future held.

Minako missed Artemis, but couldn't begrudge her loyal mentor for seeking out time with his soulmate after the ordeal they had gone through.

Rei returned to the shrine, reassuring her grandfather that everything would be alright now. The Chaos had passed. Life could return to peace, at least for now.

And the shrine grounds didn't tend themselves.

Minako couldn't sleep. The warmth of her fellow soldiers, her destined family, was too strong, and now left an aching absence in her chest. The tiles of the roof weren't comfortable, but she could deal with a little discomfort.

She had died again, after all.

The city lights were so bright, a constant, with a distant thrum of noise. Minako felt restless. What does a soldier do with peace?

Rei clasped her hands tightly together before the large rope, praying. She didn't want to fight anymore.

She didn't want to die again.

But she would in the next breath if it meant protection of the Princess.

It helped knowing the others felt the same, that she would never be alone in this destiny. Rei took her time wandering the courtyard, the moonlight and breeze a comfortable companion in the silence the shrine offered.

Destiny. Companionship.

Love.

Beyond her duties, beyond the drive Mars had granted her, the desire to be near another coursed through her veins like the heavy beat of a drum.

The footsteps coming up the stairs were ones she knew well--too well--to be alarmed. Instead she waited, eyes purposely trained away towards the trees.

Minako's breathing was labored from running the whole way; off the roof, through the streets, up the thousand steps to the one person she knew would understand.

Or, the one person she hoped would understand.

Rei turned slowly, wind pushing her hair past her face, shimmering darkly in the low lights. She took in Minako's desperate state with calm eyes.

"Rei-chan," her voice had a distinct waver of vulnerability, cobalt eyes shining bright in the moonlight. "Is it next time yet?"

Rei stepped closer, hand anchoring at Minako's short-clad hip. "Minako..."

She tilted her head so slightly, breath warm against skin in the cool night air.

Soft lips hid a longing and intensity that had built over centuries.

The feeling like falling from a cliff's edge; the Love Me Chain her only tether.

Passion and heat, an enveloping warmth that only Rei held inside of her...all of it brought to the surface with the kiss.

They didn't pull far apart, only enough for cobalt to meet amethyst, seeking answers to questions their hearts had been asking since the dawn of the millennia.

"Next time... I'm not waiting so long."

Rei laughed in response, low and soft, stealing another breathy kiss from Minako's full lips.

"No more 'next time'. I promise."

[gutfukc]

music thing. also.

i. on melancholy hill || gorillaz 

let’s set out to sea, love // ‘cause you are my medicine when you’re close to me // when you’re close to me 

ii. heavy in your arms || florence + the machine 

i was a heavy heart to carry // my beloved was weighed down // my arms around his neck, my fingers laced to crown // i was a heavy heart to carry // but he never let me down // when he held me in his arms, my feet never touched the ground 

iii. be the one || dua lipa 

oh baby come on, lemme get to know you // just another chance so that i can show that i won’t let you down oh no // no i won’t let you down oh no // ‘cause i could be the one

vi. powerful || major lazer ft. tarrus riley & ellie goulding 

you charge me up like electricity, jumpstart my heart with your love // there’s an energy when you hold me, when you touch me // it’s so powerful // i can feel it // when you hold me, when you touch me // it’s so powerful 

v. bloody mary || lady gaga 

love is just a history that they may prove // and when you’re gone\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ i’ll tell them my religion’s you // when pontius comes to kill the king upon his throne // i’m ready for their stones 

vi. should be higher || depeche mode 

you should be higher // i’ll take you higher // well don’t be afraid // you’ll just have to pray 

[mysmesomefluff]

A Tribute to V, the Sun.

WARNING: Spoilers ahead, so if you haven’t played secret ending 01, do not read this. 

His smile was as radiant as the brightest star in the darkest of nights. The artic hair that crowned his head was the glow of the sky, and he was the sun, the centrepiece that gave them life.

There he was, his glowing eyes once full of life, no longer hidden by a pair of shades, locked in a frame with garlands of white flowers draped over it, stalks of chrysanthemums laid to rest on the dirt. It was a photo chosen by his bosom friend, a man who had known him for years, a man who had not known enough.  A man who only knew the V who used to live without the burden of a thousand sins weighing upon his chest, who used to live without bearing the cross of the lives of others upon his back.

A crowd of people dressed in black mourned for him, their tears falling like rain before his grave, where he had been laid to rest. It wasn’t right. He was the sun. And the sun was meant to shine, to be accompanied with clouds up in the sky, not buried in the soil, all alone and hidden from the eyes of others.

Then again, he had always been alone, the sun that existed to shine for others, but never for himself. Perhaps then, it was not a time to grieve, but to be glad for him, for it was high time he got some rest. Not seeking the happiness of others while sacrificing his own, but being a carefree soul up in heaven, with the clouds, in the sun, living only for himself.

It was a couple of hours before the crowd parted, leaving behind only a woman with long, wavy golden hair, who stood quietly before him. Her lips were parted, but she made no sound as she trained her gaze on that beautiful, angelic face that she had known since the beginning, when their souls met in heaven before they met here, on this earth, where she had fallen in love with him, and him her. 

“…Sun…” she murmured, the only word that came to her mind. The term felt foreign on her tongue, but the affection and warmth that it exuded from deep within her chest tugged at her heart strings, drawing forth emotions that she could not understand. They emerged in the form of tears that slid down her cheeks, and the heaviness that made her chest constrict painfully.

A man with blond locks approached, gently calling her name and nudging her to go away with him.

She didn’t want to go. How could she leave, when she had finally found her sun? 

She felt a warmth pool in her chest then, and she raised a hand, placing it over her heart. Raising her head, her eyes met the deep blue sky above. It was covered with clouds, but the sun was nowhere to be found.

Where had it gone? 

“I’ll always be here...”

“You’re… here…” It dawned on her, as his words surfaced in her mind once again. He had made that eternal promise to her before, all while looking at her with the eyes that held the world in them.

And he had kept it. 

Her sun, he would always be with her, just as she would always remain in his love. 

That alone was enough to make her lips curve upwards into a tiny smile, one that was finally free from the fear and anxiety that had chained her for years, free from pretence and helplessness. 

Because, now she had hope. Hope to see the sun rise again with each new day to give her warmth that no one else could have given her. 

A/N: V is the most beautiful and purest soul I’ve ever seen, and I just needed to write this simple drabble because he has my utmost respect. Would totally salute him if I could. He didn’t make the wisest choices, but he was undoubtedly the most noble and virtuous of them all. 

I didn’t like that even his death had to be a lie. It was already enough that he had to live such a misunderstood life; even in his death he couldn’t be laid to rest in pure, simple truth. Till the end his friends didn’t understand, and weren’t allowed to fully understand, the things he had been through.

Excuse me while I try to heal from all this sadness. I can’t even continue watching Bungou Stray Dogs because I’m so upset I can’t bring myself to watch comedy now. T_T

[captkillianjcnes]

to seek help in the hands of a monster

@cygnetasauveur 

The kingdom was in chaos, or so it seemed to the young prince, Killian Jones. His father had been cursed by the dark fairies, leaving the throne empty until his older brother, Liam, ascended to his rightful place. But it was too soon, there were too many things happening for the ascension to go as smoothly as it should. The kingdom was in turmoil at the loss of their king, and any transition, even one to the kind and fair-hearted Liam, was a rough one with the people. Killian himself had always pushed off responsibility, and was actually glad to be the younger son. It meant that weight, that horrible, terrible weight of a crown and ruling, wouldn’t fall on his shoulders. 

But they realized rather quickly, Liam and Killian, that the kingdom wasn’t ready. That the threat posed by the dark fairies was far greater than either brother had foreseen, and that they needed all of the royal family that still lived. They needed their father. 

So it was with a heavy heart that Killian parted from Liam one day, intending to seek out the one man that would be able to save their father. He set out alone, intending to travel as discreetly as possible. It wouldn’t do for the kingdom, for Liam, if his destination and identity was truly discovered. The people wouldn’t put trust in him if they thought he was consorting with the darkest creature of them all. 

Rumplestiltskin. The Dark One. 

But such was the only one with magic strong enough to break the curse of the dark fairies. For without their mother, True Love’s Kiss wasn’t an option. They needed to fight fire with fire, but neither Jones son knew what price the Dark One would enact. 

They just had to find him first. 

[captkillianjcnes]

royal meetings

@theprincessladyswan

The ball was yet another thrown for... some reason or other. Killian had stopped trying to keep track of the reasons for these sorts of affairs. He found many of the gatherings didn’t vary enough for him to pay attention to the whys and such over their existence. Just as long as he was in attendance, just as long as he showed up and was courteous to the visiting royalty and nobility, that was all that concerned his father. Just show up, just act right, just don’t embarrass the family. Not that he ever did. 

But he would never be his brother, even if Killian was the crown prince now. 

Killian saw her from across the room, her blonde hair shining in a glimmer around her face, her eyes drawing him in. He was entranced by her, and for once, found the event not to be the bore that it usually was. Because he had her company, and while he didn’t know who she was, he knew he had never seen her before. He would have remembered someone that beautiful. That gorgeous. 

“May I have the honor of a dance, milady?” He approached her, his eyes never drifting from her form, as if he had found the one reason that tonight might be a good night. Killian turned on the charms, and for hours (he hoped) they would dance, Killian leading his blonde beauty across the ballroom’s floor. 

[captkillianjcnes]

a new face among the masses | killian & baelfire

Killian was in his room, avoiding the main halls at all cost. He was dressed for the gathering--all the royals from the neighboring kingdoms coming to their castle to celebrate the signing of some treaty or other. Killian hadn't really cared as his tutors tried to educate him on it, knowing he'd either be avoiding the celebratory ball or hidden off in a corner with some maiden, away from prying eyes. He was definitely not going to the ball-- 

He was at the ball, the party already well underway, the guests dressed in their finest as they moved around the large and, frankly, in his opinion, overbearing room. But that might have had something to do with the elder gentleman standing amongst nobles at the far end of the hall. Killian had little to no love left for his father, and seeing him only exacerbated that sentiment.

He hated the fact that his father had sent guards who would have basically dragged him to the gathering, his glare and own orders to go away not being followed when they showed up at his door, claiming his father's orders. But Killian had known better, then, to deny any longer; no way was he being dragged into the room by a couple of their guards. So he'd followed them, reluctantly, and had entered the hall to a shout of "His Royal Highness, Killian Jones" and the eyes of every noble man and woman upon him. 

Now he was found leaning against one of the walls, trying to stay out of sight, as he scanned the crowd for someone--anyone--worth his time. 

[captkillianjcnes]

Important! Verse Tag Changes

Storybrooke -- previously "v; cursed killian" -- now "v; on the house"

Dark One -- previously "v; dark hook" -- now "v; dwell in darkness" 

Prince -- previously "v; prince killian" -- now "v; royal blood"

Vampire -- previously "v; vampire hook" -- now "v; blood on my hands" 

High School -- previously "v; high school" -- now "v; orphaned rebel" 

Group -- previously "v; group" -- now "v; got a friend in me" 

Hunger Games AU -- previously "{v: fire is catching} -- now "v fire is catching" 

Slave/Master -- previously "v; slave and master" -- now "v; bend to my will" 

Hooker -- previously "v; hooker hook" -- now "v; prostitution" 

[captkillianjcnes]

"So you're the new purchase? Tell me, whats your name?"

[captkillianjcnes]

A New Realm | Beyond the Kingdom | Amelia & Killian

Killian rode along the trails in the forest, the sun starting to set below the horizon. A guard rode beside him, the sounds of his armor clinking as he rode seeming to echo in the quiet of the natural sounds of the forest. Killian couldn't help but nearly roll his eyes. He'd wanted a moment's peace and quiet, so he'd thought to ride through the forest, but his father had insisted he be accompanied. As if he was a child still, rather than a grown man. It was getting ridiculous, in Killian's opinion, the way his father treat him, just because he was the sole heir now. 

But he could hear a stream running up ahead, and Killian began to ride towards it, desiring to give the horses some reprieve and a drink. The guard was silent, which Killian was still debating whether or not that was a good thing. Having someone riding with you in utter silence was kind of creepy, at least, to the prince. Then again, he'd never been particularly fond of this guard. 

"I'm going to ride up ahead." The guard just looked at him as if Killian was mad. "Don't worry. I won't be long. Can you just.. stay here for a moment? I won't even be out of sight. I promise." Killian didn't even wait for the positive response before riding off towards the stream.