#I can’t smell candles unless I snort it so close the flames burn my nose hairs

[randum-famdoms]

I find it pretty funny how at least half of my posts have tags as long or longer than the post itself

[plush-rabbit]

Twenty Minutes

Word Count: 2.4K

A/N: Honestly, yall,, never stop giving me Tenko requests,  I love him so much (also like if the current series wasn't going to happen, there was gonna be a tenko series but I felt like it added too much character to the reader but then I started thinking about it another way and ahh, too much talking, ill stop, okay enjoy!!)

Tenko is anxious. He can feel his skin crawl and he's desperately trying not to pick at it with nails fisted over a newly folded blanket, the chilly air from outside coming in from an open window to let any lingering smells dilute or fan out. The candle that you got him for his birthday is lit, the sweet scent of peach filling the room and fading before it can get too strong and overwhelm him. The flames flicker in and out, wisping against the gentle wind that enters through his window and coming to a still along with the leaves on the tree that stands outside his window.

Everything in his room is clean and in an orderly fashion. Figurines in place, posters straightened, sheets made and any lingering smells have been dealt with fresh air and the power of a candle. Everything is clean and tidy for when you arrive.

He shuts the window with a sigh. He turns and leans against the wall, a hand rubbing mindlessly over the gloves that cover his ring and pinky finger and wraps around his thumb. He stares at the floor, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and he runs over his mental checklist, desperate to find something else to fix so he isn’t alone with his thoughts.

"You're going to ruin your lips if you keep doing that," a sweet voice says and he startles, peeling himself off of the wall, a smile on his lips, only to fall when he sees that it isn't you.

He rolls his eyes and pulls out his chair, letting it roll as he comes to sit on it. "Aren't you and the rest supposed to be gone by now?"

Hana gasps, a look of offense written over her face. "Here I am doing you a favor by taking the family out of the house and you're going to rush me? Oh Tenko, and here I thought we were family."

He sighs and stands up from the chair, walking to the door and gently shoving his sister out. "You know family doesn't mean shit in this house," he states in a flippant tone. "Can you hurry up? I don't want them to think I want to introduce them to my family."

He hears her sigh but she doesn’t respond to his statements, choosing to walk in silence as they descend down the steps. 

"We're already in the car, I just came to say bye." Her hand is placed on his shoulder in a comforting gesture and his face burns, the corner of his lip twitching. "We should be back in a few hours. I'll message you before we do, okay?" Her tone is sisterly, caring and fretting over him as if she’s the mother, gentle and eyes that crease with too much worry and it makes him sick. He gives her a look as they stand by the front door, the sound of a honking horn interrupting the quiet atmosphere. "So you can get them out and not have them meet us," she says with a slight laugh. There's another honk and Hana groans. "All right, I'll see you later. Be good," she says in a sing-song tone, letting the front door close with a soft click.

He sits on the couch, phone pulled out of his pocket to wait for your message that you're arriving. He rereads the messages you sent confirming today's plans. As much as he wanted to cancel, he also wanted to spend time with you and he's been looking forward to this ever since you offered the idea and he might owe Hana a lot after this but it'll be worth it.

His foot taps nervously on the floor and he's just so nervous waiting for you to arrive. Realistically he knows you wouldn't cancel on him but he can't help the awful, twisting feeling that he'll wait for hours for you to never show. His face already burns with the thought of you not showing up, humiliation settling in deep within, his neck aches and fingers twitch, crawling up his body to pull taut against his neck. He hisses, tears springing in his eyes as red lines begin to mark him.

There's a knock on his door and he startles. His hand falls from his neck and immediately the palm rubs over in a soothing motion, his rough hand irritating at the skin. He stands and takes a look at his phone, an unread message from you stating that you'll be over in five minutes and true to your word, it's been five minutes since that message.

He pats at his skin and runs a hand down his hair, twirling at a dark strand and letting it unfurl from around his finger. He sucks in a deep breath and opens the door with a lazy smile.

You stand in front of him, backpack in hand and he can smell the fruity scent of your perfume on you. He clears his throat and offers a breathless hello, scrambling to move over to the side and welcome you in. He can feel heat pool around his body, face burning with sudden self-consciousness, as he failed to spray himself in cologne.

You give him a soft smile as you enter, taking your shoes off and placing them beside the door. "No hug, Ten?" You ask with a fake pout, lips turning into a smile before too long. He sees your eyes flicker to his neck, the slightest fraction of your eyes opening as you take notice of the welting spots.

He stiffens and looks away from you, eyes narrowed and red dusting at his cheeks. "I'll get you slippers," he murmurs and flinches when you grab at his wrist, coming to a still.

"Tenko," you say softly, "relax. It's just me." You let his wrist go and he stands in place, sucking in a deep breath through his nose, your hand coming to hold into the back of his shirt. "Let's just go study in your room."

He swallows his anxiety and turns to face you, your hand falling from his shirt and back to your side. You give him an encouraging smile and he steps close to you, wrapping his arms around your body, head buried into the curve of your neck where the perfume smells stronger. It's a hug that lasts for less than minute but one where you return it with the same intensity as you always have, arms tight around him, humming into him, as you press yourself close to his body, the brush of your lips ghosting above his skin and he’s left breathless, pulling away too soon for his liking, grabbing you gently by the hand and leading you through to his room.

His eyes widen when he sees that he left the candle on, hurriedly scrambling to blow it out, blinking and wincing when the smoke floats to his eyes. He turns to see you give him a knowing smile, eyes flashing back and forth between the candle and he gives you a halfhearted shrug.

“Smells nice,” he mumbles, clearing his throat. “Thanks for it.”

“I’m just glad that you used it,” you chirp, holding the straps of your backpack and teetering between on your soles before rocking back to the front. Your socks are printed with fruit, a soft gray with red cherries printed all over. “If I had to be honest, I was afraid you weren’t going to use it.” He gives you a raise of his thin brows, coming to grab at his chair, offering the seat to you. “You just didn’t seem like the type to light up candles, is all.” You take the seat with a thankful smile and pull out a book, flipping through the pages flippantly. “I felt like it would’ve been better if I had given you one of those car pine trees.”

He snorts and grabs at his own book bag, pulling out a matching book. “Funny. Car things are more of Takami’s style.” He hears you chuckle and he thinks it's enough to end the conversation there.

“Where are you sitting?” You look at him with your book in your lap, your head tilted as you look around as if waiting for another chair to pop up.

“Huh?” he says gracelessly.

You give him a tired smile. “Where are you sitting?” He blinks at you and you laugh this time, rich and filling his room with pure joy. “Do you have another chair? I don’t want you sitting on the floor- doesn’t seem becoming of an up and coming hero. Unless,” you give him a coy smile and his face burns, “you want me to sit on your lap? Or you on mine?” He chokes on his spit and you laugh louder, wheezing between breaths and clutching the book until your knuckles turn white. “Shit Ten, I’m sorry,” you say through a fit of giggles. “But seriously,” a burst of laughter breaks your sentence, “where are you sitting?”

He hadn’t thought about that. He could go get Hana’s chair but that would require too much effort and it would be awkward to have you see him struggle to fit a chair through his door. He can’t risk letting you see him as a stumbling and awkward person. He turns to his bed and he knows that it’s a dumb idea- horrible, really- and the chance of you two actually studying is low but it’s already low and- well fuck, he clears his throat and sits on the edge of his bed.

“Let’s just study on my bed.” He ignores the way your smile grows into something less of teasing and more genuine, filled with excitement as your lips curl. “It’s more comfortable-” he looks away from you and onto a pillow that was recently fluffed- “and we can share notes and-”

“You’re okay with having me on your bed?” He turns to look at you and your smile is softer now, excitement contained at the seams. You rise from where you sit and stand in front of him, hand gripping the book in front of your chest and he stares at the book, unable to meet your eyes. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Tenko.”

Hearing his name leave your lips always makes his heart skip, a light squeeze around the organ and he nods. “You never make me feel uncomfortable,” he mutters.

He assumes it must have been the correct thing to say from the way you kiss the crown of his head and sit beside him, head on his shoulder and he nods his head against yours, letting his eyes close for just a moment while you twi sit in silence, your hand coming to hold his and he wishes that he didn’t need the gloves, he wants to hold your hand fully in his, no fabric in between, just skin against skin.

“Then let’s get studying,” you whisper and he nods.

The bed creaks as the both of you fix into a comfortable position, shoulder against shoulder, sticky notes plastered against the textbook, pages turned in synchronization as he reads the text and you write down his examples. Black hair accessorized with bunny themed clips keeping the bangs away from his vision. He lays next to you, books outstretched and your head buried into the space between your crossed arms, your eyes blinking slowly, trying desperately to stay awake. He calls your name and you answer with a hum, your eyes slowly falling to a close. The room lingers with a light peach scent, mixed in with your own fruity scent and he risks a glance towards you. Your book lays open on a page that you both have long passed, pencil in between the pages and your eyes on his hands.

“Tenko,” you murmur, stretching your legs, your socks hitting against his calf and he gives you a grunt of acknowledgement. “I’m tired.” You yawn as if to emphasize your words, your hand leaving from under your arm, indents from your clothes printed onto it, and you reach over to hold his hand, interlacing his hand with yours. “Can we take a nap together?”

“We have a test on Monday,” he whispers, staring at the interlaced hands.

“And you’ll do great on it,” you yawn, stretching out the last word. “Just a twenty minute one.” You close your book, a space where the pencil keeps your page opened. “I’ll play with your hair,” you tempt, grabbing his pencil and mimicking your book, pencil placed between the pages and closing it, shoving it towards the pillows.

“You’ll fall asleep before you do,” he retorts, slipping his hand away from you, turning on his side and opening his arms, the corner of his lips twitching as you bury your face into his chest. “You’re going to fail if you don’t take this seriously,” he warns, pressing his lips against your temple.

“And then I can get you as a tutor.” He bunches the back of your shirt as you press your lips against his chest, right over his heart, feeling it quicken its beat under the thin fabric.

“And I thought I sucked at school,” he says under his breath, his arm bending to rest his head against, eyes slowly coming to a close.

“You’re smart,” your words start to slur, softening and pausing in between, “you just turn in things late.” He opens his mouth to retort, bitterness laced into the unspoken words, already leaving an aftertaste in his mouth, throat feeling as if it’s on fire. “I don’t like it when you start saying mean things about yourself. You’re smart Ten, you just find the work boring.” Your legs come between his, knotting them together, your hand reaching to the back of his head and lightly pulling against the dark tufts. “Twenty minutes and then we can wake up,” you murmur, your hands already slowing down their movements, starting up again in short intervals where you stroke quickly only to slow.

He lays next to you, keeping you wrapped up in his arms, your face squished against his chest, hands coming to a final slow as they part through the ends and fingertips brushing gently against the back of his neck, and grifting to his back. He’s covered in goosebumps, eyes half lidded as he strokes your back and plays with the end of your hair, nose buried against your head as he lays staring at the candle that you bought him.

“Twenty minutes, huh?” He says to himself, taking a peek at your still frame, and soft murmurs of your sleep. “I guess this isn’t so bad.” He swallows the lump in his throat, kissing the top of your head and resting against you.

[ifinallygavein]

A Cabin Where the Fire Burns

So I finished that smut fic I wrote for fun awhile back. This is my first so I hope you enjoy!! As always constructive criticism is welcome.

Aelin and Rowan the maid of honor and best man at Lysandra and Aedion’s wedding. It’s winter and they’re driving through the mountains to get to the destination. The weather gets really bad, an epic snow storm takes them by surprise so they pull over. They notice a little drive way off the side of the road and follow it to a cabin abandoned for the winter.

WARNING: THIS HAS VERY SEXUALLY EXPLICIT CONTENT!!

Aelin closes the door behind her. The wind howls on the other side to remind her of the blizzard they just left outside. Oh yeah. Rowan is here too. He’s Aedion’s best man so Aelin tolerated him. In fact recently she’d really started to warm up to the guy. But she refused to like him like that. The maid of honor and the best man banging? How much more cliché could you get?

Shivering she steps farther into the dark room. As her eyes adjust Aelin can see that it looks really nice, but there’s almost no furniture. Trying the light switch she also notes the lack of electricity. Great. At least it’s better than sleeping in the car. She turns on her phone’s flashlight and starts looking in some of the boxes and stuff. These people are so weird, Aelin thinks, they brought like everything except furniture. Thankfully she finds a few candles in one of them.

With shaking hands she lights them and places them around the room. Her cold wet clothes are starting to bother her. Ignoring that fact she starts to work on lighting the fire. Of course they have a fully operational fire place but not even a folding chair. After a few minutes of work she has a roaring fire crackling in the hearth.

Wait, she wonders, where’s Rowan? It’s not a big cabin he can’t be too far. Aelin ducks into the next room to find him shifting around some boxes.

“What are you doing?” she asks. Despite herself her teeth chatter.

He turns and looks at her. His hawk-like eyes assess her in one fell swoop and he tosses her a bundle of cloth. She’s pretty proud of the fact that she caught it even with a shivering body. In her arms Aelin now holds a set of clothes. What looks to be a thick, lined flannel, a man’s judging by the size not to mention the buttons are on the other side, and a pair of leggings that are also lined, as well as a pair of thick fluffy socks.

Rowan uses her silence upon inspection as his opportunity to speak. “You should change into those. If you stay in you wet clothes you’ll get sick.”

Normally she disagrees with him on principle but she’d been hoping for something to change into anyway.

“Did you find something for yourself?”

He resumes digging through the boxes. “I’m looking.”

Aelin turns to leave and says, “If you find something change in here. And don’t come out until I tell you to.”

For once he doesn’t argue. So she walks into the main room and strips in front of the blazing fire. The heat on her naked skin warms her to quickly. She pivots and puts her back to the hearth. Running her fingers through her long waves, Aelin attempts to dry her hair. The wind tangled it into a hopeless mess so it gets caught every two seconds. Finally though she manages to mostly unknot it and leave it only kind of damp. She looks over at her pile of sopping clothes and wrinkles her nose in distaste.

Remembering how long she’s been standing there she pulls on the dry clothes. They smell like cardboard and laundry detergent. She supposed it could be worse. Thankfully the leggings fit but the shirt and the socks were far oversized. Aelin strides over to the room Rowan is in and knocks on the wall beside the threshold.

“All clear.” Being so far from the fire reminds her of the bite in the air. “Did you find any blankets in there?”

She hears shuffling and then Rowan appears in the doorway. He wears a flannel similar to hers and a pair of sweatpants.

Aelin snorts. “Nice look. Very bold statement.”

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up, I didn’t want to sleep in jeans.”

Ok, I can relate but I’m still going to make fun of you. She thinks. He huffs out a mildly annoyed breath. I know. Who says I have to like it?

She crosses her arms. It irritated her a little that he could read her like that. It irritated her a little more that she could do the same. Rowan retreats into the room and comes back in a second, arms full.

“But yeah, I found blankets. We’ll have to share though. There aren’t that many.”

Typical, she thinks. But at least we found some place otherwise we would’ve been screwed.

Aelin takes the blankets from him and flounces into the main room. She kicks her wet clothes off to the side and gestures for Rowan to come help her. Together they spread a blanket on the ground and then layer a few more on top. As the pile gets smaller Aelin realizes there’s a few pillows too. At least there’s that. Super tired from their long drive and small hike, Aelin plops right down and starts fluffing her pillow.

“I guess we’re going to sleep,” Rowan grumbles.

Aelin shoots him a look. “Unless there’s something better to do.”

Again he rolls his eyes but sits down on the other side without any further objection. She takes that as his agreement (not that she was really looking for it) and burrows into the little nest they made. Rowan follows her lead. Soon the two of them are laying side by side as far away from each other as they can get. It would probably be more beneficial to sleep more closely to share body heat but neither of them acknowledges that fact.

Soon Aelin begins to nod off. She’s about half asleep when she feels a shift of cloth across her shirt. A sudden cold sensation makes her eyes pop open. Glancing down Aelin notes that her blankets are gone. What the… she thinks before turning over and seeing Rowan with them over his body.

Just my luck, she grouches, of course he’s a blanket stealer.

She yanks on the edges and manages to snag her half back. Rolling back over she tucks the corner under her so he can’t pull them off again. As she begins to doze again she feels another abrupt chill. Angrily she flops over and shoves his shoulder.

Rowan turns to look at her and runs his hand through his hair. “What?”

The jerk has the nerve to be sleepy? “What do you mean ‘what’? Stop taking my covers!”

“What are you talking about?”

“You. Are. A. Blanket. Hog.” Aelin enunciates slowly.

“And?”

Huffing in exasperation she says, “And it’s cold. I am cold.”

“So am I.”

“Why do you have to be so annoying?”

“Me?” he sits up at that. “You’re the annoying one.”

“Sure because I’m the one hoarding all the blankets.”

“Well you’re the one that has to stop every fifteen miles to go to the bathroom.”

“And you’re the one with the crappy taste in music.”

Offended he says, “It’s classic rock.”

“No,” she corrects, “Classic rock is Journey. Not whatever noise you were playing.”

As they argued the two had drawn closer and closer until their faces were inches apart. Nose to nose. Rowan glances down at her mouth and when his eyes return to meet hers they were dilated so there was almost none of that beautiful pine green left. That look he was giving her.

Aelin doesn’t let herself think as she closes the distance between them and presses her mouth to his. All she could think was how right it was. Before she knew it her tongue flicked at the seam of his lips, which he parted for her allowing her to explore his mouth. Without breaking the kiss she scoots closer. Rowan drapes his arm over her side and across her back until his hand grips the dip in her waist and draws her even closer so their chests are flush.

They break the kiss to gulp down some air. Rowan leans his forehead against hers and closes his eyes. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

“Me too,” Aelin agrees breathlessly. She’s surprised by her lack of hesitation and more so by the honesty of her statement.

His eyes drift open and he smiles at her for the first time. It makes her heart stutter. She’d seen him smile before a few times, but never at her. Because of her. Aelin felt her own smile unfurl across her face. Slowly leaning forward, eyes drifting shut, she kisses him again. A flame seems to leap out of the hearth and dance between them. Her fingers find themselves woven into his hair. The kiss intensifies until Rowan is lying on top of her.

Aelin draws her legs up so they circle his waist. She pulls him down so his hard torso is pressed against her and there’s no space between them. Her hands untangle themselves and drift to his chest where she starts unbuttoning his shirt. Rowan gets the idea and starts helping her while desperately trying to continue their kiss. Aelin finally pulls away. He sits up between her knees and shucks off the borrowed shirt as fast as he can.

She lets her eyes traverse down his bare skin. The hard planes and ridges of his muscled stomach, the bulges of his chest and arms. That tattoo. Unable to help herself Aelin sits up and runs her hands all over the smooth skin. Rowan shivers under her feathery touch. With the light of the fire haloing him he looks like some kind of god. An Adonis reincarnate.

His hands find her shirt quickly and she begins to strip it off as quickly as possible. However once the buttons come undone she lets the shirt hang open. Gazing directly into his eyes she slowly parts the front and pushes it off her shoulders to reveal her breasts. Rowan drags his eyes down her body hungrily. When he looks back up at her face his expression is near feral with desire.

She hooks her hand to the back of his head and brings him back into a kiss, lying down as she does. Their chests are pressed together. Heated skin against skin. Eagerly Aelin grinds her hips up against his drawing a groan from deep in Rowan’s throat. He copies her motion and she grunts as a spark ignites low in her belly.

Fumbling slightly Aelin starts to pull down her leggings. He holds onto her wrists to stop her. For a second Aelin thinks he doesn’t want to do this. But he loops his fingers into the waist band and slowly tugs them down. When he pulls them off her ankles his eyes flick up and run over whole form laid bare before him. While normally this position would feel exposing Aelin felt nothing but want. He locks eyes with her in a silent question. When she gives him her nod of approval he starts to kiss his way up. Over her calves and knees, then slowly up her thighs. Low across her stomach on her hips. Then closer and closer to where she needs it. Finally his mouth hovers right over her sex. He releases a hot breath out that has her gritting her teeth.

“Are you doing this or not, buzzard?” Aelin ground out.

His tongue dips down into her. She fists the blankets grinding her teeth to keep the noises she’s making from escaping. Rowan licks up until he finds the wet bead of nerves. When he does she can’t stop the moan that whooshes past her lips. She glances down and finds him grinning up at her before he presses a finger into her. Aelin’s head falls back. Her breasts heaving. Torturously slow, he circles his finger with his tongue keeping rhythm.

“God, yes.” She breathes.

Rowan stops his movements only long enough to say, “I think we can do better than that.”

Before she realizes what’s happening he inserts another finger. They circle and split and slide in and out while his mouth keeps working at her apex. Aelin’s so close she can see the edge. When Rowan curls his fingers it sends Aelin careening over. She anchors herself using Rowan’s hair, back arching off the makeshift bed, expletives tumbling out of her mouth.

Aelin releases his hair and grabs his face pulling him into a kiss. He settles over her his hands playing with her breasts and sliding along her hips. She grinds up against him only now realizing he still has pants on. Though she can certainly feel him through the fabric. Thankfully they’re only sweats. With ease she unties the laces and pushes them off so they hang around his knees. Annoyed, Rowan sits back and shoves them off.

When she catches sight of his length Aelin’s desire rekindles. She pushes him back and straddles him. Starting at his lips she kisses her way down his body; from his sharp jaw, to his neck, across his sculpted chest, over his abs, finally stopping to suck a hickey onto each of his hip bones. Looking up at him she takes his cock in her hand and notices he’s laying with his hands behind his head in that arrogant guy way. Aelin decides to see how long it would take him to lose his cool. The answer was about two seconds.

When her tongue circles the head he grunts, “Oh shit.”

Aelin takes him deeper until her jaw aches then she pulls all the way out and runs her hand up and down his shaft. Coquettishly she says, “I think we can do better than that.”

She climbs up his legs until her hips hovered over his. Holding him steady she teases him at her entrance to her own pleasure. Her eyes slipping shut, she feels her wetness drip down on him.

“Aelin,” he barks.

Her eyes flutter open and she looks down at him. He’s truly handsome especially with his hair tousled like that. His tan skin seems to glow in the fire light and his eyes… his eyes were dark with want. Spread out under her like that… I’m going to ride this man into the sunset. Maintaining eye contact Aelin lowers herself and sinks onto him. She goes down, down, down until he’s fully seated in her. Her legs were completely spread as she sits on him.

Rowan’s voice is rough and thick with lust. “This is the sexiest thing I’ve seen in my life.”

She leans forward and whispers in his ear, “I know.”

His chuckle rumbles through his chest. In a husky whisper he asks, “Are you doing this or not, princess?”

With that she begins to move. Slowly she rises up and sinks down. Up. Then down. Rowan’s eyes roll up in his head and his hands move up her thighs to rest at her hips. Without warning her strokes come faster. Eyes snapping to attention his gaze takes her in. Hands planted on his stomach, breasts bouncing with movement, hair wild, face flushed with heat, eyes burning with passion, and himself buried in her. A deeply primal part of himself roared in approval.

Soon her desire began to quicken.

“I think I’m going to come again,” She whines.

Aelin began grinding down to create friction on her clit. When Rowan sees what she’s trying to do he reaches between them and rubs his thumb against the bundle of nerves. Her insides go completely molten.

“Fuck, yes. OH, Rowan!” she cries toppling into waves of release.

As soon as she finishes he wraps his arm around her waist and rolls Aelin onto her back without pulling out.

“I’m not done with you yet,” He growls.

He grabs her ankles and spreads her legs as far as they could go and begins thrusting into her. With each stroke her gasps get higher and higher. “Oh my God! Don’t stop!”

Rowan continues his merciless rhythm. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the air. Aelin claws at the blankets beneath her searching for something to hold onto. Back arching she cries, “Harder, Rowan!”

He’s happy to oblige her. Releasing her ankles he grabs her hips and slams into her relentlessly. Her legs begin to tremble around him. The new angle and force leaves both of them moaning in pleasure. Rowan leans down and sucks a kiss onto her neck. This is Aelin’s undoing. She clamps her teeth down onto his shoulder screaming in pleasure. He pounds into her chasing his release and when it comes to him Rowan roars in pleasure.

He looks down at the sated woman he just bedded with nothing but pure male satisfaction on his face. Aelin made a debauched picture lying there sweaty and gasping from their exertions.

“Not a word of this to anyone,” she pants out breathlessly, “Lysandra will never stop saying I told you so.”

A lazy grin crosses his face. “Don’t worry,” he leans down and gives her a chaste kiss, “it’ll be our little secret.”

[fiery-assassin-arc]

Not your Rainbow; I'm a Forest Fire.

FINALLY I WROTE THE WHOLE HE EXPLAINS WHAT HE DID PART in Of sHADOWS AN FLAMES. YASSSS, AND WRITING THE OTHER CHAPTER AT NEAR 2 IN THE MORNING. UNTIL I BLACK OUT THAT IS.

Triggers: blood, violence, death mention.

5 pages on my documents... have fun reading peeps.

Tea. Bacon, sausage, potatoes. Fried eggs. French Toast on the side. Butter sliding down into the path of powdered sugar and near the small cup of maple syrup. That is what I am served this very morning in my room. It looks like how it did four months ago, with one small exception:

Christian isn't here.

This sours the taste of food in my mouth, fearing the worst of my precious friend. A part of me also prays for Pomegranate to be okay.  She's always been pretty protective, and to avoid any danger should it come to her or me.

My ladies-in-waiting tend to my feet and my wounds. The lacerations on my back can be healed, but it will scar up, much to my anger to wanting them gone for good. At least I have one memory of Outworld with me . . . my whip.

“Where is my father?” I ask Genevieve, watching her face turn back to cleaning my wounds. “And mother?”

“His Royal Highness requests to see you in the throne room.” Ingrid says, moving from my feet. The throne room? Father only asks me there for two things: unless I have gotten into trouble, or he needs help for mom on their anniversary. I think it's their 25th Anniversary coming up . . .

I return to my meal, observing the dress I am supposed to be wearing. It is a dress color of fire and smoke. Black and gray swirling in a vicious wave of fire surrounding the skirt. The bodice is heart-shaped, custom fitted. Backless.  “I don't remember this dress in my wardrobe.”

“Your father requested that be made for your return, my princess.” Genevieve explains.

But where are they? Having a meeting with the Council? I thought they would take even a minute out of their day to be by my bedside. Then I remember the kingdom sometimes come first; it's out of our control.

I put my fork down, the shine of my engagement ring killing my appetite. I haven't taken it off for months, even when I felt my fingers lose muscle to support it. Remington is always with me, in spirit.

I still love him.

I roll out of bed, taking my tasks with time. Going towards my rose gold clawfoot tub, I fill it with hot water and that soap that smells like fresh fruit.  I remove the nightgown from my body, seeing a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

The dark circles are about to fade, and my face is given some more color. I almost look back to normal.    My fingers latch on to the edge, steam rising across the bathroom. “I'd like to be left alone, please.” I say.

Scuffling of heels echo in my room before leaving me in the silence. And that is what terrifies me the most. My breathing is the only noise. Christian isn't here to give me a cure. My family is okay. But they're not coming in. I don't hear Pom outside.

I turn off the water and step in the water, feeling every muscle relax from being clenched. My hands float, my skin is scorching, but I love this feeling of home.  The scent of home. I light a candle, and sink down in the water.

Just relax, you're home. Nothing is going to happen ever again. I will not be harmed. I will be safe. I will miss Remington, but I will find love again.

I close my eyes. Sigh, pray. And shiver as my eyes open again.

Mia.

“What?” Water fills my throat, and I make the mistake of swallowing it. She looks scared, her violet eyes wide. Her hair is much longer, pretty curls dangling from her shoulders. In a pristine white nightgown.

I push my hands in the water, feeling my chest grow hotter, heart punching me in the ribs. Mia is alive and touching my face with her hands, making me calm.

Light penetrates my eyes as Mia's image vanishes the moment I lift my head above water. I cough and sputter the water, running a hand through my hair. “Mia,” I say, trying to have her come back to me.

“Mia!”

But she's not here. I don't see her anymore. This silence hurts like hell.

I'm running down the stairs to see my father and mother. Excitement pulses through my veins, giving me the sensation I'm flying in my high heels. I missed them so much it gave me an intense heartache. I'm going to see them.

Mom will hug me. Dad will caress my hair and call me his little firebird. The servants are still giving me looks of disbelief, surprised that I am alive. I'm fine. I'm not an illusion. Yet as I walk down the hall, I see our family portraits—of my mother, father, brothers and I—are shrouded in a black curtain.

Strange.

When I knock on the doors to the room, no one answers, but I hear soft snickering. “Papa, are you okay?” No answer. Unlike him. Very unlike him.

I push the doors open, and shiver at the sight before me. He . . . he can't be. No, no, no, no, no. How is he right there.

Remington sits with a leg on top of the arm of the throne, lifting a strawberry from the finest of china to his pink lips. His skin isn't pale and bloody anymore, it is reinvigorated and pure. The thick curls are no longer walnut brown, they are a rich black. They secure the family crown like claws. But his eyes—oh god, his eyes—

They are still the same burning hazel I fell in love with.

I had just gotten to terms with his death months ago, and yet, he's here. Alive. With a heart b e a t.

“Ah,” His voice is slick and warm; honey into hot tea. “They were right all along, you're alive.”

“I—but—b-b-but—I felt you die. You t-t-told me to run—HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE—ImissyouandIloveyou.”

With inhuman speed, he is in front of my face, the strawberry falling to the floor. Two fingers. From his left hand come to curl underneath my chin. “Hm, your shadow tells me you've suffered. Greatly.”

I almost snort in front of him. It was unladylike, he said. “Am I dreaming?”

“Oh no, no, no, no, no.” He makes clicking noises, and puts his thumb on my lips. “You're awake. I'm just surprised you're alive.”

“I was as well; I mean, you perished in front of me—”

“Kano promised me your corpse on a silver platter.” His bottom lip juts out, the pink skin trapped by his white teeth. “Guess I won't be getting a refund since I paid him after the whole  . . . attack.”

My blood runs like ice. My heart is stone, my brain malfunctions; flatlines like a heart monitor. He paid Kano to do this? To make me the way I am now. A shell in my body. A killer. I am scarred. My fingers touch the faint scars that are revealed on my back.

“What?”

Remington is still expecting my face, my neck, sliding a hand to my back and presses a hot-and-cold finger to my scar. It takes everything in me not to scar. “I paid him to kill you, sweetheart, if you didn't give me the information I required.”

He pulls away and starts to circle me, darkness sweeping over his features like blush for makeup. “You never did ask what I was doing, going out on trips and such. I admired that you kept your nose out of my work. What I had accomplished, was a nice little bargain with the Emperor in order to be King. At a few measly prices. Location of where the scrolls of your kind were for . . . recreational purposes, in a way.

“Outworld is going out of order, darling. They need to unite with us, and with unions, comes strings, as you know better than most.” He's explaining this as if I'm a child. “And your kingdom had to pay . . . for killing my father.” He pauses for two heartbeats, and grins wildly. “Kidding about the father, by the way.”

I'm still frozen.

“I wanted some piece of immunity should Outworld ever collide in a full-frontal scale war with Earthrealm. My home, safe from harm. The scrolls involving your kind's longevity of life was a crucial piece Emperor Kotal Kahn wanted, or was it D'vorah . . . Anyway, they wanted it so if they can replicate that into Outworld soldiers, oh, their civil war will end with the old Empress, Mileena.”

“I could have asked anyone for where it can be, but I knew it best to ask you. You're the youngest child, vulnerable and sweet; your brothers would have probably told you what they were. But damn it all, you never let it slip.” He claps his hands, and it echoes in the room. I don't hear anything else but his voice.

“So, I had to take matters into my own hands. I hired Kano to be my messenger, of a sort. To scare you, merely, into telling him where it is, so it passes to me. If you didn't keep talking, he'd kill you.” Remington breathes, deep. “Unfortunately for me, he didn't kill you. Again, lost a huge amount. 25 million koins down the drain.” A frown settles as a shape for his mouth. It doesn't suit him.

“One thing I don't understand,” I say, mouth dry like sandpaper.

“And that is?”

“The . . . my family .. .

“The attack on the palace, if you're wondering . . . my doing. I want it to look like your family was slaughtered by the demons. You as well.”

“Yet y-y-you—”

“Theatrics my dear. And the blood you saw? A bag full of  raspberry jam.” He runs his tongue over his lips. “Delicious! Your screams were a symphony, my dear. They reminded me of someone, too. Ah, what was her name again?”

Can't. Breathe.

If he says what her name means to me, I am going to explode.

“Mila, no, no. What was it. . .” He snaps his fingers against his temple, wiring his brain to figure it out. “Amelia, or Mia, for short.”

My heart melts the bones from my ribcage and slips on his black shoes in a bloody mess. I'm thinking 8 months ago, when I held her lifeless body in my arms. And I swore, I would find her killer like my girls wanted to do.

I cannot imagine that I've been in love, was going to M A R R Y a murderer. He took my family, my life, my friends, my everything to fulfill his plan.

“When you left and had Kano to be your care, I had a talk with your parents. Oh, Iris, they were so scared of what happened to their children.” A dark cackle escapes him.  “A few people in the dungeon, talking to other political officers, I was officially King of Sorai.”

Hot tears slip down my face, letting each piece connect like magnets. How he did it. How he plotted. He killed Mia. He killed my sister. All for being King, for keeping a pact with Kotal Kahn. Not caring for me in the slightest. He is the lowest of all scum.

The emotions inside me melt the icy blood in my veins, pumping, sending wave upon wave of hot energy throughout my core. Hands begin to ball into fists, and I am whispering prayers that I can bring myself to kill him now.

I hate you and I want you to bleed

Goddess of Fire, give me your strength.

Goddess of War, send me your power.

“Such a fool you were.”

I am taking all of the heat from this room and powering it into my flames. If he burns, I will burn with him. And I will take this war higher.

Not lifting the skirts of my dress, I lift my foot high above my head to slam into his sculpted chin. The crystal-beaded shoe box cuts right into his cheek, spraying the air with perfume dots of blood, with pretty diamonds coming from his mouth. I hear them clatter to the tile floor. Teeth.

He groans and stumbles, hand touching his face. He has a bruise forming, and he looks vicious, not, no, NEVER the man I knew. I'm not done here. Red flashes in my eyes.

I don't have time to pounce on my newfound enemy before two pairs of arms grab me from behind. My guards. MY GUARDS ARE HOLDING ME HOSTAGE. “RELEASE ME, NOW!”

“Take her to the dungeons!” Remington burbles, mouth full of blood.

“Don't you do this to me!” I scream against my guards. They pull me away, obeying their new king. I kick and thrash, but it useless. I am still yelling, even as Remington gives me a smile.

He won.