#again living up to my finishing drawings only late in the night agenda sigh

[krakrac]

sketched the milf because i triggered my chernobyl hyperfix

[elriel-oblivion]

So it's been four days so here's part two 😁 Just wanted to say a huge thanks to everyone who read/liked/commented/reblogged the last part! It was such an amazing response, especially given it was my first time posting my writing here, so thanks for all the love you shared 🥰🥰

Heads up, this part is actually part one from Elain's pov. Initially I wanted to continue from where the last part left off in Elain's pov, but as I was writing the background, I realised I'd written too much to just skip when Az gets to the estate and cut straight into a continuation of part one, so I ended up rewriting the whole thing in her view. So there's no new elriel moments, but you'll get a lot of new stuff anyway 😅 I would've said you don't have to read this part to understand part three, but when I was rereading the later parts a few hours ago, I realised there's some stuff that alludes to things in this part, so I strongly recommend you don't skip this 😅😅

Also, wow, some of my fave paragraphs I've ever written are in this part 😁 Bonus points if you can find them; there are four I'm thinking of in particular 😉

Word count: ~ 3.1K. Lemme know if you'd like to be tagged/removed 😊 Next part up in two or three days 😊

AO3

Ashes from the Deep

Part II

__

It had been a pretty uneventful day as Elain worked through her new plant textbook. Feyre and Rhysand had decided to spend the weekend away at the mountain cabin, Cassian and Nesta were away doing things she wished not to think of, and Mor was at the Winter Court.

Amren had only been round in the mornings, probably to check Elain was still alive. She'd glance round the living room, examine some of those fine crystal glasses in the display cabinet and then leave. There was no difference today, though Elain always felt Amren's scrutiny upon her even when that muted silver gaze was directed elsewhere; perusing Rhys' wine collection had become a tired ruse.

So besides preparing and taking her meals with Nuala and Cerridwen, Elain had spent her afternoon with her book, making notes and copying drawings. The twins had gone off on some errands, so she'd wandered into the garden at some point to tend to her many plants, telling them how lovely they each were. The crocuses looked particularly stunning this autumn day, their pale violet colour breathing life into the shades beneath some of the trees.

With her book, she'd identified new weeds, digging into the soil to rip some pesky ones out. Sometimes she didn't want the help of a tool; sometimes she needed to feel those roots on her bare skin.

Harvesting the carrots and beetroot was also on the agenda today, along with seeding for some spectacular displays next year. She'd been collecting the seeds from some of her summer blooms, like those soft clouds of baby's breath, saving them to replant. These she sowed directly into ground she'd prepared days before, her fingers digging into the crumbly clumps of earth.

Autumn onions she'd plant tomorrow, perhaps. Feyre always remarked on how their strong taste complimented meats well, so Elain wanted to harvest some fresh for her sister for once. It'd take a few months of waiting, but there was little else better than picking out and eating food one had grown with their bare hands and the essential ingredients of love and care.

Setting her book on the patio table, Elain surveyed the garden. It was a good day's work. Plants watered and sown, weeds uprooted, and hands sweaty and soiled, Elain was proud of what she'd achieved today. There were no distractions, nothing to take her from the one thing she always found satisfaction in.

After a long shower, she found herself back in the garden with a cup of tea and a blanket. The sunset washed the sky in a blaze of red and orange glory before it yielded to the cool tones of twilight then night. Elain sat in silence, hands wrapped around her mug. How long would it be until someone's arms were wrapped around her, until she felt the warmth her sisters finally had?

Silly, these thoughts. Immortality stretched far ahead, there would be time to develop that companionship. Months and years were but a heartbeat in the life of a High Fae. She wouldn't even notice the years pass.

Or so everybody else kept saying.

With her tea finished, she perused the book of recipes she'd borrowed from Nuala. Some recipes jumped out, ingredients for which she'd been growing for a few months now. Pumpkin pie sounded especially delightful, the gourd having almost darkened and hardened to ripe quality just a couple days ago. They should be ready for harvest tomorrow.

A chill wind sent Elain inside to prepare and have her dinner in pleasant silence. Even her mind was quiet tonight. After washing her dishes, she stood by a bay window, fingers idly tapping the windowsill.

Faelights bobbed like tiny lamps, dotted through the garden. The full moon was now high in the sky, its ghostly glow illuminating the datura flowers she'd seeded half a year ago. She pulled on her blanket and went out again for a better look at those gorgeous blooms, the petals opening only at night.

Elain couldn't be happier she'd found seeds of a triple-flowered variety. They'd grown to produce large trumpets, three layers of petals ruffled against each other. Somehow she thought of her sisters as she crouched and stared at the flowers, each layer so similar, yet fighting for space and breath as it unfurled before another. It was only when they were all fully open that they could sigh along the night breeze as one, an ethereal song of togetherness, tinged with notes of poignancy, only heard by those with the will to look deeper.

The white petals were stained with velvet violet, a true vision in her garden. While the others had given her passing compliments on the flowers, Azriel had seemed stunned the first time he saw them, citing them his favourite of all the plants Elain had grown so far. Something about their shape and contrasting colours, he'd mentioned.

She smiled fondly at the memory, where his eyes sparkled as he reached for one of the soft petals.

Her hand lashed out to grab his wrist. 'Don't touch them; the leaves and stems are highly poisonous.'

His brows rose. 'You wouldn't think that at first sight. But they're beautiful, Elain. Truly magnificent,' he said, his smooth voice so low, a voice that was night given sound. And how befitting, as even those datura flowers seemed enraptured by his presence, one shy petal finally unfurling towards him.

She beamed at him. 'They like you. Flowers like it when you talk to and compliment them - but these ones haven't given me the same reaction as they have to you. I think they really like you, Azriel.'

His answering smile was heartbreakingly tender.

A few more seconds passed before she realised she still held his wrist. She silently let go.

It was a shame she'd have to dig out the datura shrub and move it inside for the winter; it did look magnificent in the moonlight.

The sky shifted past its midnight velvet, and still Elain crouched, admiring the flowers. She shivered in the night's chill. The stars above twinkled and glistened, cold and distant as ever, yet stunning - infinitely more striking than they'd ever been when she was human. A thousand different colours sparkled in that vast expanse, the moon a phosphorescent queen in the centre of her court.

The Night Court truly lived up to its name in the wee hours of the day. Its opulence never failed to mesmerise her; the enhanced Fae eyesight was at least one thing she was grateful for from this body.

Her eyelids became heavy and she yawned. Why was she still out here? It was late into the night; she should be in bed by now. But the night was so beautiful and it was so quiet and she wanted to appreciate it all just once. Just once without the expectations of others, without having to wear that miserable smile all the time.

Of course, it didn't look miserable, which is probably why almost nobody ever bothered to look deeper into Elain. She should be used to it by now, but it still felt - wrong. That most overlooked her so long as she wore a smile. That most didn't think her capable of feeling the utter bitterness and loneliness she had once seen so plain on her sisters' faces.

And in acknowledgement of her sisters' hardships, Elain didn't fault them for not looking, for not seeing her. To see past the thick blanket of darkness in one's own mind was a trial in itself. But it had been years since the war now. And still they didn't notice.

They didn't notice that Elain was being shredded from the inside out.

It was almost laughable. But not funny enough.

No, it was not funny that people still treated Elain like a child, that people wanted to keep Elain in some weird impasse of a stage between child and adult. She'd thought finally carrying out her duty and giving her hand in marriage would show everyone that she was growing up: Elain Archeron, middle born but first married. Of course it was still on her own terms, to a man whom she'd loved. A man who'd seen her through the rubble of her family's lives. But she'd overall hoped doing what was expected of her would be enough.

Clearly not. She didn't even know who she was any more. Did she ever? Everything she'd once yearned for, gone. That fragile human life would soon be just a speck on the horizon of her past.

She sighed. Rebuilding herself was going to take a long time.

But what would she have to do for people to see her, to listen to her? Throw a rage? Fall into a drunken stupor and break a few dozen bottles?

She definitely could, but those were not her. She was Elain Archeron. And so she would wait. Patience wasn't a bad thing at all; she saw it on the shadowsinger's face all the time, that tranquility and calmness she so wished to feel inside.

Azriel. Her heart softened as he entered her mind again, and she dug her fingers into the soil, if only to occupy her fidgety hands. As sure as the chaos of her visions these days, there was a mess of butterflies related to him she wasn't willing to show. Or understand.

Elain and the spymaster? Now that was laughable. Truly laughable. He was wise and patient, while she - well, everyone already thought her a child, and though he listened like no other around her, surely even he couldn't glimpse the adult she so desperately wanted everyone to see.

No, it was foolish to entertain the idea of a relationship with him. No matter how much he saw.

No matter that he was the first to see her since Graysen.

Elain exhaled. She stifled another yawn, smoothing out the soil, then brushed her hands clean. She wrapped the blanket closer around herself and stood. Twinkling stars and velvety darkness and -

There, a knot of shadows materialising at the far edge of the garden, collecting and swirling into a larger mass before Azriel himself stepped out and sagged against a tree. His shadows whirled and obscured him, a dark fire with him burning at the core.

Elain's voice left her throat before she even thought to call him and she ran over to his figure slumped in the dimness.

She couldn't help but say his name again as she neared. 'Azriel!'

Those beautiful hands fiddled with a Siphon, but he looked even worse up close. Fatigue dragged at his body, a second weight to all the muscle and armour he already had to carry. Sweat and dirt clung to him, his hair. At least the shadows were parting, swallowing each other and misting away as they often did around her. Perhaps she should ask someday why they did that. But not today, not when his breathing was so laboured.

She raised a hand - to do what, she had no idea. She couldn't just touch him right now. 'You don't look okay.'

Something else limned his features as he huffed a light laugh and said, 'I'm fine, don't worry.' His voice was raw, so starkly different to its usual icy smoothness. It was common for him to guard his emotions, but in his state, this kind of thinking was just unhealthy. What would it take for him to be honest with her?

'You don't have to pretend with me, Azriel,' she said, lowering her hand. She studied the ground, embarrassed that she'd come up to him. What could she even offer in her pathetic childlike state when he was so clearly affected by his mission right now?

His hand rose. Her heart faltered, she had to do something, and she blurted, 'Can I wash your hair, please?'

His eyes widened, his entire composure crumbling. It wasn't often that the shadowsinger looked startled, but Elain was far too shy to show that she quite liked the effect her question had on him.

'You want to wash my hair?'

His face was so exquisite, it hurt to look at it. His eyes would be even worse; it wouldn't be the first time she was rendered speechless by their kind gaze. A myriad of colours swirled in their glistening depths - gorgeous greens and brilliant browns, all so natural and rich, if only she could look at them long enough to find their matches in the garden around her. Though, his eyes were an entire spectrum of colour in their own right. How would she ever pick out each and every shade?

And if she somehow did have the courage to meet his eyes now, what would she see of herself in their reflection?

A lovesick puppy? A doe-eyed, fearful fawn?

No, she didn't want to know.

So she swallowed and focused on his hair. Perhaps this Fae eyesight was a curse, for even his hair was shockingly fascinating. Only flat black from a distance, the faelights bobbing about the trees highlighted layer upon layer of silky raven locks up close. His hair was so dark it seemed to absorb the surrounding light. Mud stained one side of his head, and it was an effort to keep her hands from brushing it away, so she said, 'I'm positive that's mud and you shouldn't sleep with that in your hair. It'll only take a few minutes.'

He ran a hand through his hair, clumps of dirt falling out.

'You've managed to get some on your face, too.' There were light specks of mud and blood across his face, a more noticeable patch along his cheekbone, thrown into sharper relief by the faelights and his own weariness. Was that a cut beneath the patch? And another on his temple?

She leashed her arms.

What had happened? He wore the signs of a fight, but why would he come here when he knew Elain was the only one home?

His eyes bored into her face, but she refused to meet them. He seemed to lean forward then, stumbling.

Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous that he wouldn't even acknowledge he was in need. Azriel rarely stumbled. Any fatigue Elain had felt just a while ago was now burrowing down a little longer. Her voice was firm when she spoke. 'I'm washing your hair. It'll help relax you into falling asleep.'

His brows rose, but if Elain stood there one more moment she wouldn't have the courage to do anything for him. For herself - she could take care of someone else. She could do for Azriel what she hadn't done for Feyre all those years as a human.

And for Azriel, she could tend to the male who'd provided her with comfort and safety in this world of distress and danger.

So she pulled him along, clenching her jaw and refusing to look back. Her heart hammered in her chest but she continued, hand wrapped round his armoured arm. Her hand slid down to his wrist but just as she was about to replace her grip, he grabbed her other hand and pulled her into him.

The shadows instantly began to ensconce them, dozens of those cool tendrils twining like vines. The estate loomed huge before them, and Elain gripped Azriel's hand tighter. 

'My bathroom,' she said. Beneath the low whisper of those shadows, her blood thrummed, her heart so painfully obvious against her ribs now. It would be a wonder if the spymaster wasn't aware of it. Though she did hear another flutter above, right by her ear. But as expected, the shadows made quick work of their journey and she didn't have the chance to dwell on it further.

Now out of the comfort of Azriel's hold, Elain set down her blanket and made to grab a chair from her bedroom. His dark presence was so overwhelming that she exhaled lightly as she entered the room and took the chair. She dragged it to the sink, avoiding his gaze, and pulled a towel, soap and a large jug from the cupboard by the door.

As she settled the soap and jug on the sink, she dared a glance at him. He was still clad in full armour, those black scales gleaming like obsidian over his skin, his Siphons glistening jewels across his body. 'I think you'll have to collapse your armour for this,' she said.

He inclined his head and tapped a Siphon, those scales lashing back into each other with cruel elegance. They were a mirror of their master: cold, controlled and unyielding, forged from scintillating darkness. He was a night sky riddled with stars; light existed if only one bothered to look for it.

Azriel's great wings righted themselves as he stood straight, now looking smaller in just his black tunic and trousers. Something about him seemed vulnerable without the armour, so Elain breathed, 'It's beautiful, all of it.' The hulking armour, the classic simplicity of the tunic and trousers, and the male who wore them all.

He was just so wonderful, Azriel. An enigma that could see her own. Her heart clenched.

Azriel rustled his wings, colour blossoming on his cheeks.

Elain blinked and pulled the chair out a little. 'Please sit.' As he sunk down, she rested the towel on his shoulders, hovering her fingers above his forehead. Her body tensed and her fingers remained suspended. It was like a spark of tension flickered in the space between their skin, teasing her, tempting her, taunting her.

After all, she'd offered to wash his hair, an act that would certainly require touching. But why was she so hesitant? She'd touched him before - kissed his cheek, even. Although that had been in the heat of adrenaline, a mark of her gratitude where a simple thank you wouldn't suffice, not for risking his own life for hers.

This was - what was this?

She finally lowered her fingers through that tense spark, pushing his head back against the sink. It was exhilarating, this contact, but he lowered his wings, shifting on the seat. Elain moved into the space he gave, turning on the tap as he went still. Just as her body was taut, taut as the skin of a drum.

She checked the water. Warm. It was time to start.

Azriel was looking up at her. Something like yearning swirled in his eyes.

He looked so tired. It made her heart ache.

'You can close your eyes,' Elain whispered. And he did.

___

Feedback's welcomed; thanks for reading 😊

If anyone wants to know what the datura flowers look like, CTTO:

@illyrian-lover-flower @julesherondalex @nooriee @mis-lil-red @verifiefangirl @tswaney17

[littlefreya]

The Way to Hell - Part 9

MANY Thanks to @raspberrydreamclouds who designed this cover as a gift! ☝

Summary: Post Mi6, Alternate Canon. August escapes Ethan Hunt with his face intact and is currently the most dangerous man alive. Unwilling to back down from his murderous agenda, he plots to continue where he stopped, unaware of the trained assassin who is sent to bring him down.

Chapters: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10| Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Completed.

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Lacey)

Word count: 8.3k

Warnings: Dark themes, smut, fluff and angst. Unprotected sex, hints of stalking, violence, swearing, sexual mentions, slight gore, choking, death.   

A/N: Okay, this chapter is long, it was hard to write, you guys may never speak to me again after this. So I’ll just post it now, and turn off my phone and hide beneath the blanket with excessive anxiety. Thanks @agniavateira for editing my work and being my muse.💖 

As always, comments and feedback are more than welcome 💖💕

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of the source material and claiming it as your own*

Title: Lacey

~*~

Have you paid the ferryman?

~*~

The cool light of fluorescent doesn’t do the honeyed gold of her hair justice. 

Doe eyes meet him, a striking green. Pure, like freshly-cut grass on a spring morning. The navy-coloured suit she wears counters the sunny shade of her slightly curly hair. She sports mid-length tassels, cut neatly just above her shoulders. She looks like she had it done this morning by the looks of it . 

“Hartmann, Lacey.”

Sitting at his desk with a pen pressed to his lips, the CIA agent observes her while ignoring the small hand in front of him. A tall, fit man in his late 20’s, face clean-shaven, hair like pure chocolate, combed neatly to the side but for a large rogue curl that falls on his brow. He collects it between his fingers and attempts to tuck it back in place.

“I don’t do partners, sweetcheeks.” he retorts after a short glance and turns away from the young agent, returning to his computer to browse a file he was just reading before she interrupted him.

An amused sigh passes through her plump lips as she shakes her head with sheer disbelief. “Do you have it any more cliche than that?” 

“I might, depending how long you are going to loom over there, princess.” August shoots back and slightly adjusts the tie around his shirt collar, not bothering to face the young woman again. It’s obvious what this is: a muzzler, or rather a babysitter in the form of a really good-looking girl. 

He fights the temptation to take another gander at the way her hair frames the apples of her rosy cheeks. 

“But since you’re already here, how about you fulfil your purpose in life and get me a cup of coffee? Double espresso, no sugar.”

August shoots her a look, observing her immediate reaction. Lacey’s green eyes widen, her mouth slightly opens. She rubs her knuckle between the soft pads of her fingers while thinking of what could be a suitable response to his disrespectful request.

I guess Erica didn’t bother prepping her.

Sloane, the heartless lioness. She leered at him with that sour look on her face since the day he stepped into the building. He swears the woman must have slices of lemons hidden in her panties. There is not even a drop of respect in those dark eyes whenever he sits in her office. Nor does she harbour any trust in his performance on the field. 

It all just worsened thanks to Ukraine. 

The explosion in the old Soviet power plant killed dozens of innocent lives at the cost of one. Though that man was responsible for the death of thousands, if not more. 

If you want to tear down a building, you better use a fucking hammer.

That cunt should thank him and promote him. 

“Nothing but daddy’s boy.” That’s what she sees in him. He might as well be another dead CIA agent like his father, then. Erased from memory, his great achievements discredited. At least he doesn’t have a family to throw to the dogs so they can rip them to shreds.

Oh Sloane, if only you knew half of the shit that goes beneath that stuck-up nose of yours.

Releasing another deep sigh, Lacey slumps to the seat in front of him, crossing her long legs together and leaning back in her chair while grabbing the folder on her desk. Her lips clamp together tightly, trying to hide the saltiness on her face. Long lashes curtain her eyes which pretend to read through the file. August rolls his eyes with annoyance, trying to ignore her existence and continue working his way through a case he’s been reading before she interrupted him. 

Yet every now and then his storm-touched eyes peer at the naive-looking woman, observing her and trying to determine how long will she last.

~*~

Is this hell?

~*~

That dusting of freckles on her nose and the fresh shimmer in her eyes give out much softness, yet she is anything but weak. Lacey Hartmann is a shield-maiden of some sort. For 2 months she withstood August’s “boot camp,” meaning she appeared unaffected by his cold demeanour.

At times there is even a hint of a smile hiding beneath that peach shade lipstick when August challenges her with an obscene dark joke. A hint of amusement tints the green of her irises, but she never dares to admit it. 

Too coy, almost chaste, yet iron-willed. 

August finds her behaviour borderline masochistic as he continues to prize her with nothing but arctic affection. Even so, she always listens when he speaks, her eyes open with pure intent, a fertile green field in her glance. 

Something spikes at the marrow of his bones, intrigue or so. Trivial thoughts find themselves latching into the tunnels of his complicated mind. His CIA brain begins to note her morning routine. A glacial stare registers the vanilla latte she drinks almost religiously every morning at 9, with two teaspoons of sugar. Lacey has a sweet tooth, it seems. She never misses dessert at the cantine and he once caught her bending the rules and sneaking candies back from their previous mission at eastern Europe.

He also noticed how when she is nervous, she twirls a finger in her hair with agitation and chews her plump lips. 

Blue is another point of interest. The colour seems to be dominant in her attire and accessories for some cryptic reason, though. not obsessively. She wears black or grey but then ties a silk scarf the shade of the sky around her delicate throat. When she is having a bad hair day, it’s the red pencil suit that draws attention to her body instead. The combination is horrifying when she sits in front of him holding her favourite mug which is glittery cerulean. 

He begins to wonder about her life outside of the headquarters. Her file rested in his apartment for weeks yet only recently he found himself bored enough to peek inside and read about her personal life. No husband is listed under her marital state, yet he wonders if a woman as attractive as Lacey has a man waiting for her at home. Someone kind, he imagines, and pitiful. She looks like a woman lacking a strong man in her life. 

“Are you going to finish that?” 

August’s brows furrow as she cuts into his adventurous trails of thought. His glassy eyes pierce at her as she sits in front of him at the cantine, sharing a lunch table. He hardly speaks during lunch anyway, and only listens to her musings with the usual sulk on his face. 

Lacey appears slightly frightened when she sees his menacing expression, yet her fright melts into a soft blush and a coy grin, in an attempt to pacify him. He nudges the plate with a slice of chocolate cake in her direction. 

“No, go ahead.” he watches as she digs her fork into it with excitement, her eyes shutting with near orgasmic pleasure as the chocolate melts on her tongue.  

His mind continues to wander, offering him possible imaginary visions of her personal life while she mumbles something in the background about the cake being outrageous. 

Her home address would be in that file too. 

It’s nothing but idle curiosity, after all.

~*~

You don’t believe in hell.

~*~

It’s been over 6 months of enduring her by his side. August imagined she’d run off crying to Sloane 2 days after being forced into this partnership, but she keeps a vow of secrecy, even when he bends a guideline or two during missions or violates nearly every HR policy. At first, she would warn him about his behaviour, but now she just calls it “The Walker Way”. 

It almost feels like he has a partner in crime. 

They arrived in Sicily a night ago, their mission is to locate and capture a millionaire-turned-terrorist and bring him in for questioning. It’s a  high profile target, which means the CIA spared no expense providing them with the finest hotel suites and fancy attire to attend a gallery opening. An informant suggested the suspect might be doing his bidding at the same mansion. 

Lacey meets August at the hotel’s main parking lot, wearing a cornflower blue mermaid-cut gown. Threads of silver adorn the outlines of her cleavage and little pieces of sparkling glitter draw his attention to her bust. He doesn’t attempt to hide the way his eyes fixate on her breasts. Beaming at the pale pink fat of her bosom before his gaze finally wanders to meet her face, giving her his regular cocky stance.

Is she wearing a bra underneath?

“You look handsome,” Lacey compliments, swallowing a complaint about the obvious way he objectified her. “We look as if we’ve matched colours.” The royal blue three-piece suit brings out the ocean in his eyes and she allows herself to dwell in the calm water as she glances back, offering him a smile.

Stoic, he ignores her praises, studying her face quietly. The shade on her lips is not the usual one; it’s darker, making her look more vamping. He doesn’t like it, her natural appearance is sweet and supple, and this colour clashes with her complexion and the concept of her in his mind.

The unnerving silence between them greatly challenges her. The need to crack the autumn evening air with some sort of dialogue pans in her chest. 

“Are you…” Lacey begins speaking when her eyes squint at the region of his mouth. “...growing a moustache?” Bold fingers reach up, ghosting over his upper lip where a few days’ stubble seems to grow longer than the rest on his jaw. August cocks his eyebrow as the tips of her fingers almost touch his mouth. She notices his disapproval and pulls her hand away apologetically.

“For the mission, I thought it might make me look older.” 

An amused smile cracks on her face, her cheeks rounding up to perfect blushing circles. “The real Mrs. Walker would be mortified.”  

August scoffs, rolling his eyes at the notion before turning away to watch the cars that pass by. His hand rests on his chest, straightening the vest underneath his suit and stretches the muscles of his back. A timid-blowing zephyr caresses his face; his Adam apple rises and drops dryly in his throat.

“Is there a…”

“Oh c’mon, Hartmann! You know the answer to the question, don’t act stupid and play small talk with me, it’s not your style.” 

Lacey’s lips press shut together, her green eyes dropping to the floor. She knows the only Mrs. Walker is his mother, and Madeleine has been gone for a couple of years now. Everything is in his file, allowing her to learn about the “mundane life” August Walker leads, or at least the ones he allows her to see through her CIA spectacles. 

It was an obligation to do the same with her. His old man once told him to learn who he’s dealing with before opening his “goddamn mouth.” That’s all there is to it, and his curiosity if he has to admit it.

Lacey Hartmann lives alone with her cat, Sir Podrick, on Hampshire St 457 on flat number 45. A magazine two-room apartment, picture-perfect, tidy to the point of OCD. She has an older sister but they rarely see each other. On her free weekends, she loves to watch romantic comedies while drinking hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows. 

He often wonders if her sweet tooth is compensating for something missing in her life. Yet there is never a man in her apartment.

Sometimes she dances in front of the window, especially after a hard day at the office. He can’t tell which music is playing in her headphones, but the way she moves her body makes him believe it’s something upbeat and cheerful. 

The images of her bedroom window vanish as a slightly irritating thought peaks in his mind at her comment. Mrs. Walker. A hiss of violent air shoots from his nostrils. 

Relationships were not something he cared to pursue. Life had other offerings. 

Besides, the women he liked were too tender and he was too rough. So, his conquests never lasted more than a night. 

Agitated, he pulls his sleeve to look at his Rolex, muttering something obscene under his breath which makes Lacey shift uncomfortably on her feet. The driver should have arrived by now. Every car that parks at the pebbled road bears disappointment, dropping off more honeymooners and rich, older married couples. 

A soft smile breaks on Lacey’s painted lips while she stares at August who’s facing the driveway with his fists clenched at the sides of his body.

“Well, since we’re stuck here waiting for a ride, you better entertain me.” Lacey speaks with grace, not a hint of nervousness or fright in her voice. She learnt how to deal with August and his tantrums by now. 

August remains silent, his sight never breaking from the driveway and the alley of palm trees that pave the path. 

“Or I guess we can stare at the big full moon,” she says to herself, lifting her eyes to the clear sky.

August stares back at the golden-haired woman, her long lashes fluttering gently as she counts the stars in her mind. A naive glint sparks her eyes as she’s captivated by her own fascination. The pale blue of the moon reflects on her milky skin, making her look like a siren in her beautiful dress.

“Yeah, it’s lovely,” he says in his deep voice. 

*~*

And even if it existed, hell wouldn’t have you.

*~*

The expo is held at a royal mansion of some sort. A large Sicilian palace that is owned by an ageing millionaire. Golden floral embellishments spread across the azure velvet walls, shimmering at the lights of the crystal chandeliers which dangle in the halls.   

Various ancient trinkets are placed in glass cubes. Crudely-made bows and arrows that were carved from cheap wood by a half-brain neanderthal are offered for the price of 200,000,000 Euros.    

Ridiculous.

Keen on finding their target, both August and Lacey decide to split up upon their arrival, planning their strategy ahead by protocol. August is the striking image of professionalism tonight, stretching his gaze around the large hallway. He has been this way for the last several missions, working by the book, making sure to perform as clean as possible, whatever that means in CIA terms. 

He even managed to win a word of praise from Sloane, who still can’t stand the very sight of his face. But at least she ceased from eating his head at the conclusion of every mission. 

And Lacey seems to appreciate it, too. 

The brooding man spends the night pretending to be enthralled by the exhibition and its boring guests who continually attempt to strike pointless conversations with him. As part of his task, he only speaks with those who seem to be an asset and brushes others away by answering in fluent Italian, pretending to not understand a word in English while smiling at them politely. 

Blending in, the young agent stands by one of the bars, leaning onto the marble counter and enjoying some type of strawberries-in-cream dessert which was offered to him by a tall,  abnormally attractive waitress who’s been walking around with a silver tray. 

Lacey would love this fruit-pudding thingy, he muses as his fingers brush through the mid-length stubble above his lip. His eyes carefully scan the room for any group of men in their late 30s for a clue or a sign. 

The sound of a woman’s laughter chips away his attention like a siren’s call.

So that’s how she sounds like when she laughs. 

Grabbing a glass of champagne, he steps forward on the black carpeted floor, following the cheerful voice as it rolls delightfully in his ears. Storm clouds gather in his eyes. The siren is behaving unprofessionally to the point of being offensive. A tall glass of half-empty Lambrusco hangs between her slender fingers while her head falls back; her hand rests on her chest, trying to contain her laughter. 

She is the centre of attention to a group of famished men. 

August frowns with disapproval. She’s supposed to act drunk, not get buzzed. Standing at the large pathway, he watches how she smiles widely, mouth gaping, small dimples peeking at the corner of her lips. The honey of her hair makes her stand out in a room of dark beauties, the shade of her dress an anchor for any travelling eyes.

He takes an irritated sip from his champagne, swallowing the sparkly liquid, trying to ignore the bells of laughter which begin to sound like an insult, meant to provoke him. His piercing eyes search for the target in the room, focusing on the task on hand and being the professional his father urged him to be. 

Yet as if magnetized, his glare returns to her.  

For a moment there he nearly forgets that she is a CIA agent. The men around her flirt nearly barbarically, their mouths salivating with predatory hunger. Is she too pure to understand their intentions? The vultures are waiting to tear her limb by limb. Possibly hoping she will be drunk enough to be dragged by one of them.

The storm inside him rages. Thoughts of her being tainted by one of these hideous men enter his mind and poison bubbles in his throat, drowning him in anger.

He puts his champagne flute on the tray of one of the hostesses who passes by. He fixes his tie over his neck and swallows hard. His strides are confident and charismatic as he marches into their circle abruptly, reaching an arm over to Lacey. 

“Sweetheart, here you are. Come see this piece, you’re going to love it.” hee speaks with contained anger, his baritone loud and clear, roaring through his puffed chest and squared shoulders.

Lacey turns to smile at him as he latches his fingers around her forearm, rescuing her by pulling her away from the predators with as much elegance he can muster at his current aggravated mood.

“Are you fucking drunk, Hartmann? What’s wrong with you?! We have a dangerous man to catch.” He whispers angry and low in her ear, carrying her toward an open terrace where they can discuss and re-strategize the mission.

The cool breeze caresses their faces, tenderly running through their hair as they approach the open air. The young woman continues to giggle as August’s fingers tickle beneath her armpit while he takes her to stand next to the large renaissance modules that hide them from the guests of the event. He lets go of her forearm, looking down at her with a scowl.

“Relax, I was trying to make it look convincing with these decadent, empty idiots.” she attempts to pacify him, looking up into his eyes, her head reaching just beneath his square chin. 

“Isn’t it ridiculous?”

“What is?”

“The way they sell these artefacts on such a high price when it was created by a primitive creature who ate his own fleas,” she mocks with a mischievous smile. “This is the end of human culture, this capitalistic point of view.”

A cold shiver crawls at August’s spine as he hears her speaking of his ideals. He had never seen her this way before. 

So opinionated, so bold. 

Has she been reading my mind?

They have never been this physically close, he can smell the lupines on her skin and the Lambrusco on her breath. Lacey’s amused grin begins to relax somewhat, her eyes now staring at something with stark fascination.

“You have a brown spot in one of your eyes.”

August brow furrows even deeper, dark lines forming between his thick eyebrows as the woman ogles him in a bizarre way. His blood thickens as the pleasant wind brushes at his face.

“Sectoral heterochromia, I was born with it.”

“It’s beautiful,” she answers with an enchanted glare, batting her lashes and moving further to study the shape of his flaw. Her feet arch to the tip of her toes, reaching higher to his face. August remains still, watching as if within a haze when her lips crash onto his. 

Chills spiral through his nerves, his eyes wide open as her soft lips press into his in a long, chaste kiss. There is a small hum in her voice, painted lashes look like black curved trails as her eyes shut with an enchantment. For a second he can feel her body press into his, her breasts grinding at his broad chest. She slowly detaches from him, opening her eyes and falling flat on her feet.

Alarm spills onto her face, her hand covering her mouth with guilt as panic surges. August stares back without a sign of emotion on his arctic face.

“I’m so sorry!” She calls out in utter embarrassment, moving away from him by a step.

His breath grows rigid, his mind a war. In an instant, he pulls her wrist away from her face and claims her into his grasp, kissing her earnestly, even violently. Lacey’s moans melt into his mouth, her body crashing into his, writhing as her lips gape, accepting his insidious tongue. 

She tastes like sugar.

August slams her against the wall, growling as her hands roam down his body and messing his outfit. A fervent stir tingles at his groin and the way she squeezes the muscles of his behind and tries to shove her hands under his trousers does nothing to relax his racing heart. Depraved, his hand pushes between her legs, trying to cup her heat through the tight dress, yet it cages her legs too tightly. 

“I want you out of this fucking dress.” August growls, breaking the passionate kiss to breath hot and heavy in her ear. 

“Then take me back to the hotel.” she retorts breathlessly, grinding her pelvis into the growing hardness in his groin.

“We can’t, the mission.”

Lacey emits a frustrated huff, sounding as if she’s meaning to beg as her body constantly pushes into his in a snakelike dance. “Forget about him, he’s not here, we’ll do it the Walker way.”

There is nothing in this world strong enough to convince him otherwise as those big doe eyes peer at him with admiration and a sense of need he never received from any woman before. It wasn’t like the women who begged him to fuck them as he tormented and delayed their release.

For the first time in his life, he felt purely wanted.

~*~

The ride back to the hotel is the most dreadful experience he had to endure in his life. Both Lacey and he sit at each side of the car, avoiding eye contact whilst their organs throb with aching need. She keeps her fingers laced together while the driver listens to some old Italian love song and sings along the tunes on the radio. August attempts to avoid drowning into his thoughts but the idea of having her tonight makes the blood pool hot in his loins.

They hardly make it into her room. Exploiting every moment left in solitude to make out like horny teenagers. Whenever a hotel staff member or a guest passes by, they break away from one another in the most obvious manner.

As they finally arrive at the suite, August kicks the door shut with his foot and preys at her, his talons reaching for her face, his thumb wiping off whatever remains of her lipstick before kissing her again. 

“I don’t like this, it isn’t you.” he states in between invigorated kisses while Lacey battles to take off his clothes, pushing the blazer off his shoulders and then working the buttons of his vest and shirt with lust guiding her fingers. She ignores his remark, answering with another breathless kiss instead while moving to fumble with his belt.

Their feet kick at one another as August leads them toward the king-size bed, fondling the curves of her body through the terrible prison that is her dress. His long legs nearly lose their balance as she successfully unzips his trousers and finds him fully erect and pulsating in her small hand. 

Logic turns to steam at the manipulation of her hands. His gasps resonate through the length of his throat, giving in to the whispers of his heart. How long yearned for her, wanting to keep her in the birdcage of his vision. 

Lacey, so bold yet so sweet.   

With the swiftness of his hands, he turns her around, tugging at the zipper of her dress while dotting her collarbone with possessive nibbles. Her naked figure unveils to him as a flower opens to the sunlight of spring.

Left in nothing but her baby-blue lace underwear, she steps out of her dress and moves to face the large naked man, pacing back as he sneaks toward her like a direwolf. The look on her face is admirable. Drenched of fear and desire at once, feeding his natural dominance.

“August…” she whispers his name. Her lips quiver at the sight of his broad form, appreciating every sinew, every muscle. August reaches to hold his cock as the blood stirs into it with rage, wanting to be inside this angel, to taint her and mark every piece of skin. 

“I don’t have a condom.” he warns, licking his lips as she slides her underwear down her long, creamy legs. Her mound is completely waxed, just the way he wants it. Pure.  

“I’m clean and protected.”

Inviting him into her mysteries, Lacey offers him a devoted stare and reaches her delicate hand toward him. No clarity is left in his mind; desire clouds every rational thought, every self-preservation instinct. He ignores her hand and lunges at her like a predator.

They fall into a sea of silken sheets together, August covering her body with his, giving no care of how his weight crushes her. His hands hold her wrists pinned to the mattress as he pushes her smooth thighs apart with his knees.

Lacey’s moans are mesmerizing as he sinks himself into her wonders. Singing her pleasure at him like a true siren. An overwhelmed groan breaks from his own lips as the wetness of her flesh encloses around his cock, sucking him from within with an embrace of lust. Soft and delicate, she writhes against his crude, rugged body and he thrusts inside her with teetering grunts, taking her with sheer, primal dominance. 

She feels different, like no other woman he ever had before. Completely submissive to his darkest desires. Her body opens to him, like a precious, heavenly nymph and he takes what he wants. Deeper and deeper, drowning into her womb, never wanting to stop, invigorated by the way her hands clutch at his body with the same desperation that is in his chest.

For three days, they never leave the suite. Lost in a carnal euphoria that makes both of them forget the existence of the outer world.

~*~

Oh, hell indeed exists, it’s on the earth you walked your entire life.

~*~

The delicious aroma of crispy, caramelized bacon and fluffy pancakes tickles his senses to wake up. Salty and sweet, the scent draws him to sit upon the bed that’s slightly too small for his wide frame. A drowsy smirk crawls onto his face. This scent is his second favourite thing to wake up to.  

Locating his cobalt trunks on the floor, he hauls himself out of her bed, pulls them on and tries to tame the messy bundle of curls on his head while he walks to find her in the kitchen. The bacon sizzles on the pan as Lacey stands next to the stove in his buttoned-up shirt. She is flipping an impossible quantity of pancakes and frying strips of bacon in another pan. 

Her rounded ass peeks at him with every shift her body makes.

August sneaks behind her with the skill of a CIA agent, looming closer and wrapping his arms around her torso, his chin resting on the top of her head, while his hungry eyes feast on the pancakes and amber bacon.

Lacey flinches in his grip, he can feel her heart jump for a moment before she relaxes into his embrace, lips melting into a wide smirk as August rocks her from side to side.

“Morning,” she hums delightfully. “Go sit, there is freshly brewed coffee waiting for you.”

August drops a kiss on the top of her head, a low growl of serenity climbing up his throat. “You’re a dream, princess.”

And you’re all mine. 

With a wisp of unwillingness, he detaches from her and walks to the table, where Lacey’s favourite mug of coffee awaits him with steam rising from within. His eyes are a calm sea sparkling at the sunrise as he looks at her with admiration. 

Everything about her tips him across the edges of sanity; the way she smiles at his horrible dark jokes, the way she listens to everything he says with devotion and appeal, the way she speaks about her ideals and sees him like no person ever did before.

Lacey turns her head and sneaks a small glance at him, giving a smile and a wink before returning to the stove.

It took 5 months to admit to himself that he likes this, that he enjoyed being here, with her and her stupid cat, or in every distant location in the world. It didn’t matter if they were in Afghanistan or Paris, as long as he got to listen to her breathing in her slumber. That night in Sicily wasn’t just mindless sex. It was a union of two souls. They spent the night talking and while he was reluctant to open up-as he still is-he was stunned to find out just how much this woman shared similar points of views.

Though she never says it specifically, Lacey wants to watch the world burn. 

He hasn't even told her about his idea, not yet. It’s probably too soon anyway as he only started formulating his intention a couple of months ago. A part of him still fears how she may react if she finds out he’s been selling CIA secrets and dealing weapons right beneath Sloane’s nose. 

“I hope you’re hungry,”

Lacey calls out as she places two large plates of pancakes and bacon on the table and walks quickly to get the maple syrup from the counter. Sir Podrick jumps on the table as she puts the syrup next to the plates. Aggravated, August shoos the cat away and reaches to grab the woman's forearm, forcing her into his lap possessively.

“You know I am, princess.” he murmurs as he kisses her shoulder and then her lips, before grabbing a piece of pancake and some bacon with his fork and nibbling it deliciously. Lacey remains on his lap, grabbing a stripe of bacon from his plate and chewing on it with a pleasant moan before directing her gaze to August.

“How long do you think we can keep this a secret?” she asks, slight concern appearing on her face. August swallows the remaining pancake in his mouth and sips some coffee to clear his throat. His fingers thread through the gold of her hair, combing the large waves repeatedly.

“I don’t want them to take you away from me.”

His voice is nearly that of a child.

The agency’s protocol won’t allow partners to be in a relationship due to an incredible conflict of interest. “Sloane would lose her shit if she’d find out this entire time we’ve been doing this.” He chuckles dryly and shoves another piece of pancake into his mouth while still looking at Lacey. The first morning rays shine through the wide-open window, basking her face with a shimmering summer glow. 

“We can run away,” she teases. “Buy a yacht, tell Erica to go fuck herself and sail the sea.”

August smirks, his hand descending to the small of her back as images of embarking to the great unknown with her fill his chest with euphoric bliss. 

A daydream, perhaps in the future, after mankind is free.  

“I think she’s beginning to warm up to me though.” 

“Well, she did start calling you The Hammer after the last mission.” Lacey answers and grabs the mug from August’s side, stealing a mischievous sip. “If only they knew it has a different meaning to some of us.”

August crooks his eyebrow up at Lacey and wipes his moustache clean. His hands reach to tickle the sides of her belly, causing her to let go of the mug before he snatches it back. Her giggles make his heart feel at ease, something he’ll never dare to tell or show her. 

Asserting his dominance by only giving as much. 

“Why did you join the agency in the first place? You never told me.” she wraps her arms around his shoulders, the green of her eyes appearing yellow at the ray of sunlight that beams on her face.

His gaze falls upon the table, staring at the remnants of the pancakes while licking his teeth. Thoughts of his past begin to echo in the chasm of his mind. 

The day his mom fell to her knees and let out a banshee-like howl of agony at the empty ceiling as two agents came into their house.

He was 13, and from that moment on, he was all alone in a cold, ravenous world. 

“I wanted to die for the government, just like my father.” he spits out, thinking of how his life turned over one autumn morning. A tall, lanky boy who couldn’t even comfort his mother as she tore off tufts of her hair. 

August didn’t even cry, not since then.  

The curious look on Lacey’s face fades into sadness, compassion welling on her now golden-green irises. “You never told me how he died.” 

A muscle twitches in his cheek, his eyebrows knitting together as anger begins to slightly boil his blood. “Like all heroes, forgotten. I don’t know how, it was during a mission in Moscow. Nothing in his files but a mention on an accident, no details other than that.” 

“Is that why you have such small faith in the government?” Lacey asks innocently, referring to their pillow-talk. The ones they have while she presses her soft cheek to his chest and draws invisible circles onto his chest.  

The lump in his throat dries as he remembers the weeks that followed after his father was gone. They were thrown to the dogs to be gnawed at. No compensation, no financial support, and no one to comfort young August. 

His mother couldn’t even look at him anymore. Those blue soulful eyes, the cleft of his chin, and even the shape of his nose were inherited from his father. 

The most pain August has ever endured was when someone he loved was unable to look at him anymore.  

Madeleine was a loyal housewife from the midwest who never took a real job. Arthur provided for them. While he wasn’t the warmest father, he kept his family close, taking them with him on his trips, unless they were too dangerous. 

By the time August was seven, he’s already been to all continents. 

After his father’s death, both the money and his mother withered away. Having no experience in anything but waiting tables, Madeleine couldn't support her own child and perhaps she didn’t want to. The boy was a painful memory of what she lost. 

The last he remembers of her, she dragged him with her to church and went on her knees as August sat on the bench. She prayed and cried out to God until her knees bled and her eyes rimmed red from the tears she wept.

But God never answered.

That week, social services arrived at their door. He never saw her since that day and needless to say, no one wanted a hostile 13-year-old boy. 

August turns his face to stare at Lacey, examining her round, freckled face and her plump, pink lips. They make her look like a renaissance painting of an angel. At times, he’s afraid that his rage will tarnish her, swallow the light of her spirit. Yet he can never hold back, fucking her so roughly, she hurts for days. His instincts drive him to spill all his fury into her cavities. To offer all the spite and hurt that poisoned his soul, as if it will cleanse him. 

And for a few seconds, he is sanctified. Coming inside her makes him feel complete in every sense of the word.   

The soft purring of Lacey’s cat grounds him to reality. The chubby ginger cat rubs around his leg affectionately, his yellow diamond eyes staring at August. 

“Let’s not talk about it, anymore,” he replies in a somewhat final tone.

Lacey nods at him, giving him a look full of understanding. Her fingers reach behind his ear, stroking the soft chocolate curls and tucking them back. “Okay, Aug. But we really need to talk about that!” 

Her fingers move to point at his thick moustache, her eyes narrowing with disdain. 

August strokes his moustache with his thumb and index finger and lets them slide down the stubble of his square chin. “You don’t like it?”

Lacey shakes her head with protest, trying her best to appear irritated. “No.”  

Princess is so cute when she pretends to be angry.

August offers her a smug smirk in return, grabbing the last remaining piece of bacon from his plate and sliding it whole into his mouth. “Too bad, it stays.” he answers with his mouth full, grease smearing on the corners of his lips. “It makes me look dangerous and you love it.”

“No, you look like pornstar.”

“I’d fuck you like one.” he answers with a dark glint in his eyes. In a sudden movement, he places both hands on Lacey’s waist and stands up with her in his grip. The woman squeals with surprise as he flings her over his shoulder with little to no effort and stings her ass with a sharp slap.

“Do you want it here, sweetheart, or in the bedroom?” he asks and bites the fat of her behind. Lacey cries out in pain, her legs kicking the air.

He loves to hear her laugh, just as much as he loves to hear her scream.

*~*

If hell is on earth, then what does it make you?

*~*

Like a creature dwelling in the darkness, he sits in the bleak hours of the night, fingers stroking the keys as if he’s a composer, conducting his symphony of destruction. The flesh of his lips chafe at the lack of sleep and insufficient fluids, yet he gives no care. 

This will be his legacy, his gift to the world, his gift to her.

The pale teal light of the screen flickers lightly on his weary corneas. It’s nothing but pixels, black on white, five blocks of paragraphs for now, but the raw power in words proceeds beyond any other weapon known to mankind. So pure, so cataclysmic. 

Just like an atomic reaction.

She will see through his eyes soon. The potential, the greater good. All her words of breaking the system, about dreaming of a better world. A sweet, naive girl with a mind fed with agenda. It was as if they were threaded into one another’s life, destined to be. 

The paving of a new world has already begun. They call themselves the apostles, a group of no more than 12 people, men and women of science and power. Their identities are unknown among one another. It matters very little, the seeds have been sown into the earth. Small acts of terror, biological and chemical incidents around selected locations around the globe, just enough to test the waters. 

Greatness from small beginnings.

It will take time, yet he is patient, and his little angel of destruction will be by his side once the time is right. All mankind will be reunited in peace after the earth will shudder beneath their feet.

~*~

Does it make you a monster?

~*~

Something sharp prods his mind to wake up. A nightmare, whispering toxic words in the darkness. He hears a vague ruffle in the webbed darkness of the night and he blindly reaches his palm to stroke her and finds himself abandoned. There is a knot in his gut and a storm brewing in his mind. Carefully and silently, he reaches for the loaded gun in his nightstand and slips out of bed. 

Pale blue and humming, a soft light invites him to follow to the office next to his bedroom. His heart drums heavily in his chest, his face falling as his vision becomes clear. Bright pink winks through the molten mixture of shadow and light. She hovers over his open computer, spreading files and paper plans over the surface of his desk, all the while holding her digital camera, violating his secrets.

Whatever is in his chest shrieks and bleeds with misery.

“Would be more efficient if you’d switch the light on.”

The woman jumps as she hears his voice and a heavy flood of bright light showers her crimes as August flicks the switch on. She straightens up, as stiff as a frozen tree. Unable to face him right away, her face remains hidden from him. August can see the spasm of her legs beneath her nightdress.

“What are you doing?” August asks, his voice low and menacing, eyes travelling from the Nikon camera that hangs from her hand to his secret scribbles as they lay on his desk, right next to his open manifest. 

“Look at me.” he demands, stern and composed as he can. 

Lacey turns slowly to peer at him, her lips aquiver, eyes shining with guilt. The only sound from her is the shudder of her breath that rushes through her heaving chest. 

The hurt must have blinded his thoughts. He doesn’t remember aiming his gun at her head, it’s only when he sees the woman’s surrendering gesture does he register his actions.

Taking a deep breath, he lowers his gun and places it carefully on the floor. His hands splay in the air, disarmed, offering a truce as he stretches to stand straight. 

“Was I…” he swallows the dryness in his throat and licks his lips. 

It would take a real fool to be so blind to see what was in front of him the whole time. 

“I was your mission?”

Lacey remains quiet, her eyes refusing to meet his. Tears glide down the apples of her rosy cheeks. 

“Tell me the truth Lacey, please. I just want to understand.” The threat in his voice turns soft, becoming nearly a plea as he takes one step forward, watching the woman flinch and step back, her behind colliding with the desk.

The woman weeping in front of him is a trained CIA agent, yet the despair in her eyes shows no signs of panning struggle. The only way out of this room is through him, a man who is nearly twice her size and knows her every move.

“Erica suspected you’re the one who is leaking secrets, so she sent me…”

That’s why she inquired so much, wanted to hear his thoughts, to sleep at his home despite his reluctance. He agreed for the first time tonight, unaware of her insidious intentions. 

Did you really think you deserve this?

August scoffs, his heart clenching painfully in his battered lungs. 

He was wrong. There is something more painful than having someone you love never look back at you. 

“Did she tell you to sleep with me?”

Lacey’s gaze drops to the floor in silence; her answer is nothing but a pathetic sniffle as she pinches her nose.

Bile rises in his throat as he sees shame on her face, so obvious, so obscene. Her purity was false. 

There was nothing sweet or innocent about her, she was nothing but a whore.

“Answer me!!!” he rumbles, more beast than man. 

Lacey jumps and sobs with panic, nodding her head at him with her confession.  “Ye..Yes… any means possible.”

Running his palm through his face and groaning with frustration, the young CIA agent exhales hoarsely. He takes another small step towards her, gradually closing the distance between them, watching his shadow loom on her porcelain skin.

Lacey’s eyes widen with panic. Her ankles kick back the wooden legs of the desk, her hands scattering August’s belongings. White sheets of paper fly down to the floor, ink smudged by tears.

“Stay away,” she warns.

“Does she know? Did you tell her or anyone else at the agency?” he ignores her pathetic threats, taking another step closer. Her floral scent fills his nostrils, nearly triggering his instinct to claim her lips. His gaze softens with an ocean of mercy as she shakes in front of him so violently, breaking into tears of grief. 

Delicate fingers cup her jaw, sliding across the slick moistness of her tears as he tilts her chin up. “Please, tell me the truth.” 

Lacey lifts her gaze to meet his, her eyes puffy and red, her plump lips swollen. She wipes her nose with the back of her palm. “I had nothing to report, until now.”

His grasp tightens around her chin, forcing her head back to look at the text flickering on the monitor. “All this talk about a better world, I thought this is what you wanted.”

She snaps her head back to glare at him, eyes narrowing with disgust and anxiety. “You thought I’d like this?! This is sick!”

August’s nostrils flare yet he gives a gentle nod of understanding and hushes her sudden surge of stress. His hand caresses her round, damp face. The thick pads of his thumbs wipe the salty tears away from her skin and his body presses into hers. 

Even a tremoring mess, she is still so soft and warm. 

“Did you ever love me?” 

His lips are merely an inch from her temples as he whispers. His large hand slides down her cheek, stroking down her jaw and descending further below her chin.  

Unable to muster another lie, she remains silent, aware of the fact that the sand in the hourglass has all but diminished, along with her chances of survival.

Words are unnecessary. The truth speaks loudly in her eyes, the poisonous infidelity was always there all along. Struck by her angelic beauty he was too blind to see, leeching onto false heaven, a childish fantasy of love that never existed.

Small spots of blood begin to form in her wide-open eyes as his long fingers lock around her thin neck, squeezing with intensifying force. Tighter, harder. His name remains caged in her throat as she fights for the air she thinks she deserves. 

“No, you didn’t.” August whispers, his vision beginning to blur. “You never did.”

Strangled yips of pain wheeze through her mouth. Struggling frantically while August hardly even bats an eyelid, staring at her with no emotion on his face. Desperate arms reach out to both heaven and hell, her body squirms and her eyes plead for August to let go. 

Begging for her life.

Something breaks inside her throat. Her last breath follows, a short gasp, frozen in her body for eternity as both her heart and her eyes become still. 

August glances at her pale skin, her gaping lips stained violet, her bloodied eyes glassy, returning his broken reflection.

Sorrowful tears roll down the lines of his face as his heart pumps with pain black as tar. A loud gasp of agony rips from him, shuddering across his entire existence as the very base of his soul chars in his chest. Broken, he falls to his knees with Lacey cradled in his arms, his hand stroking her dull hair and her blue cheeks while husky cries of anguish come through his throat.

All emotions end. An empty abyss claims the spot where his soul once laid. The only thing left to him now is pure, undistilled hatred.

~*~

I am the one who reigns in hell.

~*~

Black cold liquid seeps into weary lungs. Skeletal hands caress his face unkindly, the thin bones, so hard and frozen as they travel down his grey cheeks. No grace is given to him, no redemption. This was nothing but a dream of a life. 

As tar oozes from his throat, her voice continues to call for him. 

His last memories are of Erica, sitting on her throne of lies, swallowing his accusations while peering at him through her dark eyes. Face filled with guilt, oh, she didn't have a clue. Everyone believed Lacey Hartmann was the double agent this entire time. Angelic eyes hiding dark secrets. He planted the evidence in her house, in her computer, sparing his manifest of course. Just enough to tarnish her name forever. 

A painful wheeze splits his throat. Iron tinged his tongue. 

The promotion was won right after the body was cremated. A fine medal given for having his life put at risk.  

Glory and fame won over the woman you loved.

I never loved her. She was a lying whore, she betrayed me.

But you did love me, August. 

Blood spills through his mouth as he coughs. His blue eyes shoot open, peering at a great hole in the ceiling and the dust that floats calmly in the chill air of night. The pain sears his shoulder, throbbing furiously to remind him there is still blood running through his veins. He grunts as he clutches at the gaping wound, trying to hold onto the blood that still remains in his wretched heart. 

Run and hide, little Ingvild

I am no one but Lucifer himself. 

I will have my vengeance.  

__________________________________________________

Disclaimer: I don’t own Mission Impossible franchise or August Walker

[tirednotflirting]

i’ve got a secret for the mad (in a little bit of time it won’t hurt so bad)

i was sad last night and this just happened. (baby’s first time writing lashton pls be nice)

Luke wakes up in an odd position, his long limbs tucked up onto the couch, an ache in his neck but also a pair of lips press against where the pain begins (something oddly poetic, he would reflect on later during a writing session that only he and Calum attended). Ashton's body is half on top of his own, the drummer’s calloused fingers pressing against his ribs under the t-shirt Luke had thrown on after showering in the venue the night before hopping on their bus.

The night before they had finished up their last Texas show which meant the long drive from Houston to Denver for the next show was on the agenda for the next couple of days. The show that night had felt a bit weird, Luke found himself thinking as he rummaged through the fridge in search of a few beers and a bottle of kombucha as he was the one who had been sent back to grab drinks for a movie night. Not that it hadn’t been a good show but at times he had found himself feeling some kind of tense energy during certain songs. Like a lack of fluidity he normally felt jamming with the guys for an arena of 10,000+ people.

He brushes it off pretty easily for now though, assuming it was maybe the lack of sleep or dehydration (the latter thought causing him to grab a bottle of water for himself as well) and shrugs to himself as he gently kicks the fridge door closed before wandering back to the lounge. Michael was standing in front of the TV, one hand on his hip while the other pointed a remote to the box, flipping through Netflix options. Calum stands just behind him, his chin resting against the blonde’s shoulder, softly adding comments about different titles he was finding he might be interested in.

Luke pulls a couple of the beers out from where they were cradled in his arms and passes one to each of them, the two boys turning and smiling their thanks as Luke continues walking past them toward the couch where Ashton was seated, his thumb swiping across his phone screen and his legs covered with a fleecy throw.

“Grabbed you a hippie juice,” Luke says quietly to him, trying not to startle him as he took a seat on the free end, his arm reaching over Ashton's shoulder to hand him the glass bottle of the pinky beverage. The comment would normally result in a giggle from the older boy along with some faux complaint at Luke making fun of his current drink of choice. Instead he is met with silence from Ashton, the mumblings of Calum and Michael trying to decide on what to watch and the hum of the interstate being the only sound to meet his ear.

Luke pouts as he let the bottle fall into Ashton's lap. As his eyes stay glued to the screen in front of him, his fingers now tapping against the glass, Luke was starting to have an idea of what might have felt off earlier in the night. He nudges his shoulder between Ashton's shoulder blades and let his head drop to his shoulder, the back of the couch keeping Luke from falling back as he looks up a bit at his cheek. Tired and somewhat sad hazel eyes met Luke’s blue as he felt Ashton sigh. “What is it, Luke?”

He immediately returns the question with another. “What’s bugging you?”

Ashton's tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth before his eyes lift to the ceiling and he takes a deep breath. Just as he’s about to respond, they both lift their eyes to the sound of footsteps toward the door that leads to the front of the bus as Mikey starts to speak. “Got a text that we’re stopping at McDonald's before we get too far out from anything. You guys want to join?”

Luke looks up to Ashton's face just as he’s looking down toward him with eyes pleading with him to not move. Luke lifts his head for a moment to respond for both of them. “Think we’re all good for now, you guys go ahead.”

The two of them shrug and wander toward the front, Luke watches them meander past the bunks as the lounge door slips shut again. He settles further into the plushy couch and Ashton scoots up some before letting his head drop into Luke's lap. He sighs gently again, this time against the knee closest to his face as he faces away from the pouting blonde. “Miss home. miss the sunflowers out back, miss that cat I started feeding out on the front porch.”

It was pretty routine for Ashton to hit some kind of slump around the halfway mark of a tour. Everyone was tired, everyone was missing the comforts of their own beds and kitchens. Being the first tour back after not being able to be out on the road for so long, Luke was honestly surprised it had taken this long for the boy in his lap to reach this point. He knew that by the end of it, Ashton had grown incredibly fond of his mornings watching the flowers he had been tending to dance in the breeze, of really taking his time to make his coffee in whatever fancy way he had read about trying recently.

Luke lets his fingers run through Ashton's black dyed curls (the longer style he had sported out of necessity summer 2020 was one he decided he wanted to keep for a while). The attention causes Ashton to turn some so he can look up into the eyes of the boy he’s cuddled himself onto. The action was one he had been hoping for, feeling and watching Luke wrap the dark hair around his painted fingers being one that brought him an almost odd sense of calm (a feeling he had found himself scribbling into song lyrics in his journals). 

Just as Luke’s about to respond, to offer some kind of comforting something to try to make Ashton feel even a little better (he really hates to see him so upset and stuck in his head), he speaks up again. “Which like, I know is bullshit. Because I know I spent probably a collective three weeks on FaceTime and stuff whining about not being able to be out on the road with you guys and seeing the fans and stuff but—“

He stops as Luke reaches out his free hand to the one Ashton has resting against his chest. The younger boy tangles up their fingers and squeezes against his palm. “You don’t have to try to explain yourself to me. Come on, I get it.”

Luke rhythmically taps his fingers against the knuckles of the other boy, hoping to get him to focus on the pattern to relax him as he continues. “You think I don’t miss Petunia? Or spending nights out in the backyard around that fire pit we decided to finally build to jam around? Or watching you make breakfast in the morning after we all ended up falling asleep around my place after hanging too late?”

Ashton feels his cheek press into Luke’s thigh as he smiles, remembering the image of a sleepy, bleach-blonde Luke sitting on the counter beside the stove, a cup of coffee cradled between both hands, his eyes tired but happy as he watches Ashton flip pancakes and cut fruit. He’s pulled out of the summer-sun soaked memory when Luke keeps going. “But we’re lucky. Because we get to go out and make people really happy making music that we’re proud of when honestly, I was worried we would never get to do it again like this.”

And of course he’s right. Ashton knows that. He suddenly thinks of another memory from the end of the previous summer also in Luke's kitchen. It was after another night with everyone in his backyard. Michael and Calum had just left (Michael deciding to drive a giggly, clingy Calum back home with promises to make sure they were both on time to the writing session at Ashton’s in the morning) and Luke and Ashton were cleaning up when Ashton suddenly heard a sniffling from the opposite side of the kitchen island. Luke faced away from him toward the cabinets but upon turning him around with a gentle hand against his shoulder, Ashton was met with red, glossy eyes before Luke tucked his face into the somewhat shorter man’s neck, his arms wrapping around his waist. He spoke quietly of his fears of never getting back out on the road so as to avoid a full blown meltdown. 

And while Ashton knew the wine Luke had sipped throughout the night was definitely heightening his emotions, he also knew the fears the boy in his arms confessed were ones shared by all four of them. Lacking the words to help dismiss those fears at the time, Ashton had just held Luke for a while in the kitchen, eventually waddling them both down the hall to the bedroom. He let the blonde cuddle into his side to fall asleep before sneaking out to finish cleaning up the kitchen and grabbing his keys to head home. 

(Before returning back to the present moment, his mind sits for a minute on how the night actually ended - he had one foot out of the door when he heard a sniff from across the living room, Ashton turning to see Luke in the pajama pants and t-shirt he had managed to get him to change into, the curly boy’s lips pouted as he blinked over at him. Ashton sighed with a smile as he dropped his keys into the bowl by the door, clicking the lock back into place before toeing off his boots and following Luke back to the bedroom, agreeing to play as the big spoon until the morning.)

Ashton feels Luke poke at his cheek and he screws his eyes shut and shakes himself back to where he’s currently at, staring up at the sweet smile and golden curls just above him. “All of that to say,” Luke starts as he draws figure 8s through the black curls and Ashton finds himself leaning back into his hand. “You’re allowed to be home sick. Especially after being stuck at home for so long. It’s not often we’re allowed to get used to what it feels like. Being at home.”

The drummer turns then to face the ceiling again as he nods slowly, knowing there wasn’t much of a solution to his current feelings aside from just waiting for them to pass. It's then that Calum and Michael return to the back lounge on the bus, giggling as they find places to set the food on the far too tiny coffee table in between the two couches. Michael informs the two that had stayed behind that they got them fries and Luke smiles brightly as he thanks them. Calum is typing into the search bar the name of whatever comedy the two of them must have decided on while waiting for their food.

Luke is preparing to ask what they’ve settled on as he continues to listen to the two of them laugh while Calum types in each additional letter, when the weight in his lap is lifted. He watches wordlessly as Ashton gets up off the couch and plants himself on the opposite side of Luke, his legs then tossing over the blonde’s lap and his head moving to rest where Luke’s shoulder meets his neck. He wonders if Ashton can feel the warmth of the blush that he’s sure is now painting it’s way up the back of his neck and cheeks. He pulls his left arm out from where it's been squished into the couch cushion and moves to wrap it around Ashton's waist, an action that provides him the reward of the black haired boy nestling a bit closer toward his chest. 

He finishes his question to Calum, who, upon turning to answer him, rolls his eyes as a smirk forms against his lips. He bites his tongue to avoid calling attention to the current arrangement his bandmates have placed themselves in since he was able to tell during the show that something was keeping Ashton stuck up in his head. Calum turns back to the TV and clicks play then and the title of a comedy from their childhood flashes onto the screen and Luke finds himself chuckling to himself just as the other two had before. Calum hits the light by the door and throws himself onto the other couch causing Michael to jokingly whine as the bassist lets his legs fall over his lap.

As Luke wiggles some to settle more into the couch, Ashton lifts his head in response, his eyes meeting Luke's with a questioning gaze. Luke rubs away the worry between the other boy’s brows that he can see from the white-blue illumination coming from the TV screen and squeezes Ashton’s hip so as to encourage him to settle back into his side. He misses hearing it over the dialogue from the characters on screen but feels a contented hum from Ashton as he cuddles into his neck. It's not fifteen minutes later that Luke catches soft snores in between the hushed laughter from the other couch.

*

He doesn’t remember ever stretching out and falling asleep on the couch. He's wondering how they managed the unconscious movement as he feels the lips against his neck pout some. Luke is still half asleep as he feels a smile stretch lazily across his face when he feels Ashton wrap his warm fingers more around his chest, obviously awake now but still chasing after the last moments of rest. 

Luke's eyes lift from where he’s looking down at the boy against his chest to the door as he hears it slide open, Michael wandering in with a couple of Starbucks cups. “Hey cuddle bugs, time to get up,” he announces in a voice loud enough that both of them groan as he places the cups on the coffee table. “We need to be out at the car to go to those radio shows in an hour.”

He slips out then, giving a similar message to Calum who likely was up in his bunk. (Luke finds himself wondering when Michael suddenly became the morning person of the bunch.) Luke moves to sit up then, attempting to wrap an arm around Ashton so as to avoid letting him fall to the floor with the movement, but he is met with a frustrated noise and Ashton attempts to push his weight more onto him.

“Ash, we gotta—”

“No, five more minutes.”

Luke laughs gently and lets his back fall back against the cushion, deciding the attitude was somehow a good sign. 

“Still feeling homesick?” he questions, his free hand moving to play with the ends of the black curls tickling his cheek. 

“Not anymore,” Ashton mumbles back against his neck. The response is punctuated with him further cuddling into Luke's chest, somehow making the short answer feel like so much more than two little words. 

Luke smiles and makes a mental note to run out between interviews to find where he can buy some sunflowers as he lets his eyes flutter shut once again.

*

[swanqueeneverafter]

The Once & Future Queen Pt.5

Storybrooke. Present. (Xena and Gabrielle sit down with the Reporter ahead of their journey to the Isle of the Blessed.) Reporter: "Xena. Gabrielle. Thanks for sitting down with me today." Xena: "No problem." Gabrielle: "We're pleased to be here." Reporter: "Good. Xena, first to you. Why have you volunteered to go on this journey to the Isle of the Blessed?" Xena: "Well, if you'd seen the carnage left in the village of Howden, you'd understand." Reporter: "Yes, your history of heroics is well documented by none other than your constant companion, Gabrielle, of course." Xena: (Smiles:) "What can I say? She writes me well." Reporter: "Indeed, but is it not also true that this mission will have dire consequences for one of your group? There have been many volunteers for this journey, including the knights of Camelot and Lancelot himself. Why did you feel compelled to add your name to that list?" Xena: "Well I've already said-" Reporter: (Cutting in:) "Was the necessity of a blood sacrifice a deciding factor for you? After all, you do have a history of falling on your sword in the name of the Greater Good." Xena: "Now wait a minute-" Gabrielle: "Xena and I are well aware of the risks involved in this mission. The veil between two worlds has been ripped open. No one is safe from the Dorocha's attacks." Reporter: "So when the time comes and the opportunity to mend the veil presents itself?" Xena: "If that time comes then-" Gabrielle: "Xena will not be the one to sacrifice herself. (Xena looks back at her:) She and I will do whatever it takes to aid the knights quest to mend the veil, but the days of Xena sacrificing herself to rid our world of evil spirits are over." Xena: "Gabri-" Gabrielle: "Over my dead body, Xena. You got that?" (Xena looks into Gabrielle's eyes and knows that her soulmate is deathly serious.) Xena: (To the Reporter:) "You heard the lady."

Camelot. Agravaine’s Chambers. (Guinevere hands Agravaine a ring.) Guinevere: “You have to take this. It bears the royal seal. In my absence, responsibility to the kingdom rests with you.” Agravaine: “What about you. Surely Lancelot is capable of succeeding without you risking your own life?” Guinevere: “Should the moment come where there is no choice but to sacrifice himself, I wish to be with him. If neither of us return, you’re to assume the throne.” Agravaine: “Your Majesty-” Guinevere: “You’re the only person I can trust, Agravaine. You know Camelot and its people.” Agravaine: “I beg of you, for the sake of the kingdom, there must be another way.” (Agravaine presses the ring back into Guinevere’s hand.) Guinevere: “My mind’s made up. I’m just grateful you’re here.” (Guinevere leaves Agravaine with the ring.)

Storybrooke. Zelena's Farmhouse. (With a small bag over his shoulder and a bundle of clothes under his arm, Robin Hood sneaks out of the farmhouse and down the steps.) Woods. (Walking through the forest, Robin turns quickly around at the sound of a twig snapping behind him.) Will: "Well, this is a bit of a turnaround isn't it?" Robin Hood: "What are you talking about?" Will: (Slaps his forehead with his palm:) "There I go again you see. Confusing you with the other Robin." Robin Hood: (Scoffs:) "You appear to be the only one who makes that mistake." (Turns and continues walking.) Will: (Jogging to catch up:) "What I meant, you see, was that back in the day, the other Robin caught me sneaking away while everyone was sleeping." Robin Hood: (Uninterested:) "Did he really?" Will: "Yeah, cause he'd just caught me lying to him. I used him for my own personal agenda. I endangered his life and the lives of his merry men." Robin Hood: "It was probably something to do with getting back to your sister, no doubt?" Will: "Yes, actually." Robin Hood: "Well then, your motives were pure." Will: (Stops and considers this. Then catches up with Robin again:) "It's not as simple as that though." Robin Hood: "Seems perfectly simple to me. You got something you wanted and Robin got screwed. It's the way of the world." Will: "You're really not like the other Robin, are you?" Robin Hood: (Turns to face him, walking backwards:) "Finally he gets it." (Turns back around.) Will: "Yeah, well my point is I can't let you do this, mate." Robin Hood: "Let me do what?" Will: "Let you sneak off on some suicide mission. (Robin stops walking:) That is what you're planning to do, right?" Robin Hood: (Sighs:) "You don't understand, Will. Good or bad, you are who you are. There's only one Will Scarlett, but for me I will always be living in my counterpart's shadow." Will: "So you're going to prove to everyone you can be a hero, is that it?" Robin Hood: "Well it sure beats staying around here and seeing that disappointed look on everyone's face when they realise I'm not him." Will: "All right, I get that. But the thing is, mate, lately I've been on this kind of redemption kick. See, I did the other Robin wrong and never got to make it up to him. Somehow that doesn't sit right with me, so I'm going to do right by you." Robin Hood: "Will, what-" Will: "I'm coming with you to this Blessed Isle and if the opportunity comes up, I'm going to make things even between us." Robin Hood: "You mean between you and the other Robin?" Will: "Exactly." Robin Hood: (Shaking his head:) "I suppose there's some logic to that somewhere." Will: (Patting Robin on the back:) "Good lad. You know it makes sense." Enchanted Forest. Past. Bazaar. (Emma catches up with the others in the marketplace.) Emma: (Laughing, hugs Tinker Bell:) "Tink, that was amazing!" Tinker Bell: (Beams:) "Thanks." Emma: (Looking around:) "Wow, you even brought the whole bazaar here. I'm very impressed." Tinker Bell: "After you described what you wanted, I figured why do things halfway eh?" Tiger Lily: "Well, bringing the bazaar here is one thing, now can you send it back?"

(Before Tinker Bell can reply, a young man rushes past them as he is pursued by three guards.) Guard 1: "After him!" Guard 2: "Riff raff!" Guard 3: "Street rat!" Guards: "Scoundrel!" Mulan: "Was that...?" Emma: "Aladdin. Come on, let's go." (They follow after the guards, hoping to get to Aladdin before any harm can come to him.) Elsewhere. (A shopkeeper is eating his lunch when there is a knock at his door.) Farzeen: “Can I help you?” Jafar: “We shall soon find out. (The shopkeeper stands and opens the door:) You are Farzeen Shahmed? You work in the marketplace selling scarves.” Farzeen: “Yes. Uh would you like one?” Jafar: “May I? (Farzeen steps aside to allow him entry. Jafar surveys his surroundings:) Oh. You earn very little income, and yet your home is well- appointed.” Farzeen: “Thank you.” Jafar: “It was not a compliment, but an observation. You have a bounty of fresh vegetables in your garden, and I couldn't help noticing you have two camels outside. Few men in Agrabah can afford even one. And yet here you are with two.” Farzeen: “I have been very fortunate.” Jafar: “Indeed. It seems you have everything a man could possibly wish for. (Moves closer to Farzeen:) Perhaps you've met someone who could grant them. Wishes.” Farzeen: “I am not sure what you mean. (Walks away from him:) My good fortune is due to a family investment that has finally begun to pay off.” Jafar: “Is that so?” Farzeen: “Yes. I can explain further, if you'll allow me to turn off the stove.” Jafar: “Yes. Yes. We wouldn't want you to overcook water. Go on.” (Farzeen bows and enters the back room. Rushing to a cupboard, he pulls out a lamp and rubs it. A red cloud of smoke emerges along with an oddly dressed, bearded man.) Farzeen: (Whispered:) “Genie.” Genie: “Master mine, my will is thine.”

Morgana’s Hovel. Present. Night. (Still wearing her healing bracelet, Morgana has a prophetic dream. Red and black banners lie strewn on a battlefield with knight’s corpses. A raven sitting on a helmet takes flight. Merlin walks onto the field, looking down at Morgana.) Morgana: “Help me, Merlin. Please.” (Morgana’s hand reaches up to Merlin from her position on the ground.) Merlin: “Is this really what you wanted, Morgana?” Morgana: “Please…” (Morgana wakes in her bed. At first she seems afraid, then angry.) Morgana: “Merlin.” Enchanted Forest. Past. Continued. Farzeen: “He's here! The one you spoke of. The man with the serpent staff.” Genie: “Steady. It's not you he's after.” Farzeen: “My third wish! I want it now.” (Farzeen pushes the lamp into the Genie’s hands.) Genie: “Have patience. I can help you.” Farzeen: “I wish you gone!” Genie: “Don't!” Farzeen: “As far from Agrabah as the Earth from the Sun!” (Jafar bursts into the room and reaches for the lamp which swiftly disappears.) Jafar: “No! (Using his powers, he lifts Farzeen into the air:) Where did you send him?” Farzeen: “I don't know! Please!” Jafar: (Calmly:) “What is it you desire?” Farzeen: “Just mercy!” Jafar: “Well, then. It seems neither of us are going to get what we want today.” (Jafar closes his fist and Farzeen screams in agony. Standing outside, having stopped to rest, Aladdin hears the poor man’s screams before he takes off running.)

(Rounding the corner, he sees the guards charging towards him once more. Stepping on a stooped man's back, Aladdin propels himself up onto some overhead beams and maneuvers around them to evade capture. Unfortunately, four more guards appear where he lands.) Aladdin: (Hands raised:) "Let's not be too hasty, we can talk about this." Guard: "The time for talking is over." Mulan: (Standing behind the guards:) "I agree. (The men turn and stare at Mulan as she draws her sword. The four guards burst out laughing at the sight and Mulan gives them a pleasant smile, long used to this kind of reaction from men:) Are you finished? Then let's begin." (Twirling her sword, Mulan makes quick work of the four guards, disarming them and sending them flying into each other to land sprawled in a heap on the ground.) Emma: (Holding her hand out to Aladdin:) "There's sure to be more on the way, so it's up to you if you want to take your chances with them or come with us?" Aladdin: "Who are you?" Emma: "A friend." Aladdin: (Looks her up and down:) "A friend like you I'd remember." Emma: "Fella, you ain't never had a friend like me. Come on! (Aladdin hesitates a moment longer before taking Emma's hand:) Tink, now!" Tinker Bell: "Right!" (With a wave of her wand, Tink, Mulan, Tiger Lily, Emma and Aladdin are enveloped in a cloud of smoke.) Crumbling Fortress. Present. Dusk. (Guinevere, Lancelot, Xena, Gabrielle and the knights arrive amongst the ruins.) Xena: “Pair off. Find any wood you can. Get the fires burning.” (The knights collect firewood while carrying torches. One of the knights hears a man’s scream and drops his firewood. The knights gather together as screams start to surround them. A Dorocha launches at them and Xena wards it off with a torch.) Gabrielle: “Let’s go!” Sir Bedivere: “We haven’t got enough!” Xena: “Go!” (The knights are back at the fire pit with Guinvere and Lancelot. Lancelot attempts to use the flint to light the fire to no avail. Taking the flint from him, Xena strikes and the fire lights instantly. Lancelot looks at her. Xena shrugs. Gabrielle grins in amusement. The knights stand around the fire with torches. Bedivere looks at the fire, then at Lancelot.) Sir Bedivere: “It won’t get us through the night.” Lancelot: “It will keep the area safe for a while.” (Later, Gwaine throws a log on the fire.) Sir Gwaine: “The last one. Maybe we should draw lots, see who gets some more.” Guinevere: (Stands:) “I’ll go.” Lancelot: “You’ll need help. I’ll go with you. (At Guinevere’s look:) Well, since when have you known how to collect firewood?” Guinevere: (Smiles:) “I wasn’t always Queen, you know.” (The knights chuckle. Xena watches as they walk off.)

(Lancelot collects firewood while Guinevere stands guard with a torch. A Dorocha charges them from behind.) Guinevere: “Lancelot! (Guinevere drops the torch to tackle Lancelot out of the way:) Let’s go!” (They rush through some passages and close a door behind them. The Dorocha seems to lose them. The knights back at the fire pit shuffle around anxiously.) Xena: “They should’ve been back by now.” Gabrielle: “Someone needs to go and look for them.” Sir Bedivere: “We’ve only got one torch between us.” (Xena grabs the torch and starts walking off.) Gabrielle: “Who’s coming with us?” (Elyan follows, then the other knights. Gwaine grabs his sword belt and puts it on while following.) Enchanted Forest. Past. (Sitting around the campfire, Aladdin tries to understand what's going on.) Aladdin: "So you mean to tell me that I'm not in Agrabah anymore?" Mulan: "The lush green forest tipped you off, huh?" Tiger Lily: (Smiles:) "No, Aladdin, you're not in Agrabah, this is the Enchanted Forest. But we can drop you back home easily enough." Aladdin: "Oh, well that's all right then. I mean there's no rush, probably best to let things calm down back home first." Mulan: "Good idea." Aladdin: "And I should thank you ladies for saving my neck. (They all look at him expectantly:) Thank you." Mulan: "You're welcome." Aladdin: "I've never seen a woman fight as well as you." Mulan: "Luckily those palace guards hadn't either. Otherwise things might've been different." Aladdin: "Those guys? Nah, palace guards are notoriously easy to get by." Regina: (Stepping out of the shadows:) "I can certainly vouch for that." Emma: "Regina!" Regina: "That was you, wasn't it? The parade?" Emma: (Smiles:) "That depends. Did you like it?" Regina: "Like it? (Walking towards her:) That was the most wonderful birthday gift anyone has ever given me. I loved it."

Tinker Bell: (Beaming:) "You're welcome." Regina: "You're a terrific fairy, Tinker Bell. Don't ever let anyone tell you differently." (Tink blushes and flutters her wings.) Regina: (Looks to Emma and then back at Tink:) "Do you think you could arrange somewhere private where Emma and I could talk? (Now looking at Emma:) I'd like to thank her for my gift." Tinker Bell: "That shouldn't be a problem." (With a wave of Tink's wand, a small tent like structure appears on the small hill, a dozen yards or so away from camp.) Emma: "Regina... are you sure?" Regina: (Leans in and kisses her:) "I've never been more sure of anything." (Regina takes her hand and leads Emma towards the tent.) Emma: (To the others:) "Uh... don't wait up." Elsewhere. (Out in the woods Snow White wanders and scans the stars in the sky.) Snow White: “Is that the star? Or is it that one?” Blue Fairy: “Worry not, Snow White. I have found you.” Snow White: (Spins around:) “Blue.” Blue Fairy: "What's troubling you, Snow?" Snow White: "You're joking, right? You saw the parade today, didn't you?" Blue Fairy: "I heard about it." Snow White: "Clearly magic was involved. Powerful magic." Blue Fairy: "What are you implying?" Snow White: "I'm asking if you knew anything about it." Blue Fairy: "I'm sorry, but no I don't." Snow White: "Well find out! Someone is trying to seduce my step-mother while my father is visiting Midas' kingdom." Blue Fairy: (Smiles:) "How do you know your father wasn't behind the parade? Perhaps he arranged it knowing he'd be away for Regina's birthday?" Snow White: "No! I am telling you this was someone else and they had magical help." Blue Fairy: "I'm sorry, Snow, but you can't expect me to-" Snow White: "I expect Fairies to know their place in my father's kingdom! Need I remind you the King often visits Camelot, a place where all magic is prohibited. King Uther is always warning my father of the dangers magic can bring. It wouldn’t take much to convince him that Uther is right. Just think of what that would mean for your kind." Blue Fairy: "Of course. I-I will find out who was behind today's parade and make sure they are reprimanded." Snow White: (Stamping her feet:) "I want them stopped permanently! Incapable of performing magic ever again. Do I make myself clear?" Blue Fairy: (Taken aback:) "Y-yes, Snow White." Snow White: "Good. I would hate to make my father aware of this." (Snow turns and walks away.) Daelbeth. Present. Continued. (Guinevere and Lancelot hide behind a corner in one of the fortress rooms. Guinevere ties a cloth around Lancelot’s injured arm. Guinevere looks uncomfortable and Lancelot gives her a questioning look.) Guinevere: “It’s cold.” Lancelot: “Right.” Guinevere: “You’re not feeling it?” (Lancelot shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head.) Guinevere: “Men.” (Back in the passages, Xena leads the knights through the fortress, warding off Dorochas with the torch. Back in the hiding chamber, Guinevere and Lancelot listen to the screaming spirits.) Lancelot: “All the things I’ve faced…I never worried about dying.” Guinevere: “We will defeat the Dorocha. We will, Lancelot, together.” (In the passages, Xena, Gabrielle and the knights continue the search. Back in the hiding chamber, Guinevere and Lancelot wait.) Lancelot: “They say the darkest hour is just before the dawn.” Guinevere: “Feels pretty dark right now.” Lancelot: “Well, it can’t be long then. (The Dorocha finds them and sweeps through the door. Lancelot starts to rush out from around the corner, but Guinevere pulls him back and stands up herself, running straight for the Dorocha:) Guin, no!” (Bursting through the door, Robin Hood arrives out of nowhere.) Robin Hood: “Get down, Your Majesty!” (Robin stands in front of Guinevere, bracing himself for the worst when he too is knocked out of the way. Will stumbles and turns to face the Dorocha. It catches Will in the chest, and throws him back against the stone wall. Xena and the others enter, warding off the Dorocha with the torch. Xena then hands the torch to Gabrielle and turns to Robin.) Xena: “What happened?” (Robin goes to Will. Turning him over, Robin sees that Will is frozen, much like the corpses found in the village.)

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine:

Readers long time crush, Erik Stevens, knocks on her door dressed as a pizza delivery stripper and he doesn’t realize he has the wrong address until it’s too late.

I’m telling y’all now this is funny 🤣🤣 I couldn’t stop smiling and laughing while writing this. Erik is Hoe Erik okurrr.

She popped her ass in her kitchen to the Jersey Club Mix playlist she had on loop all day. It was her off day too. Y/N decided to make a batch of chocolate chip cookies for her gifted cookie jar she received for her birthday. It had the words “Scorpio’s Winning” on it. A particular beat had her twirling her spatula in the air, throwing her ass in a circle with her tongue sticking out.

“Aye!!! This my shit! I miss my Jersey fam.”

Chuckling, Y/N adds the chocolate chunks. She was a traveling Chef who was born and raised in Jersey but moved to Annapolis, MD for her college education. Currently, she was living in Boston with a cozy bakery. She had dreams of opening Bakeries across the east coast.

Dreams her long time crush that she met way back in Annapolis, MD told her to pursue. The thought of him still made her shiver. He was so young at the time, around twenty one. She would always see him in her neighborhood running in the early mornings with his Navy sweatshirt on and matching sweat pants. From there it extended to them hanging out for drinks and getting to know eachother. He would talk about his early life in Oakland, CA, his accent swooning her. Flirtatious, full of life, an ego big enough to make everyone in a room feel small, and lets not for get all around fine as HELL.

She missed him a lot, and honestly, he was one of the reasons why she even moved to Boston. He always talked about becoming an Engineer once he furthered his career in the Navy turned Military man. He was so mature for his age, most of the young niggas chasing after her still acted like they were eighteen. Nah, Erik had an old soul. Women older than him couldn’t believe he was only twenty one.

“Erik Stevens,” she blushed while molding her cookies on a tray lined with parchment paper. Her belly growled, a tiny frown of frustration on her face. She didn’t cook a damn thing and cookies would not be the meal of the night today. There were a few cups of spicy noodles in her cabinet she could hook up a ramen dish with veggies and egg. Once the cookies were in the oven, Y/N washes her hands, heading to take a quick shower. Once there, she stripped out of her t-shirt, the only thing on anyway.

The shower water spilled over her back and hair, her eyes closed and a satisfied sigh escaping her mouth. Tonight’s agenda: eat a bowl of vanilla ice cream with some cookies, sit on the couch with a glass of wine and read her fan fiction favorites. Smut was a number one but she started up with some Angst and now she was even more hooked on that. She could read a nice scary one tonight. Fully clean and skin smooth from the oil she applied in the shower, Y/N leaves the bathroom completely naked, walking out to check her cookies.

They were just about finished, having her entire place smelling like a bakery in the early morning. She rubs her hands together, squealing like the fat girl she was. Y/N’s motto was: love what you have and fuck whatever others thought. She’s tall and thick. 5’10 with a lot of curves to match. A Stallion. Pulling out her good wine glass, Y/N pours a generous glass of white wine, taking a small sip with a soothing hum.

“I’m about to have a good ass night,” she talks to herself. In the middle of shaking her hips within her toasty kitchen, a knock comes to her door. She raises a single brow, smacking her lips from her wine.

“Not tonight, fuck that,” she rolls her eyes, walking out of her kitchen and to her bedroom, the knocks came again but harder. She walked to the door, staring through the peep hole at a man’s back with a pizza box in hand. Scrunching her face with confusion, Y/N talks loud enough for the pizza guy to hear.

“I didn’t order any pizza, sir,” she says politely.

“You sure? Address said apartment 3B.”

His voice. Why did it sound so familiar?

“Well, apartment 3A didn’t order anything. But since you’re so persistent you can leave the box and I’ll take it for free.” She laughs loudly, causing the man on the other side of the door to laugh. He sounded good and she didn’t even see his face. Y/N was looking through that hole again, trying to catch this man but his back was still turned. Was he hiding?

“Is this some kind of joke?” She spoke with an attitude.

“Why don’t you open the door and see,” he challenged.

“Now why would I be dumb enough to do that?”

“This pizza hot and ready like little Caesar’s open the door, Baby girl.”

Just like a trap, she see’s a box of pizza open and sizzling, two toned and veiny arms with fingers perfectly manicured and thick stretching out while holding open the pizza to her. Her mouth watered.

“Damn, that does look good.” It was a legit box of pizza and he looked official with the uniform and all.

“Mhm, had to hold back from stealing a piece myself,” he started making sounds of satisfaction, drawing her in each time his deep yet raspy voice let out a mmm and a so good.

“Fuck it.” She was ready to open the door, unlocking it but before she could unhook the chain she stopped quickly, forgetting about her nudity.

“You good?” He chuckles.

“You out here about to have me show you my birthday suit!!!” She could hear him get close to the door.

“Birthday suit, huh?” The fact that she could smell him from behind the door...damn. He smelled so fucking good.

“Birthday suits are better then pajamas.”

She blushes, biting her lip.

“Can you give me a second?” She softly closes the door, quickly rushing to her room to retrieve her robe. It was gonna be a grab and go. He was giving it away for free so oh well. Wrapped in silk, Y/N rushes back to the door, finally opening it and coming face to face with-

“Free Pizza.” He held his arms out wide, dazzling smile on his face. The smile she remembers. The same pouty lips, unruly eyebrows, long lashes, dark eyes, and deep dimples. Her stupefied expression made him blink twice rapidly, the same look shaping his face as well.

“Y/N?!!!!” He finally spoke.

It was Erik Stevens in the flesh.

“What the fuck?” She whispers.

Erik Stevens is a damn pizza delivery guy?!!! After all these years this nigga was selling pizzas? She expected him to be a Doctor in Engineering living in a bomb ass condo with a bad bitch that he fucked every day. A bad bitch she wished she was.

“What. The. Absolute. FUCK.” She spoke again but louder. The music blasting a floor above her couldn’t match how loud she just yelled. Erik almost drops the pizza box. He catches it in time with swift reflexes.

“Nice to see you too, Y/N,” he looks her over, nodding his head with a slight smirk, “You look the fuck good girl. Almost had me dropping this box of pizza. Had a nigga trumped.”

“Ha,” she was light headed. Erik Stevens the damn Pizza guy. She was so shocked. This was a real awkward moment.

“Erik,” she starts before shaking her head. She couldn’t even put into words what she wanted to say to him in that moment.

“Something burning?” He sniffs the air.

“MY COOKIES!!!!!” She rushes into her apartment, leaving the door open while Erik slips inside. He was just as confused and shocked as she was. Box still in hand, Erik walks through her living room, taking in anything he could about the Y/N he missed out on. Still the same after all these years. Back in her presence, Erik watches with humor as she curses about her burnt cookies.

“I CANT BELIEVE-“ she stops mid rant, looking over her shoulder at Erik.

“You left your door opened,” he points to the door. Y/N just stood there looking at him while the burnt tray of cookies and an oven mit were in her other hand.

“Y/N, stop staring at me like that.” Erik shakes his head away from her, tossing the pizza box on the counter, “You got pizza now so why not eat that instead?” His voice has a teasing edge to it.

“Are you aware that I am so speechless right now!” She placed the tray of cookies on the stove, “I mean...ERIK!!!!!”

He laughs, removing his uniform hat to reveal short dreads. She damn near fainted.

“I’m aware, I ain’t expect to come here and see you looking the way you do. Just as fine, just ass...thick.”

He really says that after all these years. He could have said that to her years ago back in Annapolis, MD.

“Oh my God,” Y/N dramatically clutches her chest, “Aint no way this is happening to me tonight.”

“Oh yeah, it’s happening,” Erik bit his lip at her, “you look...”

They both laugh. Damn, what a reunion.

“Can I get you anything? She started opening cabinets, talking so fast she barely breathed.

“Coffee? Water? Juice? Some wine? Something stronger? Oh shit! My bad I forgot you’re working- speaking of work I never saw you as the pizza delivery guy type, I mean, not tryna down play you or anything you just seemed like you had bigger plans, much bigger plans-“

She turns, eyes almost leaving her sockets, standing before her in a male thong with a black bow tie around his neck and a body that would knock you on your back, was Erik Stevens the pizza delivery guy turned stripper.

“WHAT THE HELL?!!!” She yells out. This man was oiled down and everything. He steps around the kitchen island, eyes low and dangerous, lips turned up into a sly smirk, body on POINT.

“You serious?” She laughs nervously. What was this? She had to be fucking dreaming. Right off the back he just strips down, ready to seduce her. This man was wild.

“Somebody come wake my ass up!!!” She yells while pinching her forearm.

“Ain’t no dream here, babygirl, you look like you hungry for something else and I got that shit for you.”

Trapped, Y/N was in between the counter and a whole man. She could feel his dick on her thigh. This was quick. He was about business with this male stripper mess.

“LAWD!” She yells, looking anywhere but at him.

So, this man is a male stripper?! She kept thinking on a loop.

“Don’t act like that now you know you want this Y/N. You’ve been wanting this for a while.”

“You knew about that?!!!” She couldn’t believe this man was in a damn thong. What in the hell.

“Erik you gotta cut me some slack this is not how I planned our reunion would be like!”

His hands were on her waist now, lips close to her ear.

“Let’s make it a good reunion then, let a nigga put his nuts in your face.” He laughs and you gasp in pure shock.

“Did you-“ you blink at him like he was an extra terrestrial.

Out of no where he starts grinding on you, no music playing just his hips moving. What kind of stripper shit is this?

“No music?!” You laugh out loud.

“Play something then, Y/N,” he steps away while she walks backward to her phone on the kitchen counter. He wanted to do this, okay. She could play along and have a little fun. Laugh about it with his ass later. Y/N thought to pull up her ass shaking playlist but she didn’t see Erik as the type of stripper to put on a show to twerk hip hop. Finally, Y/N pulls up her slow jam playlist, settling for some Ginuwine. So Anxious starts playing, a big ass smile on Y/N’s face. She was trying her hardest not to be goofy about this shit but clearly, Erik didn’t care that he was at the wrong house. He had to have known this wasn’t the place for him to be.

“Well,” she sits on her couch, “Give me a show then, Stevens.”

Erik walks towards her, eyes low and body making her bite her lip. Erik stands before her, his dick in her face and Y/N’s eyes zeroing in on the big target. The minute he started grinding in her face, muscles moving in conjunction with his seductive hip rolling, she was ready to pull out her money.

“Shit, I forgot my money.”

She felt like she was back at her sisters bachelorette party all over again. The stripper there had her in a damn fantasy world. She gave him all her damn money.

“Don’t worry about all that, Y/N. Think of it as a little gift from your long time crush.” His dazzling smile made her blush from her cheeks down to her neck.

“Well can I at least touch you?”

Erik props his leg up on the couch, dick almost smacking her in her face with his excessive grinding and moaning. Jesus.

“Girl if you don’t enjoy your damn self.” He laughs when Y/N reaches out to drag her shaking fingers down his abs.

“JESUS.” She says through clenched teeth.

A loud thud from above her followed up by cheering and laughter caught her attention. Y/N put two and two together, a small smile creeping up her face.

“Looks like your supposed to be in 4B not 3B.”

Erik raises a single brow, “At least you’re keeping me with a hard dick until I get up there.” His hands were on the back of the couch now, his chest and abs in Y/N’s face while her hands rubbed his ass all the way around to his thighs. The song switched out to Pretty Ricky- Grind with me.

Out of no where, Erik picks Y/N up from the couch, seating himself and placing her in his lap. Erik lifted his hips from the couch, rolling them up into her naked crotch, causing her to bounce. This was torture. This was going to end up being a fuck session not a strip session.

“Okay, Erik, I think I’ve had my fun,” she was flushed and horny.

“Nah, lets keep going, baby girl.” His eyes with those lashes...she couldn’t look at him anymore.

“What made you become a stripper-WHAT!”

Erik lifts her legs to his shoulders, grinding into her like he was fucking her. She knew at this point her entire pussy was out for him to see.

“Stop asking questions,” he grabs her ass, squeezing it firmly while his hard dick rolled from her ass to her pussy.

“Erik this is fucking wild!!!” Y/N would have a laugh and maybe a cum or two later from this moment. Who was answering her prayers? Who out there besides Erik knew of the big crush she had on this gorgeous man. Erik didn’t even know she lived in Boston. This was some fate type of shit. His lips on her neck brought her back to reality.

“Don’t kiss on my neck like that unless you plan on fucking me!!!!” Y/N had no filter at this point. Erik was like a celebrity crush. Imagine being brought on stage by your favorite male artist and he’s grinding on you and making you feel special, THATS what this felt like.

“You wanna fuck?” He looked at her genuinely serious.

“Uh-“ he cuts her off.

“I mean, for you I can make that happen.”

Now she was wondering if he was a male escort. This man here...

“Erik...I’m telling you now...I know my pussy is all out there and it’s whatever but can you PLEASE STOP TEASING ME!!!”

Y/N lifts from Erik’s lap, pausing her music. Erik throws his head back, a booming laughter escaping his mouth while his muscles bounced in tune with his fit of chuckling. Y/N had to bite the inside of her cheek to calm her laugh.

“Aight cut that shit out I wanna be serious for a second.”

Before she could speak, Erik’s phone goes off. Groaning, he lifts from the couch, tucking one of his nuts back in place in that damn thong. Y/N had to put a fist to her mouth to control herself.

That thang is hanging! She thought salaciously.

“Yeah, this Daddy Kill, babygirl.” He smiles into the phone, gold slugs gleaming, “apartment 4B?”

He looks over at Y/N, both of them silently laughing. Erik clutched his ribs from the pain of laughter.

“Sorry for the late timing, sweetheart, I’ll be there real soon. Nah, keep the drinks going and make sure y’all ready and horny cuz ima put on a real good show,” Erik laughs with a bite of his lip, “Y’all some freaky bitches, aight bye.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open from hearing a Erik reader to those women as bitches. Without a flicker of care, Erik hangs up.

“So wassup, Y/N?” Erik walks further into her kitchen, “you said you got some strong shit, how about Hennessy? I need some extra energy for the 15 women upstairs.”

Y/N makes his drink while a thong wearing Erik stands before her, glistening and chiseled.

“Here you go,” she hands him his drink, “now tell me what made you become a damn stripper? And what else do you do? Cus you talking about sex is extra.”

Erik smiles with a shake of his head, “I am indeed a male entertainer, still working on my Engineering doctorate but after doing some experimenting online with live cam and all that I got a lot of hits. So now I do my own thing on the side. I strip, do live cam, have regular submissives.”

“You must make a lot of damn money to do this shit,” Y/N makes a drink for herself.

“I do, it’s a business on the side, Y/N,” Erik was overly humored, “You knocking the way I make my money, ma?”

“No!! No I just... I would have never expected this,” she shakes her head, “Are you in a relationship?”

Erik kisses his teeth, “Nah, single and I wanna keep it that way for a while.”

“Damn, I’m tryna shoot my shot and you just blocking me,” Y/N laughed, half way joking and half way serious. If they were together he wouldn’t be doing this anymore for other women, just her.

“You ain’t shoot your shot before what’s so different now? Is it cus my dick in your face?”

“No, it’s cuz I thought I would never see you again.”

Erik walks over to her, picking her up and sitting her on the kitchen counter. He plays her music again, grabbing her arms to place around his neck, moving her from side to side. She pouted, giving in to his antics.

“You make me sick,” she looks him in the eye, “you should probably go-AHHH!”

Erik picks Y/N up, bouncing her on his still hard dick. She was dripping on this man, he played entirely too much.

“Alright cut it out!!” She swatted at him, Erik putting her down with a smile.”

“Y/N, I missed you,” he chuckles, “You right, let me get up out of here.”

Erik walks away, picking up his fake pizza uniform, putting it on. Y/N runs her hands over her hair and adjusts her robe, heart still fluttering and legs wobbly. She walks over to the pizza, hovering her hand over it and noticing it was cold.

“Don’t worry about that, it’s just a gimmick.”

“Too bad. You sure you don’t want any money for your excellent services?” Y/N joked.

“Ha, I told you I’m good girl.”

Fully dressed, Erik finished off his Henny, grabbing his hat to put on and the box of pizza from the counter. Erik walked over to Y/N, grabbing her chin and placing a soft and lingering kiss on her cheek.

“You gonna miss me, Y/N? I promise to come back and see you since you’re in Boston now. We got a lot of catching up to do girl.”

Her heart skipped about two beats.

“You better.” Y/N rolls her eyes.

“Sorry I gotta leave you like this, but I can’t miss out on my money.”

Fuck them bitches upstairs, she seethed to herself.

“It’s cool, you’re just gonna make it up to me when I see you next time.”

Erik pulls out his phone, “give me your number.” He was telling more so than asking. Y/N gives him her digits, Erik storing it in his phone and saving it.

Y/N walks Erik to the door, the further they went the more she dreaded it. Opening the door, Erik walks out, turning to give her a tight hug and that same lingering kiss but to her forehead this time. He was really driving her crazy. Erik wasn’t going to make this crush thing easy. A fun night turned into a boring one.

“Bye, stupid,” she shoved him.

“Bye, girl.” Erik walks away and up the steps, turning to look over his shoulder from time to time with a smile on his face.

“Pick that lip up,” he teases.

“They don’t deserve your body!!!” Y/N yells after him.

“YOU SO STINGY!!” He yells back, Y/N closing her door behind her with a huge grin on her face.

It only took a few seconds before she heard the door opening, Erik giving the ladies his intro.

“Pizza delivery for 4B, right?”

[devnny]

CHAPTER NINE.

JTRM — THE “R” STANDS FOR RECOVERING!

PREVIOUSLY.

this was too fun to write knowing what comes next, PLEASE ENJOY

Tenna leaned her cheek against her hand with a smile, swaying the leg that she had slung over her knee as she sat across the table from her unexpected guest. It was a mischievous, evil smile, Devi thought.

“So,” She tittered a little. “how’s your househusband?”

“Please, do NOT call him that.” Devi begged, eyes rolling firmly backwards in her skull.

Tenna continued her snickering.

“That what he is, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh come on.” Tenna scoffed, her mug scooting across the table as she extended her hands out. “How many times has he made dinner this week?”

“That has NOTHING to do with ANYTHING.” Devi pointed at her defensively. “He should be cooking for me – it’s not like he pays rent! That’s just him earning his keep.”

“Uh-huhhh…” Tenna nodded as if she was humoring the denials. Devi gurgled her irritation in the back of throat.

“But he is behaving himself, like a good little hubby might?”

“Tenna…” Devi gritted her molars, and Tenna belted out another set of laughs.

“WELL, IS HE?”

“YES, he is behaving fine. Like a dog might.” She answered, more comfortable comparing Johnny to a mostly-domesticated creature than even conceptualizing the joke of him being a spouse to anyone, especially her. Tenna bobbed her head along again. Devi settled back into her chair, hoping to relax.

“He’s been asleep all day.” She complained. “I want to wake his ass up so I can paint, because I can’t be blasting music in there if he’s sleeping on his desk, but he probably needs the rest. He supposedly hadn’t slept in ‘months’ before this.”

Tenna’s tongue poked out from behind her smile, followed by a sharp squeak from somewhere out of Devi’s line of sight.

“That’s so considerate of you, Devi—!”

“DO NOT even TRY to construe any decency I have as acts of kindness for him.” Devi cut her off with a squint.

Two more squeaks.

“Why are you so defensive about this? It’s okay to enjoy the company of your roommate.” Tenna teased again. Devi grumbled.

Tenna hadn’t let up on this topic since she found out that Johnny was officially moved into the apartment. At this point, laying on the couch aimlessly with a sleeping Johnny in the adjacent room was more appealing than sitting here and getting ridiculed for her wrongly-assumed-nice choices.

“Forget it. I’m going to go check—” Devi started as she stood, but cut herself off as her friend flittered another smile toward her.

“…go check on him.” She finished unhappily, then left before Tenna could mock her again.

--

TWO FLOORS ABOVE:

“No…!” Devi’s voice was waning, and he laughed.

“No, Johnny, no, don’t—”

Johnny dug the knife into her chest again, and felt a rush of satisfaction that she was helpless to stop him. He never held the control between the two of them, but this time she would be answering to him! She hardly even tried to push him away, only calling out with a voice that was growing softer with each gasp she worked to swallow.

She deserved this for being so rude to him! Awful woman – she had such biting words before, but now she had to reserve her fangs for biting back the blood that sputtered out past her lips. It made him laugh.

“Nny…” Devi croaked out.

He felt a sudden emptiness in his chest, and his arms chilled, startling him with the stark contrast of how hot his skin had felt just a moment ago, burning with the pleasure of revenge.

There was no pleasure in this.

She was dying.

--

Johnny’s body spasmed and he whacked his elbows against his desk as he awoke with a guttural gasp. He scrambled into a sitting position in his chair, slapping his palms on the surface of his drafting table like a scurrying animal. As he got his bearings, his head swiveled around frantically, until he was certain that he knew where he was – which was sitting in Devi’s art room.

A breath shuddered out of him through his panting, and he gulped as best he could past the dry lump in his throat.

Just another fucking dream. He had fallen asleep. GOD, he hated sleeping. The last thing he remembered was finishing the project that he had been working so madly on. He must have laid his head down on his desk afterwards and opened himself up to the horrors of his fervid mind.

He didn’t want to disclose it to Devi, but this was not the first dream he had about killing her since her intervention into his life. The first was the night after their tutoring sessions restarted, after their minor falling out due to him attacking her with a pen.

That week Johnny had cried his guts sore, then rode wave after wave of anxiety about meeting Devi again and attempting to apologize, then nearly combusted with joy that she actually forgave him. He must have burned himself out, he had figured, with the last of his drawing attempts the night following that, then had passed out when he got home.

Stupid emotions, so tiring.

He sneered and roughly rubbed his uneven hair, then turned his attention to his sketchbook that laid closed in front of him. He opened it to check his work, partly to distract himself from the lingering tendrils of his nightmare, and partly out of rampant curiosity of what the final result was.

His lower eyelid wiggled uncomfortably at the figure that greeted him.

DEVI? He had been drawing Devi this entire time?

Jeezus, how was he supposed to share this with her? He hadn’t meant to put a week’s worth of effort into a portrait of… her, but he had, and now he would need to hide it away to ensure she didn’t think he was a total creep and throw him out of her house on his ass.

Johnny pouted; it was the nicest thing he’d made in years, too. He really liked the lines, and how it was layered through multiple pages. He sighed and settled the cover closed again.

“So, you’re finally up, huh?” Devi stood in the doorway, previously obscured by the sketchbook he held up. Johnny screamed.

“AH—OH, UH, DEVI…!” He blathered, clutching the book close to his chest. Devi chuckled.

“It’s weird seeing you sleeping.” She commented as she walked the short way to his desk. “You snore a little bit, by the way.”

Johnny’s nose crinkled, unaware that he snored. Strange.

“I saw your little project.” She said, and his heart toppled into the hopeless abyss of his stomach. Devi laughed again at the terrified look on his face. She hated to admit that she felt more relaxed around Johnny than Tenna these days, but that could just be her pride talking.

“DEVI, I…” He gasped, then swallowed and tried again. “I-I promise, it’s, it’s really not as… uhm, intimate, as it seems—”

“Oh please don’t use that word for it.” Devi scoffed casually.

Johnny lowered nervously, partially hiding behind his sketchbook.

“Just promise me it’s not like, a testament to your undying love for me, and I won’t have to club you to death.” She teased, and Johnny’s eyes went wide in embarrassment.

“NO, NOT AT ALL.” He stood. “I just, I—I didn’t even realize this is what I was making until it… was done! Honest!”

Devi blinked at him skeptically.

“You… didn’t know what you were making?”

“Yes! It was like I was compelled to make that!”

She squinted at him with some suspicion.

“Do you think… Meat influenced you to create it, then?” She asked.

Johnny’s panic dissolved at the question.

“Oh…” His eyes wandered down to the sketchbook, but he was not worried about the idea of Meat’s interference with that. “No, I don’t think so.”

But with the mention of it, he was suddenly very suspicious that his parasite was the cause of his horrible dreams. He couldn’t understand what the Reverend would want as a result from tormenting him with bloody, anguished Devi’s, but Johnny was confident at least that the motive was part of the voice’s ‘plan’ for him. Against his better judgement, he kept those thoughts from Devi for the time being.

“What makes you so sure?” Devi crossed her arms loosely. “I mean, I guess it is creating, so the likelihood is low, but it’s still… me-related.”

Johnny shook his head and inched a ways closer to her.

“A lot of things right now are you-related.” He replied, almost a little smug, and Devi scoffed a smile again.

“Whatever.” She waved him off.

Devi returned to the living room, and Johnny trailed after her, stopping short when he saw her shrugging her jacket on. She had just wanted to paint today, but there was a more pressing issue on the agenda now.

“Hope you’re up for an outing,” She turned to him and gave him an annoyed look. “because we have to go to the store, seeing as you ate all my food.”

Johnny’s upper lip dropped low in surprise, then tightened back up into a guilty smile as he laced his hands behind his back. It was strange having so much food available to eat; he couldn’t recall his own cupboards and fridge ever having such variety. He had allowed himself to get a little carried away with his snacking while Devi was asleep – he still remembered, with some lingering pain, his whining and belly-aching after eating until he was far beyond full for the first time in maybe a year. Devi had shown little sympathy for him.

“Ah – of course!” Johnny shrugged happily, eager to sooth any irritation she had with him with dutiful agreements. Devi huffed a little and hitched her backpack securely onto her shoulders, then lead the pair out of the apartment.

--

AT A NEARBY GROCERY STORE:

Usually, Devi was content with shopping at convenience stores for her groceries, but the small-sized portions and limited selections at a 24/7 or a Grab n’ Go weren’t very good for restocking her entire food supply, so she begrudgingly parked her car in the lot of an actual grocery store. She and Johnny watched from the safety of Devi’s car as a mother wheeled a cart past them that was half full of food, and half full of wailing toddlers. Devi turned to give him a bitter expression, as if he had intentionally eaten her out of house and home and forced her to come here. Johnny offered a nervous smile as reply.

“At least it’s getting late?” He chuckled just as nervously. “So, maybe less screaming babies?”

Devi muttered her complaints under her breath and opened her door to get out, followed hurriedly by Johnny.

They walked briskly to the store’s front, with Devi ignoring all the annoying things she saw in the parking lot to the best of her ability, and with Johnny eyeing every unpleasant and rude act he saw with the shifting eyes of a predator. Neither of them enjoyed being among the masses even on a good day, but Johnny felt particularly on edge being near so many irritating things after such little recent exposure. If Devi wasn’t beside him, he was certain he would have snapped before even getting to the entrance.

He kept close to her side while she wheeled a shopping cart from aisle to aisle, and mused to himself how odd the action was. He never went to places where you’d even be offered the luxury of a shopping cart – not that he was ever buying enough things to require one, what with his meager funds and all. Devi dropped seemingly random things into it, and Johnny, rather than even attempt to suggest anything that he might want to eat too, only eyed the options that she chose inquisitively, settled in the idea that whatever she chose was all that would be available to him anyway.

Johnny had no complains about Devi’s taste in cereals or cheap instant food, and shortly found himself uninterested with their current errand. While Devi checked a carton of eggs for any broken shells, his eyes wandered around the length of the back aisle they were on, and a disruption on the opposite side of the store drew his attention.

When Devi turned back to ask him something, she was horrified to find him missing.

“JOHNNY!” She called out immediately, stricken with both concern and anger.

She got no response, and abandoned her cart to look for him, hoping that he was just a few rows away and got distracted by something shiny or sugary.

Two aisles, nothing.

Four aisles, nothing.

Devi’s anxiety rose the longer it took for her to find him, and after two failed sweeps of the store, it reached a fevered pitch. She had absolutely no concern for his safety, of course, but rather for the safety of every asshole in the proximity of the building. That thought spurred her to go check the parking lot, and she rushed to the front of the store again.

Her boots clanked on the sidewalk as she paced from one end of the parking lot to the other. It irritated a man soliciting near the entrance, but when he went to confront her about her annoying actions, Devi shoved him to the side and out of her way as she sped by. She opened her mouth to call for Johnny again, when a sickeningly damp, whacking sound hit her left ear, and she turned her focus to the alleyway that lead to the back of the grocery.

“Oh, no.” She winced. “Please, Christ.”

With all of her urgency to find him only seconds ago, the speed that she crept to the alley felt achingly slow. Devi hurried the last few steps, and whipped around the wall, convinced that Johnny is what she would see.

She wasn’t disappointed in that regard, at least.

Johnny stood some yards away with his back to her, his slender frame barely visible with the dark backdrop of the alleyway, but unmistakable to Devi. Some poor soul lay at his feet, and Johnny’s arm pulled back, revealing he was equipped with a pipe of some sort. Devi’s mouth hung open in dismay.

“JOHNNY C.” Her voice roared out of her, and Johnny’s body tensed instinctually.

His hand popped open like a talon, letting his weapon of opportunity fall to the badly maintained asphalt with a chorus of metallic clanking. He turned to look at Devi fearfully, and her stare only grew angrier from the clear view of the blood spatter that reached up to his elbows on both arms. Johnny’s face stretched uncomfortably as he forced an anxious smile onto it.

“D… DEVI.” He tried to laugh out. “I, UH… I can explain!”

One of his muddied hands swung back to gesture at the man laying beaten behind him. The man groaned incoherently, then went quiet again. Johnny grimaced, and jolted where he stood as Devi began to approach him with quickening speed.

“YOU—”

“NO, WAIT.” Johnny evaded her a moment by circling around her, suddenly worried about getting cornered just as he had his victim. His arms jutted out to the man on the floor again. “He was calling his girlfriend all sorts of degrading things! In public!”

“Johnny…!” She growled.

A bead of sweat slid down his temple.

“I swear I was going to let him live!” He insisted. “It wasn’t going to be a murder, just a little head bashing, that’s all!”

“OH, THAT’S “ALL”!?” Devi yelled at him, and slipped an arm free from the straps of her backpack. Both hands gripped the other strap, and she propelled it forward in an aggressive swing, tagging Johnny somewhere near his collar. The power behind the hit knocked him to the floor, and Devi stood over him with her knees bent to continue beating him with her bag.

“YOU IDIOT!” She hissed between swings. “I CAN’T TAKE YOU ANYWHERE!”

Johnny pleaded with her through fearful shrieks and all manner of breathless grunts from being struck, but nothing would stop Devi until her rage had run its course. All he could do was shield his face with his forearms until she decided his punishment was over.

At least her bag didn’t have much in it, from what he could feel. He was more concerned that she would abandon it in favor of her much more deadly clenched fists, or maybe the pipe that he had so mercilessly battered that jerk with, which was still laying nearby.

“Ugh!” Devi exclaimed with one final smack of her backpack on his chest.

She stepped over his form and readjusted her bag onto her shoulders, unconcerned about if the contents inside were broken or not. Johnny peeked an eye open at her from the ground, and watched her fix her frazzled hair a moment before scampering upright again. Devi scowled at him, and he replied with a sheepish smile, happy despite himself that she hadn’t cracked his skull open like an egg.

Devi’s nose crinkled, and she lowered her eyes down to his arms and hands, which still had patches of dirty blood on them. His fingers wiggled at his sides, as if in response to her staring, and she glowered.

This was not good. Even when she was right next to him, Johnny, the slippery little fucker, had absconded to commit some violent act – and she wasn’t sure she bought his claims that it wouldn’t have turned fatal, instead suspecting it only didn’t because of her timely appearance. Shit!

“What more do you expect me to do, Johnny?” Devi asked through bared teeth, and his smile dropped into an ashamed pout.

“I… uh, well, nothing.” He replied with a single scuff of his boot on the floor. He was more remorseful for upsetting her than he was for indulging in his desire for carnage, what with her doing so much to help him and all. She shouldn’t need to do anything more – it was just so difficult to control himself with bastards like that populating the city! Such hard choices…

“You need to clean up. You can’t go back into the store with blood all over you.” Devi snipped, and Johnny perked up, hopeful his answer would calm her.

“I’ll just wash off in the bathroom – no one ever notices the blood, anyway.”

“No, of course they wouldn’t.” Devi closed her eyes in annoyance. The universe just liked to hand Johnny free passes for getting away with dastardly deeds, didn’t it?

She started to walk out of the alley, and Johnny paid his latest victim a quick glance – he was still twitching, that was good! – before he followed Devi back into the store.

A myriad of low-spoken curse words ghosted past Devi’s lips as she waited for him outside the men’s bathroom door, and her bitter mood continued when Johnny popped back out to display his now-clean palms to her.

She was disappointed, again, and hated herself for getting comfortable, again. Why did she always fall into the same trap of overconfidence when it came to her ability to control this lunatic? Even with Johnny acting fairly normal and domestic with her at home, he was still like a volatile chemical, and mixing him with anything besides his routine could make him explode.

They returned to the cart that Devi had left near the dairy section, and she felt a tiny bit of relief that it was still sitting there untouched. After grabbing a couple more things, they went through a check stand, paid for their crap, and Devi glared at nothing, one bag in her arms, while Johnny gathered up the other two from the end of the counter.

Amongst her brooding, a blip of color in her peripheral caught her attention, and she looked to the woman that had been behind them in line. She was standing, talking cheerfully with the cashier, while her toddler daughter tried to rush over to the attractive, cheap toy and candy dispensers on the front wall. The poor thing couldn’t get far however, with her brilliantly colored monkey toddler harness and leash springing her backwards onto her butt every time she tried to charge ahead.

Devi blinked, her curiosity peaked, and she looked back up to the mother, who continued on with what she was doing, unbothered by her hyperactive child, unworried about having to watch her, with the pink handle of the leash held firmly in her hand reassuring her that her daughter was right where she expected her to be.

“What?” Johnny asked in regard to Devi’s thinking face.

“Hmm…” Devi looked off thoughtfully.

That might work.

--

NEXT.

[tangledstarlight]

we’re a family (broken and shattered and new)

okay so this has taken me literally 4 months to finish and i still kinda hate the ending but i need this tab to go away before it drives me mad so i'm posting it. feyre is pregnant, rhys doesn't want to leave here alone and oh no nesta is the only one free to sit with her. it's basically a little heart to heart between the sisters and then i didn't know how to end it so there's a not-such-a-suprise-twist also on ao3!

“You’re nearly nine months pregnant Feyre, I’m not going to leave you here alone. Cassian can go to the Prison alone.” Rhys was pacing in front of our bed, his Illyrian leathers half on and wings out. I rolled my eyes, leaning further back in my mound of pillows on the bed to get comfortable. We had been having the same ‘discussion’ for an hour and I had thought I had won when he’d began getting dressed. Apparently I was wrong.

“I am perfectly capable of looking after myself. And anyway, I plan on sitting in front of the fire down stairs all day with a book. I’m going to be awfully dull company,” I rested my hands on top of my belly and gave him a pointed look. It was Rhys’ turn to roll his eyes at me.

“You’re never dull company,” he muttered, stopping his pacing to come and sit on the edge of our bed next to me. “And I know you can look after yourself. But you heard what the healer said, it could be any day now.” One of his hands covered one of mine on top of my swelling stomach and he felt as our baby kicked, a smile pulling at his lips. The way he always did at such a moment.

I understood why he didn’t want to go, didn’t want to leave me alone. This pregnancy hadn’t exactly been easy, and no one was sure if it was because I used to be human or because of how I was Made or if it was just naturally hard. And Rhys – Rhys had been amazing throughout it all, had worried and stressed and held my hand when I needed him too, but he hadn’t stopped me from going about my duties and tasks. Even when I could tell he wanted nothing more than to confine me to our house for protection.

“A compromise then. Go fetch one of our many family members to spend the day with me,” I turned my hand over so I could lace my fingers through his and squeeze once. But I frowned as he winced, now avoiding eye contact with me. “What?”

Rhys’ sighed, ran a hand through his hair.

“Mor, Azriel and Elain are at Crete, Amren’s visiting the Summer Court and if Cassian comes with me that only leaves –” he paused, looking at me again as I finished his words.

“Nesta.”

“Nesta,” he nodded. “Who I doubt would come”

I shook my head at him, he was wrong about that. Nesta would come and spend the day with me, I knew she would because she – she had been spending time with me lately. Had been trying ever since she came back from the Illyrian Mountains with Cassian years ago. In the small ways that Nesta showed her feelings, the ways most people wouldn’t even realise.

None of us knew what, exactly, had happened while they had been away. But Cassian had come back with that gleam of guilt in his eyes a little bit dimmer and Nesta had come back – she had come back seeming more settled in herself. More at peace with the world then she had ever been. And they had come back holding hands and ready to live in the town house. Together.

We had all wanted to ask what happened, but none of us had dared.

“She will. She’ll come. So go. Get dressed, fetch my sister and then shoo. Go be overbearing with Cassian for a few hours,” I smiled at him, squeezing his hand again once.

☆✢☆

Nesta found me sitting at the small round table in front of the bay window in the sitting room with my feet propped up on the spare chair opposite me and an unopened book on the table. She paused a few feet away with her simple dark blue dress swishing at her feet, a cotton bag slung over one shoulder and her hands fisted at her sides. Nervous.

“Nesta,” I smiled at her, or at least I tried too. It felt more like a grimace as I lowered my sore feet back to the floor and gestured for her to sit down. Conversation was always a little bit stilted when at the beginning. Neither of us quite knowing how to interact with each other, even now.

“Thank you for coming. Fae males and their worrying,” I huffed out a small laugh but didn’t feel myself relax back into my chair until Nesta had taken the few steps to bring her to my little sitting area, dropping her bag to the floor carefully and sitting down, her back ram-rod straight and hands clenched together in her lap.

“I’m – happy to be here,” she didn’t smile, but her chin dipped just once and I could swear I saw her posture relax just a fraction.

There was silence between us for a few seconds that felt like hours as it stretched between us and I tried to come up with some topic of conversation. Something neutral. Easy. Apparently Nesta had been thinking about it too.

“Have you found someone to take over your classes at the gallery yet?”

I was surprised that she remembered me telling her that I was struggling to fill the spot and I could feel my chest warming that she had.

“No, not yet. It’s hard to find just one person who can cover them all. We might have to rearrange some of the others I think,” I frowned a little already feeling a headache building at the thought of it.

“I’m sure you will find someone and if you maybe have to cancel a class or two I’m sure people will understand that as well.” There was something reassuring about her voice, something calming. And I wondered – not for the first time in recent years – what it would have been like if Nesta had shown me any kindness the way she showed Elain when we were still mortal. I wondered if maybe she would have used such a voice when I came back empty handed at night.

“There is –” Nesta started and my eyes darted up to her face as she seemed to gather her thoughts, her words. “Your child will hopefully never know a world that is cleaved in two, never know the kind of fear that we grew up with by that wall. But, we were mortal once and there is a whole history for them to discover. Are you going to tell them? Everything?” Her eyes bored into mine, unwavering as she waited for my response.

“Everything. When they’re old enough to understand.” I nodded at her and Nesta let out a breath of air as if she had been worried about the answer. I opened my mouth to say something but closed it when I couldn’t think of anything to say and instead watched her. Watched as she seemed to ready herself for whatever it was she needed to say. Apparently Nesta had come here today with an agenda in mind.

“You won’t remember but when we were little and father would come back from his trips to the continent, we would all sit in front of the fire in the drawing room. Even mother would sit in a chair and watch us. I would sit on his knee and then it would be Elain and then you came along and it would be you. And he would tell us stories of his time away and the people he had met, mostly directed at mother, but we were all sitting there listening to every word, even if we didn’t understand. Then mother would say it was time for bed and start to call the wet nurse to take us away, but I would ask him, beg him for one more story.”

Nesta paused, her eyes unfocused as she got lost in the memory that I didn’t remember. I didn’t dare to move, was barely breathing out of fear she would stop completely. She never talked about our family, our past, she especially never talked about our life from before father had lost his fortune. Just as I began to give up hope of her talking again Nesta’s eyes shifted down to the table between us as she sucked in an unsteady breath.

“He always made a big deal about debating it, um-ing and ah-ing. But he always said yes in the end. I think – I think it was his way of trying to say he cared, that he had missed us, because we all knew that the next morning he would again be back in his study and have no time for us.

“So he would walk over to the little bookcase by the window and pull out the same book every time. It was this… this collection of stories, of myths and legends, children's tales meant to scare us into behaving and teach us lessons. He must have read them all five times over, the same book every time he came back, no matter if we asked for a different one. He would sit us all on the floor, and if one of us was still too little he would hold us, and he would read us a story from the book. Just one. It was my favourite night, the night he would come back from his trips and read to us. When he was finished he would send us off to bed and not touch a book again until he came back from the continent again.

“He stopped. I still don’t know why, I suppose I shall never know why. But he stopped reading to us, long before we lost the money and mother died. So I – I started reading the stories to myself. First that book, until I had read them all, and then any book I could sneak out of the library. That book of children’s stories was lost a long time ago, it never came with us to that hovel by the wall. But I –”

Nesta paused again, blinking at the scratched wood and then finally looked up at me. It was hard to tell what emotions were now swimming through her eyes, but I had to stop myself reaching across and gripping her hand.

“You’re child is – they’re going to be of two worlds, whether they experience it or not. It is hard – for me to… to talk about him, about the past. And I will never be able to express myself, my feelings, like you or Elain. But for your child, Feyre, I would – I would like to try. I would like the chance to try and right some wrongs.”

She picked up the bag that she had placed next to her chair when she first arrived, the one I had almost forgotten about and from within it Nesta pulled out a large rectangle wrapped in plain brown paper. She set it on the table before pushing it across to me.

“I asked Cassian to find the nearest bookstore the last time he was visiting the mortal lands, apparently he knocked over a display and scared a group of old men in the process. But he found it. It’s a newer edition than ours was with new stories and this one has illustrations, but –” she shrugged as she watched me carefully unwrap the book. It had a simple dark green leather binding with the title stamped across the front above a simple sketch of a castle upon a hill of clouds. I let my fingers trail across the words, my own eyes now blurring with tears.

“I have never been a particularly good sister too you.” A statement of fact that everyone could agree with. “But I would like to – I would like to try. Now. I would like to be here for you, for all of you. And I would like to read to your child.” With this book of stories from our childhood. A secret joy I don’t think she had ever shared with anyone before. And that she wanted to share with my child. We had nothing of our father or mother to hand down other then the memories in our heads, but this. Nesta had found something physical.

“Nesta this is –” I didn’t have words. For this piece of our history she was sharing with me, was willing to share with my child. I had never known why she loved reading so much. “Thank you. Knowing you will be there to read to them, I – thank you.” I wiped at my eyes, huffing out a curse at the hormones that made me overly emotional. But Nesta just nodded at me once, swallowing, before a small smile graced her lips.

Things would never be easy between us, between Nesta and my mate, we all knew it. There was too much there, to many wrongs to repair. But this was an offer at trying. And Nesta – she had been trying for a while now I realised, had been making an effort with all of them, and not just because of Cassian like Rhys had thought. But because she wanted to try – wanted to be apart of this family.

It wasn’t all too blame on the hormones when I started crying properly and only Nesat rolling her eyes was enough to draw me out of my emotional revelation and downward spiral.

“Sorry, sorry,” I fanned a hand in front of my face, trying to stop the tears. “I cried at a carrot that fell off my place last night.”

Nesta snorted at my remark, but got up from her chair and for a moment I wondered if that had been enough to make her to not want to try anymore. But then she came back into the room, placing a handful of tissues in front of me.

“Nula’s going to bring us some tea.”

We sat in a peaceful silence for a while, the most peaceful Nesta and I had ever sat in, as if that story and my crying had cleared the air between us. Nesta stared out the bay window, watching the flowers blow in the breeze while I flipped through the book.

“Have you thought of any names yet?” She asked, drawing my attention away from an illustration of a wolf in a wood.

“A few. I like Raleigh for a boy, and Rhys likes Castor. But we started worrying it sounded a little too much like Cassian and we didn’t want his ego to grow thinking we’d named our child with him in mind,” I said with a laugh, closing the book and reclining in my chair. Nesta laughed, the first time I could remember hearing it.

“Oh that would truly go straight to his head. It would make him insufferable to live with,” but she was smiling as said it, genuine happiness in her eyes.

“We’re torn between Halley or Lyra for a girl. Rhys’ mother, her name was Lysandra but –” I shrugged, my fingers idly tracing patterns across my belly as I thought on the names. “Girl or boy, we want them to know the people who can’t be here to meet them, but I don’t think he wants them to have a name they feel they have to live up too.”

Nesta was quiet for a time, her fingers fiddling with the handle of her tea cup.

“You should wait until you meet them, you’ll know their name then.”

I didn’t want to ask how she was so sure.

☆✢☆

The pains started three hours later as we sat in the garden enjoying the late autumn afternoon sun surrounded by potted plants Elain had deemed in need of ‘extra care’.

“Nesta,” I said quietly, hands gripping the metal armrest of my chair so tightly I could already feel the indents they would leave. But my eyes where on the ground, at the small pool of water soaking into the stones. There must have been something in my voice because Nesta turned to look at me, eyes flaring wide.

“We need to get you inside.”

And then she was next to me, out of her chair too quick for me to even pick up on and calling for one of the twins and sending one off to find Maja while the other helped me inside, up the stairs and into bed. All I could focus on was the pain rippling out from my back and down my legs.

I knew it was going to hurt, had been told over and over about the pain to expect. But I didn’t think anything could have ever prepared me for it as I gripped Nesta’s hand tightly as a contraction tore through my body until it was all I could do to remember to breath.

“Rhys,” I muttered, my eyes finding Nesta’s even as I shouted it down that silent bond between us.

“I know. They’re still at the prison. We’ve sent someone to find them,” she said as her free hand pushed hair away from my face with a damp cloth. Some part of me knew she didn’t just mean my mate, but that they had sent someone to get all of their court.

Time seemed to slow down as each contraction hit until it felt as if I would never know anything but the pain and then it would speed up again. Faces and voices blurring around me as I tried to stay conscious.

“You’re doing so well Feyre, so well.” Nesta’s voice felt like it was passing by on some phantom wind, but I could still feel her strong fingers gripping mine, letting me squeeze as tight as I needed too and not letting go.

And then there was someone gripping my other hand and soft hazel eyes swimming into focus even as I picked up on Elain’s soft voice from near Nesta. I held tight to Mor’s hand, all the acknowledgement I could summon as a scream tore through my throat. But they held on, didn’t pull away. And I felt a fresh wave of tears falling at how grateful I was for them, for my sisters and for Mor. For them being there. Even when I wanted, needed, someone else. The bond was still silent between us no matter how hard I pulled or roared my pain down it.

“Where. Is. He.” I ground out, my body hurting in ways I didn’t know it could. I wasn’t even sure how long it had been, it could have been minutes, hours, days. Time had turned into a blur since Maja had arrived and the pain had started in earnest.

“Az has gone to get him, he’ll be here,” Mor’s words were calm and did absolutely nothing to help my fraying edges.

I could hear people talking around me, could hear them telling me to push, to breath, breath, breath.. But I couldn’t, I shook my head. Everything just hurt so much. I just wanted to sleep. I just wanted Rhysand. Someone was squeezing my hand and trying to talk to me but it was hard to focus on anything that wasn’t the blinding pain convulsing through my body as I screwed my eyes shut.

“You need to push, Feyre.” I don’t know who spoke, just knew I couldn’t.

“I –I can’t.”

“Yes you can, Feyre darling.”

A different hand was holding mine now, bigger, more calloused and reassuring.

“Rhys,” whatever I was going to say got lost within another contraction as I held on tighter to his hand, not worrying about how hard that might be. Part of this was his fault, he should feel some of the pain too.

“I know. I’m here. You can do this.”

Things didn’t seem to move any faster then before, the pain didn’t seem to get worse or less and if she was honest Feyre lost track of everything but Rhys hand in hers, voices fading in and out and the amount of pain she was in.

And then there was a new sound. A baby crying and a small squirming bundle being placed in my arms and Rhys whispering,

“She’s beautiful.”

☆✢☆

“I really want to be mad at your dad for almost missing this important moment, but you’ve got his eyes so it’s making it very hard,” I said to the baby in my arms as she grabbed onto my finger that had been tracing the curve of her cheek. Big violet eyes gazing up at her sleepily in a way she was learning babies did after being fed. Feyre was pretty sure it was going to be a while before she could ever be annoyed at her when her eyes were like that.

“May I make a case for my defense?” Rhysand’s voice said from next to me.

“No, you may not.” I didn’t need to look at him to see the smile on his face, or to even see the gleam that would be in his eyes. A soft knock at the door and Cassian’s face popping around the edge stopped whatever retort he was thinking up.

“Can we meet her yet?”

“Come in,” I said with a small huff of laughter as I settled myself more comfortably against my pillows and under Rhy’s arm, “But be quite, I think she’s falling asleep.”

They were all here. My sisters and Mor, Cassian and Azriel, even Amren had somehow arrived back from the summer court without me noticing. Though to be fair I only even vaguely remembered any of the others appearing at my side.

“Okay me first, let auntie Mor see her favourite niece.” It was only a little awkward and hard to pass her the baby, everything inside me was shouting to hold her close and never let her go. Some primal protective instinct that I was pretty sure wasn’t just fae inherent. But I also knew there was no one else in the world I would trust with her safety more than these people.

It was as Elain was holding her with Nesta hovering over her shoulder with a soft, if quizzical look on her face that Amren was the first to ask.

“So, have you two settled on a name yet?”

Rhy’s and I shared a look, and we didn’t need to talk through the bond to know we both agreed.

“We’d like you to meet Halley,” I smiled, glancing at Elain and Nesta as everyone else seemed to draw closer around them, pulled into orbit of the small life I had made.

“Halley, huh?” Cassian mused as he stood to the left of Nesta his head titled just a little. “I like it. Good choice.”

“Thanks, we were worried you wouldn’t approve,” Rhy’s noted dryly but there was a smile in his voice and I could feel the love pouring from him at the sight we were watching.

“Welcome to the family Halley,” Azriel said, “You’ll get used to Cassian eventually, we all did.”

[brittysaucefanfic]

The Serpent and The Dragon

Chapter 4

(First)(Previous)(Next)(AO3)

Lance goes to the tavern by the docks where his crew frequent the most. 

It's not very late in the day, sunlight still bright and warm on his skin. Lance pushes open the door, a blast of the smell of alcohol and sweat. Lance crinkles his nose against the smell but still smiles anyways. 

"Your Captain has arrived scalawags!" Lance yells as he steps into the room. The majority of the tavern's patrons turn and cheer. Raising their glasses in a toast of merriment. Lance walks forward, not needing to weave or squeeze between people since the patrons split like the sea before a tsunami. He gets claps on the back and a lot of hellos, especially from men and women looking for a good night with the infamous McClain. 

Lance raises his hand and a pint is slipped between his fingers without a word. Lance knocks it back hard, earning cheers and high fives when he finishes the pint in seconds. 

"Oi! Captain over here!" Rolo yells through the throng of people where the majority of the crew sits around a long table. Lance strides up and doesn't stop at the table. In a swift and graceful motion he hops onto the table. 

"Hey everybody!" Lance yells, spreading his arms out wide. Hunk squeezes into a chair at the table with a huff. "Who's ready to party!?" Lance demands. Another round of cheers flows through the crowd. 

Lance holds his hand out and another pint is shoved into his hand. Lance downs that one too, and smiles as he finally starts to feel a warmth at the pit of his stomach. He hops off the table and falls backwards into a chair. 

"So what's the agenda Captain?" One of the crew asks. 

"Well. After we complete what we originally set out for, we'll be hunting an old acquaintance of us all." Lance says. Confused looks are shared across the table. 

"Who would that be?" Rolo asks. Lance smiles wickedly. 

"Who wants revenge on the Dragon?" Lance asks. It's quiet, or at least as quiet as the rowdy tavern can get, before a round of cheers explodes across the table. 

"When do we set out?" Someone else asks. 

"Three days time so party hard tonight boys. Tomorrow we prepare for war and the day after, we sail!" Lance yells. His crew stand up with a loud cheer, clanking their drinks together so hard that ale spills over the sides of most of them. Lance casually uses his foot to push away from the table so when the ale spills over the side it doesn't go down legs. 

"They sure are rowdy tonight McClain." A soothing voice sounds behind him. The person leans on the back of Lance's chair and her blonde hair spills down Lance's shoulder. Nyma, an old bed mate. Lance tilts his head to the side to look her in the eyes. 

"That they are. Are you here for small talk or fun?" Lance asks. Nyma laughs and leans back, her corset creaking quietly. 

"I'm here for fun, but not with you." Nyma teases, running her nail from Lance's chin to his cheek. Lance raises an eyebrow inquiringly. 

"And who are you here for doll?" Lance asks. Nyma's eyes slide from Lance to across the table where his drunkest crew mates sway drunkenly to the pub song they're singing off key. Lance's eyes lock on Rolo, who doesn't look quite as drunk but laughs and sings anyways. 

"Who's your blonde friend with the stubble over there?" Nyma asks. Lance smirks. 

"Rolo. Want me to introduce you?" Lance asks but he knows the answer already. 

"Oh Lance. You know I only let them come to me." She purrs. Her hand slips from his face as she saunters away, past the line of drunks with Rolo on the end. Nyma flashes her winning smile and that's that. Rolo's smile slips as his eyes track her across the room, and then he's slipping away from the group. 

Lance laughs at him. He totally fell under her spell. Rolo better keep an eye on his coin pouch with that one. Lance holds out his hand again, and another pint finds its way into his palm. His crew are so good to him. 

Lance waits until the night dies down, then slips out of the tavern. Hunk, of course, follows at his heels. As First Mate, Hunk takes his job of protecting Lance seriously, sometimes too seriously. 

"So Hunk." Lance says, aiming to start a casual conversation while they walk back to his ship. "When are you gonna bite the bullet and ask her out?" 

Hunk plays coy like he doesn't know who Lance is talking about. 

"Ask who out?" Hunk says, still shuffling his steps to keep pace with Lance. He rolls his eyes skyward. 

"Shay you idiot. I know you like her, she likes you, you two are practically courting. So why not make it official?" Lance suggests, nudging him in the side. Hunk swats away his arm with a huff as they round a corner to head to the docks. 

"I want to take things slow okay? Besides, she deserves someone who isn't away all the time." Hunk says, a sorrowful note to his voice. Lance sighs. 

"You don't have to sail with me you know. I know you miss land when we're at sea." Lance says softly, gently. Hunk sighs and waves his hand at the ground. A few small rocks float into the air and he plays with them, spinning them around his fingers like Lance threads a coin through his when bored. 

"I wouldn't even be alive without you man. And I'm happy to sail. I love the ocean too." Hunk says. He still sounds sad. 

"Hunk you don't owe me anything. You're my best friend. I just want what's best for you. And besides. You can still sail when you crave the ocean, you know you will always be welcome on my ship." Lance offers. Hunk shakes his head at him. This is a constant conversation between the two of them lately. Ever since Hunk started liking Shay Lance has tried to push him to find the love that could bloom if only he tried. But Hunk is stubborn, and loyal, and refuses to leave Lance's side. 

"Maybe one day." Hunk says, and that's that. They reach the docks within minutes of the conversation ending, and Lance and Hunk climb onto his ship. They split up, Hunk going to his cabin to rest, while Lance heads to the war room. 

He lays out a map of the nearby kingdoms, and makes another mark in ink on the paper. Every x on the map are places Kogane has crossed paths with Lance, every circle are places he's been spotted. He frequents the border between Daibazal and Balmera, a border that is frequently tested by Daibazalee soldiers. 

Balmera has been a constant target of Daibazal. 

They are the main producers of a mineral called quintessence, the crystals that produce their own light. Emperor Zarkon relies heavily on these crystals but trade has been scarce between the two kingdoms ever since talk of war has begun. Altea are allies with both Olkarion and Balmera, though Olkarion has already declared themselves a neutral kingdom should war break out. 

It actually makes sense to be honest. 

Olkarion is a kingdom of scholars and healers. Their military might is weak, but attacking them would be fatal even for large countries such as Altea and Daibazal. The Olkari may be weak in military might, but their people are exceptionally powerful witches and warlocks. To attack them is to force them into drastic measures. 

Meaning their magic users would force natural disasters to occur unnaturally. 

It's rumored there is one witch, a healer, with such powerful Earth magic that she could cause earthquakes in Altea without even leaving her home. And since Altea is on a fault line, that could mean the destruction of mass proportions. Of course, there is no evidence that Lance knows of to make these rumors true.

Lance leans back in his chair, a hand raised to play with the water in the air. His magic is weak right now, due to the amount of magic saving his ship took, but he will be ready for battle again in a few days. He just needs to rest some more. For now however, even drawing water from the air is difficult. He soon stops using his magic when a wave of fatigue makes his limbs heavy. 

Lance ponders on what he would do should war break out. 

His agreement with the king is only so far as Lance going on missions outside of Altea borders that the King's men can't make without heavy negotiations between kingdoms. To get involved in the war is to pick a side. 

If he chooses Altea, which would be the most likely of choices for him, then his ventures even to Balmera territory would be dangerous. To pick Daibazal would be to betray Allura and he would never do such a thing. To be neutral like Olkarion is to sever ties with Altea altogether. At least until the war ends. 

None of these options are ideal.

Altea is his home country though, where he became a man, where his family lives. So if the choice had to be made he would choose Altea. Lance eyes the map of the countries with narrowed eyes. Altea and Daibazal are both situated on the mainland, a thick line of mountains separating the two countries. Those mountains are treacherous to cross, even for the people who do so regularly. 

Off the coasts of both countries are two large string of islands. 

The string off of Daibazal is Balmera, and the string off of Altea is Olkarion. Separating the two islands is what is known as Death Valley. Sailing down this straight is a death wish because of all the whirlpools. Getting caught in one of those is no fun, Lance would know personally. They barely made it out of that alive let alone intact. 

Across the sea is a lot of other countries, most of them at peace with each other. But the trip is so long and backbreaking that setting up trade is near impossible. Even communication between them and the four countries on this side of the map is difficult. 

The crystals Balmera is particularly endowed with, when infused with every magic known to exist, even Light and Dark magic, provides the ability to communicate between crystals. However, there aren't as many Light or Dark magic users around anymore, so those kinds of crystals are scarce to come by. They fetch a heavy price on the black market just to pay someone to get one, not even including the crystal itself. 

Lance sighs and rubs at his eyes. Figuring out a plan of capture that would fool the Dragon will be hard to come up with. He'll be stuck in this room for the next few days at the minimum. Hopefully while he's here Allura calls on him for something so he has no choice but to adhere to her summons. 

This'll be a long night.

******

(First)(Previous)(Next)(AO3)

[chilly-territory]

K ~ Four Seasons of K: Become a Star

July’s story features Anna, Kuroh and Neko, with a brief cameo by Kusanagi.

The original Japanese text is still kindly provided by blueseraphima

Become a Star by Raikaku Rei

Those who died become stars and watch over you from up above.

Someone tried to comfort Anna by telling her that when her parents died.

Anna was only 6 at the time, but she already knew that dead people couldn't turn into stars. Stars were stars, and they were there long before someone went and passed away, existing irrespective of people's life and death.

From when she was a very young child, Anna, gifted with an empathic superability, was way more knowledgeable about the world than your average kid had any right to be, and she had no innocence required to believe the pretty but empty words of comfort said to her.

*

"Let's go gaze at stars!" declared Neko with her big almond-shaped eyes sparkling when she dropped by bar HOMRA.

Anna tilted her head to the side a little. "Stars?"

"Kurosuke said you can see lots of stars from his village, and they're really pretty! So we decided to go there for Tanabata and stargaze! But Shiro is busy grading end-of-term tests or something, so he said for the two of us to go on our own, but it'll be so boring with just Kurosuke, so I came to invite you along with us, Anna! Eheh!" Neko threw out her chest with pride at her great idea.

Anna blinked a few times, then slowly shifted her gaze to Kusanagi behind the counter.

Kusanagi gave her a little wry smile, not stopping his hands polishing a glass. "Well, if Yatougami-kun is coming, then I don't imagine there will be any danger to you even at night, so if you want to go, Anna, you should."

Neko would drop by bar HOMRA every so often, whether her objective was Kusanagi's snacks (the pervy glasses' snacks were all glittery and the type she'd want to eat from time to time, as she put it, while Kurosuke's were the type she'd eat every day) or she just genuinely wanted to see Anna. Every time Neko came, Kusanagi, his face reading 'oh well, can't be helped', would smile and take snack requests. Even Yata, who at first never failed to look annoyed askance along the lines of 'why the hell is she here again!', got used to it and even started greeting her with simple interjections like 'Hey' or 'Sup'. He had trouble dealing with females, but it appeared that he had learned not to be overly conscious of Neko being a girl, treating her as something of an oft-visiting stray cat so long as she didn't start stripping in the bar or taking off her panties and forgetting them in the bathroom.

To Anna, Neko was a girl who, despite being technically slightly older, didn't really feel older. But Anna had no experience with being invited to hang out with other girls to draw on in the first place.

Anna, gazing into Neko’s pure, sparkling eyes with no sliver of agenda behind them, finally gave a small nod.

The prospect of going out at night was exciting.

Neko and Kuroh were supposed to come pick her up at dusk, so Anna had finished her preparations before then. For a change of pace, she braided her hair and put the thermos and the snacks she had Kusanagi make for the three of them into her bag.

"Anna! We came for you!" Neko entered the bar, boisterous as ever and sporting the same braided hairstyle as Anna, mysteriously enough. Perhaps she wanted to look different, too? Seeing Anna, she exclaimed, "Oh, we match!" and brandished her own pigtails, grinning widely. "Shiro braided my hair for me."

Anna, watching the happily grinning Neko, showed a smile of her own and complimented her look, "It looks good on you".

"Well then, as of now, I take Kushina Anna under my care and promise to keep her safe and sound." Kuroh, who quietly entered the bar behind Neko, walked up to the counter and bowed to Kasanagi from the waist with all seriousness. "Yes, yes, I'm counting on you. Call me if something happens," Kusanagi waved his hand lightly, and Anna exited the bar after Kuroh and Neko.

On the train on the way to their destination, they ate a bento that Kuroh made.

"The triangular onigiri are with plum filling, the round ones with salmon, and the rectangular ones are filled with grilled walleye pollack roe." "I want salmon~!"

Swaying in their box seats, they chewed on the onigiri that Kuroh made.

The triangular one that Anna chose had just enough firmness to deliciously crumble in her mouth, letting red pickled plum out and making Anna smile.

"I apologize for Neko suddenly coming and inviting you on such short notice," Kuroh smiled at Anna. "No," Anna shook her head. "I was happy that Neko invited me. The place we're going to is your old home, Kuroh?"

Kuroh smiled broader and nodded. His old home must be the place where Miwa Ichigen, the late Seventh King, lived.

"Stars you can see from that village make an amazing sight. Besides, I was thinking it was about time for me to visit Ichigen-sama's grave either way. After we stargaze tonight, we will stay at Ichigen-sama's house for the night, and tomorrow, after I have paid respect to his grave, I will go greet the villagers, while you two can play together for the time being." "Grave..."

Now that she thought about it, Anna hardly ever got to visit her parents' graves. Cold-hearted as it may look, Anna had no religious faith and, like with her educated conviction that dead people didn't turn into stars, didn't feel a need for graves. But the way Kuroh treasured Ichigen's grave and the village where he lived with the Seventh King so dearly looked very beautiful to her eyes.

*

In the village where Kuroh grew up, a modest celebration of Tanabata was being held, with big decorated bamboo and paper lanterns in sight.

The Miwa house was situated on the edge of the town, on the side of the mountain. Guided by Kuroh, Anna and Neko were making their way up on an unpaved hill road, holding hands.

Before long, a one-story house surrounded by a wooden fence came into view. The Miwa house, no doubt, but the group went past it, continuing on their way up. When the already sparsely lined up poles of street lights disappeared completely, Kuroh took out a flashlight.

Neko appeared to have good night vision, confidently walking in the dark, and Anna squeezed her hand harder. The temperature of Neko's hand was a little higher than Anna's.

When they reached a small clearing on the mountainside where you could hear the sound of running water, hinting at a waterfall possibly being nearby, Kuroh stopped.

"Here should be good." Producing a big picnic sheet out of his luggage, he spread it on the ground, "Lie down on it and look above you."

Anna settled down on the sheet face up next to Neko. "Wow..." "So many stars~!"

In the dark and with absence of light in vicinity, the starry sky up above made a picturesque view.

"This is my first time seeing the Milky Way..." Anna whispered quietly, gazing up at the sky.

Countless small stars cut across the night sky like a river of light. And on the two opposite shores of it, two stars shone especially bright. They were Vega and Altair. Gazing at the great expanse of the sky full of stars that was impossible to see in Tokyo, Anna let out a breathless sigh.

To Anna, only the red color was visible. Although she tried to avoid having a hangup about it, but when she thought that there probably was little difference between how this magnificent view of mixed darkness and pure light appeared to her and to Neko and Kuroh, she felt just a little bit happier.

Neko at first couldn't contain her joy, chattering away excitedly, but soon she quieted down. Suspecting that she might have fallen asleep, Anna peeked at the girl lying next to her, but surprisingly, Neko's big eyes were wide open, their gaze directed at the sky above.

"Dead people become stars. Someone told me that long ago. ...Although I don't remember who it was."

Anna's eyes widened in surprise when she heard Neko's quiet voice that she didn't know Neko was capable of. It apparently surprised Kuroh as well, as he rose up on his elbow.

Neko, looking much younger than Anna and as innocent as a newborn infant, cocked her head to the side, "I wonder if it's true?"

Anna was lost for words, just gazing at Neko's profile until a quiet click resounded, like some kind of switch turned on.

'Feelings lighting up your heart will become stars,' a deep voice recited what sounded like a haiku, coming from Kuroh's recorder - the recorder that contained records of Kuroh's mentor, Miwa Ichigen.

Kuroh smiled gently.

"If you ask me, if someone gazes at the stars in the sky, remembering a person who passed away, that's when the late person turns into a star," he said, tone serene. "I believe that Ichigen-sama can be found in the stars twinkling in the sky, and in this recorder, and in the wind that blows when I lose my way, and in the first rays of the morning sun I bask in... he's always there for me."

Anna knew that dead people didn't become stars. Stars were stars, and they were there long before someone went and passed away, existing irrespective of people's life and death. But like she believed that Mikoto's red and Tatara's memories were alive in her heart supporting her, maybe dead people could become stars when someone looked up thinking of them.

"Hmmm," Neko made a non-committal noise. She didn't appear to be feeling about the whole deal very strongly, the expression on her face really reminding that of a child.

Anna lightly clutched at the hand of the sprawling Neko next to her. Neko returned the gesture, clasping her hand in turn. The red-eyed girl felt a tender feeling spreading from their interlinked hands. She also sensed that to Neko, pretty things were just that, pretty. And that Neko was becoming slightly sleepy. Neko was honest and true to herself like that.

There was a time when Anna, through her empathic superability, felt Neko's past. Neko had a lot of sadness and loneliness inside, but also just as much joy, fun, and affection. Neko was a person who lost a lot. And so did her companions, Kuroh and Shiro. They had been through a lot of sadness and loneliness, and it's because they intimately knew those that they valued and loved things they had at the moment.

"Neko." "Meow?" "It's pretty." "Yup. But I'm getting sleepy." "Neko." "Mew-mew?" "Thank you for inviting me along."

Stars were stars. But they reflected the feelings of those who gazed at them.

Still clasping her friend's hand, Anna squinted as she took in the whole expanse of the starry sky above.

[nekumiko]

Invisible But Not Forgotten

Fandom: Kagerou Project

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Rated: K+

Words: 2, 074

Summary:  At least, at one point in our lives, we all want to be remembered on our birthday. Even that girl who once wished for the earth to be rid of her presence.

@kuredo164 also made a wonderful 24-page comic for this!

Once, she’d desperately wanted to disappear.

But every year, there would be at least one day when she would want to be remembered.

“Happy birthday, Tsubomi,” her sister would gently whisper upon her arrival on those times.

She would want some bit of attention on her birthdays. Maybe not from everyone, especially from her parents. She knew that would be too much to ask already. But at least just from the only person glad to have her around.

For some reason, though, her birthdays would always be a busy day for their family business, and since her sister’s old enough to take part in it, the paperwork the redhead would be given only allowed the older girl to visit her an hour or so after dinner, and sometimes even just as she’d started to drift off to sleep.

“Did you think I’ve forgotten already?” her sister would ask her.

And she would nod. That was something she’d always feared would happen.

“Don’t be silly. How could a special day like this slip from my mind?”

She would then smile back, but she knew she would doubt that again the next year.

That time, she’d been sitting by the window, gazing at the now-peaceful night sky repeatedly streaked with “exploding stars” the other night, when she heard the door crack open.

As per their tradition, the two had then sat on the floor to share cookies and sweets and, for the first time, cake. For the past four years that they’ve celebrated her birthday, her sister had been prevented from baking one, either because she would finish late at work, or there’d be a risk of their parents catching on to their secret feast.

Nevertheless, she had never complained. Just her sister remembering, with or without these birthday treats, already made her so happy.

“You’re turning seven next year, Tsubomi,” her sister had said as she watched the little girl taste the chocolate frosting. “Let’s hold a birthday party for you, with all the balloons and games and music. And all the children in our neighborhood would be invited. Would you like that?”

Her eyes had shone with excitement, but just so soon did she hesitate. “Would that be okay though… with them?”

Her sister had looked away and pursed her lips. “Well, it’s worth a shot. But I promise to do my best.”

She had nodded, before adding, “A party would be nice, but it’s okay if it won’t happen, though, Oneesan. I’d understand.”

“Tsubomi…”

“What’s important is that you remember. That’d be enough.”

Her sister had given her a sad smile, and then ruffled her hair. “I told you again and again before: I’d never forget.”

There was no birthday party the following year, just as she expected, but not because her parents didn’t allow it. Her sister didn’t even get the chance to ask them in the first place.

No one knew about her birthday anymore, except of course for those in charge of the paperwork in the orphanage. But it’s not as if they would care to celebrate an invisible girl.

Since that fire, she’d been unconsciously, literally disappearing from sight for long periods of time.

And she’d always believed that absence would eventually lead to oblivion.

While she did meet Shuuya and Kousuke, she didn’t want to impose on them, to make them feel obligated to do something for her birthday.

The New Year’s celebration would do, she told herself. It’s close anyway, and festive enough.

She was so firm in her resolve that it surprised her when, on the morning of her seventh birthday as she sat by the swings, two small hands held out three-and four-flowered bouquets in front of her face.

“Happy Birthday,” they greeted her, one quite timidly and the other too cheerfully.

It took her a few moments to recover from the shock. “H-how,” she finally took the flowers, “how did you know?”

“Well, we have our ways~” Shuuya winked, then glanced to the side, to Kousuke.

Kousuke’s eyes widened as he stuttered under her stare. “I-I di-didn’t meant to! Y-you just thought so much about January second and birthday memories and—“

“It’s alright, Kousuke.” She smiled. “In fact, I’m happy you read all that. Thanks, you two.”

Kousuke visibly sighed in relief, making Shuuya chuckle. He patted the smaller boy’s shoulder. “I told you it’d be okay with her.”

As she watched them, she thought maybe birthdays without her sister wouldn’t be so bad, if only she’d get to stay with these two.

The blonde caught her bittersweet smile, and returned it with an excited grin of his own. “So, what shall we do today, Tsubomi?”

And she’s sure he’s currently wearing that exact same smile, and would most probably ask the exact same thing once he succeeded in shaking her awake.

“Kido… Kidoooo~” She started to hear him as she got slowly pulled into consciousness.

He’s been at it for a while now, and it’s getting irritating already, that she finally reached out to shove him off her. Hearing a thud, she turned to the other side of the bed, secretly laughing at her poor brother who fell off the bed.

It didn’t take long, though, before she heard footsteps and felt a weight flop down beside her. He seemed to stretch a bit right in front of her, before drawing close to her face.

“Get up, Tsubomi,” he whispered.

Her eyes had been squeezed shut all this time, and she planned to stay that way until he gives up. Which didn’t look like would happen anytime soon, so she finally opened them with a frustrated sigh.

For a moment, there was silence as their eyes met. She swore she’d seen his cheeks turn a slight pink, but it completely vanished as his eyes changed into a bright red color. As red as she felt her face started to get when he whispered with a grin, “Happy Birthday~”

Instinctively, she pushed his face away and buried her own against her pillow with a grunt.

He laughed. “Aren’t you happy my face was the first thing you saw today?”

“I’m not seeing your face; I’m seeing your mask,” she replied, peeking up at him as he sat up.

He only grinned down at her. “You slept in today of all days.” He nodded towards the sunlight peering in through the blinds.

She sat up as well, turning to look at the digital clock on her bedside table. It’s almost noon. Right then, she hurriedly ushered him out so she could fix herself before facing the rest of the Dan.

Who have all gone to attend to their different agendas for today already, apparently.

Oh. Well, at least there’s someone who remembered…

“Kido,” the blonde deceiver waiting outside her door started to whine, “don’t you want to eat lunch? I’ve been starving for a while now since you won’t wake up.”

“So, basically, you woke me up so I could cook you some lunch.”

He chuckled. “That was the original plan. But that failed an hour ago, so I decided to do it myself.” He winked. “Be proud.”

She rolled her eyes and started out the hallway into the dining room.

“But seriously, it was getting really lonely, and I was starting to worry too that you might have died in your sleep already.” He fake-shuddered as he walked beside her.

“Yeah, whatever.” She reached the dining table and sat down. And stared. “Wow, so you’re able to cook something like this, huh? But don’t you think it’s a bit too much?”

He sat down across from her. “Nah, that’s just enough for a busy day.”

So it’s still the usual, then.

Since the Tateyamas took the trio in, Shuuya and Kousuke, along with their new sister Ayano, had always insisted to celebrate her birthday. It was a nice change from the secret little celebrations she used to have with her sister. Plus, they did something new every year, which made it fun and worth looking forward to, though she never admitted that outwardly.

Absence leads to oblivion, she’d used to believe, but Ayano changed that mindset.

“You can never really forget someone special to you, even if you couldn’t see each other as often as you want to,” her hero used to say. “We always look for you whenever you disappear, don’t we? So how do you expect us to forget something as important to you as your birthday?”

For the past two years since that day, though, celebrations had tuned down to something simpler. She would bake a cake (for Marry can’t be trusted in the kitchen), Seto would buy them dinner, Marry would give her flowers as a gift, and Kano would drag her to places all day and for once, gladly do his chores.

She told herself she’s content with that, but now that more people were added to the gang, and considering the liveliness of some of the new recruits, she kind of expected something more, something different, something fun again.

But if she’s not getting any of that this year, then it’s fine. Someone important to her had remembered at least. Isn’t that what she’d always wished for ever since, anyway?

“Did you have fun today?” Kano broke the silence they settled in as they took a shortcut to the base, after a long day of walking around town.

She glanced at him, a bit glad to be snapped out of her thoughts. “Why, of course.”

“You’re not as good as me, Kido.” He tilted his head to the side and smiled.

“Then why bother asking?” She looked away and sighed. “I’m sorry. I must have been obvious.”

He nodded without hesitation. “But I kind of expected that. I’ve dragged it on for too long. Or maybe because they took much more time than planned?”

“Huh?”

He grinned. “You’ll see. Come on, let’s hurry.” He then grabbed her arm and all but dragged her through the short distance left towards their apartment.

They reached the front door almost out of breath. But before she turned the doorknob, he spoke up.

“Hey, Tsubomi?”

“Huh?” she answered, quite startled at the sudden seriousness in his tone.

“A leader’s special to her whole gang. And no one ever forgets people who are special to them, don’t they?”

She blinked. “Kano?”

He didn’t answer anymore, and instead put his own hand over hers on the doorknob, opening it with her.

“Already?” She heard someone, probably Momo, squeak in the dark apartment, as well as panicked whispers and hushed instructions to light it up.

The door was closed right then, and at the center of the base, one-by-one the little candles on a rectangular cake illuminated most of the place and revealed the remaining seven members huddled together around it.

At Ene’s signal, everyone started to sing, really sing, the birthday song.

They greeted her “Happy Birthday” in chorus as they finished, but it turned out unsynchronized, as each member apparently called their leader differently. They playfully glared at each other at the simple mistake, but for her, it’s what made it unique and sincere, what made the gang them.

Soon, hot tears started streaming uncontrollably down her face.

“Eh? Kido, you’re not supposed to cry!” Kano, who’s been beside her the whole time, wiped them away.

“I should’ve known you’re up to something.”

He laughed. “You were too busy being depressed.”

She straightened up and nodded towards the rest of the Dan. “Your idea?”

“Yup~”

“Hey, don’t take all the credit now!” Ene pouted from her master’s phone.

“Well, anyway,” she chuckled, “t-thank you.” She gave a slight bow.

“There’s no need to be formal now, Danchou-san.” Momo, who was holding the cake, stepped closer.

“Kido, blow the candles!” Marry excitedly jumped up and down, to which Seto smiled.

“Go on, Kido,” he prompted too.

“Yeah,” Hibiya piped up, “before—“

“Hey, you’re supposed to wait first, Konoha!” Shintaro shouted from the back.

She could only shake her head and smile, before finally blowing the candles and steering Konoha away from the dining table full of food once the lights went on.

Yes, this little band of misfits, brought together by something they originally considered a curse, must have grown on her enough to hurt her when she thought they forgot about her special day.

No one ever did right from the start, she finally realized.

And for that, she was grateful.

[tricksters-captain]

Young!FP Jones/Riverdale imagines - Small Town Part 1

A/N: Look, I know it’s cliché but I feel this story could be really great. I hope you guys stick around for this because I’ve got a good plan for this and I hope you like it as much as you liked ‘Oh Dear’. I rewatched the whole first season to see what I could pick up about the parent’s past and I’m trying my best to include what I can but most of this will be my own creation. 

Overall Summary: Being the new girl is hard when all the attention seems to be drawing back to you even when you’re determined to stay under the radar. 

Pairing: FP Jones x reader, Alice x FP, Alice x Hal, Fred x Hermione, Fred x Mary, Hermione x Hiram, basically a lot goes on in this fic

Word count: 2,607

Warnings: Some strong language

“Honestly, Mom, you are the only woman I know who didn’t improve her situation by getting a divorce.” You shared a sideways look with your mother as you carried in the last of the boxes to your new house. 

“Stop being so dramatic, (Y/n). The town is lovely, I grew up here, everyone here is nice, it’s got a decent school. You’ll love it.” Your mom rolled her eyes at you, dusting herself down as she brought in the last box. 

“It may be lovely, Mother but it’s not Chicago or Los Angeles. Somewhere exciting. If you had just fought Dad a little harder we could have gotten enough money to live like celebrities.” You fell back onto the couch, heaving out a sigh. 

“Yes but it would have gone on forever and I didn’t want that. Fighting with your father would have been like punching through a brick wall, long and painful even if in the end you get through. I wanted this over and done with so I could move on with my life.” Your mother told you, tossing you a rag so you could start wiping down windows and tables so rid of any dust. “And in the end, I won you, didn’t I?” Your mom cupped your cheeks and you shrugged her off. 

“Only because dear ol’ Dad actually didn’t want me.” You swung your arms as you turned dramatically away from your mother. 

“That’s not true, he’s just a busy man and––” 

“––An asshole, Mom. He’s an asshole. You can say it, you don’t have to protect me, I’m not a kid anymore.” You leant on the dining room chairs, raising your eyebrows at your mom. 

“You’re still my kid.” She stuck her tongue out at you and you just rolled your eyes. 

“Oh, and head over to Pop’s, I called ahead to see if I get you a job there. You know, some weekends, some days after school.” Your Mom called after you as you started to ascend the stairs. 

“Pop’s?” You asked,

“A small diner!” Your Mom answered, you slumped against the stairs banister and groaned. 

“So, a waitress job?” You called back. 

“Exactly, now get cleaned up and head over there. It’s a few blocks across.” 

“Can I take the car?” You asked. There was a small pause as your mother thought before she gave in. 

“Fine.” 

“Yes!” You whispered to yourself before hurdling up the stairs to get changed. 

You pulled in at the diner’s parking lot to see a gaggle of teenagers all sat around a car a few spaces down. 

You tried to ignore all the eyes you felt on you as you exited your car and made your way to front door. 

You pushed open the door and pursed your lips into a thin line. There was a faint sound of Sammy Hager playing from the jukebox but the place in general was pretty quiet, but then again, it was a Monday evening. 

You set yourself down at the counter and waited for anyone who seemed to work here approach you. 

“You must be (Y/n).” A young man approached you with a toothy grin, holding his hand out. 

“I am.” You smiled politely. 

“I’m Pop. My daddy used to run this joint but now I do. Your mom called ahead, said you be looking for a job?” Pop introduced himself to you, 

“Nice to meet you. And, that’s right.” You nodded, 

“Okay, well, lucky for you, I do have a waitress opening if you be willing.” Pop offered, 

“I would be willing definitely. Um, what days would I work?” You asked, tucking your hair behind your ears, leaning forward eagerly. 

“Starting tomorrow after you finish school because Kimberley is off due to her engagement party. I tend to leave the night shifts to my employees that aren't still in school but you will have to do some weekends and basically fill in for any shift that isn't taken.” Pop explained, beckoning you behind the counter to the kitchen. 

“Sapphire, here, will help you with anything you need and Henry will help if Sapphire isn't here.” Pop introduced you to a middle aged woman and a younger man. 

“Try not to give out freebees to your friends because in the end it’ll be taken out of your pay check. You get paid every Friday and a little extra if you ever take a shift on for someone else. Now, you do have to wear a uniform but lucky for you, it’s pretty comfortable.” Pop took you into a back room where he got you a uniform. “Hair up at all times because no one wants hairy food.” 

“Sure thing. Thank you so much.” You beamed a smile as you took the uniform from him. 

“Don’t thank me, thank your Momma.” Pop held his finger out to you, cocking his eyebrow with a smile. 

“I will.” You went to leave through the kitchen but Pop stopped you. 

“And (Y/n), always use the back exit if you’re working.” Pop guided you to the door and you blushed a deep red. 

“Of course, see you tomorrow.” You waved goodbye before rounding the side to your car and driving back home, this time able to ignore the rowdy teenagers. 

“(Y/n), do you really want to be late on your first day? Let’s go!” Your mother called up the stairs as you were finishing getting ready. 

“I’m coming!” You yelled back. 

You sighed, staring at your appearance in your full body mirror. 

Riverdale High. A different town, another fucking high school. How perfect.

You picked up your walkman and headphones and then rushed downstairs, snatching an apple from the kitchen before making your way to the bus stop.

It was days like this when you wish you had asked your dad to keep your car but no, of course, he took it from you. At the very least, you managed to steal away his walkman and that would do if you didn’t get your car. 

You kept to yourself on the bus and you managed to keep your head down all the way to the office where you would get your locker and schedule. 

“There you are, Miss (Y/L/N).” The short lady who sat at the front desk handed over you a couple pieces of paper and you made your way to your locker. 

New school, don’t make a fool of yourself. 

You managed to do pretty well for the first half of the day but by lunch, you had managed to lose your winning streak of not being an idiot. 

You had slipped and dropped your lunch, the loud clattering of you dropping your tray drew everyone’s eyes to you and you just had to laugh it off before taking what you could salvage out onto the stands by the football field. At least, there you could sit by yourself and it wouldn’t be odd. 

By your final period, someone actually acknowledged your existence. Well, everyone all day had noticed you were new but were too busy whispering about you to actually introduced themselves. 

“You’re new!” A beautiful girl with thick dark hair and full lips sat back-to-front on her seat in front of your desk, with a smile. 

“Good observation.” You nodded your head, looking up from your notebook.

“So, where you from? What’s your name? Why’d you move here?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows, intrigued to hear your life story. 

You chuckled and ran a hand through your hair as you sat back. 

“(Y/F/N), moved here from Virginia because my parents split, my so-called-father took off to New York and my mom is from here so decided to move back to her old town for a fresh start. You?” You explained, 

“I’m Alice, lived here all my miserable life but on the Southside.” She introduced herself, holding out her hand lazily to which you shook with another small chuckle. 

Alice went to talk again when you noticed a few eyes had drifted to you both from the front of the class. Alice looked back to where you were looking and scoffed, flicking her thick hair over to one side. 

“You’re typical high school psycho’s, Penelope is the red head, Hermione is the latino and the other girls are the troops they carry around with them. The cute red head boy is Penelope’s, his name is Clifford so don't bother with that.” Alice informed you, you laughed again and shook your head. 

“Don’t worry about that, I just want to keep my head down and finish my last two years of high school. Boys and bitchy girls aren't exactly on my agenda.” You admitted. Alice grinned at that. 

“Tough shit, sweet cheeks. It’s a small town, you can't escape it and you being new definitely can't escape it.” Alice laughed before the teacher gathered everyone’s attention. 

After school, you went home and changed for work. This was the time of day where you really couldn’t escape people and since the diner was the only decent hang out spot besides the drive in, you didn’t realise there would be so many there. 

“Ya take the orders, you bring ‘em to the window, you wait for the bell, you take the food to the customer. They pay at the end, you take the money to the cash register and you put the tips in the jar under register, each jar has a name and you put the money in your jar. Got it?” Sapphire explained, not stopping for breath as she handed you a notebook and pen, you slid the pen on top of your ear and nodded your head. 

“Good. Here’s ya first customer.” She urged you forward to where a very attractive young boy had sat at the counter. 

“Hey, can I help?” You asked, taking the pen from your hair. 

“Yes, you can.” The boy smirked. “You're the new girl, right?” 

(Part 2)

All fp writings tag: 

@itsfangirlmendes @always-blame-jefferson @jugheads-lawyer @marveling5sos @bugheadedarchie @rhyxn @the-raegan-whittemore @ffremontt

Small town tag list 

@thealipower @angelicaleonamichelle @vinttage-misery

[kaepop-trash]

Death of The Cat  Ch-2

Rated: Angst

Pairing: JaehyunxReader

Summary: Jaehyun was pretty set in his ways, living up to his frat boy stereotypes with pride and a lot of pleasure. But his fatal flaw came in the form of two things; a girl and curiosity.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

She walked into the house after a long class of a subject she didn’t enjoy. She had a short lunch break and an agenda in mind. She noticed Johnny sitting with two kids she didn’t recognise. Johnny turned around and smiled at her.

“Come here.” He said. She had other things in mind but didn’t want to say no so she went to him with a smile.

“These are the new kids, I thought I’d introduce you.” He pointed at two boys who sat awkwardly.

“You need to know who she is because she’s a very insistent house guest.” Johnny spoke and laughed when she hit his arm with her bag.

“This is Mark and Haechan.” He pointed at the boys who waved at her shyly, “They’ll live here now so you’ll see them while you sneak out.” She hit him again. Sitting on the arm of the sofa he sat in.

She stood by as he explained the dynamics of the house and shower schedules. She offered helpful input on what classes to take. After a while Johnny sat back with an epiphany, turning to her.

“He’s in his room sorry, I got carried away.” He laughed.

“How kind of you to remember.” A voice from behind made everyone turn their attention to Jaehyun at the edge of the stairs, walking towards them.

“Didn’t you have classes today?” She asked, pointing to his sweats.

“I have only morning classes today.” She nodded, remembering his schedule. He came and stood behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder almost instinctively.

“Do you want to come upstairs?” He asked naturally, drawing circles at the back of her neck with his thumb.

“Can’t. I have another class in ten minutes. Johnny here hogged up my entire lunch.” She stood up and he stood in front of her, nodding like he empathised. She looked up at him and suddenly combed her fingers through his hair, he was somewhat surprised by the gesture, his eyes fluttering shut unconsciously.

“I don’t think I can get used to you Blonde.” She said seriously, Jaehyun’s eyes shot open, letting out an incredulous sigh. Johnny held back a chuckle in the back.

“You’re just going to have to try harder.” He tugged her hand out and she giggled at his annoyed expression.

After she left and Jaehyun went back to his room, Mark hesitantly opened his mouth.

“Jaehyun’s girlfriend is nice.” He just wanted to make conversation.

“Oh they aren’t dating.” Johnny dismissed his words.

“Oh, they just looked like it.” Mark retracted, embarrassed.

“Yeah, they do it sometimes.” Johnny said casually again and Mark blushed at the personal information.

“So are they like friends with benefits or something?” Haechan asked, a little curious about the state of affairs at his new house.

“Well they aren’t exactly friends.” He looked back at the staircase, his voice showed that he was deep in thought.

“That’s kind of weird.” He wondered loudly and Mark tried to shush Haechan’s curiosity.

“Yeah, it is. I guess I never really thought about it.” His voice still sounded far away. He snapped out of it thereafter, getting up.

“You’ll get used to it really. She’s this house's unofficial resident. Even if she never stays over.” He explained before walking off to get ready for another class.

Jaehyun walked into the kitchen one morning to make some coffee. Haechan was sitting there with Doyoung eating cereal.

“Will you help me with my chemistry assignment?” Haechan asked Jaehyun, confusing him.

“I’m a Business Major.” His spoke like the flaw in his request was obvious.

“Yeah, but don’t you like remember something? It’s just a basic class anyway.” He explained to him.

“Why would I work so hard? Just ask someone else.” He spoke dismissively.

“You’re a terrible dad.” He mumbled. Jaehyun’s eyes blew out in shock and Doyoung choked on his cereal.

“I’m sorry what?” Jaehyun asked, unsure of what he was insinuating. Haechan looked at him confused, like he wasn’t the one who said something so absurd. He mumbled her name which didn’t seem to explain anything. He sighed.

“Doyoung said she’s like our mom when she left Mark and I this pasta she made and we liked a lot. I just assumed since she’s the mom, you’re the dad.” Doyoung’s milk dribbled down from his mouth.

“Yah! Don’t pull me into this. I just want to eat my cereal and go for class.” He shoved food into his mouth quicker wanting to get out of this uncomfortable situation he was thrust into by the outspoken new kid.

“She and I aren’t connected. If anything Taeyong is your dad, isn’t he the one taking care of all of us?” His words were clipped.

“I just meant that-” He started, trying to explain.

“Like I said. She and I aren’t tied together like that. I hope you understand.” He finally finished brewing his cup of coffee and went away.

“It’s very late just stay.” Jaehyun sat up on his bed one night watching her put on her clothes clumsily, “You’re very tired.” He sighed.

“I’m fine.” Was all she said. He got out of bed, combing his hand through his hair in obvious frustration. He grabbed the back of her shoulders and turned her around, halting her motions.

“It’s past midnight. You’re so tired you put both your legs into on side of your tights.” She looked down when he spoke, embarrassed that he was right, “We have the same morning class tomorrow, just stay. I never stop you but you’ll end up running into a pole, that’s if you’re lucky.” She laughed at his words. Slipping her arms around his waist and embracing him. Jaehyun didn’t expect this, neither did he expect the heat creeping into his cheeks.

“Thanks.” She whispered and he realised she was too tired to move when her weight slumped onto him. He laughed and smoothed her hair and maneuvered both their bodies to the bed.

 After a while he had come to realise that she was rather affectionate when she was tired and sleepy. Unwittingly, he found himself looking for excuses to make her stay the night a lot more. One morning he woke up to find her moving around in his room in the t-shirt he was wearing the day before. He didn’t make a sound and just closed his eyes back with a smile, deciding he really liked the idea of her in his clothes.

When he walked downstairs in the morning in a new shirt she was in the kitchen with everyone who was awake sitting there.

“Taeyong looks like he’s about to cry.” His voice made everyone focus their attention on him.

“She’s using my expensive bread for breakfast.” He looked wronged and Johnny put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

“Who spends that much money on bread?” Ten asked scratching his head.

“It’s artisan.” He cried.

“You’re making breakfast?” His eyes were shining.

“It’s a little sad to see all of you have cereal everyday.” She said seriously.

Haechan walked in looking like he hadn’t slept all night, walking up to the cupboard to pull out his cereal box.

“There’s warm breakfast.” Yuta turned to him looking concerned at his state.

“I don’t have time, I have to finish a chemistry assignment.” He looked on the verge of a mental breakdown.

“Sit down and have some breakfast.” Jaehyun spoke to him, “I’ll help you finish your assignment after that.” He promised and Haechan’s face lit up.

“Really? Oh thank you so much.” He looked genuinely relieved as he sat down happily.

“You’re a business major.” She turned to him confused as he walked up behind the counter and picked up a nibble of food, shrugging as he put it in his mouth. 

Jaehyun walked into the living room one evening to find her sitting on the sofa with Taeyong leaning on her shoulder, pouting.

“Is there something the both of you want to tell me?” He looked thoroughly amused when she looked up confused.

“He’s been like that ever since I arrived. I assume he wants to complain about something, I didn’t care enough to ask.” Her flippant response made Jaehyun laugh. Taeyong sat up, his pout more prominent than before. Jaehyun excused himself to get himself a bottle of water.

“I just wanted to tell you that some girl came hitting on your Jaehyun today.” He crossed his arms on his chest. She didn’t even look up from her phone.

“He’s not my Jaehyun.” There was a sense of hesitation before she turned to Taeyong, “What did he do?” She looked awkward and Taeyong sat back, uncrossing his arms, not expecting her reaction. Jaehyun walked back into the room and Taeyong got up.

“Since you don’t care I won’t tell you.” He stuck out his tongue and went away.

“What was he talking about?” Jaehyun asked as he sat down beside her, placing his hand on her knee and drawing circles.

“I have no idea.” She laughed.

 She was sitting in a café with the honourable intention of finishing an assignment an hour before class started. Half an hour later she was still blank on the matter at hand, reaching a point of hair pulling frustration, her mind went back to Taeyong’s words. She sighed and sat back, she was curious to the point of screaming, what did Jaehyun say? She knew who he was and where his reputation stood. She wasn’t stupid enough to get jealous, but she was not beyond being possessive.

No sooner had she written a sentence than an entire glass of iced coffee came crashing onto her table. She looked up in stunned disbelief to see a boy she vaguely recognized mirroring her look of shock coupled with panic.

“Are you okay?” He snapped out of it quickly, apologising profusely while trying to clean her soaked hair with a meager tissue.

“What is wrong with you?” She snapped at him, the sudden situation coupled with the stress of a looming assignment and untrodden matters of the heart making her more angry than he deserved for an accident. He looked up with panicked eyes at her fury, fumbling even more.

“I’m so sorry. I tripped on your bag.” He tried to better the situation.

“So are you saying this is my fault?” She was still gasping because of the ice cold drink that dripped down her neck. His eyes grew wider and he shook his head more urgently.

“No! No It’s my fault I am so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” He clarified quickly.

“Stop it, you aren’t getting anything out with that soaking tissue.” She snapped again, looking down at the table with misery.

“Hey, at least it wasn’t hot coffee.” He tried to joke with a ridiculous laugh that caused her to look back up at him with anger fueled disbelief. He stood back up looking anywhere but at her face.

“You ruined my notebook.” She glared at him before looking at her notebook with distress.

“I’m sorry, I wish I could do something.” He sounded genuinely sorry but she was too preoccupied with her grievances. She looked up at him than at an object he was holding close to his chest protectively.

“Give me your notebook.” She pointed at the object, he held it closer to his chest.

“I-I can’t.” He hesitated.

“You want to make it up to me right? I need to take a notebook to class. This is the only class I have today so I don’t have another.” He looked distressed at the choice.

“Okay, Here.” He smiled sadly handing it to her and walking away before she could even thank him.

She realised after a few minutes of sitting back that she didn’t even ask his name, shooting up in her seat. She opened the notebook, her eyes filling with realisation when she read a name in the corner.

“Mingyu.” She whispered.