#drew a whole sheet in under an hour in a blind rush

[nnnnnnnothingtoseehere]

Matz

[unbridgeabledistances]

omg hey I was wondering if you could write something about gallavich being walked in on by someone but they’re like cuddling or doing something really soft and intimate? Can be set any season <3

anon i LOVE this prompt <3 i decided to merge it with another prompt that i just got:

Ian waking up before Mickey, and watching him sleep, and Mickey teasing him when he realizes what Ian is doing.

also, i’m using this as an excuse to once again write the bath scene that we all want but never received (inspired by the intro to 11x05😔), and this takes place just before season 11- i hope u enjoy!!<3

--

It was an early, silent Saturday morning—which was incredibly rare for the Gallagher house, but Ian wasn’t going to complain. The sunlight streamed down in ribbons through the broken blinds, casting a slanted glow onto the bed where he and Mickey were laying. Ian had woken up before Mickey, like he pretty much always did, but today he didn’t get up and put the coffee on or pull on a hat to go on his brisk morning jog like he usually would; today, he curled even deeper under the warm cocoon of his blankets that were staving off the winter chill and wriggled closer to Mickey, leaning into the heat that was radiating off of his body.

Someone had definitely paid the heating bill—thank fucking god—but it was still the dead of winter in Chicago, and the rickety walls of the Gallagher house weren’t known the be the most heat retentive, which meant that most mornings everyone sleeping on the second floor woke up to a drafty chill that sunk into the floorboards until someone decided to crank up the heat when they woke in the morning. But this morning, Ian couldn’t hear the familiar crackling of the radiator in the hall, or anyone bustling in the kitchen like usual- Lip and Tami had some doctor’s appointment for Fred, Debbie had a handywoman job and had left early, Carl was staying over some girl’s house and Liam had slept over at a friend’s. He and Mickey had taken advantage of having a mostly-empty house last night; last night was all skin and sweat and scathing touches, the heat of Mickey’s skin pressing against his. And now there was this- the frigid, fragile silence of the next morning, with Mickey laying there asleep next to Ian, with his mouth half open and an innocence in his sleeping face that was so bare and genuine that it almost hurt to look at.

They’d been so caught up in the flurry of shit going on for the both of them- the pandemic, Ian’s new job, just trying to make ends meet and keep the house running- that Ian realized he hadn’t really sat and looked, actually looked, at Mickey’s face for such a long time. He’d seen Mickey’s face plenty considering they were trapped around each other 24/7, sure, but it was the same catch-22 as when they’d shared a prison cell; being around each other all the time kept them from wanting, kept them from missing, kept them from realizing what was right in front of them. He and Mickey were constantly bumping elbows and getting in each other’s space and pressing against each other to blow off steam, but they hadn’t really sat in silence since this whole thing started- it was pretty impossible to, in the Gallagher house. Ian suddenly realized he couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d woken up curled around Mickey- usually these days they spread onto their separate sides of the bed, slept on their own separate islands across the mattress. Ian wasn’t really sure when that had started- he remembered that night on the docks, years ago when Mickey had busted out of prison, and how the entire night as they’d slept in the van he had clung to Mickey like the shirt on his skin, like he wanted to soak him up and absorb him into the soft place in his chest that had always been reserved for Mickey, that everyone else just fit into wrong. But at some point after the wedding, between the lockdown and the bills piling up and Lip moving out, they’d just… drifted.

And now, staring at Mickey in the glow of the morning light, all Ian wanted was that innocent closeness again, that swirl of warmth in the pit of his stomach that made him feel completely and totally safe. He inched even closer to Mickey under the covers, draping a heavy arm over Mickey’s waist. He nuzzled his chilly nose to the base of Mickey’s neck, breathing in the scent of Mickey’s warm skin, all cheap shampoo and earthy cigarette smoke. Ian felt a raw ache unfurling in his chest at Mickey’s solid, comforting presence beside him- Mickey had been here all along, but Ian had missed this.

Suddenly, Mickey shifted and rustled the sheets, and Ian lifted his face from the crook of his neck, keeping his arm resting across Mickey’s torso. Mickey let out the gentlest of exhales as he woke, and Ian’s heart ached. Mickey rubbed the heel of his palm to his eyes, disoriented and probably more than a little confused about how close Ian was leaning to him as he watched Mickey intently with wide eyes.

“The fuck are you looking at?” Mickey asked, his voice gravelly and sleep-soft.

Ian gave him a lopsided smile. “Nothing. Just admiring my husband.”

Mickey’s eyes finally fully opened, wide enough for him to roll them as he pushed Ian away, pressing a solid hand to the center of his chest.

“You’re fucking soft, Gallagher.”

Ian just kept smiling a dopey smile, then reached with double the force in to encircle Mickey with his arms, feeling Mickey stiffen and squirm underneath him at first, and then unconsciously exhale into the bear hug of an embrace. There.

“Yeah, but you love me.”

That was the thing about Mickey; sometimes (hell, most of the time) he rejected intimacy like a cat that didn’t want to be pet, like someone that wasn’t used to soft touches or slow advances and only knew hard and fast and now. It had been an uphill battle to get here, so many years of being apart and together and then apart again, but now they were at the point where whenever Ian made advances to caress Mickey, Mickey would roll his eyes and feign resistance just before preening and melting into Ian’s touch.

Ian listened to Mickey’s steady breaths, and felt the vibration of his heartbeat against his chest. Mickey’s eyes were closed again, his lips pressed in a slight, contented smile as he soaked up Ian’s touch. Ian hummed in satisfaction, then pressed his face against the side of Mickey’s neck, breathing him in. The clouds of sleep hadn’t yet cleared, and for a timeless moment Ian let himself inhale the sweet skin at the crook of Mickey’s collarbone as the morning light pooled on their skin.

After a few minutes Ian softly cleared his throat, which was dry and slightly scratchy from the chill of the room. “What d’you wanna do today?”

Mickey rotated onto his side so he was facing Ian, his eyes still half-closed and his expression soft and dreamlike.

“A whole lot of nothing, Gallagher,” Mickey murmured sleepily.

Mickey’s face was millimeters from Ian’s, and Ian tasted his words more than he heard them. And then Ian couldn’t really do anything except slyly smile and bridge the gap between them, pressing a series of chaste kisses between their chapped lips. Mickey quickly escalated the embrace, pressing his mouth hotly against Ian’s and bringing his blazing palms up to the side of Ian’s neck to pull him closer, pressing his hips against the side of Ian’s torso and making Ian feel a rush of heat that zipped all the way down to his toes. And he would have kept kissing Mickey, if it wasn’t for the blitz of heat that drew such a stark contrast to just how cold the bedroom still was, the sharp chill still numbing Ian’s nose and ears and cheeks. Ian pulled away, leaving inches between his face and the face of an eager Mickey that was still clinging to the back of Ian’s neck.

“It’s fucking freezing. No one turned the heat on this morning.”

“So? Who cares? Bet I can warm you up, hot stuff.”

Ian rolled his eyes in what was supposed to be annoyance, but he knew the gesture ended up looking overly fond. “Mick, the blankets barely cover the bottom half of my legs. It’s not my fault you’re a four-foot-tall blanket hog.”

Mickey shoved Ian away again, then playfully rolled onto his chest. “First of all, fuck you. And second of all, it’s not my fault that I’m married to the fucking Jolly Green Giant. Use your new job money to invest in a bigger blanket and quit your whining, bitch.”

Ian grinned, then gently rolled Mickey off of his chest. “Seriously, Mick, give me two seconds, I just wanna turn up the heater and take a warm shower or some shit.”

Mickey sighed defeatedly but accepted the loss, curling himself up in the blankets as Ian rose from the bed. “Whatever. I’m going back to bed.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Of course you are.”

Ian slowly stretched, then grabbed a discarded towel that was crumpled in the corner beside the dresser. He slid open the flimsy bedroom door and adjusted the thermostat on the wall in the hallway, cranking the heat so at least Mickey could peacefully sleep for another few hours without freezing to death. Then he ambled into the bathroom and turned the shower faucet as high as it could go, the scalding spray immediately raining down.

Ian reached over to the bathroom shelf to grab his shampoo bottle, and his eye landed on the small pink bottle of Franny’s bubble bath. Suddenly, he had the perfect idea. He shut off the shower and immediately turned the tap for the bathtub on, starting to let the base of the tub pool with steaming water.

He turned back down the hallway and peeked his head around the corner into the bedroom. Mickey was probably not asleep again yet, but he was convincingly curled in a cocoon of blankets in the middle of the bed, his face pressed into the pillow and the duvet wrapped half around his head.

“Hey. Mick. You wanna take a bath?” Ian half-whispered.

Mickey groggily poked his head up from under the covers, his hair sticking up in all directions. “A fucking bath?” he asked sleepily, squinting at where Ian stood in the doorframe. “Isn’t that kind of… gay?”

Ian sighed. “We’re gay, Mickey. Calm the fuck down. Do you want to take a bath with me or not? Everyone’s gone, we’ve got the whole day to ourselves.”

Mickey raised his eyebrows, like he was still unconvinced but mulling it over. Then he started to lazily attempt unwrap himself from the layers of blankets around him. “Fuck it. Got too cold when you left the bed anyways.”

Ian smirked. “Water’s running. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

Ian turned back into the bathroom once more, and squirted a few healthy doses of Franny’s bubble bath into the tub that was starting to fill with foamy suds. He undressed and slid into the bath, instantly feeling his tense muscles thaw as they hit the warm water. He leaned his head back onto the rim of the tub, letting himself lay there with his eyes closed until he felt the water inching up his torso, the air thick with the sweet floral smell of the bubble bath.

“Mick, c’mere!” Ian called, praying that Mickey had extracted himself from the blankets and not fallen asleep again. A few moments later a very sleepy and rumpled Mickey was standing in the doorway rubbing his eyes, and then zeroing in on Ian laying in the tub.

“Yeah, this might be the gayest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Ian flipped him off, then scooted so he was sitting upright in the bath. “You coming in?”

Mickey seemed hesitant, but started to fumble with the tie of his flannel pajama pants. “Guess so.”

Ian smiled contentedly. “Come on.”

Mickey dubiously climbed into the tub, one leg after the other, and then slid to settle against Ian’s chest. Ian felt Mickey’s muscles relaxing against him, all of his usual tightness succumbing to the ripples of pleasant water enveloping them. Mickey leaned his head back onto Ian’s chest, exhaling.

“Yeah, okay. This is pretty fucking nice.”

Ian smirked. “Told you. Not too gay?”

Mickey scoffed. “Fuck you.”

Mickey closed his eyes, and Ian couldn’t resist lifting a hand to Mickey’s head and starting to run slow circles through his hair, tracing gentle patterns that he knew always made Mickey doze off. The bathroom was full of steam rolling off of the scalding water, the bubbles foaming and fizzing around them. Ian felt so perfectly content, sitting here with the sturdy weight of his husband pressing him down, breathing in the sugary scent of the bubbles sticking to Mickey’s skin and letting his own eyelids droop…

And then suddenly, Lip came barging through the door.

Immediately Mickey’s eyes flew open, his body tensing up. Lip just stood in the doorframe, his posture casual but frozen on the spot, staring at a very frilly smelling (and a very naked) Mickey and Ian laying in a bubble bath together.

Lip pursed his lips, like he was choking back a laugh.

“Uh. Hey guys. Didn’t think anyone was in here, considering the…silence.”

“Well, clearly we are, so get the fuck outta here!” Mickey was no longer drowsily collapsed onto Ian’s chest, sitting up straight and pointing at the door for emphasis. Ian just put his hand to his forehand and grimaced. So much for having the place to ourselves.

Lip snorted, still undoubtedly trying to hold back an avalanche of laughter, but he turned and started the close the door. As he was shutting it, Ian called after him.

“Lip, I thought you and Tami had some doctor’s appointment with Fred?”

Lip was in the hallway behind the closed bathroom door now, but he cracked it to let his voice in. He cleared his throat, clearly trying to compose himself. “Uh, yeah. Those usually only last an hour, though.”

Jesus. Maybe Ian had just been swept up in all the sappy emotions for the morning, but he could have sworn Lip and Tami were usually gone for hours whenever they had weekend errands to run. Oh well, it wasn’t really a big deal- half of the Gallaghers had seen each other in compromising positions, since privacy was definitely a somewhat foreign concept within these four walls. But underneath Mickey’s bravado when he was kicking Lip out, Ian noticed that Mickey’s cheeks were glowing red. And Ian totally got it; the two of them had been walked in on fucking plenty of times- hell, that was the whole theme of their hookups in the back of the Kash and Grab when they were in high school- but there was something about this, being interrupted in a truly vulnerable moment, that felt more excruciatingly embarrassing somehow.

Ian looked down at Mickey, who was still staring off into space at the closed door. Finally, he spoke.

“We’ve gotta get our own fucking place.”

Ian breathed out a laugh, and kissed the side of Mickey’s temple. “Yeah, we really do.”

[s-c-r-i-p-s-i]

MyQuil™ Cold & Flu: Powerful Nighttime Relief

🖤  🖤   🖤  

Pairing: Laurie Strode x Michael Myers

Rating: Mature

CW:  Incest, nonconsensual cuddling

Word Count: 2,277

Summary:

Textbooks were strewn across her messy bed with good intentions, peppered with crumpled up dollar store tissues that rubbed her nose raw. A full, unopened bottle of NyQuil sat on the nightstand, taunting her; she’d bought it as a last resort but was too stubborn to actually touch the damn thing.

She was already disgustingly vulnerable as it was. No need to sign, seal, and deliver an invitation to the Devil himself.

Notes:

Thank you so much for commissioning me, Beck!!! It was a joy to delve into this ship. 🖤 I think it was kinda taboo to talk about this ship even on the DBB server until you broke the ice and I'm eternally grateful because it's a GOOD one.

& Thank you to Pugge for coming up with this GODAWFUL title, and buying me boba, and keeping me sane ILY MY MUSE, MUAH 😘 🖤 🖤 🖤

Michael had never stopped chasing her. Nor she him.

And that balance was more delicate than she’d like to admit. Always the looming sense that despite everything she did, all the measures she took, she wasn’t completely in control.

Turns out that feeling was right. She just wasn’t expecting that her greatest enemy would be her own body crapping out on her.

Textbooks were strewn across her messy bed with good intentions, peppered with crumpled up dollar store tissues that rubbed her nose raw. A full, unopened bottle of NyQuil sat on the nightstand, taunting her; she’d bought it as a last resort but was too stubborn to actually touch the damn thing.

She was already disgustingly vulnerable as it was. No need to sign, seal, and deliver an invitation to the Devil himself.

You know - she was willing to bet he didn’t have to put up with this kind of thing. But that would be opening up a train of thought she’d rather not have.

It was cold in the apartment. Laurie never put the heat above 60 degrees. And any other day, that would have been perfectly manageable, but she’d soaked clean through her sheets overnight with sweat, and now she was freezing.

Sarcastically, she wished Michael was there so that he could put her out of her misery then instantly regretted it, chastising herself and wondering when her sense of humor had gotten so dark. The answer, though, was obvious. He’d changed her. Morphed her, warped her. She couldn’t even relate to her peers anymore. And they certainly couldn’t relate to her.

She was in some half-state at the moment. Awake enough - the bitter cold made sure of that - but too sore and lethargic to actually do anything about it. Just lying there shivering wasn’t going to be very productive, though. At some point, she’d need to decide what she was going to do, whether that was sleep or study or… what.

Droopy eyes blearily drifted over to the alarm clock. 3 AM.

God. The whole day. Gone.

Her gaze wandered over to the television playing quietly in the background, its soft light playing across the walls. Had she really left that on? Falling asleep on the couch in front of the TV had been commonplace as a kid, or while she was babysitting, but now… Well, she preferred to be able to hear her surroundings.

How unlike her to forget...

Wouldn’t hurt to leave it, would it? She wondered with a shiver, eyes slipping closed. Just this once…?

Impossible to tell if it was seconds or hours that had passed when Laurie awoke with a start at the sensation of the bed moving under someone’s weight. Eyes cracking wide open, she stared at the wall in front of her, the way her heart kicked a crater in her chest immediately sobering.

She knew. Exactly. Who it was.

It sounded ludicrous, even to her. She wanted to doubt. To believe that there was a thin margin it could really just be a very… very foolish burglar. But she knew better than that.

So… what should she do?

The obvious answer was fight, but something told her not to move. Not yet. Wait. See if she could map out her attacker’s positioning first; anticipate what he was going to do. She might only have one chance. Had to make it a good one.

Strategically, she was in a tough spot. Her bed was adjoined by the wall on two sides so that she couldn’t be snuck up on from behind, but evidently, she’d gotten turned around in her sleep - all that feverish tossing and turning. Now she was facing the wall and flying completely blind.

It took all her willpower not to move, scraping, with tooth and nail the bottom of the barrel of her everything. Defying every instinct, every ache in her muscles to do otherwise. She could hear him swiping her textbooks out of the way like a cat knocking things off the table with zero regard for her personal belongings; one of them audibly smacked the floor and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

In the past three years since that one fateful Halloween and everything proceeding it, Laurie had seen him a handful of times. But never this close. Just glimpses, here and there. Hard to tell what was real and what was just… unchecked psychosis. (She refused to do something so foolish as dull her senses while he was still out there - fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. She wasn’t going to let anyone else die if she could help it.)

He seemed to come and go like a stray. Sometimes leaving evidence in his wake. Missing clothes… things in the wrong place. Hard to tell if he was trying to bait a reaction out of her, or if he just… didn’t care enough to try and cover his tracks.

On a dangerous whim, she’d tried to chase him down a couple of times. It never amounted to anything, though. Wouldn’t be seen unless it was on his terms.

To think he was nearly in her grasp now…

She tried to make the move as natural as possible, like she was merely shifting in her sleep as she crawled her hand beneath her pillow and wrapped her trembling fingers around the hilt of the knife stowed away safely underneath. If she wasn’t already sweating, she would have started now.

He seemed to hesitate behind her, as if unsure if she was awake or not - though she knew better than to think it was out of fear. She got the impression that, for whatever reason, he didn’t want her to be awake for this.

Well, fat chance, it was like an elephant stepping onto the bed. He had to weigh some two hundred and something pounds.

For a moment, they were both perfectly still.

Then he began to move again, lifting the blanket up and… keeping it there. She could feel the cold air on her sweat-damp skin, on her bare legs and hip, her nightshirt having ridden up in the middle of the night.

There was a pang in her shoulder, a desperate urge to preserve her modesty and yank it back down over her ass, because she could feel his eyes burning into her.

It drew out too long, and something inside her snapped. “Michael!” Laurie whipped around, the words hissing through her teeth, sharp and scolding, before she could even stop herself.

Her heart dropped to her stomach as soon as she realized what she’d done.

There was a long pause. Odd, how much she could interpret from the silence, even without a real face to put to it. He was definitely… thinking. Contemplating something, staring at her with those mismatched eyes from behind his mask.

She did that to him. It was a point of pride for her, and maybe it shouldn’t have been, but the physical proof she could leave lasting damages on him was… Satisfying.

Whatever he was set on doing, he apparently decided to carry on with it even if she was awake, the weight of his knee pressing into the mattress as he loomed into her space.

Digging her heels into the bed, she kicked herself back until she felt the wall behind her, but he just wouldn’t stop.

She had to strike now.

Fingers tightening around the knife, she lunged for his throat, only to be brought to a screeching halt mid-air as his hand clamped around her wrist. A metallic clatter jarred her, Michael dropping his own knife so that his other hand was free to pry her stiff fingers off the blade one by one, until there was a second clattering as it too hit the floor.

Then he shoved her back onto the bed with such effortless force she bounced on the bedsprings.

Like a snake coiling and striking she reared her leg back and kicked right for the center of his gravity, but he just snatched her ankle, yanking her down a couple of inches.

Her stuffy head was spinning from all this motion, a twinge of pain blooming behind her eyes. And she didn’t know what his end goal was, but that didn’t stop her from thrashing and kicking up a storm as he manhandled her around, her own hair flying in her face, bodies bumping until she didn’t know what was direction was up.

Far too quickly, she wore herself out, the fight slowly leaving her as her body went lax, panting for breath and mind reeling as her brain tried to catch up and physically place herself, because she wasn’t getting anywhere struggling mindlessly.

She was on her side, her back pressed up against what she was fairly certain was his front, in some vicious mockery of spooning, and he was just pinning her there with both arms, waiting it out. A patient boa constrictor.

After a moment of her just lying there, one of his hands moved from around her waist to her arm - she jerked as if to elbow him, but it was a feint, and a weak one at that; she didn’t have the strength to put any real oomph into it. Her whole world was pulsing, dilating and constricting, blood rushing through her ears. No thought. Just raw nerve. A bird that’s just flown into a window.

Gradually, she realized he was examining her scar. Prodding and pushing at it, using his thumb and forefinger to pinch and stretch at the skin. She wondered if he felt the same way about it as she did the marks she’d made on him; satisfied. That same primitive feeling of ‘I made this.’

The number of times they’ve been this close have been few and often far between - and always chaotic, no time to smell the roses, as it were. Maybe that’s what he was doing. Examining her while he had the chance, while she was too weak and tired to yowl and spit and kick and fight. Playing with his food. Pushing the peas around on his plate.

It was strange, feeling him treat this permanent artifact of violence that he put there with such… He wasn’t being gentle, exactly. But something about it felt so antithesis all the same.

Grabbing her wrist and pulling her arm up and out from the blankets, he pressed his thumb into her palm and firmly rolled his giant fingers across her metacarpals neither gently nor ungently, more like he was trying to feel out her skeletal structure.

Strangely, it didn’t feel awful. Something about it redirected straight to her stomach, a light, lurching feeling but not an unpleasant one. It wasn’t that off from a manicure massage thought she knew without a shadow of a doubt pampering her was not his intent.

He was just being a creep. Like normal. Just… a lot closer than usual. So close she could hear his breathing. Feel his breathing, despite the number of barriers that should have prevented it; hot and warm on the back of her neck.

It wasn’t long before she felt his fingers creep into her hair. She allowed it. What the hell else was she going to do? In the same off, incidental way, it wasn’t the worst. Didn’t feel deliberately nice, but that’s because it wasn’t, it wasn’t for her benefit at all. And yet, every movement had tingles shooting down her scalp, it was so unexpectedly good.

A number of things to call him came to mind. Pervert being one of the first, though she wasn’t sure that’s what this was about. Maybe she was the weird one, for feeling anything other than utter revulsion at him touching her like this. He was her brother, for God’s sake.

She began to zone out while he messed around; Michael eventually moved on from her hair, but by the time he did, she was nearly half-asleep from the warmth he was radiating, finding it a whole new struggle just to stay awake. A grope at her elbow, here. A touch of her knee, there. Invasive. Bothersome. But non-threatening enough that she was starting to slip against her will. At one point, her aching eyelids had dropped closed and she hadn’t managed to reopen them since.

Unbothered, he continued exploring, his finger pushing past her lip to feel at the gum of her canine, while she mumbled some vague groan of complaint, gently kicking him in the shin. Everything felt so sensitive. Ooey, gooey, sick and vulnerable, and tired.

And then, his fingers found her hip bone, pressing deeply, and something sharp ran through her, zinging through the fog.

He was all over her, Laurie couldn’t even keep track anymore, her breathing starting to pick back up as his hands roamed over her. The next thing she knew, Michael was running his hand up the column of her throat and the sensation went straight to between her legs. Arching, she shifted in search of friction, only to feel an almost painfully unyielding hardness poke at her tailbone.

Oh.

There was a definite pause before Michael removed his hand from her neck, returning to constricting her in place with both arms so tightly she was unable to move- which was probably the point, but what it felt like, was that he was trying to grind their bones together until she was absorbed into him completely; to solder them, the gap between them only ever arbitrary to begin with.

Eventually, she melted into his hold, the last pale dregs of fight left within her evaporating as she drifted off to sleep.

🖤 🖤 🖤

Thank you for reading!!! Please comment if you enjoyed; I am but a simple goblin who thrives on external motivation. You can find my socials on my carrd! Follow me on Twitter! Or, join the 18+ DBD thirst server 🔞 Dead by Baelight 🔞 here!

[writtingrose]

Mates to More: A Drew McIntyre Fic

SUMMARY; an anti Valentine’s Day date and lightning make for the perfect situation

WARNINGS; The smuttiest of smut.

REQUESTED BY; my baby @biforbecky2belts

BETA’S BY; @xladyxfatex

WORD COUNT; 3,416 (my longest fic)

Drew hadn’t meant to ease drop earlier. He had been walking backstage, after another successful victory when he overheard Melissa and Nikki talking. Naturally, he was interested to know what they were talking about, so he stopped and listened; hid perfectly around the corner.

“I just don’t get the point of it Nik,” Melissa sighed. “Why do we need a whole day devoted to seeing who can spend the most money on extravagant gifts for their significant others? That’s really all it is. A who out did who fuck fest.”

She rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms. Sure she was a little biased; spending another Valentine’s Day alone would do that to you, but she made a good point too. Yet, Nikki didn’t seem to think so.

“Look, I get it but... it really is a special day, Melissa. I’m sorry you can’t see that.” Nikki didn’t give her an opportunity to reply before walking off to join Alexa, going to prepare for their match.

Melissa sighed as she turned, heading for catering. No one seemed to understand why she didn’t like this day. Granted, most of them were in loving relationships. So she understood, somewhat.Yet, it was still frustrating.

Drew had thought about following her for a split second, but didn’t want her to be upset with him for eavesdropping. So, he let her go.

~.~.~.~.~.~

Now, laying back on his bed after a hot shower, Drew held his phone to his ear waiting for her to pick up. Sure, he could have just walked over to her room but calling her seemed so much easier.

A few rooms down the hall Melissa groaned as her phone rang on the side of the tub. Her head lolled to the side as she groaned, reaching to answer it.

“Hello?” She sighed, phone pressed to her ear.

A deep chuckle came from the other end of the line as Drew smiled.

“Catch you at a bad time, Mels?”

Melissa perked up at hearing the deep, masuline voice through the phone and rolled her eyes, hating the nickname he refused to stop using.

“No, I was just relaxing. What’s up?”

Drew bit his lip then cleared his throat.

“Look, I didn’t mean to listen in on your conversation with Nikki earlier but I can’t stop thinking about it. I know we’re both single and not really fans of Valentine’s Day. So, how about a mate’s date? You, me, a couple beers, and a meal down at the restaurant?”

A small smile graced Melissa’s lips as she nodded, even though he couldn’t see her.

“Yeah, sure.” She tried not to sound so excited. “When?”

“Well, I just got out of the shower so, obviously, we both need to get ready. I’ll be at your door in an hour?”

Melissa laughed and looked down at her own bath water. “An hour is great, Andrew. I’ll see you then.”

“Great.” Drew smiles before he hangs up, then sits up on the bed.

He sat his phone on the bed side table before getting up and making his way to his suitcase.

Unlike other superstars and staff, he didn’t usually unpack. There wasn’t really a point when they never stayed in a town for long and it was just less stress when it was time to move on. No, he prefered to just pull what he needed from the suitcase. He pulled out one of the few pairs of jeans he ever bothered to pack and a black tshirt, laying them both on the bed.

~.~.~.~.~.~

True to his word, Drew stood in front of Melissa’s door an hour later. He crossed his hands over his chest after knocking and waited for her to open the door. He didn’t really know why he was nervous all of a sudden, they’d been out a million times before. Yet, he couldn’t hide that over the last few months something had changed. He didn’t really see her as just a friend anymore.

Inside the hotel room, Melissa slid her phone and card into her pocket before checking herself in the mirror. Once deciding she was pleased with what she saw, she stepped towards the door and pulled it open. Her heart stuttered half a beat when she saw what he was wearing and she had to keep from biting her lip.

He looked good. Of course, he always looked good, but there was something different this time. Like she was seeing it, fully, for the first time.

“Ready, lass?” He asked, taking a step back so she could walk past him.

She smiles and nods, grabbing the key card from the table beside the door.

“Hungry, thirsty, lets go.”

Drew chuckles as she steps out and pulls the door shut. He follows behind her, both opting for the one flight of stairs versus the elevator.

“I thought we could just go to the restaurant here, if that’s okay? I figured, if we get too tipsy, it’s easier to get back to our rooms and we may not have to deal with such big crowds.”

He waited for her at the bottom of the stairs and smiled up in her direction as she came down.

“That’s fine with me.” She shrugged, leading the way towards the restaurant tucked away in the corner. “I think I’m going to go with a burger, honestly. Sounds so good.”

Drew licks his lips and nods. “It does; but a steak sounds better. Big, juicy, medium rare.”

Melissa bit her lip and kept walking, but said nothing. Though, there were a few comments she could have made none of the ones that immediately jumped to mind were appropriate. So, she decided to keep them to herself as they made it into the restaurant and got seated.

Once seated, they ordered their meal as well as their drinks; since they had already known what they wanted. They passed the time between drinks and their food with small talk, mostly about how she had been settling into her position with WWE and adjusting to life on the road. Though she had known Drew and Nikki for years, all having grown up in Scotland, she had only been with WWE for a short time.

~.~.~.~.~.~

It was a few hours later Melissa found herself back in her hotel room and ready for bed. Drew had dropped her at her door and made sure she had gotten inside alright before continuing down to his own for the night. She stumbled, a strong buzz throwing her coordination off slightly, over to her suitcase and pulled her sleeping clothes out before changing. Once she had put her dirty clothes in the hamper for washing the next day, she crawled under the thick blankets on the bed.

She laid there for a few minutes, her body relaxing against the warming sheets, sleep pulling her closer and closer before she head it. Her eyes flew open at the rumbling; a sudden, blinding light illuminating her whole room. Melissa froze, body petrified with fear. Since it was only snowing out, she thought she would get lucky and there would be no lightning. However, she was wrong.

Down the hall, Drew had already pulled his shoes on and grabbed his key card. He slipped out of his own room and down to Melissa’s where he knocked gently.

“Mel? It’s me. Can you let me in, sweetheart?”

As soon as he had heard the thunder and seen the lightning himself, he’d jumped into action. It was one thing for her to be home when there was lightning. However, to be in a different roo, let alone country, would only heighten the fear.

“Melissa.” He knocks again. “I know you’re scared, but I don’t have a key to let myself in. I need you to do it, sweetheart.”

It stayed quiet for a few minutes. Then he heard the sound of shuffling, followed by the door slowly open. Drew stepped inside quickly and shut the door back behind him. His arms moved to wrap around Melissa and pull her into his chest. Her body shook gently against his as he kissed the top of her head and rubbed down her back.

“It’s alright, lass. I’m here now.” Worry creased his forehead as he took in her blinds; open just enough to allow even more light to steam in each time it streaked the sky. “Let’s get you back in bed, okay? I’ll close the blinds all the way and lay with you until you’re asleep.”

Melissa pulled back and nodded, as she wiped her eyes. “Will you just… stay the night? Please?” She bites her lip as she looks up at him. “I mean if this keeps going all night, I’d get no sleep anyway.”

Drew smiles gently and nods before gesturing for her to return to the bed. “Pick your side love. I’ll join you as soon as I shut the curtains.”

He smiles and moves past her, to the windows where the curtains were open just enough the lightning brightened the room even. Once there he pulled then shut, ensuring no more light that usual would get past the dense material. .

Behind him Melissa cocked her head and giggled. “Um, Drew?” She bit her lip, sitting on the side of the bed closest to him waiting for him to look at her. Once he did she snorted gently. “You, um… you could pull shoes on but not pants?”

Drew looked down and flushed slightly. In the rush to get to her he had remembered to put shoes on; something not really needed since they were indoors and he could have gone barefoot. Yet, he had walked from his room to hers in nothing more than his boxers and a t-shirt. He groaned and brought one hand up to rub down her face as the other flipped her off.

“Don’t make fun of me woman. I was more worried about getting to you than what I was about putting clothes on.”

“I’m just saying, if there had been fans snooping around they would have got the perfect view of… well, little Drew.”

Melissa’s eyes moved from his face, down his tightly clad chest, to his crotch. Her eyes lingered there for a few seconds and the heat in the room heightened between them.

Drew cleared his throat and moved to the other side of the bed. “Guess it’s a good thing we have a free day tomorrow.” He kicks his shoes off and pulls the cover back. “Come on sweetheart, we need to sleep.”

“Um, yeah.” She nods and crawls back under the covers. Drew followed right behind her, their bodies millimeters apart. Suddenly, the lightning was an afterthought.

Her body couldn’t relax. Something between them had changed, had been changing, but she had ignored it. Drew felt much the same. His body was tense, not wanting to cross a line. It took a few minutes, ones that felt like an eternity, before they started to relax; exhaustion both pulling them closer and closer to sleep.

Melissa was almost there when the next roar sounded, the room lighting up as if it were still day outside. She squealed and jumped, her body curling into his as her arm when around him. Drew groaned gently and pulled her close, kissing her forehead as he rubbed over her back.

“It’s alright darlin’, I’m right here.”

“I’m sorry.” She huffed, her leg hiked over his. “I don’t know why it scares me so bad. It always has.”

“Everyone has something they're scared of, sweetheart, and a lot of them think it's just as pointless or weird to be afraid of it. It’s okay.” He chuckles gently. “Hey, at least if the power goes out we don’t have to worry about freezing.”

“Is that your way of trying to get me naked, McIntyre? Because, honestly, I thought you’d be better at it.”

“Oh no,” He smirkes. “Besides, I wouldn’t have to try very hard. Especially if your knee travels any higher.”

Melissa froze for a whole new reason as her cheeks heated up. Her mind fogged as she weighed her two options; she could lower her knee and pretend the last few minutes had never happened, or she could take advantage of a perfect opportunity.

She chose the opportunity.

She pushed her knee higher, brushing against the length concealed by his boxers. Drew growled gently, his hold on her tightening.

“Do not tease a starving man, Melissa. You may not like what he has to offer.”

She snorted and bit her lip, provoking him further. “More like, he has nothing to offer.”

Things changed suddenly. Drew growls louder and moved to loom over her, body which was now trapped under his.

“There’s no goin’ back after this.” His lips pressed against her neck gently, teasing the skin. “We do this, you’re mine. Just like I’m yours.”

She didn’t respond as her arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer. He smirked and kissed along her neck, his hands moving under her shirt.

“I’ve thought about this a lot, sweetheart. How you would feel under me.” He nipped along her collar bone and smirked when she moaned. “The sounds you’d make for me. I never made a move because I didn’t think you’d want me either.”

Melissa chuckled and pulled on his shirt, lifting it. “Are you kidding me? Who wouldn’t want a sexy Scotsman like you?”

She winked playfully as he laughed and pulled his shirt the rest of the way off. “I could say the same about a woman as beautiful as you.”

“Oh christ, Drew. Stop sucking up and do something.”

He rolled his hips into hers and pushed her shirt over her head. Once it was gone, he did the same with her underwear, sliding them down her legs.

“You’re soaked for me, babe. Made a mess all over your panties and now the front of my boxers.” He shakes his head and kisses over her chest. “Bet you taste great, lass. You gonna be good for me? Let me get a little taste.”

He kept his eyes on her face as his hands came to fondle both breasts. He teased and rolled the nipples under his fingers, pinching them just hard enough to pebble the tender flesh. Then he took turns replacing his fingers with his mouth; sucking and groaning as he kept grinding his hips into hers.

“Feel how hard you make me? Every fucking time you touch me just right.” He growls again, almost as if embarrassed and turned on by the effect she has on his body. The same effect he now knew he had on hers.

“Of course I feel it, daddy.” She bites her lip and raises her hips to meet him. “But I’d really like to feel it in me.”

She reached down and tried to pull him up but to no avail; he wouldn’t budge. She groaned in annoyance as he just chuckled, tongue darting out to flick over her clit.

“Easy, little one. This is happening when daddy says it is. Got it?”

He growled and wrapped his hands around her thighs before pulling her legs further apart. His eyes lingering on hers before moving to look in front of him. He licked his lips in appreciation before leaning forward. He growls, low in his throat as his tongue moves against her clit; flicking up and down as he sucks. One hand comes back around as he slides a finger in to her tight heat and he curses against her, eyes closing.

Her hands came to wrap in his hair, tugging as she moaned and pushed her hips up, trying to get closer. Drew looks up at her through hooded eyes as he adds a second finger, curing them up to find her g-spot. Her body jerks a little harder and he hums as he continues to assault the spot. Kissing his way back up he stops just shy of her lips and licks his own.

“Told you I needed a little taste. I could have stayed down there for hours.” He smirks as she moans and throws her head back. “Do you like that, princess? Do you like my fingers inside you?”

He grazes his teeth over her neck, just above her collarbone before he bites down gently and sucks; not letting up until a purple bruise forms, his fingers moving faster and faster as his thumb comes up to rub against her clit. “Fuck, my cock is throbbing. I need to be buried inside you sweetheart, but I don’t have a condom.”

“It’s okay.” She pants out. “I’m on the pill” She licks her lips and pulls him down into a heated kiss. “Please, Drew, I need it too.”

He nods and pulls his fingers out, bringing them up to hover right over her lips. “Open, princess. Clean my fingers for me.”

Melissa opens her mouth quickly, tongue poking out as he slides his fingers inside. Her tongue swirls around them as her mouth closes and she moans softly. Once satisfied, Drew pulled his fingers away and kissed her. His tongue pushes back her lips and slides over hers; tasting her on her own tongue.

His hands move to her hips once again as he settles between them and wraps them around him. His cock pressed against her entrance as he searched her eyes for any sign of doubt. Not seeing any, he thrust inside. Melissa moaned as he groaned, wasting no time to withdraw and thrust back inside; his cock pulsing against her stretched walls.

“Jesus, Mels, just being inside is enough to bring me to my knees. You’re gripping me like a vice. Almost enough to make me explode already.”

He rolls his hips, pushing further inside her as she dug her nails into his back, leaving angry red whelps.

“You’re… everything I imagined you’d be and more, Drew.” She sucked in a shuddering breath. “So big, can’t believe you fit really.”

Drew chuckled as his cock jerked inside her, right into her g-spot.

“You drive me crazy, in the best way.” He growls as he grits his teeth, his thrusts quickening as his hand moves between them to rub over her clit in time with his thrusts.

Melissa moaned as her hips rose to meet each of his thrusts, her cunt clenching around him.

“Fuck Drew, I’m gettin’ close. Please…” She hid her face in his neck, nipping and sucking the flesh; much as he had hers.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.”

Drew panted gently as he thrust faster, cock pressing deeper inside her as he let out a guttural groan.

“Fuck!” He cursed. “I need you to cum with me, princess. I need you to cum on my cock. Can you do that for me?”

He moved his thumb quickly, pressing harder on her clit as he angled his hips. Melissa gasped and nodded quickly as her legs wrapped tighter around him.

“Oh, Drew…” Her back arched off the mattress as the first wave of her orgasm washed over her. Drew groaned as her cunt clenched harder, setting his own orgasm off, He nuzzled his face into her neck, kissing it gently as he continues to slowly thrust, riding out both of their orgasms.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, neither of them saying a word as they caught their breath.Then, Drew carefully got up and made his way to the bathroom, returning with a rag.

“We’ll have to wash this tomorrow.” He winked playfully and smiled as he carefully wiped their mixed fluids from her thighs, then from himself and threw the rag into the hamper. Once done he crawled back into the bed and pulled her close.

“I um,” She laughed gently. “Guess you really showed me after all.”

Drew chuckled and shook his head before kissing the top of hers. He pulled the blankets back over them as she curled her body into his.

“Maybe in the next city, you can just room with me? Then I’ll already be there to help you through the next storm.”

Melissa smiled as she looked up at him and nodded, then hmphed. “Speaking of, I didn’t even notice it had stopped.”

“That, was the point wasn’t it?” Drew smiled and winked as she rolled her eyes and laid her head on his chest.

She may still have a fear of lightning, but at least she had a pretty good idea how to distract herself next time.

Super fucking late. And I’m sorry. But it’s my LONGEST fic to date! I’m so proud. I hope you guys enjoy! Please, share and tag those you thing will enjoy it.

Much love, Rose xx

@theworldofotps @writing-reigns @xxghostnappaxx @xladyxfatex @sophiewolfheart-blog

[chelsfic]

Say You’ll Be My Baby - Steve Murphy x Connie Murphy - Narcos Fanfic

A/N: Title from “Make You Smile” by Elle King (thanks to my Anon of Music for their consistently awesome song recs). That song is pure Steve/Connie to me. This fic is fulfilling my deep desire to just wrap my arms around Steve and Connie. I tried to capture some of Connie’s sassy nature.

Summary: How Connie and Steve get together. That’s it, that’s the story.

Warnings: Fluff!!, Mention of gun violence

---

“...So it wa’n’t fake...”

And just like that he had me. It was that lazy West Virginia drawl rasping over the phone line and caressing the shell of my ear, smooth as Hershey syrup. And the balls it took to actually dial my number after that stunt at the bar. I was intrigued. And I won’t lie--the DEA thing was hot. I felt my lips quirk up in a pleased grin, my stomach fizzing with nervous excitement. I figured we could have some fun together...nothing serious.

The first date was a disaster. 

We agreed to meet for drinks. Nothing serious, just some casual fun and then...who knows? Only we never came close to “who knows?” because he stood me up. The worst part was that in the days leading up to the date I had truly grown excited about it. The more I thought about that tall, lithe frame leaning up against the bar, his blue eyes focused on me like I was his whole universe, the more nervous energy I felt churning in my stomach. Until I spent an hour sitting by myself, sipping beer and getting hit on by every guy in the bar. I was not the girl who sat around waiting for a guy to show up. Except that night I was. I left the bar with a lump in my throat and my face burning with wounded pride.

I trudged back into my apartment, alone and wearing my best date-night dress. The answering machine glared at me as I passed through the living room. No messages. Fucking hillbilly asshole.

When the phone rang in the middle of the night, startling me from a deep sleep, I figured it was work. I poked my head up to read the time on my alarm clock. 3:32 AM. Jesus.

“Connie, honey, I am so sorry--” the accent wasn’t so cute now.

“Are you kidding me?” I asked sleepily, my voice hushed but steely. “First you stand me up and now you wake me up in the middle of the night?”

“God, I feel terrible. There was an emergency situation here. At work. And I...it just slipped my mind. Lemme make it up to you.”

I didn’t answer for a minute. I could understand work emergencies. I’m an ER nurse, I get it. What I didn’t want to consider was a man who could forget about me until 3 o’clock in the morning after standing me up. 

“Goodnight, Steve,” I sighed, hanging up the phone and falling back into my pillows.

So much for first impressions.

I didn’t see him again for a couple weeks. I sure thought about him enough, though. Why couldn’t I get this guy out of my head? I was ready to dismiss him and never set eyes on him again when he came up to me the night we met. But...somehow he’d wormed his way into my consciousness. I found myself remembering the deep timber of his voice. Every time my phone rang I felt butterflies wondering if it might be him. But he didn’t call.

Finally, fed up and a little drunk after a night out with the girls, I called him.

“You know, the polite thing to do would be to send me flowers or a card or something! You know, really grovel!” I slurred into the phone, cradling it between my ear and shoulder as I stood at my kitchen counter scooping Häagen-Dazs into a bowl.

“Is this...Connie?” he asked, confusion obvious in his tone. “You drunk?”

“That’s besides the point,” I huffed. “I shouldn’t be the one calling you. ‘S not how this works, buddy.”

“And how does it work?” he drew out his syllables, letting his voice melt with intrigue.

“Oh, no you don’t! That stupid, sexy voice isn’t gonna to work on me this time!” I warned him, licking the ice cream scoop.

His laughter floated over the phone line as he responded, “You think my voice is sexy?”

“Shut up! You’re on thin ice. You’re supposed to chase me, beg me for my forgiveness. That’s how it works.”

He infused his voice with mock seriousness, “My apologies, ma’am. I didn’t realize. I’ll get right on that.”

“Good! You better,” I said, hanging up on him and letting the cordless phone clunk onto the countertop. As I stood there, eating ice cream and momentarily congratulating myself, it occurred to me that it was possible I’d regret all this in the morning.

Lucky me, there wasn’t much time for regrets. I was just finishing up my rounds when the Nurse Supervisor dropped a new patient intake sheet into my hands. 

“Gunshot wound. Very minor. Just needs some stitches,” and then she was off, rushing past me and trusting me to do my job. 

My feet were already leading me down the hallway in the direction of the appropriate exam room when I scanned the paper in my hands and saw the hastily scrawled name at the top. Stephen Murphy.

Gunshot wound. Oh god.

He was up on the exam table when I walked in, long Levi-clad legs dangling over the edge. He sat hunched over, resting his elbows on his knees and pressing a handful of gauze to his neck. I cleared my throat as I walked inside, standing momentarily frozen in the doorway as he turned those striking blue eyes on me. I watched his face light up with a smile that even the blood-soaked gauze in his hand couldn’t dim.

“And here I thought I was havin’ a bad day,” he drawled, wincing only slightly as the movement tugged at the wound on his neck. 

“Jesus, Steve!” I breathed, pulling away the gauze and getting my first look at the shallow abrasion along the side of his neck. “This was...a really close call.”

My voice must have betrayed my emotions. I barely knew him, but this sudden, visceral introduction to the reality of his life was somehow pulling me in instead of pushing me away. 

He smirked and made light of it, waggling his eyebrows as he breezed, “I know, just an inch to the left and I woulda lost my sexy voice.”

I narrowed my eyes at him and held up the suture kit I was about to open, “Maybe not a good idea to tease the woman about to stick a needle in your neck?”

He held up his hands in capitulation, his smile blinding me as I readied to close the wound. I could feel his eyes on me, watching me stick out my tongue in concentration as I worked. 

I addressed him without looking up, “So, I guess you’ll do anything to get out of a date with me, huh?”

He huffed a laugh and I put a steadying hand to the side of his jaw to still the motion.

“Be still, honey,” I murmured under my breath, tying off the last suture. Steve went docile at the touch, looking up at me with stars in his eyes as I bandaged the wound. 

“Do we have a date?” he asked, his voice low and unsure. I watched his hands close into nervous fists in his lap.

“I don’t know,” I said, snapping off my latex gloves and dropping them in the trash. “Do we?”

And so our first real date was that afternoon in the hospital cafeteria. Steve insisted on buying my lunch and carrying both our trays despite his fresh injury.

“Eh, it’s nothin’,” he scoffed, but I didn’t miss the wince of pain as he set everything down on the table. 

“Big, strong man, huh?” I teased. 

He arched his elegant, blond eyebrows in response and his lips tugged up into a smile that cut straight through me. He watched me with that intense stare of his while I fidgeted nervously under his scrutiny, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear and looking down at my plate. I’d never felt like this with any other guy. I was always the cool, aloof one. Never shy and lovestruck like I felt at that moment.

“So...is this something I’m gonna have to get used to? Missed dates and trips to the emergency room?” I asked only half joking. I could feel myself falling into something more serious than I’d intended with this man. Something about him just kept drawing me in.

He snorted, not picking up on my somber thoughts, “I promise you, this is my first trip to the ER.”

“What happened?” I rested my head on my hand, watching as he took an enormous bite out of his turkey sandwich and smiling despite myself.

He took a minute to chew, opening up a packet of mustard and drizzling it onto the sandwich as he considered his words, “Streets are more and more dangerous, Connie. I was out with my partner. Followin’ up on a tip. Broad daylight. Son of a bitch pulled out a semi-automatic and almost blew my head off.”

I shook my head in horror, “Did he get away?”

“Nah, my partner managed to grab him,” he answered, then added laughingly, “Musta been a burst of adrenaline when he saw me get shot ‘cause Kevin can’t run for shit.”

We turned to other topics: family, how long we’d each been in Miami, my job as a nurse. My lunch break flew by and before I knew it I was walking him out to the sidewalk. 

“So...I know getting shot and turning up as your patient doesn’t exactly count as wooing you but…,” he broke off with a laugh, ducking his head and looking up at me with those blue eyes I loved already, “You think you’ll let me see you again?”

I crossed my arms over my chest and gave him a stern appraisal, letting my eyes flick up and down his long, long body before shrugging and faking a casual tone, “Sure, you can see me again.”

He grinned, stepping closer and brushing his fingers over my crossed forearms.

“Yeah?” he smirked, holding my gaze until I couldn’t help but return his contagious smile.

“Yeah! If you can remember our dates, that is.”

He put a wounded hand over his heart.

“Ouch! Baby, that hurts! I promise you--,” he broke off, bringing his hand up to cup my face and stroking his thumb along my cheek. I sucked in a breath at his touch. “I promise you, baby, I’ll treat you right.”

He spread his fingers, letting them thread through the flyaways escaping my ponytail, leaning down until our foreheads almost touched. 

“Would you get in trouble with your boss if I kissed you now?” he drawled, his eyes already fixated on my lips. 

I let my own eyes wander to his mouth. His pouty, pink lips were a little chapped and I watched as he darted out his tongue to wet them. He leaned in even closer until I could feel his breath mingle with mine. 

“I don’t think I care,” I answered and then I closed the gap between us and caught him in our first kiss. 

He brought up his other hand to cradle my head, moving his lips over mine and flicking out his tongue. I drew myself up on my tip toes, clutching his shoulders and melting against him. I could feel myself surrendering. To the kiss and to this man. Whatever I might have thought when he first swaggered up to me in that bar...I knew now that my life was changing. I felt myself moving inexorably closer to a future that included Steve. 

I smiled against his lips before forcing myself to pull away. 

“You better call me, Steve Murphy,” I called as I walked away, leaving him standing on the sidewalk with a freshly stitched wound, kiss-swollen lips, and the conviction that he had just had his first kiss with the woman he was going to marry.

Boyd Tags:

@nothing-but-a-comedy @ionlyjoinedforboydholbrook @theplumsoldier @meri47 @lackofhonor

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Mission Accepted {Headcanon}***

Warning: Cursing, SMUTT, NSFW, Tease, Many Words

Words: 2.3k

Note: Thank you all for reading, as always, I appreciate each of you and your feedback. I hope you enjoy it!!!

~~~~~~~~

You and Jason have been together for some time now. It started as an innocent flirtation whenever you saw each other at the same coffee shop for a month straight. Both of you barely spoke verbally, all your talking was done through eyes and smiles. It wasn’t until you bumped into each other at a bookstore several weeks later did he approach you. That day you spent hours in the bookstore just perusing the shelves and talking about what books you liked. 

You fell for his beautiful mind before you fell for his looks. Don’t get it wrong, Jason was Fine with a capital F. You’d have to be blind not to see it and dead for it not to affect you. His eyes were something else, intense and always so complex. He always carried a mysterious air around him, and it drew you in like nectar for a bee. You wanted to keep your relationship under the radar because you found the whole fame thing weird. Jason, on the other hand, wanted to protect what you had, but he wanted to take you to every event and overseas location and truth be told you wanted to be with him all the time too.

Your romance started slow, because of his career but once the two of you established your feelings for one another and confessed them things progressed quickly and effortlessly. It was as if the two of you were made for each other. You understood him and he understood you, there was no need for words and long drawn out explanations. It was something you’d never experienced with anyone else before.

From the start it was clear Jason was an alpha and he came across as a leader who was always in control, part of it was his aura and the other was his 6’ 4 frame. He was massive and the day you found out he was triply blessed in other areas you were pleased but intimidated.

You’d told him you wanted to go slow and he respectfully agreed and never tried to push you to do anything you weren’t ready for. That didn’t mean that everything was off the table. Almost every chance you got the two of you were making out, dry humping, and using your hands on each other to bring the other to the heights of pleasure.

A few times Jason attempted to go down on you, you always stopped him and quickly turned the tables on him. Seeing how big he was always made you want him even more and you showed him just how much you did. He never questioned why you stopped him every time, he just assumed it was something you weren’t comfortable with.

It took nearly two months after uttering those magical three words to each other for you to swallow any fear you held about not being able to take him or measure up to his other exes. The night you were together at your house he’d just gotten back in town from a three-week press tour. You were so happy to see him, and he was equally happy to have you in his arms. 

The two of you were making out and caressing each other things were quickly heating up. You rolled on Jason and straddled his hips. You could feel his hardness pressed onto your already wet folds. The feel of his hardness had you rocking back and forth across his need. Every swipe your hips made he groaned. 

Jason brought his hands to dig his hands into your hair at the nape of your neck and crushed his lips to yours. You moaned against him and ground your hips more forcefully. Jason trailed his hand down your back to cup your ass. As he did, he tore his lips from yours and clamped them on your neck and sucked the skin there. 

“Fuck!”

Jason smiled and bit your neck. You hissed and began lifting off his shirt. Jason sat up and lifted his arms allowing you to pull it off. His hair dropped around his face and he looked so damn good. 

“You’re biting your lip again.”

You smiled. “You look so good.” His smile was wide, and it lit up his eyes. You loved his smile. He moved his hands to the buttons of your shirt then looked into your eyes again asking for permission. You nodded your head giving it confidently.

Jason undid your shirt. When it sagged open revealing your bra it was his turn to bite his bottom lip. 

“God, you drive me crazy.” He connected his lips at your collar and peppered kisses along your clavicle down the center of your chest to each swell of your breasts. When his lips connected to your hardened nipple you hugged his head to you. He moaned as he sucked through the material of your bra. 

Quickly you unhooked it needing to feel his mouth against you. When your bra straps slid down your arms the cups remained where they were. Jason’s eyes met yours and the look in them made your sex quiver. He looked back to your breasts and slowly pulled the material from them to reveal your flesh to his eyes. At the sight of your bare breasts, Jason sucked in a powerful breath before he groaned. 

“You’re perfect.” Jason cupped your breasts and dropped his mouth to one pert nipple and ravished it. There was no way you could keep your moans down, they tumbled freely from you and one after the other got louder and louder. 

Jason then quickly flipped you over and you kept your legs tightly wrapped around him. He pressed forward and the hard ridge of his manhood made you arch backward feeding your breasts to him.

 Several minutes passed with him raising goosebumps across your skin and making your panties wetter than ever. You knew that tonight was the night and you knew if he touched you, you’d come. Jason’s mouth left your nipple and trailed down the center of your body to your stomach and then your pelvis. He looked up to you as his fingers hooked at the waistband of your leggings.

Choosing the nonverbal path, you hooked your fingers in the waist beside his and inched them lower. Jason looked shocked but the passion couldn’t be missed. His eyes dropped to your waist as he watched your actions. He angled to the side giving you enough room to disrobe yourself. Once you kicked the garment free it flicked somewhere across the dimly lit room. 

Jason’s eyes roamed over your body before his eyes landed at your pelvis. Under the heat of his gaze, your skin prickled and burned. You wanted his hands all over you. You spread your legs wider giving him a better view of the treasure he was about to discover. In a heartbeat, Jason hooked his fingers around your thong and slowly pulled it from your hips and your body. When he got eye level with your sex you began closing your legs.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m gonna taste a slice of heaven.” 

As he lowered his head your hand connected with it and gently pushed him away. “What’s wrong? Do you want to stop?”

“No, nothing like that. Just, you don’t have to.”

“I want to—I need to taste you.”

“Jason, it’s okay.” 

Your continued protest had him sitting up and going beside you. “What’s wrong.”

You didn’t want to admit this, but you had no choice. If you didn’t tell him now it would seem strange. “It’s nothing, not a big deal it’s just I’ve never—had that done.”

The way he looked at you made you feel like an alien. “I mean, no-one’s ever—we’ve never gotten--.”

“Wait, wait. Are you saying no one has ever gone down on you?”

You shook your head and tried not to feel like a completely inexperienced loser. It wasn’t something that had come up. Your previous boyfriends hadn’t attempted to, and you never pressed the issue. For years you’d just gotten used to it and went on with life. When you explained this to him, he looked confused then slightly angry.

“My god, Y/N.”

“Don’t make it weird. Please.”

“No, baby girl--.”

Jason moved between your legs again, but he pulled you to him spreading your legs on either side of him.

“The only thing that is weird is that any man would ever think to not take it there. It literally baffles me. Y/N. I want you, all of you, every single part of you. I want to kiss you everywhere, I want you on my tongue, I want to make you squirm, arch and scream my name because my mouth is driving you crazy.”

His words had an effect and just like that you wanted it too.

“If it’s not what you want—genuinely want, then fine I’ll understand, and I’ll never bring it up again.”

With your bottom lip sucked in your mouth you nodded and laid back. Jason watched you, giving you more time to change your mind. He was devising a plan to show you all the pleasure he could give you without his dick. 

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

Once you uttered the words Jason kissed your pelvis and then kissed up along your inner thigh before he sucked your flesh into his mouth. You moaned and watched his every move. He was glad for it, he wanted you to watch him give you the best orgasm you’d ever had.

He lowered himself coming eye to eye with your wet folds, he fought the urge to rush ahead, he wanted to make this last. Locking eyes with yours he placed a small kiss right on your clit. You sucked in a breath then latched your bottom lip into your mouth. He placed kiss after kiss, each kiss was nosier than the one before. On the last kiss, he sucked your bud into his mouth and pulled his mouth back allowing it to slip out. You exclaimed loudly as you grabbed the sheets next to you.

“You taste incredible baby girl.” Jason stuck his tongue out and ran it along your slit from opening to clit. Once the tip of his tongue connected with your clit, he flicked it once then twice and a third. Again, you gasped. He was already enjoying your responses. 

Slowly he repeated the same action. Then he used the tip of his tongue to trail circles around your now swollen bud. Your moan turned deep, and he felt your thighs begin to close. Bringing his hands to them he pressed them apart and pinned them to the bed. He wanted unrestricted access. Every second he tasted you his own desire inched higher and higher. Soon he knew his need would be gargantuan. 

He could feel your body gently quivering but it wasn’t enough for him. Using his fingers, he parted your folds to expose the sensitive part of your sex and quickly flicked his tongue across you. You gasped and lifted up onto your elbows and watched him intently. One of your hands touched the top of his head and remained there. Your moans turned to audible pants and screeches until he felt resistance with your thighs as they tried to press together. 

“Fuck Jasss—on! Aaah!” The way your body shook gave him great pleasure. He pulled his lips from you and blew onto your wetness allowing your body to cool just a bit.

“Oh my god.”

“You have no idea how good you taste.” For emphasis, he licked your slit again. You bucked and tried to pull away.

“Ah, wait.”

“No, not waiting.” Jason licked you again and concentrated his tongue at your opening where he collected your essence and moaned as he lapped every drop up. The feeling was a subtle pleasure, one that felt like a gentle massage, a relaxing soft touch that slowly fanned the flames of a fire in you that had since been spent but was also reigniting that very same fire. You touched his cheek and watched him marveling at how good he was with his tongue. 

Jason’s actions changed from gentle tongue swipes to eager flicks and sucks. Your body quickly went into a frenzy before you felt him suck your clit into his mouth and suck. In a matter of seconds, you felt your orgasm storm through you. Jason didn’t stop he continued until another orgasm was barreling over the previous one. 

When you were sure you couldn’t take anymore you felt his tongue slip inside of you then retreat before doing it again. His tongue sped as he moaned. His thumb swiped your opening before it met your clit again and circled it. Your back arched off the bed and your hands held his head in place. You’d lost control of your body and the part of your brain that controlled speech. Curse after curse spilled from you through your moans and pants. 

“Fuck!” You felt wetness and head Jason’s slurps and you involuntarily moved your sex against his mouth. He didn’t pull away, instead, he took everything you gave, and you received everything he gifted. 

When your body dropped to the bed you were a quivering, panting mess. Jason kissed a trail from the top of your mound across your belly up to one of your breasts until he met your lips. What was to be a sweet kiss turned into a passionate exchange that allowed you to taste yourself. Though your body was completely spent you felt the stirrings of your arousal.

“I only ever want to taste you again. You respond so well to me babygirl.”

You reached down to grip his dick, but he stopped your hand.

“Tonight was for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“My night will come.”

The fire in his eyes could not be missed and anticipation and desire rolled in one and settled in the pit of your stomach. Jason kissed you again and brought you to his chest and that is where you remained as you fell into the best sleep you’d ever had.

[mirsfa]

dangerously (iv)

Genre: Uhm. Kinda everything, from angst through fluff to smut Word count: 17k (i am so sorry) Pairing: Prince!Jaehyun x Mafia!Reader Warning: Cursing, underage smoking, drinking, use of drugs, even more cursing, smut in upcoming chapters. There’s a lot and I might have left some out oops. Summary: You were polar opposites. He was royalty, you were a criminal. You hated him, he hated you. This mission was the last thing any of you wanted, but you had to make it work. But could you?

a/n: heii people. first of all i apologize that it took me this much time to finish this bunch of shit ahahahah. there is no excuse, only that im graduating and i am slowly but surely dying. figuratively. that was a shitty joke im sorry. anyways, thank you all who were patient enough to wait for this, i have added a ‘read more’ label and hopefully it will work for everyone!! 

“It was a scratch, no need to panic, Z.”

“Yeah but what if I died?”

Doyoung sighed, yet again, at least the thirteenth time during the past hour – the time you had been awake. He had been there the second you opened your chapped mouth and croaked for water. His eyes followed all your movements, cautiously, as if something could really go wrong by drinking water. Your fingers were shaky, yes, but the second he reached towards you to help holding the cup, you hissed at him, and he knew better than to stick to his decision. The room you were in was a lot like a hospital’s – clean, white sheets with even brighter walls and equipment. The first few moments you opened your eyes it blinded you almost, giving you a sting in your head and a wish that you should have stayed passed out.

“Die from a scratch?” he placed his head in his palm as he stared at the neon lines of your heartrate.

“I mean,” you murmured, fidgeting with the string attached under the skin of the back of your hand, “I did pass out from it.”

“I think you over-reacted,” he squinted at you then, “like you do most of the time.”

You would have thrown your hands up in frustration if it wasn’t for the things in your arms, quite literally tying you to the machines.

“It was mental, really,” he said then, voice lower and somewhat softer, “after you passed out and the other gang ran away it was just – crazy. A mess. The special forces arrived and when they saw that there was no one from the opposite team…they went full commando.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you struggled to put the pieces together. You shouldn’t have asked him to tell you what happened afterwards.

“They thought we set the whole thing up.”

He nodded, and his Adams apple bobbed, casting his glance away from your searching eyes and raked his bony fingers through his hair. The charcoal locks fell into his eyes in a soft mess.  

“They wouldn’t let us go, Z,” he said, his voice barely a whisper but still filled with hatred and a sort of calm, hidden fury. “You were…you were bleeding so much, and they kept on stalling and stalling and I- “he took a deep breath as his voice wavered.  You reached out for his hand and took it into your own, squeezing softly. He glanced up then, his eyes distant, hazy with the recent memories.

“Prince Jaemin refused to leave your side. Not even for one second,” he chuckled, and you let out an amused huff, “Yukhei almost blew his ass up but I think he was somewhat thankful.”  

You averted your gaze and let out a smile.

“Prince Mark and Renjun were the ones who talked some sense into those meatheads – honestly their captain was such a jerk,” Doyoung continued, irritation shadowing his tone. You just shrugged and poked the infusion in your wrist, letting the string attached to it wiggle.

“At least I’m alive,” you proclaimed, letting out something that sounded like a bittersweet chuckle. He just shook his head and exhaled gently.

“Taeyong was out of his mind when the special forces kept us there. I’ve never seen him this disoriented before.”

“Except when Jisung walked in on him when he – “

“No! Please don’t remind me.”

You grinned as Doyoung’s face twisted into a mix of terror and disgust. It only disappeared when a low, gentle knock resonated in the clean, white room. Both him and you glanced over at the figure entering slowly and quietly, and since your vision was still somewhat blurry, you squinted, trying to put a name to the face.

“Prince Jaemin,” Doyoung said, and emerging from the chair he was lounging in before, he bowed. For a second, panic took over the young prince’s features as he waved his hands in dismissal.

“No, please, I should be the one bowing.”

Glancing over to your sitting form on the bed, something like a small, careful smile made its way on his sharply shaped lips.

“Miss Z,” he said, with a voice sweet as sugar, with eyes glinting gently, “How are you feeling?”

You adjusted yourself and let the corner of your lips curve upwards.

“Better, Your Highness,” you inclined your head in thanks, but he just grinned, and lowered himself down next to you on the bed.

“I came in yesterday, but you weren’t awake. I wanted to thank you for what you did.”

“Your Highness it was-“

“Call me Jaemin.”

Doyoung smiled and so did you.

“Jaemin, it was my job. That’s what we were hired for.”

Jaemin just shook his head, as if he was trying to dismiss your words, as if they were no more than pure bullshit. Which they were. You knew it and Doyoung did too. You would have done it anyways – protecting younger ones, kids.

“My brothers and I are all thankful for you, but I’m sure you already know that,” the prince glanced at Doyoung then, who let out a grimace.

“Yeah, about that,” he drawled out, “Z, the King and Queen wanted to do some sort of fancy-ass ball in appreciation of us.”

You drew your eyebrows together at the sheer idiocy of the idea.

“We legit just stalled the idiots and beat them. And I got stabbed. Nothing great about it, it happens almost every time?”

“No, you were scratched. And yeah, I know it’s nothing special, but it seems to be something ceremonious for the Royal Family,” Doyoung then glanced at Jaemin perching on the edge of the bed, “No offense, Your Highness.”

Jaemin just waved, the graceful movement of the royal “I-don’t-give-a-fuck”.

“You’re right. We are overdramatic.”

“Great, one more thing in common with Z.”

Reaching out in Doyoung’s direction you grabbed a fistful of his hair and he let out a high-pitched whine. A crooked smile left your lips.

 It took you nine days, twelve hours and thirty-seven minutes to get out of the blindingly plain infirmary room. You were pretty sure you were held hostage for no apparent reason. Royals would do that kind of shit, wouldn’t they? You walked the ivory white hallways alone. The empty beauty of the walls and the handcrafted statues of previous rulers left an empty feeling in your heart. Glamorous it was, but where was the life? Your steps echoed in a painful sting and you thought of thorns made of diamond. Then his eyes flashed into your brain for splitting moment.

Hurrying your steps, you chased the thought away and continued to walk down through the glass-corridor.

What a continuous and tiering war was it, chasing someone’s gaze away from one’s brain. Feeling a familiar sort of burning sting in your brain, you thought of the younger princes, in an attempt to chase the pair of eyes from your thought. Poison, it was the worst kind of poison. During those five days you spent in the white room recovering, you had received regular visits from the young, and occasionally older princes as well as your own family. You weren’t sure if it was a crooked sort of display for gratitude, or they didn’t have anything better to do, but nonetheless, in some hidden part of your heart you were glad to see the youngers. Surprisingly, Doyoung did too.

His eyes lit up every time one of the kids came up, the same way it did when he was talking with Jeno and Jisung. Speaking of the two devils, they have also bonded with the royals in their ages. Often, they left your room together, with half-hearted apologies and excuses, but you didn’t mind. Having so many people at the same time in your room tended to be a little overwhelming at times. Out of the five days, you spent only one sleeping alone.

There was only one person, however, who did not visit you.

“Jaehyun is busy nowadays,” Johnny explained with something like guilt in his voice. You wanted to crack up.

“No-one is obligated to visit me,” you mused, tilting your head. A careful, unsure feeling swept through his face.

“Yet here we are,” murmured Yuta from a chair next to you, his voice dripping with sickeningly sweet honey. You wanted to vomit and laugh at the same time.  

Johnny decided to ignore the cold-livered tone of his brother and turned to you.

“We have a room for training. It’s filled with equipment, gym and a stash of weapons.”

You lifted your eyebrow.

“Well, for that cabinet you need someone to be there with you. Prince or trainer,” he added quickly. You didn’t talk about Jaehyun again.

A couple of hours after that, Jeno and Doyoung came barging into your room. Their arms were flailing around, and incomprehensible strings of words flew out of their mouths. You understood nothing, and the volume of their blabbering did not help either. So, you waited until they calmed down, their voices lowering to a buzz.

“The training room is a fucking heaven – “

“Language, Jeno.”

 The rest is history, and you walked the glorious, ivory covered corridor on your own. The clicking sound of your steps resonated and so did your thoughts – you had to turn left here, right? Smoothing your hair out of your face, you glanced around the corner. Empty, not even a soul, a servant or a guard rushing by you.

Hesitantly, you stepped towards the only door that was not made of finely carved oak, but instead cold, cruel metal. You could feel its iciness seeping through your skin and the hair rose on the nape of your neck. The promise of a new thing, you thought, should be exciting. Why am I so goddamn nervous then?

Twirling the key slipped into your palm by Johnny an hour ago, you stepped closer to the metal door. Your palms were sweating, and your breath was heavy, but you pushed the key into the keyhole, and before you could change your mind, turned it. The door made no sound as it opened. You checked your back again, then stepping through the threshold you pushed the piece of metal shut.

What you saw, amazed you to the point where you just let your jaw hang.

The room was huge – bigger than the whole of the bar back at home – and its walls filled, almost overflowed with all range of weapons. The steel shone with a molten golden colour in the early afternoon – in your eyes it was the soft tell-tale of all that youth, all those lives that had to be paid in battles.

Kicking your shoes off, you stepped onto the sea of tatamis on the floor, the familiarity of the dry but soft material under your feet washing over you. You weren’t even sure where to start – hell, you weren’t even sure if it was some kind of loyalty test, if there were hidden cameras somewhere else, watching your every move. Slowly, you turned around, your eyes running over every possible surface, memorizing the possible escaping routes –

Stop.

Stop stop stop stop.

You had had enough of paranoid thoughts, you were the bad guys, you were not supposed to feel the urge to run away and hide.

You were the ones who made others’ blood run cold, turn the other way.

Forcing a block onto your distracting thoughts, you lifted three throwing knives and five shuriken.

The weapons’ weights were light – you had to remind yourself there was something in your hand, so you wouldn’t forget about the familiarity of the icy feeling. Throwing them onto the ground you searched for a Straw Man, a figure you could aim at.

You found it on the other side of the room, about fifty steps away from where you were standing. Perfect. Lining up your body, you spun the first knife in your hand.

Then you threw.

You threw and threw and threw, up until there was nothing in your hand, and when you retrieved them you continued where you left off. You continued until that specific sore feeling returned to your body, with the familiar veil of exhaustion raping over your senses, and like you have always done; you did not listen. You spilled all the bitterness into your movements, you aimed at head, heart, liver and stomach, you aimed and retrieved and started again.

And when you thought you had enough – not caring how long it has already been, an hour? Two? Three? - you picked down three other weapons.

Swords and long-knives and axes, anything that got near your hands.

You battled, moved with the Straw Man until your head was nothing but an empty balloon, free of any thought, any pain, any memory.

Your throat burned, your muscles screamed, and you smiled. Through pain and tears, you smiled and stroke again and again.

The sun already set when someone spoke behind you.

“Who are you fighting against?”

You spun around, your mind foggy, mind hyper-alert, arms ready to throw the knife in your hand.

Then all the mist cleared when you looked into the familiar pair of eyes. The sweet colours of warm chocolate stared into your own, with nothing but the purest kind of curiosity.

Breathing heavily, you dropped the knife in your hand and plopped onto the light green tatami.

“Many people,” you answered, and inspected his movements from underneath your eyelashes as he walked closer. His cheeks were tainted a slight pink and his hair was ruffled and his clothes couldn’t look more casual - yet he still managed to look composed and put together. His hands were deep in his jeans’ pockets as he lowered himself down onto a chair on the edge of the tatami-sea. A safe distance from you and the weapons scattered in an organized mess, something like a satanic pentagram.  

“Many people?” he repeated, his velvet voice tinted with amusement. Huffing, you lowered your head and stared into your toes.

“There are many people who had wronged me and my family.”

Lifting one of his – most likely plucked – eyebrows, he chuckled.

“Are they still alive?”

Something close to laughter bubbled up in your throat but you fought it back down, keeping your expression icy. You just looked up at him from under your eyelashes and let out a smallest of crooked smiles.

“I barely think so.”

He grinned again and inspected the steel around you.

“I see you have found the training room,” his voice was low. Soft and careful, testing the seas. Relaxing yourself, you lowered onto the tatami, huffing in exhaustion. A little break won’t hurt. He watched you carefully, inspecting your movements and when your eyes met, you saw the faint colour paint his cheeks.

“Yeah,” trying to sound casual, you shrugged and leaned back on your hands. “I was given the key by – “

“I know,” he interrupted and pursing your lips, you fell silent. “I have questions,” he said then, his voice strong but his eyes somewhat vacant – unsure. Squirming on your butt, you reached for the closest weapon, and started cleaning it with the soft material of your shirt. Something to keep you distracted – something to keep you on earth.

“I’m listening.”

Clearing his throat, he leaned back on his chair.

“First off…I know we started on shaky waters, and I think that is mainly because I was an…arse.”

“An arse?”

Uncomfortably, he glanced sideways. Then nodded. Puzzled, you lifted an eyebrow.

“I’ve genuinely, honestly, never heard someone use that word before.”

He squinted his eyes, eyeing your face suspiciously.

“You seriously don’t know what ‘arse’ means?” his voice was dumbfounded, amused. You wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, you were certain he was messing with you one way or another and you felt the need to grab that shiny shuriken by your ankle.

“No. Am I missing out on something?”

“It means…you know. Someone’s backside. But lower.”

“An ass, Your Majesty means?”

“…yeah.”

A loud, hoarse laugh erupted from your throat and you didn’t even try containing it. Tears pricked at your eyes, and you felt your lungs burning in need of oxygen. The sound echoed in the spacey, empty room and you were sure you saw him flinch before looking around uncomfortably.

“So, you’re saying you were an asshole,” your voice was strained as you wiped at your cheeks.

“Yes, but can I finish?”

“Go on, Your Majesty.”

Taking a breath, he inspected his sneakers.

“I – shouldn’t have drawn conclusions so easily and fast about you and your…” he hesitated, but you interrupted anyways.

“Family. They are my family.”

He looked at you. Really looked at you, with eyes wide and curious, glowing with something you couldn’t quite grab. You felt yourself tense under his inspecting gaze, heat rushing to your cheeks. What the fuck is going on? You were uncomfortable, uneasy, your fingers were itching with the need to grab something and fidget with it. It wasn’t the kind of gaze Taeyong would give you and Yukhei every time you came back from Gods know where, with clothes half burned, half torn off, with eyes glinting with everything but regret. It was a whole other level than when you perched on a rooftop with the icy graze of the wind through the relatively thick material of your shirt and jacket. You didn’t feel it on your skin, no. You felt it in your bones, your flesh, your soul.

Keep calm, Y/n. Keep calm. It’s your period coming. Your hormones are fucking with you.

You soothed your senses with the sweetness of the lie.

“Yes, family. I wanted to thank you. For saving my little brother.”

You were about to wave him off, the uneasy in your stomach tightening, but he held his hand up.

“No, I mean it. I know it’s your job and I know you’re most likely gonna say it was not that big of a deal, but I want to clarify the fact that you have been wounded while fighting,” he took a deep breath to continue but you interrupted anyways, quickly.

“I was gonna say that I accept white chocolate as a prize.”

You saw his breath getting caught in his throat, his ears flushing a sweet, bright shade of pink.

“Ah…ehm…white chocolate?”

You shrugged, “Yeah. Those are the best shit on the global market these days.”

Nodding, he cleared his throat again and inspecting the ground he asked you, “Why do you hate us so much?”

Your stomach coiled again, not sure whether it was the mention of the white chocolate that drove him to dive into deeper, personal matters, or the question had been on his mind for days. He certainly didn’t beat around the bush for long. You decided on the latter.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean, Majesty.”

“You know exactly what I mean. The rest of the boys, your family, had warmed up to us, pretty much. Except maybe the other assassin, Doyoung. And the short one who always looks like he’s either about to slit someone’s throat or spill the darkest of your secrets – “

“Oh, Ten always knows the latest of the tea. Believe me, you don’t want to be there when he decides to spill it. It’s a catastrophe,” you tilted your head and sighed, a sort of endearing smile playing around on your lips.

“That’s not what I meant. Look, it is obvious that there is something that holds you back. I just…I don’t even know. I just wanted to know why.”

He grew quiet, his voice becoming unsure when you showed no reaction. He was swimming amongst dangerous tides, far deeper and darker than he could imagine. Your head was spinning, shards of pieces of memories cutting into your skull, you didn’t want to remember. No. He wasn’t ready for the truth, and neither were you. Neither were any one the Diamond Snake, and it was going to remain that way. So, brushing aside your honest answer, you replied with another.

“It isn’t entire the best feeling in the world, Your Majesty, when you are the only female working in this place, surrounded by men at all times. I hope you understand why I prefer to remain closed off.”

He didn’t believe you.

It was obvious, when sheer doubt took over his features. You didn’t question it though, didn’t push it.

Huffing out air, he nodded, strands of caramel brown hair falling into his eyes as he did so.

“Of course, I understand. I will try and find a solution, if you would like me too.” He stood up then, and before you could utter a word of objection, he bowed his head. His gaze avoided yours, and suddenly you felt like you have made the worst decision, not telling him the truth. So, you brushed your hand over the steel blade of a knife by your knees and pressed your mouth together.  

“Goodnight, Miss Z,” he murmured, and you snapped your head towards him when you heard the smooth, velvet voice.

You didn’t answer and the next sound you heard was the slam of the metal door. The tears came after that.

 Two weeks, every day, from morning until noon. That’s the amount of time you have spent in the training room, with other members visiting, sparring, getting beaten and then storming out of through the metal door, bruises already blooming on their skin.

You weren’t in the best mood.

You weren’t sure what was going on inside you, neither was your environment. After four days, Jeno came to you in the training room to let you know about the findings of the blood sample taken from under your nails and knives, and when you showed no signs of care when he did so, neither him or the rest of them bother to try and get you back on that one. You were more than thankful for that.

Yukhei, however, did mention that you were having the glorious week of your period – he did get his ass kicked a minute or so later – but it has been almost a month since you have gotten back from the ominous mission with the younger princes.

You saw more of them, and perhaps it warmed your heart. A little.

“Why did you become an assassin?” asked Jaemin one of the many afternoon’s with sweat running down along your brow. Gulping heavily, you squat down in front of a weapon stack, your back to him.

“There was no other offer of profession at the local employment office.”

He snorted behind you and after a couple of seconds you heard the low thumps of his steps on the tatami. He lowered himself next to you.

“Liar,” he smiled and watched you expectantly.

“Obviously. People like me don’t say the truth.”

Shaking his head, he laid down, and fixated his gaze on the wooden ceiling of the room. When he sensed you did nothing other than shifting your attention back onto sharpening a random knife you found, he patted the tatami next to himself.

“Come lie down with me. You have been training for four whole hours now.”

“No thanks.”

“I didn’t wait for an answer. It’s an order,” he flashed his teeth in a grin, and you whipped your head back at him. The young prince and you became closer to each other for sure, during the past month, to the extent where he begged you to treat him as a common boy, instead of “throwing his status in his face every time you talked.” He was younger than you for sure, but it never stopped him from biting back equally snarky comments at you every time you shot him off with your own.

Dropping the knife away from you, you slowly leaned back, just to stare at the ceiling.

“I swear to god, you need to start dating with pretty lil’ princesses so you can do shit like this under the stars,” you croaked.

He shrugged and quirked the edge of his lips.

“I sure would be a ladies’ men, wouldn’t I?”

You let out a low chuckle and nodded, your elbows poking into his ribs. Jaemin was for sure one of a kind, the type to try no matter what hard to make a person smile. Pushing the long sleeves of your training shirt – which you have received plenty of the past few weeks and you’re not entire sure whether you have been happier in your life – and relaxing your facial features, you closed your eyes.

“It wasn’t entirely a choice, Jaemin. Sometimes, I mean, hah, most of the time, people have not a lot of chance to do things. Sometimes they are forced to live with things that were not intentional. Situations, lives they were…pressured into.”

You inhaled, applying force on your eyelids, as if you could block your sight from memories that came out every time you closed your eyes and purred about your past.

Jaemin was already staring at you by the time you glanced sideways in his direction, with even eyebrows furrowed together, gaze hazy with thoughts. He was about to open his mouth, most likely to ask something, however, before he could utter a word, the loud bang of the metal door from behind you crashed all hopes he had to speak.

You didn’t even need to look back to know who just entered the room.

“Holy shit this place is DOPE!”

You would think you have already gotten used to Yukhei’s booming voice. You didn’t. And if you drew consequences from Jaemin’s jump and saucer-wide eyes, he did too, have a long way to go.

Jeno was walking behind Yukhei, with something like the shadow of a smile on his lips. When his gaze met yours, his eyes turned into half-moons as he chuckled to himself.

“What’s up guys?” with a low huff, you hoisted yourself up from the ground. Yukhei looked around the training room with an admiring glint in his eyes.

“Boss asked us to find you. Apparently, he has something to tell you. He’s with princes.”

You lifted an eyebrow as you shot a questioning look at Jaemin.

“Which ones?” you asked.

Yukhei shrugged as he continued to inspect the weapons stacked up all around the walls. “The ones that make you look like you have a spike shoved up in your ass.”

Jaemin let out a low, dramatic gasp and Jeno dropped his head into his palm.

“Ah,” was all you said as you picked up the leather jacket you dropped onto the floor after entering, and grabbing the pair of sneakers in your hands, you strode towards the door.

“Better place it back in then,” you threw back behind your shoulder before the metal door shut closed.

 You didn’t really bother knocking on Taeyong’s door before kicking it open barefooted. You were quite a sucker for entrances and to be honest, and it kind of ran in the family.

“I heard you needed my spiked-up ass!” you hollered into the room before throwing your shoes in the corner and hanging your jacket. Ambling into the suite’s living room, you found Taeyong, Doyoung and Kun with the three oldest princes, Johnny, Yuta and Jaehyun.

Jaehyun’s and your eyes met for a single second, but you diverted your gaze just as fast.

You hated how you memorized the way he looked at that moment, with his soft his hair looking perfect even though you were completely sure he had not brushed it and you really hated that you caught the way his ears were tinted a slight shade of pink.

Suddenly you regretted that the words “spiked-up ass” ever left your mouth.

Taeyong covered his mouth before he let out a tiny cough - you were more than sure of the fact that he had a shit-eating grin on his face – and Doyoung let out an obvious eyeroll.

“Well now that you are here,” began Kun, “we can get down to it.”

“Get to what?” you quipped, and massaging your left wrist, you took a seat on one of the cream coloured sofas by the floor-to-ceiling glass window.

Your gaze raked over the three princes. Johnny sat on a dark rose-coloured plush sofa, with his two brothers perching on the arms of it. You didn’t look them directly in the eyes, no. You didn’t dare, not after you have seen the flash of bare emotion in Prince Jaehyun’s eyes.

Your mind kept repeating the minutes, hours he had spent watching you in the training room during those two weeks. You didn’t talk, didn’t make eye-contact. Just like then when you entered the room, you avoided his gaze, the sheer curiosity shimmering in those orbs.

He didn’t bother you.

Didn’t say a word, didn’t make a noise, and in some distant part of your mind, you were certain he hardly breathed. Some days, you saw the edge of a black notebook poking out of his pocket. You decided not to pay any special attention to it. Or to him, for that.

“Doyoung have told you a couple of weeks ago that there will be a dinner for us, in thanks to dealing with the…problems that came up with the young princes.” You nodded as you listened to Kun’s soft voice. He stood behind Taeyong, looking at you and the three princes with eyes glinting in an odd way.

Frowning, you straightened your back.

“But that’s not it, is it?” your voice was cautious, you felt like there was an elephant in the room, and everyone knew about it except for you. However, when you glanced at Doyoung you saw a puzzled look taking over his features, unlike Taeyong, who silently inspected the tip of his shoes, slightly faded crimson hair falling onto his forehead.

Doyoung’s and your eyes met. Kun cleared his throat before he continued.

“And additionally, we have found a trail to who might be behind the attacks.”

You nodded, remembering Jeno coming into the training room the tell you before you chased him away.

“We were able to trace it back to Mr. Kim.”

A beat of silence.

“There is like one million Mr. Kims you dipshit,” Doyoung drawled and Taeyong and you choked on your laughter. Kun shot a look at the raven-haired assassin who then quickly rearranged his facial expressions and instead glared on the flower - tapestry.

Johnny cleared his throat and leaned forward in his chair.

“Kim Seokjin is a high-ranked official and advisor, working for the Crown,” he said matter-of-factly, keeping his gaze on you and the others. “He has been through more battles than me and my brothers combined, and he used to be believed one of the most loyal objects for my father and mother.”

“Seems like he’s gone rogue,” Taeyong marvelled and Jaehyun nodded.

“We have tried to look into his activities for the past couple of months, but we have found nothing,” Jaehyun continued and glanced at Taeyong, carefully avoiding your gaze. “We need your hacker’s help.”

Taeyong inclined his head and reached for the crumpled cigarette pack lying on the crystal-clear glass coffee-table.

“Z,” he spoke up, his voice gravelled and snapping your head back, you caught the pack he threw at you. Your eyes met for a couple of seconds and that was when you saw it; that glint that appeared almost every time when something was about to come up. Something that you might not take well.

The cigarette pack he threw at you was a warning, then.

“Is there something else?” Doyoung asked, obviously bored out of his mind. He tended to do that a lot when something was not revolving around him.

“Yes, there is,” Johnny admitted before starting off. He didn’t look at you, he kept on staring at the carpet in front of himself. Unlikely of an eldest royal who is used to speak in front of and to people on a regular basis. “He will most likely be present for the dinner organized for the Diamond Snake. Which can mean two things in this case; first of all, he was one of the few officials who had strongly disagreed concerning the…hiring of your gang. If he decides to come to the gathering – “

“Then he wants to eliminate us,” you ventured, cutting him off. Yuta’s head snapped towards you in warning, but ignoring him, you leaned forward with eyes fixated on lighting the cigarette dangling from your mouth.

“That’s right. We know a couple of things already, for example the fact that he finds beautiful woman, a good drink and gold irresistible,” explained Johnny, and Doyoung eyed the prince’s features cautiously. Taeyong’s gaze remained on your face, which you carefully kept stone cold neutral.

Everyone went quiet and you inhaled the smoke, relished in the soft sting, the familiar smell. You felt another pair of eyes on you, molten caramel, the smoothing rays of the afternoon sun. You avoided that too.

Your brain caught up on the prince’s thinking, and it did not take long for you to figure out what they wanted to ask from you, why Taeyong was so goddamn nervous and why he lit one cigarette after another. Doyoung was still in the dark.

“Your Majesties,” Taeyong croaked then, exhaling a large amount of smoke which he kept inside for way too long. “I will talk about you request with Z alone.” he gave the princes a half-hearted incline of his head.

Kun nodded slowly.

“It is best if we talk about it amongst ourselves,” he agreed and Doyoung huffed.

“Talk about what? Can someone just tell me what’s going on?!”

You rose before drawling, “they want to whore me out to Mr. Kim,” with eyes as dead as your voice. You didn’t see the realization and disgust flash in Doyoung’s eyes for you rose from your seat, your gaze dead set on the oldest prince.

Taeyong then sprung up and with a single movement, stood in your way. Without your heels on you he was taller than usual, and he did not seem inclined to let you go. Kun moved from behind the sofa and with a tiny but respectful bow of the head ushered the princes out.

You didn’t see the look in Jaehyun’s eyes before the door slam shut behind his back.

And then you let it all out.

“What the fuck did you think, Tae?! Huh?!” your voice rose dangerously, and with a hand, pushed Taeyong in the chest who staggered a single step back. He lifted his arms in defence, but you paid no attention as you threw the half-burned cigarette into the ashtray.

“Z, listen to me – “

“Fuck about listening to anyone in this goddamned shithole, we were hired to gather information, to figure out who is behind all this shit, kill that bastard and then move the fuck along. I’m not going to play their fucking games, Tae!” you snarled but you felt the suffocating veil of desperation and fear creep up on your senses.

“Z, they don’t want to – “

You choked out a sob and grabbing the front of his black t-shirt you pulled him close.

“We talked about this. I told you I will never do anything like that again, I told you I told you I told you,” your voice hitched, lowered from a vicious hiss down into a weak whisper. Kun slid out of the room and closed the door behind him quietly. Taeyong put a hand on the back of your head, smoothing your hair, your back. He didn’t say anything, he held you and you let the first tear fall. Torn pieces of memories zipped through your mind and you tightened your grip on his shirt, held onto it like a lifeline.

“They will not whore you out, Z. They wanted to, but I told them they shouldn’t expect you to do that.” He murmured as his hand trailed through your locks.

“Would the Royals go that far?” Doyoung piped up as he laid down on the couch, placing his feet on the arm rest.

“Take your shoes off, Doyoung,” Taeyong deadpanned and the assassin threw his shoes off into the corner of the room with a dramatic sigh. You straightened up and wiped your glistening cheeks with the back of your shaking hand.

“Sorry for reacting like that,” you grumbled and Taeyong rustled your head with a sigh.

“I didn’t expect anything else.”

“Are you saying I’m a crybaby?” you murmured and Taeyong let out a low laugh.

“You should see your face every time someone says they want to use the fact that you’re a woman.”

Fuming, you threw yourself into the chair in which Johnny was sitting before. Taeyong pushed Doyoung’s legs away and sat down, posture slightly stiff. Wiping your nose into the sleeves of your shirt you pulled your knees close to your chest.

“So, what did the princes want me to do if not using me?” you asked, placing your chin on your arms.

“They do want to use you in a certain way, but,” he held his finger up before you could utter a word. You closed your mouth. “They wouldn’t want you to do anything you don’t want to. You see, Seokjin has no idea how you look like. We didn’t show ourselves in front of generals or officials, only the princes and the servants who were there. That means – “

“I will pretend someone I’m not,” you caught up and Taeyong nodded. “What is the information we need to gather from him?”

“We need to make sure that Seokjin is in relation with that gang who attacked us or the Black Spade.”

“And how the hell am I gonna do that? I’m not a spy and I have no clue how to act like a fucking lady!” you threw your arms up in the air and Doyoung sighed.

“We been knew.”

Your head snapped towards him and your hand reached for the nearest object you could throw at him, the diamond ashtray, but Taeyong snatched it from your hand before you could hurl it at Doyoung’s head.

“The princes offered to help you.”

“All of them?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know? Probably. They will be in the Grand Ballroom tomorrow at ten in the evening. You will meet them there.” Taeyong said then and you let out an exasperated sigh. Guess, you were gonna have to learn the waltz.

 It took Winwin 17 whole minutes to convince not to go in your training tunic, but instead something more comfortable and socially (and royally) acceptable.

“Listen, Z, you need to get something like a shirt, or I don’t know, not that black fucking bodysuit… No, no absolutely fucking not, Z, put the stilettos back.”

You groaned as you threw the pair of shoes at Winwin, who caught them and chucked them on your bed.

“I don’t want to go around pretending I’m a cute little lady who does pretty bows, and smiles like a brainless idiot,” you protested, placing your hands on your hips. You were still in underwear and you were ready to throw the hacker out of your room, but he insisted on not making a fool out of you. Pity. Would have been a nice warm-up.

“Z, you’re just gonna learn the basic behaviour when you’re around high-class people, come on…No oh dear god put that knife back, girl you’re going to walk with fucking books on your head, Jesus everloving Christ,” Winwin raked through his blond hair and with a quick movement put it in a manbun.

“Yeah but we always need to be ready. Just a small one?” you held up a pocket-knife, and widening your eyes you put on your best puppy-face.

Winwin sighed deeply and buried his face in his hands.

‘I’m gonna call Jisung – “

“He’s playing Fortnite,” you quipped, and he raised his eyebrows.

“At nine in the morning? He woke up this early?”

“Nah. He just didn’t go to sleep.”

“Taeyong’s gonna gut him,” he pondered, and you shrugged. Giving in, you reached for the only clean white shirt you had along with a soft, flary pair of pants. You were about to reach for the high-heels but Winwin grabbed your arm in an attempt to stop you.

“Come on, I’m so fucking short,” you whined, shaking your arm out of his.

“You’re gonna be tripping and falling, do you really want to make a fool out of yourself like that?” he retorted, and you gave in after a second of thinking. Damn him and his rational thinking. Huffing, you pulled on a pair of sneakers, making as much fuss and noise while doing so as possible. You knew that the calm, forever-collected hacker won’t give a single shit about it, you can also jump out the window to get to the meeting faster – he would just shrug and text about it to the groupchat, to let the others know.

His story is a quirky one, filled with broken hearts, neon-screens and cold slices of pizzas.

It was Doyoung who recruited him. They met in jail, both of them waiting for their friends to bail him out – only Winwin had no one he could really rely on. It was you who went to grab Doyoung, back when you were 18.

Both the receptionist and the guard were corrupted by the already slowly building empire of the Diamond Snake. It took no convincing and a lot of money and Doyoung was out. But he didn’t wasn’t to leave.

“Wait,” he said, and you glared at him from behind your sunglasses, its size reminding him of a fly’s eyes. There was a faint bruise on the corner of your lips, and he knew you were frowning behind the darkened glasses. “There is someone,” with a quick movement he inclined his head in the direction of his cell, “I think we should get him out as well. I talked with him. He will be of use, I promise.”

“You know what Tae thinks about picking people up.” you murmured. Shooting a hesitant look towards the guard who started to get impatient, you licked your lips quick and then whispered, “alright I’ll get him out. But you go into the car now. Yukhei is already there, behind the building.”

Without another look, you shoved him towards the door before fixing your glasses and reaching for another stack of money.

A blackeye and Winwin’s dumbfounded expression richer, both of you blasted out of the jail and hurried towards the getaway car. Doyoung snorted as he examined your blackeye and murmured, “well seems like money wasn’t enough.”

For some unknown reason, the guard is fired the next day.

 “You are still that troublemaker you were when I first met you,” Winwin’s deep voice mutters before sinking down on the bed. “It’s hard to imagine you doing courtesies and waltz around the room like some goddamn princess.”

“What are you talking about?” straightening up from fixing your shoelaces you place your hands on your waist. “I am the fucking Queen, not the flimsy princess.”

He let out a chuckle and ushered you towards the door.

“Hurry up, you’re already late. They might punish you by wearing lacey dresses with corsets.”

You pouted.

“Lace is hot but only in the bedroom.”

You proceeded to avoid the shoes he hurled at your head before ducking out of the room, the remains of your laughter echoing in the empty hallways.

 You weren’t exactly sure what to expect when you stepped in, maybe a teacher with spectacles and way-too-tight corset, maybe a lady-in-waiting or even the Queen herself.

What you didn’t expect was eight princes, four out of them shrieking and hooting…spanking each other? You halted for a second, waiting for your brain to process the view of Prince Yuta throwing Prince Renjun over his shoulder with a victorious holler. Johnny, the only reasonable out of all of them, was unfortunately missing and suddenly you felt like you have made the worst possible decision on agreeing to learn etiquette with them.

You cleared your throat and the room went still as death.

Renjun peeked over in your direction from Yuta’s shoulder, Donghyuck slowly removed his hand from Mark’s butt, Jaemin smoothed down Jungwoo’s hair and Jaehyun let go of Chenle’s collar.

“I’m…sorry for being…” a glance down at your phone, “two minutes and thirty-four seconds late.”

Jaehyun stood straight up and smoothing his caramel hair back, let out a crooked smile, one that showed his dimples off discreetly.

“It’s – it’s alright. Please take a seat,” he said and Jungwoo whipped out a chair out from somewhere behind them and spun it right in front of you.

Feeling the tiny bubble of nervousness grow in your stomach, you lowered yourself on the chair and just to show you’re not as barbaric as is might show occasionally, you crossed your legs. As you let your eyes scan over the princes standing in a half circle in front of you, you gave a silent thanks to Winwin for not letting you out in high heels and an edgy outfit. Most of the princes in front of you were wearing branded hoodies and shirts with jeans or sweatpants and sneakers. Were they even allowed to do that?

Under the inspecting gazes of the royals suddenly you became aware of the fact that you left your hair in a hazy ponytail with a minimal amount of makeup.

“You might wonder why we are your teachers instead of a chaperone of a sort,” Yuta started with a steely gaze and you straightened your back, “you see, I don’t know what kind of plan you’re cooking for the gala in honour of you and your gang, but no one can be aware of that. So, we will be looking after your education in basic royal etiquette,” he announced before giving a mocking bow, and you swore you saw Jungwoo roll his eyes.

“You make it sound so serious,” the younger prince said, “we were going to help her out anyways.”

“What about the guys? Like Yukhei?” Chenle quipped in and you let out a small smile.

“We already told them the basic stuff,” Mark sighed, “plus people don’t pay attention to men. The spotlight is on…” he made a grand sort of hand motion in your direction, “the ladies at all times. Especially the ones who seem like they want to stab someone in the throat,” he turned to you with a deadpanned expression and murmured, “you might want to work on that general expression of yours Miss.”

Yuta snorted and looked over at Mark.

“She has the ultimate resting bitch face in case you haven’t noticed it.”

“Something you guys have in common,” grunted Renjun from beside Yuta and the older turned to him with a shocked expression but before he could retort anything, Jaehyun interrupted.

“How about we start, we don’t have much time. Five days, brothers. Focus.” His sweet baritone washed over you and the hair stood up on the back of your neck.

Jungwoo nodded and cracked his knuckles.

“Lesson one, Miss Z…”

“Please just call me Z,” you interrupted quickly, and he inclined his head.

“Lesson one will be sitting. Crossing legs is not okay if you are sitting in front of people.”

You quickly uncrossed your legs and listened to his instructions and tried not to get distracted with the softness of his voice.

“Imagine your knees are being glued together,” he started, and you brought your knees together, slightly frowning at the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach, “and that some old nasty perverted paparazzi is trying to have a shot of under your skirt.”

“A shot of what?!” you exclaimed, and it was Jaemin’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Tilt them a little, like this,” he bent his knees as if he was sitting and turned them to the right. You imitated, and they nodded in satisfaction.

And then you learned how to hold a teacup and a wineglass, you learned how to get out of a car and how to hide your cleavage when bending down. You greet people you know with a kiss on the cheek or a firm handshake and you hold your handbag in front of you at all times, in your hand.

The princes made an excellent job at teaching you – even though Yuta snapped at you multiple times and Chenle let out that laugh with a frequency higher than Yukhei’s. Winwin wasn’t wrong, you did indeed need to walk with a bunch of encyclopaedias on your head – and when you did, you silently thanked yourself all those gym sessions with Yukhei because if it wasn’t for them you would have most likely broke your neck under the weight of the books.

“You need to imagine that your spine is a cord,” explained Jungwoo as he rolled his sleeves up, “that cord is your spine – “

“And you straighten the fuck out of it,” finished Yuta.

A beat of silence.

“Why the fuck do you need to swear in every single one of your sentences?” Jaehyun’s voice resonated something like an ever-lasting suffer, with his eyebrows shot up until his hairline. From the corner of your eyes you saw Renjun silently bury his face into his hand.

“Who are you to talk, you just said ‘fuck’!” Yuta retorted before squinting his eyes towards his younger brother.

You let the bare thought of smile playing around the corner of your lips.

“I didn’t know princes were allowed to swear,” you chuckled carefully so the encyclopaedia placed on the crown of your head won’t fall. Yuta shrugged and placed his chin on the top of his hand – which would have been a sweet gesture if he wasn’t looking like he wished you were dead at all times.

“The forbidden fruit is the sweetest,” was all he said with a sort of melancholy in his voice. You glanced at your feet and took a deep breath.

“So, straighten the fuck out of the cord, right?” you forced a smile and Yuta hid a grin.

With aching slowness, you lifted yourself up from the chair, cautious of the books atop your head. Spreading your arms, you searched for your balance, bit your lip in concentration.

“You’re doing great,” murmured Jungwoo, his voice sweet yet distant, reminding you of an early summer breeze. You took a step, the books stable. The princes remained silent, watching you carefully, not daring to disturb the concentration on your features. After five steps you dared to open one of your eyes. Your shoes made no noise on the polished marble as you walked agonizingly slowly towards the end of the room – touch the wall, girl. Touch the wall. After another five steps you arrived next to Jaehyun – the prince standing farthest away from you, barely participating in the teaching.

Throughout the firing instructions and shouts to get you to learn the proper etiquette, he stood and observed – occasionally letting out a huff of amusement.

You felt his gaze on you during the two hours you have spent there, and it took every fibre of your being not to let heat rush to your cheeks. He has gotten the worst out of you, reminding you of adolescent years, broken hearts and flushing cheeks from the tiniest of touches. Suddenly the books on your head became heavier and you became even more alert of the gazes that followed and inspected your every movement.

He only came close to you once the princes decided it would be a good idea to be done for that day. His steps were silent, cautious as he sauntered closer to you as you placed the last book off your head.

“There is something I haven’t quite be able to stop wondering about,” he said, his voice as casual as it could get. Arching one of your eyebrows you encouraged him to keep talking. “Doyoung said that it might take you some time to incline to follow the proposal from us about Kim Seokjin – “he corrected himself rapidly when he saw a warning glint in your eyes, “not that you had a lot of chance to do anything else. I’m – sorry about that.”

“Don’t beat around the bush with me, Prince,” you purred, and you saw his Adams apple bob for a second.

“No, I was just wondering what the reason for that quick acceptance was. I would have completely understood if you needed more time like a week or something, but…I’m not sure I can figure this one.”

His voice lowered into a murmur and you cocked your head to the side, for some reason not really taken aback by his questions.

“You see, women don’t have that sheer brutality when it comes to violence. We aren’t inclined to go head first into situations,” you found Jaehyun searching your face while you talked, and you forced yourself not to flinch or retreat a step. You smoothed the edge of your nails on the skin of your wrist. “But we are good at other things, things that are underestimated by males who have not met with one of us. Who have not experienced our ways of handling situations. Instead of testosterone and bruised knuckles we have cunning, we have the strings to the puppets in the games and – “you brought your fingernails away from your wrist and lifted it, moving it towards his chest, stopping only a millimetre away from the fine material of his sweatshirt.

You heard him suck in a breath and for a second you let yourself relish in his reaction. “- and we have the power of seduction,” you continued, lowering your hand, “a power which is just as fun as dangerous to play with. It’s sort of a game, prince, with rules that you need to be stuck to. Like glue. Or else the cost is your life,” you let out a shaky breath and the echo of a sad smile, “seduce or be seduced, Jaehyun.”

The similar rhythm of your phone’s buzz shook you out of your reverie from the direction of Yuta’s hand, signalling the arrival of a text message. (The prince snatched it from your hand before you could place it on the ground somewhere in the corner of the large room, and to your dismay he kept it in his lap throughout the lesson.)

Jaehyun tilted his head to the side as his eyes narrowed at you. His face was void of any visible emotion other than a single dimple that played on the edge of his lips.

“You got a message from… Winnie The Pooh?” his voice changed from exasperated to confused as he glanced at your back turned to him. You pushed down the urge to spin on your heels and grab it from his hands. Containing your instincts, you cleared your throat.

“Yes. His name is Winwin. Our hacker,” your voice was barely above a whisper and slowly took a one-eighty turn. Yuta pouted dramatically and nodded.

“The blond with the manbun?” he asked, and you blinked slowly.

“Yeah.”

You snatched the phone with a quick movement and left the room with quick steps after he let out something similar to a genuine smile.

 “We need to create a fake identity for you,” said Taeil the third day you arrived back into Taeyong’s room which has grown itself out to be a sort of common lounge for the Snakes.

“Yeah?” you huffed as you dumped your high heels on the burgundy carpet and reached down to massage your aching heel. To hell with the waltz. Grabbing a scrunchie that perhaps belonged to Winwin you hastily tied your hair up and sat down across from him.

“What do you have in mind?”

He nodded as he pulled out his usual notebook, the one he used every time when he planned something.

“Yesterday after your training I talked with Prince Johnny and asked about the families that are well known in the castle and in the circles of the high-status people,” he opened the notebook on a page filled with his messy but still somewhat organized handwriting. You leaned closer as he continued, “there is an orphan heiress of a nearby territory, she never gets out of her villa and she doesn’t care at all what’s going on inside. She hasn’t stirred any drama and people acknowledge her enough to be aware of who she is and all that.”

Your eyebrows shot up as you looked at him.

“Orphan?”

“Yes. The family was attacked one night, murdered in cold blood during their dinner. The murderers slit Lord Jung’s throat and stabbed his wife but for some unknown reason they left their daughter alone. Her name is Jisoo.”

“And I’m going to be Jisoo.”

He nodded with a solemn look on his face, “you are going to be Miss Jung Jisoo.”

Lifting your chin, you remembered the lesson about presenting grace and patience, about displaying your full interest concerning a matter. You placed your hands folded lightly into your lap and angled your paralleled knees towards Taeil.

“Tell me more.”

 Jaehyun reached over to Johnny to angle back his crooked tie.

“You think she will do well?” the older prince levelled his voice down, so the maids rushing around them with oversized buckets of flowers won’t hear a thing. Jaehyun saw flashes of that young woman with encyclopaedias on her head and hellfire in her eyes. He let out the faintest smile.

Johnny sighed, “We taught her everything she needs to know,” as he adjusted his navy suit over the black turtleneck shirt. Jaehyun pursed his lips, his eyes glued to an arrangement of flowers in the corner, by a Corinth marble statue.

“I don’t know, she seems pretty stubborn. She was.”

Johnny cut him a glance.

“Wouldn’t you know that, brother,” he drawled, a new kind of amusement glinting in his eyes. Jaehyun fought the urge to cringe and instead pluck a flower from a bucket which passed him, the maid almost invisible behind the gigantic arrangement.

“This ball will be something else,” he murmured to himself, “I have a feeling that all this decoration adds the feeling of…feeding the pig before cutting it down. Don’t you think?”

Johnny was silent for a second.

“Listen…even though we taught her the basic etiquette and even though there will be heavy security…they are a gang. They thrive on illegal stuff and violence and I’m just not entirely sure whether all this was a good idea.”

Jaehyun’s eyebrows furrowed as he listened to his brother.

“You were the one holding us together with your positivity. Don’t start having doubts now or I swear to God – “

Johnny cut in before he could finish, “No, it isn’t like that. What I’m saying is…” his voice dropped down, barely audible over the murmurs and buzzing of the servants, “they are not accustomed to this life. Who knows whether there will be trigger that makes them turn against us?” Shaking his head, he smoothed the hair out of his eyes.

“I think it will be alright,” Jaehyun muttered, “if they were to turn against us, they would have already done it. Hopefully the night will go smoothly.”

  “For the fifth time, take that thing out of my hair it makes me look like a fucking garden,” you pleaded as you reached for the flower crown arranged into a pink disaster on top of your head. It has been one and a half hour since they bathed you – they were in there with you and they scrubbed your everything even though it was supposed to be a relaxing bath. You were everything but relaxed – before they placed you in front of a wide, rose gold vanity.  

“Listen young lady, we were ordered to make your appearance appropriate and fitting for the theme of the dinner.”

The woman, Ms Seol, who was responsible for your look, was a bitch. Her white hair was filled with pearls and other ornaments and she was wearing a disturbing amount of makeup to hide her wrinkles. And that enormous hooked nose. Its sole purpose was to lure you into punching her square in the face. On top of that she kept ordering you around and considering the fact that she had no clue who you actually were and the industrial number of maids coming in and out of the room they took you – you had no chance of getting out of here without looking like a complete idiot. You regretted all your decisions not only about agreeing to play a role but about accepting the proposal of the Royal Family.

Take a deep breath every time you feel like screaming, said Kun in the morning before you were taken to literal Hell, and count to ten.

Don’t lose your temper, Z.

Don’t lose it.

You forced a glittering smile.

“Ma’am,” you mused with a voice filled with glazing honey and venom, “I was invited to this dinner because of my status and looks, and the palace hired you to strengthen the latter – not to destroy its complete existence.”

She blinked twice, and you remembered Prince Renjun’s words: “You need to speak with authority with people whose status’ are lower than yours, even though you’re lying. Believe what you are saying yourself, place yourself into that situation and the others will believe it, too.”

You inhaled deeply, not breaking eye contact with Ms Seol and with renewed authority and pride in your words you said, “I am planning to get highly intoxicated on the alcoholic beverages offered tonight and finding a fairly handsome bachelor who will later blow my back out for I will be too irresistible for him and his lower, manly body parts,” you flashed a thousand-watt smile, “if you know what I mean.”

Her face contorted from surprise to contempt then into complete disgust all the while looking at you, sporting a soft pink bathrobe and a grin.

You flipped your hair above your shoulders and opened your mouth to add to her horror but the monotone and yet still cheerful voice of someone stopped you.

“My my, I knew the lady was trouble but what I just heard completely succeeded my expectations,” the maids in the room parted to give space to the newcomer, an ebony haired beauty with a mischievous glint in her eyes, “what a warm welcome.”

Her hand was resting on a black suitcase and a leather sport bag, her companion – all four female – stood behind her in suits and portable dress carriers packed with gowns hidden in their bags.

The woman pushed her sunglasses up onto her forehead and flashed you a grin.  

“Miss Jung,” she pronounced the word with an enough amount of sarcasm for you to know she was aware of your secret and had an exact idea on who you actually were, “I am you stylist. Your actual stylist.”

She levelled her gaze onto Ms. Seol with enough contempt to discourage the woman in every way – you shivered.

“Your services are no longer needed Ma’am, and neither is the rest of the staff.”

It took them a couple of seconds and a few fuelled glances to be outside the door.

Placing your knee on the bejewelled and soft armchair, you turned around to face your saviour of some sort. Her hair fell down on her back in soft curls and her lips were tainted devil red. She was the only one wearing pants with matching blazer and a white t-shirt. The most mesmerizing thing about her, though, was her darker complexion - Her honey skin shone in the daylight and the golden eyeshadow brightened the glow in her eyes.

“My name is Tan, pleased to meet you, assassin.”

You tilted your head with an equally wide grin.

“The honour is mine, stylist,” standing up, you let her run her eyes over your body and shape and you felt an odd satisfaction when she nodded her head.

“I wasn’t entire sure about your complexion. It’s not like I can find a proper picture of you on the internet,” she clicked her tongue and shrug her blazer off, “would you feel uncomfortable if you were naked in front of us?”

You arched an eyebrow. She smiled.

“For research purposes.”

Your let out a low snicker before undoing your robe and letting it fall to the ground, revealing your naked figure.

“Perfect,” was all she said before turning to her companion and exchanged a few words in a language unfamiliar to you. The female staff unzipped a couple of bags before pushing the wheeled carrier towards Tan.

“I was hired by Johnny,” she said as she looked through the dresses hung up, “he had a feeling that his parents will give you the stylist which will cause the most headache,” she clicked her tongue again with distaste, “she obviously had no taste.”

You picked up the robe before placing it on your shoulders.

“You know His Majesty well?”

She snorted before glancing at you, “He’s my childhood best friend. I was engaged to him, but you see,” she flicked her wrist towards you and two of the females gestured for you to sit back down, “I fell in love with a girl.”

Your eyebrows arched up again as you stared at her from the reflection of the vanity. If she was engaged to the eldest prince, then she must herself be royal as well. Tilting your head to the side you let the two females undo your previous, disastrous hairdo and each of them grabbing a hairbrush and an ironer, started to straighten your hair.

“I know what you are thinking,” Tan said as she unzipped a bag completely but the dress in it remained hidden from you. “I was only 16.”

Her voice remained neutral, levelled out. Your nose crinkled as the burning heat of the iron came a bit too close.

“Something happened,” you murmured, your own voice careful, and your eyes met in the reflection. She knew you weren’t asking, and her lips curled up in a sad smile.

“It didn’t quite work out between me and her eventually,” her voice remained emotionless and you weren’t sure whether that was true or not, but you kept yourself from pushing her. It was not your place to know. And you just met.

“16 is an age when changes happen,” you said instead and looking at yourself in the mirror, you got lost in your own reflection for a second. “Usually they are not for the best.”

She didn’t look at you, instead she pulled out a device and plugging it into the nearest connector she turned it on. Her nails were tainted red and you noticed that her bottom lip was slightly plusher than the top.

“What happened to you?”

Her question took you by surprise and you flinched. The burning iron missed the skin of your ear by only a couple of millimetres. When you looked back up, your gaze met with hers. You teared your eyes away from hers and stared into your own instead.

“I fell in love with the wrong person.”

Your voice was so low you thought the wind carried it away, out through the window into the sky. To be lost and forgotten. But it wasn’t.

“It cost you something, didn’t it?” her voice was soft but not weak and you could only nod. When she shivered, it was like she came out of something like a trauma before she clapped her hands.

“Us girls, we need to stick together and help each other,” her voice was lively now but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, “too bad Ms. Seol wasn’t able to comprehend that.”

You chuckled, and she turned to the remaining two of her staff and instructed them in that foreign language she used before. Your skin tingled, you felt like she knew every fibre of yours, even though it has been less than half an hour since she stepped into the suite.

“Is her hair done?” she turned to you shortly after. The females behind you stepped back and nodded. Tan lowered herself onto the vanity table and crossing your legs you stared up at her.

“Here is what I know,” her voice was calm, calculating, and a shiver of exhilaration ran down your spine, “I know that you are the most wanted assassin in the country. I know that you prefer to be called Z. I know that you were hired by the Royal Family to find and eliminate the threat imposed on their lives and I know that this dinner and ball will be a mission of yours.”

You didn’t let any emotion show on your face and she cocked her head to the side before she continued.

“I further know that in this ball your mission is to seduce Kim Seokjin, the universe’s greatest narcissist and jerk and bachelor, however what I don’t know is…” she stared into your eyes and you let her. “What I don’t know if it is your intention to destroy him.”

Your mouth curled into a devilish grin and so did hers.

“Really, it depends. I was told to get the information out of him but – I was not prohibited to have my own fun,” Tan nodded.

“What do you know about him?”

“Enough,” you shrugged, “I know that he loves women and that he is influential enough to be able to pull the strings of terror against the Royal Family.”

Tan smoothed her hair behind her ear, and she moved over to the bag in which, you guessed, was your dress.

“He likes champagne and gold as well,” she purred and pulled the zipper down and jaw dropped as she revealed the dress.

The Dress.

It was the most beautiful piece of clothing you have ever seen, you felt your eyes physically stuck the material. It was everything you were not and everything you wanted to be and you adored it. Its colour was a light shade of gold, the slightly transparent material adorned with rains of diamonds. The top was sleeveless, and the décolletage ran down to the middle of your stomach in a straight, piercing v-line, showing enough skin to make men wild. The bottom part was flowy and when you squinted to see better you noticed that it was cut up on both sides.

“I am going to turn you into everything he would ever wish for,” mused Tan and you huffed in satisfaction, “you will become the Women and the Gold and the Champagne of his life and you will succeed in your mission.”

Words got stuck in your throat as you glanced at her and you noticed that ever consuming fire, the fury raging in her orbs.

Revenge.

She wanted revenge for something.

And that is what you will have, not only in the name of the Royal Family, but in anyone’s who was ever wronged by that man.

So, you smiled with a fire burning with equal heat to hers and said, “Let’s turn this place upside down.”

 Prince Jaehyun had absolutely no clue who half of the people in the Grand Ballroom were. It could be reprimanded, yes, for he is a prince and he is expected to know and greet all the nobles and influential who had come to the dinner and ball.

Unsuspecting.

Of what was about to happen, of who they are in the same room with, of the people they innocently engage into conversations with, thinking that ‘oh that young man with a half-moon eye laugh and perfect manners must be a distant relative of the Royal Family’. How sweet.

As he nursed his tall glass of champagne, Jaehyun kept himself as distanced as possible from the guests, who were hopefully occupied with the sweet manners of Jungwoo and the small talks of Johnny. Behind him, carefully arranged flowers decorated the soft cream coloured, marble columns that towered over the people, holding the cupola shaped ceiling.

To his right, at the very front of the room, lay the grand staircase which led in the guests through the double-winged wooden doors.

Reaching behind himself, Jaehyun plucked a piece of grape and plopped it into his champagne.

“That was gross,” drawled a voice from behind and the prince turned with a slow, graceful movement. Half hidden in the shadows the master spy, Ten, glared back at him. “Oh, Ten always knows the latest of the tea. Believe me, you don’t want to be there when he decides to spill it. It’s a catastrophe”. Your words floated into his mind in a soft sweet whisper and he suddenly remembered the power hidden behind those words. Your words. The spy did not have his eyes covered by a messy fringe like Jaehyun saw most of the times, but instead it was elegantly gelled back, revealing a clean forehead and sharp cut eyes. He didn’t bother buttoning up the top three buttons on his black shirt under the blazer.

Ten tilted his head and a strand of raven hair fell into his eyes.

“I came to report to Your Majesty,” he purred and Jaehyun stepped closer, “Everyone is in place as it was planned.”

“Is it based on what we have talked about last time?” Jaehyun murmured into his champagne glass. Ten inclined his head.

“Winwin is behind the security cameras in the basement. Jeno is mingling along with Kun. Doyoung and Taeyong are up in the gallery,” Ten mused in a voice similar to the shadows behind him before he glanced up at the private, veiled area and the lounge for the highest nobility and the princes. And now the assassins.

„Yukhei is over there,” Ten made a discrete head movement towards a waiter with a silver tray, packed with champagne glasses. As if arsonist knew the prince and the spy were talking about him, he turned around and sent a wink towards them. “Taeil and Jisung are lingering outside and well…”

The corner of Ten’s mouth curls upwards in a smile that promises nothing but chaos, “Z has yet to make her grand entrance.”

Jaehyun sighed into his champagne before he placed it onto Yukhei’s tray, who had gotten there in the meantime.

“What about my brothers?”

Ten leaned back into the silver coloured wall-fresco and Yukhei slowly placed new glasses onto his tray.

“Princes Johnny and Yuta are mingling as you see,” from the corner of his eyes, Jaehyun saw a female with lipstick that was so strong anyone would have seen it from the other end of the castle, bat her eyelashes at Yuta. “Prince Jungwoo is up on the gallery with Doyoung and Taeyong. And I believe Mark and Jaemin are on the balcony. Chenle and Donghyuck are with Winwin, down in the basement,” the spy’s voice then dropped into a whisper as he added, “thank to all the gods above. That young prince of yours, Donghyuck, is the devil incarnate.”

Jaehyun nodded with a small smile and Yukhei dropped a macaron into his mouth.

Grimace veiled over Ten’s face as he ran his eyes over the guests.

“I pay all my respect to you princes for being able to live surrounded with this much pretentiousness,” he drawled and scrunched his nose when he noticed a female tugging the cleavage of her dress lower before slipping in Johnny’s way, “do you know have some sort of limit to the people you let in here?”

“She,” Jaehyun lifted his champagne towards the female, no, girl, attempting to flirt shamelessly with the oldest prince, “is the youngest daughter of one of my father’s financial advisors.”

Ten snorted and Yukhei choked on his second macaron.

“I mean call me a savage but even I know that she ain’t supposed be acting like that,” the spy said before smoothing the loosened hair back onto his head.

Before he left, he turned to the prince with a serious expression, “You know what your role here is, right Your Majesty?”

As soon as Jaehyun nodded, the spy was nowhere to be seen.

“Your Majesty,” Yukhei mumbled before placing the last glass of champagne on the tray, “Is it your first mission?”

For a second Jaehyun was taken aback, and with eyes wide he scanned the taller male’s frame,

“I believe it is. Why?”

Flicking his bowtie, Yukhei shrugged.

“Was just gonna say that if you remember everything we have talked about, nothing can go wrong, y’know?”

With a cheeky grin that stretched across his face, giving his eyes a fiery sort of glow, the arsonist said, “Good luck prince. Try not to get lost in the flow!”

Jaehyun swirled his second glass, the words of the arsonist echoing in his mind.

Flow.

Try not to get lost in the flow.

Suddenly, he remembered crystal clearly what Taeil, the logistic said as a warning to him and his brothers.

“Once things get going – once all hell breaks loose – it will be easy to forget who we are and what we are supposed to do. We panic, and the rush of adrenalin, the Fight or Flight, will be the one dictating our actions. Not our brain.”

Jaehyun swirled his champagne again, his other hand curling in the pockets of his pants.

“Set your mind on your goal – turn it into something that you don’t only want with your brain, but with your instincts, your very core. That way, you won’t be washed away with the flow, as we like to call it.”

A brush of material pulled him back from his reverie, and a familiar, musky sent filled his nostrils and he knew who it was before he even had the chance to turn around. He grinned into the rim of the champagne glass.

“Hello there, Tan,” he mused, and the faint noise of her chuckle reached his ears and reminded himself of old memories, reminded him of tiny feet scurrying along the marble floors, reminded him of shrieks of exhilaration. Reminded him of his childhood.

“Hello, Woojae.”

“It’s been some time,” keeping his voice low, Jaehyun glanced at his friend, took in the familiarity of the shade of her skin, the lines of her eyes, the arch of her eyebrows. He saw little difference from what he remembered from…” ten years, right?”

“Something close to that.”

Her voice still had the edge, that stinging tone which reminded everyone that she was from another land, that her mother tongue was a language completely different to his own.

Tilting her head, she smoothed over her dress, an elegant black piece with just enough ornaments to make it look out of the ordinary. Her lipstick reflected some of the chandeliers’ lights as her mouth pulled into a smile.

“Quite a mess you got yourself into.”

It wasn’t entire a question. He just let out the tiniest of sighs. Her eyes raked him up and down.

“You’re really tense. It’s way too obvious,” placing her own glass of champagne down she placed herself in front of Jaehyun.

Only that, with that smooth movement, her body collided with someone else’s.

“My dear, my apologies it’s my fault – “she started but words got stuck as her chest tightened at the sight of the spy. Jaehyun remembered the young man’s name, heard it being called enough times in the Diamond Snake’s suite, which has grown itself out to be more of a residence, camping site.

“I mean yeah it kind of is. Better be more careful next time,” Jeno purred with a wink before continuing his way into the crowd. Jaehyun caught the warning glint in the spy’s eyes. And kept his mouth shut.

“Who does he think he is,” Tan murmured more to herself than to the prince, “looking that good?”

Jaehyun choked, “sometimes I forget that you are almost three years younger than us.”

Shrugging, the stylist sipped from the glass as she raked her eyes over the guests and judging from her frown, she was quietly evaluating the dresses.

“This party is a disaster, was it the grandma that dressed these people? Speaking of her,” Jaehyun felt her eyes search his face, “I had quite a guest today, did you know?”

Jaehyun gulped, his eyes searching for Johnny. He knew who she was talking about.

Tan continued, “she is a tough little thing. I like it,” taking a sip she thought a little, “you find her intriguing, don’t you, Woojae?”

“Why would you think that?” his voice wasn’t as confident as he hoped it would be.

“Maybe we have not seen each other for a long time,” Tan purred, her rich accent weaving through her voice, “but I will never forget your compassion towards unusual things.”

It felt like his heart had let go of its strings, falling free. The breath got caught in his lungs and suddenly the only thing he wanted to do was sit on the balcony, surrounded by stars and darkness. Focus. He has to focus, he has to follow the plan.

“You can’t have compassion towards things that are unusual. Broken,” he murmured, as if saying it out loud would make him believe his own words. Tan placed lowered her head slightly when a young man bowed in their direction.

“She’s not a thing. She’s human, just like you or me.”

Jaehyun turned to her, his face contorted into confusion. Does Tan even have any idea what she does?

Tan didn’t have to look at him to know what his question was going to be.

“Understand before you judge,” her eyes searched for something or someone in the crowd.

They didn’t have much time before the assassin arrived, he had to have Johnny near him.

“Tan, do you know what is about to happen?”

The stylist nodded.

“Johnny told me everything,” her voice softened, “I also know the role you need to play. You can do it, believe in yourself.”

When the door above the main staircase opened, he knew it was time.

But a little part of him fell apart when he glanced upon who entered.

His heart stopped beating for a short time and he was sure he was not the only one.

When Johnny slipped next to him, unnoticed by the nearby nobles whose eyes were glued on her, on top of the staircase, Jaehyun almost couldn’t hear the words that left the oldest prince’s lips,

“All hail to the queen of Hell.”

Tan smirked, her blood-red lips painting a cruel, beautiful line on her face.

Your steps were confident as you descended the stairs, your movements a whirlwind of gold and crystal and fire. The champagne coloured dress showed off the expanse of your legs through the cuts and the back of the dress flowed behind you as a cape. A queen indeed.

“Kim Seokjin is right there,” Johnny whispered into his ear then, and Jaehyun snapped out of the momentary trance he fell in. His eyes followed the direction of the nod and he spotted the young, influential noble with eyes stuck on the assassin. A hunter, and a prey.

Only, it wasn’t the young man who led the hunt.

“Go, brother,” Johnny murmured, and the younger prince straightened, and placed the expression of a royal, of an heir. A veil that no one could see through. A mask that was forever stuck on his face. People stepped out of his way, and soon there was a narrow corridor between him and the assassin who was almost at their level. Her hair was straightened out and half of her hair was braided into a bun on the back of her head – he had to admit, she took the air from his lungs. Soon enough, there was no other sound in the room than the soft clicks of her golden stilettoes.

They reached the bottom of the Grand Staircase at the same time.

Her hand, adorned with thin, golden bracelets and rings, rested on the ivory railing.

When they locked gazes, he swore he could feel the universe expand.

“Your Majesty,” she said then, with a voice clear like a crystal, and lowering herself almost to the ground, curtsied. Reciprocating the gesture, he bowed before taking her hand.

“My lady,” his voice was quiet but confident, and he felt the slight dug of her manicured nails on the back of his hand.

The polish wasn’t black, but a glowing shade of gold; he wasn’t sure whether he liked it or not. Whether he was used to the drastic change or not.

He led her anyways, into the middle of the dancefloor, with bronze leaves and curling figures carved deep into it. The guests backed up then, giving Jaehyun and the mysterious lady place. He looked at her.

Really looked at her, capturing her face into that moment, the slight bewilderment striking him in surprise – it was quite the opposite to what he was used to; the opposite of the always sly, always calm and collected glow in her eyes, that forever remained cold. Void of all emotions, unless she was with the Snakes.

He saw it, once.

“Say,” Johnny said one afternoon, leaning back in his armchair, “are you really as bloodthirsty as it is known in the country?”

It was one of the many occasions when the princes and the Snakes got to sit together and go through plans for the night of the ball.

When Jaehyun saw her and Taeyong exchange an all-knowing glance, he knew they were in for a treat.

“Bloodthirsty?” Z purred, and a Cheshire cat grin appeared on her face, “I have a story with bloodthirst, right, Yukhei?”

The arsonist smashed the ice-cream tub fiercely against the glass of the coffee table and Jaehyun cringed.

“Z, don’t,” Yukhei warned, his deep voice laced with grumbling laughter. The assassin’s eyes sparkled as she threw her legs over the arms of the sofa and leaned her head back, locks of hair tumbling down on the other side.

“I don’t know if this counts but,” she started and Jeno placed his head between his knees, his shoulders shaking violently, “our dearest Yukhei here, tried to…court a woman and the fact that she was going through her…monthly inconveniences didn’t deter him from doing it anyways.”

A beat of silence.

Then the roar of laughter echoing through the room and disbelief dripping from the royal princes’ expressions.

“She said it was fine?” Yuta grimaced and scooted further away from Yukhei who was hitting his knee in both amusement and embarrassment.

Z nodded, “she was into it as well,” and that was it for Jaehyun, who joined the others as soon as the surprise wore off.

When he caught her eyes, he saw galaxies shining in them.

Even though it was not the first time they danced and so held hands, the roughness of her palm never failed to surprise him. Callouses lined the expanse of her hands and arms and still, she carried herself as if she was the finest of diamond, the smoothest of velvets.

Pride, perhaps.

Pride of a criminal.

He spun her in front of himself, the memorised steps making both of their movements fluid and graceful – dancers in top of a lake. She faced him with her chin high up, a light fierce determination glowing in her gold-rimmed eyes. Jaehyun forced his heart into a steady rhythm, and when the music started, they danced.

 It was hard really, ignoring his cologne as he led you around the dancefloor, his eyes unreadable and yet still glowing with the warmest of lights. You were certain that if he wasn’t holding your waist you would have collapsed. This was not what you were used to – it was farm from the familiarity of the shadows and house roof tiles and in a twisted way, it frightened you to the bone. Not only a week, but even ten years’ worth of training wouldn’t have been able to ready you for the amount of attention aimed into your direction. It felt confusing – like being in a war with yourself, by living up to expectations but remaining true to yourself. The two were lightyears away from each other and you dreaded it.

But there was a plan.

And your job was to follow it.

Be the pretty lady that everyone expects you to be, Taeil’s soft-spoken voice sounded in the back of your mind and you swallowed, forcing yourself to meld your expressions into something soft, something endearing as you gazed into Jaehyun’s face.

His palm tightened on your waist in validation.

His fingers gazed the narrow slit on your waist, showing your skin off, although that small amount was nothing compared to the two giant slits that showed almost the entirety of your legs off.

Just enough so no one will have a glimpse on the dagger hidden beneath the fabric. A lady can never be safe enough.

“Seokjin is on the edge of the crowd by the pastries,” he murmured into your ear, his breath blowing the hair on the nape of your neck. Goosebumps erupted along your spine. With an elegant movement he led you so that you could take a look at the governor.

He was there, with ebony hair swept back, showing off his forehead and eyebrows – both of them beautiful and incredibly elegant. A scarlet-gowned female with breast spilling out of her dress tried to get his attention but with no success. As you turned the other direction, you felt his gaze following you, into and around the dancefloor with Jaehyun.

But you spun and twirled with Jaehyun, his santal-wood smell invading your senses, filling them, reminiscing.

And then Johnny came.

And the music stopped along with you and the prince. A wave of murmur tremored through the guests, some of them glaring, some of them whispering, some of them standing, confusion evident on their features.

Curtsying deeply, you didn’t look the eldest in the eyes, but you didn’t need to in order to know the silent fury burning in his orbs.

Yet his voice was as cold as the frost on top of a leaf as he said, “brother, I believe it is mine turn now.”

For a second Jaehyun’s fingertips lingered on your skin, but then he inclined his head. Lifting your head slowly you glanced at the two brothers, glaring at each other, letting tension rise in the Grand Ballroom.

“The music hadn’t stopped when you intruded, so I am going to need you to let me finish the first dance,” was Jaehyun’s reply, and you shivered at his icy tone. From under your lashes you glanced at Seokjin, and the elegant swirl of the champagne caught your eyes. As he stared, he tilted his head. Interested. Fascinated.

He likes the cat and mouth game, Yuta’s voice resonated in your mind, he likes the chase and the sheer idea of conquering something or someone that is desired by many. Makes him feel triumphant.

You didn’t dare questioning his knowledge about the young governor.

As you tore your gaze from him, you found that Johnny was still in the middle of the dancefloor, middle of the attention as he slowly but surely, towered over Jaehyun – who did not back down. The soft-spoken prince was biting back words colder than ice, a side of him that you had not seen before. The guests didn’t need to hear any of the words spoken between the princes to figure out the reason of the sizzling tension between them.

You didn’t despise it as much as you thought you would.

From your hidden earpiece came a static sound and then Winwin’s baritone, “he is on the way, Z, do not turn around,” and straightening your back, you brought your hands together and began to massage your fingers together.

Show vulnerability but have your back straightened at all times.

“Excuse my intrusion, Your Majesties,” the voice that purred not far from you made your muscles tensed, senses sharpened and mind clearer.

Kim Seokjin was tall, almost as tall as Johnny, who towered over most of the guests. Your diamond earrings reflected all colours of the universe as it reflected the chandelier lights; his eyes seemed to gleam in a similar way when you turned around to look at him, up close.

If you have not dealt with models and men with incredible looks you might have fainted right on spot.

You didn’t even attempt to deny the fact that he was beautiful.

Something like triumph glinted in the princes’ eyes as they glanced at Seokjin before giving him a court nod. The low chirps and murmurs of the guests slowly but steadily rose again.

“Mr Kim, how are you enjoying the ball?” queried Jaehyun, with a smile that emphasized his dimples off and melted ice. The governor bowed and his plump limps quirked upwards, into a smile that did not reach his eyes.

“I find it pleasant, My Lord, although,” he added and suddenly you were hyperaware of his gaze as it slid along your body, reminding you of liquid silver and snake scale. Cold and smooth. “My breath is quite taken away.”

It was easy, really.

Way too easy in your opinion but the faint whisper in the back of your head nudged you along, to follow the plan. The cooling touch of the blade on your thigh helped you with keeping your bubbling adrenaline on the low.

You swore you saw something in Jaehyun’s eyes before he stepped away from you, along with Johnny – whose smile was close to the shade of the moonlight when it hits the ivory walls of the castle. Cool. Dark. Ever-knowing.

“Apologies for the little scene, ladies and gentlemen,” the eldest’s voice was now louder, less hushed and hurried, and his smile radiated nothing but victory, “Miss Jung is all yours, Mr Kim.”

And you danced again.

Seokjin’s hold was confident, a sort of distinct force that proved he knew he was better than everyone else here. That was what his eyes told you too. The shine of satisfaction gave everything away, and the more you stared into them, the brighter, more evident it became. Flattery. Maybe that’s what he needed.

“You are a good dancer, sir,” you mused, with a voice reminiscing of unkept promises and the softest of bedsheets. And he liked it. His lips, plump like the petals of a rose and, perhaps, with the touch of them, widened into a smirk as he gave a little bow of his head.

“You are too, Miss Jung, was it?”

As you spun around the dancefloor in a confident manner, more people started to fill the dancefloor, people with champagne bubbles in their blood and laughter in their eyes. You fought the urge to scrunch your nose. You have never wanted a cigarette more in your life.

“I am, sir. You must be Mr Kim Seokjin,” you tilted your head as you smiled at him, as honest as it could get, “I have heard about you.”

You felt his shoulders tense as he straightened himself even more, puffing out his chest like a bird before a mating dance. Men. Ridiculous, and the same.

No, not all, some distant part of your brain laughed at you and you ignored it.

“I believe I have heard your name before as well, Miss Jung. About your past, more like,” his voice was somehow apologetic, “a tragedy, really.”

You shook your head before you let him spin you out of his arms then back again, in sync with other dancers.

“It is in the past. I barely remember any of it. I grew up with the people who were entrusted with my upbringing,” you said, and he nodded in understanding.

For a while you didn’t say anything, just danced, for one round, then two and by the third your chest was heaving, and strands of your hair loosened out of the jewels adorning your head. You let his hands wander lower with each round, let his breath caress your neck, let him whisper in your ears.

And in turn you pressed your chest against his, danced your fingers on his suit-clad bicep, flashed the brightest of smiles that glowed as vividly as the crystals and gold on your fingers, around your neck, in your hair.

And you talked, and talked and whispered and giggled, until both of your ears were bleeding from it.

He spun you and you laughed and widened your eyes, so the chandelier lights reflected in them, making it seem like they were twinkling in joy, instead of calculation. He seemed enamoured and you gave yourself a mental pat on the shoulders.

It was after the fifth dance, while sipping champagne, that you said, “I need a bit of air, should we go out to the balcony?”

Walking in front of him, you put somewhat of a hot-blooded sensation in your steps so your lower back would swing more, and you practically felt the burn of his gaze as he walked behind you.

Goosebumps erupted on your skin when you stepped out on the balcony and the breeze got caught in your hair. There were not many people outside, only a couple and in the farthest corner you noted Jaemin and Mark, with their back to you. If they memorised the plan well then, they will be aware of the fact that you are there too.

Placing your elbows on the edge of the balcony, you gazed out onto the garden, filled with trees and flowery bushes, adorned with clear-white fairy lights. Seokjin leaned next to you, but with his back to the marble parapet. He sized you up and down, yet again, and pretending you haven’t noticed, you kept on sipping your champagne.

“You know,” you mused, staring at a couple behind an apple tree, “I find it so ironic, that the Royal Family arranges a ball like this,” you made a flick with your wrist, referring to the celebration, to the shrill laughs, to the liquid lies spilling out of nobles’ mouths, “for a couple of gangsters only.”

He scoffed and you dared a glance.

His thumb brushed over his tulip lips before turning to watch you, your eyes and lips with a gaze that reminded you of madness and molten gold. He was supposed to be working for the King directly. Sure.

“Not for long,” he purred before leaning closer. You leaned with him, and you were certain that Mark and Jaemin shifted closer as well.

“You know,” Seokjin continued, “I find their presence incredibly disturbing. My office is not far from the Wing they live in…and for some reason I keep on hearing crashes and these terrible curses!” his voice went over into something like a whine and you tried to pull the most sympathetic smile you had.

“Oh, dear God!” you exclaimed before placing your bejewelled hand on your chest, “You hear those people?!”

He nodded vehemently before reaching out to twist a strand of your hair around his pinkie finger. You tilted your head so he wouldn’t see the tiny, transparent earpiece, hidden by the olive-branch shaped golden ear jewel.

“I hear them, almost every day,” he whispered, “I hear everything, see everything and I might just know how to get rid of them.”

You shuddered and your earpiece sizzled.

“You do?” you spoke equally low, and let your breath mingle with his, let him near your lips with a predator’s patience.

“I do,” he then looked straight into your eyes before purring, “and I might just think about keeping you alive.”

You stilled.

Jaemin and Mark stilled.

The whole world seemed to freeze into a moment of silence and calm and the only thing you heard was the beating of your own heart and the sizzling in your ear.

Then, for the first time that night, you heard Winwin’s voice.

“Z get the fuck out of there,” his voice was urgent, and you swore you heard a crashing noise from inside the ballroom.

Shit, shit, shit.

Your mind seemed to have gone blank and your eyes were searching in Seokjin’s to find that one sign that would lead you on, that would give you exit.

But the only thing you found was that ever-knowing glint, that confident smile which you have mistaken for arrogance.

This is not good.

“Z, are you there?” Ten’s voice resonated then, and you dared to look at the two younger princes who stood frozen, with their eyes glued on you. You tore your eyes away from them and calmed the thrumming of your blood. Or at least you tried. A whole night worth of adrenalin started to climb itself back into your brain and you swallowed. Don’t go with the flow. Don’t give in. Be the master. Be the superior.

Seokjin’s finger was now completely twisted in your hair, and you felt him grabbing the nape of your neck.

Another crashing noise.

And then the screams started.

Voices filled your ear, not only through the earpiece, but from the ballroom and you were just sure that chaos has erupted inside.

Mark and Jaemin started towards the double-winged glassdoors of the balcony and you bellowed.

“No! You two stay out here!”

They halted and maybe it was the force of your voice or the sheer terror in it that made them listen to you. You didn’t care.

This was a trap.

This has been a trap all along.

“Let me go,” you said then, your voice carefully veiled with calm and venom, and he smiled, that irritating, confident smile and you swore you have never wanted to punch someone so hard in the nose before.

As he let go you stepped away immediately, following the screams and chaotic noises into the ballroom.

You didn’t look back at Seokjin before throwing the doors open and stepping inside. Most of the people fled, a couple zipped past you with champagne stains on their outfits. Then the doors crashed close, trapping at least fifty people inside, along with yourself.

And the Snakes and Princes who were inside the ballroom.

It all went down in slow motion.

The dancefloor of the gigantic room cleared out, the remaining guests pushing themselves up against the walls. Pure terror was written all over their faces, at the scene that played in the very middle of the room.

Prince Chenle stood there.

With a knife at his throat.

And at the end of the knife, the person who was holding it…

Junhui.

You stopped breathing as you took in his face, took in that familiar, sharp smile.

As your eyes met with Yukhei’s from across the room, you were certain he was horrified, just as much as you.

They were here.

The Black Spade was here.

[that-one-guy-that-loves-whump]

Missing and Presumed Dead

Alrighty! I gave myself another prompt and made this whumpy fic for you all! Just a reminder that requests are open and I’m trying to post fics more regularly! You can request some prompts here! Anyway, without further ado, I hope you enjoy!

“Retreat! Retreat!” The frantic voice of General Charles Lee was barely audible over the sounds of gunfire, but Hamilton had the sense to run anyway. He swiftly lifted himself onto his horse, digging his heels into its side as it galloped away from where the British were streaming in steadily, attacking his men. He noticed the General on his horse as well, a while away from him. He was being pursued by an overwhelming number of redcoats, screaming like a maniac. Hamilton grunted as his horse stumbled a bit, looking over his shoulder at a few of his men who had the sense to follow him. They fanned out until they were beside him, yelling things into the wind that he couldn’t hear. He also saw a terrifying amount of British soldiers chasing his own steed and he whipped the reins, hoping to make his horse run a little faster.

Charles took a sharp turn, his horse disappearing from Alex’s view. He watched one of his men slip off his horse lifelessly and he held back a cry. The soldiers that had been chasing Lee seemed to lose sight of him as well, instead opting to chase after Alexander as his men darted away from him to follow Charles. He gulped and lowered himself so he was clutching his stallion tighter, ponytail whipping in the wind as bullets whisked by his head, far too close for comfort.

They had been on a mission in Philadelphia, destroying the British supplies before they could reach them. They were about to burn the mill at the village of Valley Forde when they heard warning shots. Before they knew it, they were being chased by British troops, horribly outnumbered. Now, Charles and a few of his men had already reached safety, leaving all the redcoats to chase Hamilton. He saw a river up ahead, slightly obscured by a few trees, and he raced towards it, wincing as a bullet scraped his leg. He grit his teeth as he drew closer to the water, not even thinking about what he would do when he actually got there. All he knew was that he needed to get away from the redcoats, who were getting worryingly close now.

Suddenly, his horse fell, having been shot from under him. He screamed and tumbled to the ground, rolling a little before scrambling to his feet and taking off, running towards the river as fast as he could. He could hear the thundering of the British behind him getting closer….closer…

He yelled out, falling to the ground as a bright, blinding pain flashed in his calf, quickly followed by a similar one to his shoulder. He was shot. He had to run before he bled out. He forced himself to his feet, ignoring the searing pain in his leg and shoulder as he half ran, half limped to the edge of the river, stumbling every now and then. He cast a glance behind him; The British were mere yards away. He noticed a few of his men a ways away as well, watching in terror, hidden from the redcoats. He gasped and looked towards the water, fear and pain trying to stop him as he sprinted. He ran to the very edge, ignoring the current that threatened him below. He threw himself forward, splashing in the river, his shoulder hitting a sharp stone. He instinctively screamed out in agony, water filling his mouth, nose, eyes, making everything burn and god he just wanted it to stop. As he inhaled what seemed like the whole river, being thrown around by the current in the process, he lost sight of the British, his men, the whole world. Everything. His vision got darker and darker until there was nothing but pain. He closed his eyes and let it overtake him.

Washington had been in his study when he heard it. He was sorting through his papers, casting sidelong glances at Hamilton’s desk. He had sent the boy on a mission to Philidelphia, along with Lee and a few footsoldiers. He would be lying if he said that he didn’t miss the boy while he was away.

The truth is, he hadn’t even wanted the boy to go. He knew it was dangerous, but Alexander had argued until he eventually relented, sighing. He remembered giving the boy a small pat on the shoulder and a hair ruffle as a goodbye, the two not yet on hugging terms despite George’s feelings for his aide.

Now, he flinched at the sound of commotion coming from the center of the camp, getting up with an irritated sigh. If Laurens has gotten himself into a fight again I swear to God…

When he exited his tent, what he saw instead made him freeze. Charles Lee and some of the footsoldiers he had sent on the mission were standing in the center of the camp, surrounded by soldiers questioning them about what happened. Lee looked terrified, his gaze traveling all over the place as he looked at all the soldiers, not answering a single one.

“Enough!” His voice was commanding and booming, making everyone stop mid-question and stare at him with wide eyes. Washington rushed over, shoving the soldiers away from Lee as he searched the crowd frantically. His heart leaped in terror when he didn’t see a familiar face among them. He grabbed Charles by the shoulders, his grip gentle but stern as he looked into the eyes of his panicking General.

“Lee, where is Hamilton?” He hated the way his voice broke, his heart shattering at the sudden solemn look his General took on.

“S-sir I’m sorry…” Charles spoke, his voice timid and apologetic. “The British chased us--chased him--t-they chased him to the river and shot his horse. He was forced to jump a-and….we--I--think he...he drowned..” Lee’s breath caught and Washington felt tears welling up in his eyes. No. No no no no no no no no this can’t be happening. Not him. Not Alexander.

“N-no” The word fell from his lips in a whisper, a quiet plea too low for anyone else to hear. He shook his head, trying to make himself look tougher than he felt. “I see. Go to the infirmary immediately, you and your men require medical attention. I am deeply sorry for him and all the other soldiers that were lost in this battle. Men, resume your daily activities. I will be in my study if I am needed”

He dismissed the gathered soldiers with a wave of his hand, his heart heavy. He turned, keeping his head high until he was safely in the confines of his study. He shut the door behind him with a soft click before going over to his cabinet and gingerly selecting a bottle of ale. He poured himself a glass and sat down at his desk, covering his face with his hands in despair as he let himself brake.

Tears were streaming from his eyes in seconds, his heart cracking in his chest when he looked up and saw Alexander’s unoccupied desk. He closed his eyes and let the memories of his boy wash over him as he took a few sips of his ale.

“Alexander, you look as though you’ll fall asleep any moment” George had laughed, getting up from his desk to stand beside Alex as the boy hunched over his work, the bags under his eyes a dark purple. He hummed as an answer, focused on writing whatever it was that laid between his hand and the wood. Washington had sighed as his boy’s blinks became longer and longer. 

He gently removed the poor quill from Hamilton’s grip, placing it in his inkwell. Alexander didn’t even seem to notice as George then moved the paper out from under him. The general smiled softly as Alex let his head fall onto his arms, leaning over on the desk. There was no way that was comfortable. He looked at his already fast asleep son and his smile grew. There was no way he was waking him now. He grabbed a soft sheet from one of his cabinets and draped it over the boy to keep him warm. Washington moved a strand of hair out of his son’s face, a warm feeling spreading in his chest as he looked at his boy. He pressed a soft kiss to Hamilton’s forehead before he exited for the night, a smile still present on his lips.

Now, George was really sobbing. His shoulders shook with each cry, his heart battered in his chest. He downed the ale and poured more, wanting nothing more than to be lost for a few hours; to not have to think about the fact that he would never see his son again. Oh, God…

He didn’t know how long it had been as he downed more ale than he probably should have. His sobs had died down to whimpers long ago, leaving a broken shell of a once proud general. A quiet knock on his door made him flinch. George got up slowly, praying that his face wasn’t all red, trying not to look at Alexander’s desk, and opened the door, surprised at who he was met with.

“Your Excellency?”

“What do you need?”

“I know that you and le petit lion were close. I thought that I should ask you. We are raising glasses in the lost soldiers’ honor. Would you care to join us?” Lafayette’s face was one of pity and loss. He was his friend. George realized with a pang. The sky outside was black, the moonlight dappling onto the two men.

“Yes, of course. I’ll be there in a moment” Lafayette nodded and turned, heading back towards his tent. Laf, Hercules, Aaron, John, and Alex used to share a tent. Used to.

George braced himself and cast one last look at Alexander’s desk before he followed behind his soldier. He ignored the looks he got from some of his soldiers that weren’t raising glasses. He ignored the whispers. He couldn’t ignore the weight on his heart. He entered the tent, the candlelight making him pause for a moment as his eyes adjusted. Hercules, Lafayette, John, Aaron, and many other men were gathered around a table, some standing, some sitting. Burr smiled at him in pity and gestured to an empty chair beside him. Washington sat beside him, nodding thanks.

“They will not be forgotten!” A man had been talking, recalling memories of his friend. Everyone cheered and John stood, waiting until everyone had calmed down before raising his glass.

“Hamilton was a very close friend of mine. I remember one night when we were all drunk off our asses-”

“I was not!” Burr chimed in, making John roll his eyes.

“-and we tried to get him to sing with us. I ended up accidentally slapping him and he was the one who apologized. He would spend countless nights awake, hunched over his desk writing determinedly to his wife, Eliza. In fact, I’m sure I’ve seen him writing to all three Schuyler sisters!” Everyone laughed but it was hollow, George could tell. Laurens was trying not to cry, his voice wavering with each sentence.

“What I’m trying to say is...He didn’t deserve this. None of these men did. I hope they find happiness in their next adventure” Laurens finished, tears slipping down his face. Hercules got to his feet as John sat, gratefully accepting a tissue from Lafayette.

“To freedom!” Hercules raised his glass, followed by everyone who held a drink. “Let their sacrifices not be in vain!”

George was about to say something when the sound of heavy footsteps stumbling into the tent caught everyone’s attention, making them turn. Washington gasped, heart leaping to his throat. Because there, alive and breathing, was Alexander. He was sopping wet, his ponytail flat against the back of his neck. The general leaped out of his chair, running to the boy. Hamilton let a tearful smile cross his face as his legs buckled beneath him. George caught him before he hit the ground, cradling the boy to his chest. He heard the sound of commotion behind him but he didn’t care. He only cared about his violently shivering aide. He looked the boy over, sick at the sight of so much blood. The boy’s lips and fingertips were blue and his eyes were glazed as he sobbed weakly into Washington’s chest, realizing that he was finally safe.

He held the boy close to his chest, barely registering the tears that trailed down his own face as he just held his son. He had truly thought he lost him. His heart twisted painfully in his chest as his boy broke down in his arms, the blood flowing from his wounds not slowing in the slightest. Washington was vaguely aware of people crowding around him, trying to take Hamilton from him. He clutched the boy tighter, not yet willing to let him go again.

“Sir! Please, you have to let go of him so that the medic can help!” That was Burr. Strange. He was not usually one to show signs of panic. George looked up, tears making his vision foggy. He saw the kind and concerned eyes of Aaron and he shifted a little so that he was facing the other man. “I know you must be overwhelmed right now but he will die if you don’t let the doctor help him. Please, it’s alright, General”

Washington managed a small nod, letting Burr gently lift Alex from his arms as the medic ushered him towards the infirmary. George followed close behind, watching Alexander whimper and flinch at every jostle to his shoulder, gasping as his calf brushed against someone. Then, suddenly, he stopped. The boy went lax in Burr’s grip, eyes rolling back in his head, and Washington almost missed the look of absolute terror in Aaron’s eyes.

“NO! NO! SAVE HIM! HELP HIM! DON’T YOU DARE LET HIM DIE!” George screamed through tears, reaching towards the medic and the panicking soldier, barely being held back by Lafayette and Hercules. He watched helplessly as they carried his son to the infirmary. Washington sunk to his knees as Lafayette sat beside him, laying a hand on his shoulder and murmuring words of comfort. Soon enough, John and Herc were sitting with him as well, all four with tears in their eyes. Washington buried his head in his hands as he broke down, his sobs heard throughout the camp. He didn’t know how long he sat there, his soldier’s trying to comfort him as he had a mental breakdown.

He hadn’t even realized that the medic had walked over, making Washington flinch as he looked up at the man. He felt a lump form in his throat as he awaited the news of whether his son was still alive or not. The medic looked at him for a moment as if considering something before smiling gently.

“Lieutenant Hamilton will live, General”

[lethe-distillery-blog]

Au Fait

“Come on, it’s time to wake up.” It took an impossible amount of effort but I managed to crawl my way out of the darkness and turn myself enough to get the sun out of my eyes and finally able to focus on my surroundings. Sensations filtered in, the intimate smell of shampoo, the memory of a perfume floating in the air as though the recipient had yet to apply some today but it was such a standard procedure that it was a permanent feature, and food. I smelled fruit, it was a fresh sweetness, eggs, and a few other things that I couldn’t quite place yet. Softness came next. The sheets. Silken things that rested comfortably against my skin, light and cool. I looked about the room slowly It took a long moment of staring blankly at the light turquoise edged in white for memory to start melting away the thick fog of slumber. Home, technically. I was in my master bedroom. Since I was blind in my dreams sight was often the last sensation for me to register and become aware of. “Come on sleepy head.” The voice was softness incarnate. If I could describe it as a song it would be a ballad, inherently musical, touching, and the bringer of comfort. There was a smile in that voice. There was a new sensation. Again, it was softness, but this was a different level of softness, a different level of comfort. This was skin, light and gentle on my cheek, and it moved, a delicate stroking motion that I couldn’t help but move into.

 Seconds ticked by with the slowness of hours as things started coming back, sensations searing themselves into my psyche in preparation for another day. My body came under the command of my own will with an agonizing slowness. Breathing started fading from conscious effort to the methodical background familiarity. I forced myself to swallow, testing minute motor functions in a standard test that brought me through to the land of consciousness. Still, it wouldn’t likely be fully up and functioning for another while, time, that was a thought. Time. Years, months, days, hours, minutes, seconds. Time. That particular word slid into its definition a bit easier today. “Are you in there?” I turned to look at the voice, the sound.

 Her.

 It was the only word that seemed necessary. It was a title of the universe that was bequeathed to the last of the divine. Beautiful was another word. So many words could describe her and all would be true and yet not the whole truth. Kind. Giving. Loving. Sweet. All things that one could use in description of her character and yet the only thing that could hope to ever encompass it all was a simple word, often unnoticed by poets or by lovers and yet, selfishly, I had latched onto it. Her. “There you are.” Her voice came to me, sweet and warm. She had long ago accepted the lengthy process that came from me trying to redefine myself as something material. I was grateful. I was never quite myself if I had to rush through this process, and I knew from others that it was an unusual and time consuming ritual and yet, she had never condemned me for it, only seeking to understand what made me, me.

 She had listened with intrigue and fascination as I had done my best to explain that my thoughts were entirely made of letters latching onto one another. Forming words, definitions, explanations. These are what I thought in. Not pictures. And so, waking up was a process that for a person who pictures their thoughts would not be unlike waking up and immediately rolling over and having to read and encyclopedia to try and sort out the jumbled mess of pictures inside their head. It was an intriguing thing for us to discover, this difference between us. She helped me to my feet, my entire body screaming in sensation, the only way I could describe it is pain really but yet it wasn’t. It was, awareness, that my muscles moved, that my joints moved in a particular pattern and how my weight effected these things. It was all new, vivid, intense and so it felt like my brain practically exploded each morning. She helped me into the shower, her words providing a steady and soft comfort that though I did not deserve I selfishly gobbled up, telling me about the simplest of things. The cool tile, the warm water, what she had made for breakfast. All of it helped, associating words with the definition inside my head to what that particular item was.

 “Alright, you shower, I need to make sure breakfast doesn’t burn on you sleepy head.” Her voice was teasing and I reached out to touch her cheek. It felt like the petals of a flower, soft and silken, delicate. Her hand touched mine and her smile was tender. “I’ll be back soon.” She stepped away and I missed her immediately, bereft of comfort and sanity in this world that I had to learn yet again. The shower was hot, the tile cool. The dark room helped me from getting overwhelmed by colors and other input. One thing at a time. I focused on each sensation in turn. The temperature differences between water and tile, the way the water felt, how it rained down onto me but also slid over my skin, the way my hair matted down. Everything was carefully assessed and brought back into my version of reality.

 By the time I was shaved and showered, I felt about three quarters human. Which, counted for a lot. Having her here and willing to both understand and to do the small things she did without a second thought really did take a process that could take several hours and knock it down to less than a single hour. Food was still one of those hit and miss things, some days it worked, others it didn’t. I came up behind her at the counter, my own voice was slowly coming back. I had repeated small things in the shower. She would never believe if I told her that her name was foremost among them. I was so terrified of people leaving, especially her, that I wanted to make sure she was the one thing that made sense in my world. I could deal with everything else being wrong. Not her. Anything but her.

 Our lips met and I savored her like wine, my mind sorting through the sensations that provided like a connoisseur would pick up the delicate notes of a particularly pleasant vintage. Softness, like rain. Sweet like honey and yet savory, like salted caramel. There was the harsh taste of coffee, bitter notes, background. Things started slowly coming back, the very world coming into focus and sharpness as we stood there and I experienced all the world around me through her and with her. She truly was all I needed, with her I knew that I would always remember everything else. A cough sounded and though I ignored it she pulled away with a smile teasing those wonderful lips of hers and, without much choice it seemed, I turned to face the sound.

 My son.

 He sat at the table holding a mug of coffee, a smirk on his features as he shook his head though his eyes flashed his amusement. He had come home the other night from college, funny how small details slipped the mind. “Excuse me,” his voice was sarcastic and I could hear his amusement, “that is my mother you are molesting you know.” Yeah. It is your mother, and I would think I am allowed to in my own home. I behaved enough when you were at home young whippersnapper so be grateful you interrupted when you did. The words didn’t come out of course, but I did manage a smile; smiling, up until her that had been a strange and alien thing and yet because of her and through her, it had become regular and yet could never be commonplace. She drew my focus back to her. “Would you like coffee?” I shook my head, the motion causing the slightest tinges of vertigo, I didn’t think I needed it today. Her smile was tender and she kissed me, much to the chagrin and sardonic gagging of our audience. “Go sit, I’ll bring you something to drink. Hot?” I nodded, the movement making me feel muscles and tendons flex and bulge.

 I sat down, and let sensation wash over me. The smell of food, the sound of it cooking, their talking back and forth. Through time it had just been easier to explain that I was grumpy in the morning, it was easier than trying to explain what was actually going on. So I simply let the conversation happen around me, though I did pay attention to details as I nursed a proffered peppermint tea. School had been going well, though there was now a girl he was interested in. I shared a look with her, her smile was knowing. Fate had thrown us together, quite unexpectedly in fact, and we both knew exactly what he was talking about with the frustrations of not being able to separate his emotions from his rational thoughts. Weird that. Must be a universal thing or something. She brought breakfast to the table and I ate slowly, working things through my mouth as they shared and talked.

 Part of me wished I could join in on these early morning talks, it just seemed like the proper family thing to do. But not once had she ever judged me for my inability to be normal. Instead, she would sometimes tell me about her day and what she had planned, or she would sit with me in silence and just experience the incredible reality that was our life. Besides, I could always talk later, after everything had settled a little more. Right now, it took a large portion of my thoughts to focus on chewing and no biting my tongue. Harder than you might think I’ll have you know. Still though, it was a pleasant meal to share, even if I believed that waking up before seven am had to be some form of torture. Her fingers stroked mine from where she rested her hand on mine. I savored those small contacts. For too long I had not had any contact at all, and now; now that I had her, I made sure to savor and cherish each one.

 “I think your dad would be more that willing to help you change the oil in your car later.” I nodded my answer to her statement, not that it was needed but still, it felt like I was at least taking part of it all then. She squeezed my hand lightly and smiled. Yeah, that was why waking up so early was worth it. Her.

 I was putting the final dishes into the dishwasher when I felt her arms wrap around me from behind, I closed my eyes and savored it. I pulled her a little closer, feeling her breasts press to my back and the warm puffs of every exhale. I was coming back to myself, feeling more and more comfortable within my own skin as the morning moved on. Even by the end of breakfast I had started to bring myself around more, it had been nice. She squeezed me lightly, her voice a delicate little whisper that slid over me. “I love you.”

 Mine by comparison sounded harsh, cracked and rough. But I needed to say them. A desire deep inside me would not be denied that, I knew that she knew but I needed to tell her, to make sure that she knew. “I love you too.” Her hands tightened for a long moment and we stood there. In our small home, our little dream playing out before us in ways that neither of us could have ever imagined and yet it seemed to be perfectly what we both wanted. “Always.”

 “Always.”

[wormy-business]

Music’s End

MAJOR spoilers for the end of the campaign.

Avi didn't want to believe that Johann is gone, but there's no changing any of that. He isn't going to let anyone forget who he was, even if he can hardly keep himself from taking his own life. - Avi struggles after Johann's death and gets some much needed support from his dear friends, one of whom understands the pain he's going through.

Read on A03

Word count: 1,636

I know it’s a little rushed and a it rough around the edges but I had a time writing this lol. It took me longer than usual cause I just kept crying.

@ griffin mcelroy turn on your location I wanna talk about what happened to Johann, I just wanna talk

A smile drew itself across Avi’s face, white light blinding him for a moment as it washed over the whole of the world. His arm was up over his eyes, wind whipping through his hair as divinity spread across the world. And then, roars of cheering. He rubbed his eyes and looked out over the edge of the moonbase, at the light that returned to the world and the ash being whipped up in the wind like sand. It was done, it was over and they had won.

The first thing he did was hug Magnus. “We did it, you did it! Johann was right! Oh, oh man I have to go kiss him!” He saw the look on Magnus’s face drop.

“You, oh, oh no, Avi. . .”

In the year he had known Magnus, he had never seen him look like this, and that struck fear into his entire being and he stepped back. “What? Where’s Johann?” Magnus turned his eyes away. “Magnus!” He demanded, pulling on his shirt. “Where’s Johann?!”

The ride to the chamber was silent. Avi was stubborn in his denial, and despite telling Magnus to stay he came anyways. As the doors dinged open, he felt a pit drop in his stomach, and a lump form in his throat. His heart felt heavy as water splashed on his boots as he made his way into the chamber. Broken glass, wet ash, and then there, laying in front of his desk face down in the pool of water, was Johann. He sprinted over and dropped to his knees, water and a small amount of blood soaking into his pants as he turned Johann’s body back onto his back. His hands balled up into fists as tears streaked down his face. He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, and he screamed. The pained, and heartbroken sound echoed throughout Fisher’s chamber, and it collapsed into a sob as Avi held Johann’s chilled body. Fingers tangled in his wet hair, holding his head close to his heart as another pained scream left his body. He was cursing any god that listened, and every being that took Johann from this world. His screams were soon replaced by the sounds of two people mourning, one more deeply than the other.

It would take months for Avi to recover. He hadn’t even shown up at Johann’s funeral, but every day after that he could be seen standing or sitting by his grave. His fingertips lingered on the headstone, caressing his name engraved into stone. His eyes traveled across the beautifully inscribed epitaph, “Never to be forgotten”. And he was going to make damn sure of that. He worked tirelessly to make sure the world knew exactly who Johann was. He wrote about him very often.

Johann was kind. He had the kind of smile that made your day better, and the kind of frown that made you want to hold him tighter. He forgot to eat most days because he would get caught up in his work, and I frequently had to bring him food. He was always tired because he would stay up so late, and there were many nights I would carry him back to his dorm room. Johann had the most brilliantly green eyes I’ve ever seen, and I would get lost in them each time I looked at him. Johann loved sitting on a hill under a tree watching the clouds and the stars roll by. Johann prefered sleeping in, and was never a morning person unless “morning” was somewhere around 12 pm. He loved coffee with a little milk and around a teaspoon of sugar, I could never make it right. Johann was a half elf, but he could still move his ears like most elves can. Anytime someone complimented his works his ears would turn up, as they were usually drooping a bit. He would also get a sparkle in his eyes, and it would stay there for hours after the fact. But he was always so hard on himself, he was always striving to do better without realising he was already the best anyone ever could be. Johann’s greatest fear was being forgotten, and I swear I will never let his name be lost in history. His name is Johann.

Avi set his quill back into the ink well, and walked over to his bed. He was holding Johann’s hat tightly between his hands, and close to his chest. He could only ever write so much at once before becoming overwhelmed by his own emotions. He took another piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it on his nightstand. He had been holding onto it for quite some time, waiting until the moment felt right. Was it time this time? It would be a little awkward perhaps, but the emptiness in his heart was starting to spread. It pained him, thinking he could have, he should have, done something. He should have walked with Johann that day, he should have been with him, he should have been there to save him.

Leaving the hat behind on the bed, Avi stood slowly, hands gripping a strand of rope tightly in his hands. He stood in the center of his room for a few long minutes as tears rolled off his cheeks and onto the floor. He heard banging on his door, and then it opened. He fell onto his knees as Magnus dropped to his side and tore the rope out of his hands, chucking it across the room.

“Avi!” He started as the man broke down in awful pained sobs. “Avi, look at me.” Magnus said as he turned Avi’s face up. “You’re stronger than that. Johann wouldn’t want-”

“How do you know what Johann would want?!” He snapped, cutting him off and pushing himself away from the larger human as two familiar figures loomed in his doorway. “None of you knew Johann like I did! None of you know what Johann would have wanted!!”

Merle was the first of the two to notice the rope that sit by their feet, and he picked it up in his hands. Flowers began sprouting from it where he had touched it with his soulwood arm, and he cast it aside just as Magnus had seconds earlier. Taako strode over, a shimmering purple cape fluttered behind him an he kneeled down on the floor with Magnus.

“Well then whatever with what Johann would have wanted you to do!” He crossed his arms, and Avi looked up at him. “We want you to stay here. We want you to be strong, and to live the best life you can.”

Magnus turned his eyes from Taako back to Avi. “He’s right. Look, I understand what you’re going through and I-”

“How can you understand? How do you know?” Avi curled in on himself, his body shaking.

“I lost my wife.” Avi looked up when he heard this, seeing Taako and Merle both looking away from Magnus as he spoke. “She was murdered, and I can’t remember who took her from me and that’s awful. Every day since she’s passed I’ve wanted to hunt down whoever took her from me and kill them with my bare hands. And every day since she’s passed, I’ve had the thought that I should take myself away, to be with her in the astral plane. But I look deeper inside and I know Julia would never want me to harm myself, because if I took myself away I’d be taking myself away from even more people that care about me. People like Merle and Taako, and Carey, and Killian, and Lucretia, and Davenport, and Lup, and Barry, and Angus, and, well, and everyone.” Avi pulled himself back onto his bed, taking Johann’s hat once more in his hands, not watching as Magnus and Taako both rose to their feet. “I made you something, that I hope can remind you of that.” A small picture frame was placed on Avi’s lap, and he took it gingerly in his hands. The frame was rosewood, and was beautifully crafted, the glass panel was perfectly clear with no damage or smudges to the surface, and the picture it held inside was one that shook him to his core. He had never seen this picture of Johann before. Johann was, smiling. He had his violin in one hand, and was making a peace sign with the other that had his Bureau of Balance bracer on it. He looked so happy. So happy and so, alive. He pressed the framed picture close to his chest, and Magnus retrieved something from his own pocket. “I made one a long time ago.” He turned the frame so Avi could see the picture of a woman with frizzy dark hair smiling back at the camera. “So that whenever I thought about taking myself out of this world, I would have her near me to remind me that there are things in this world worth living for. And to be honest, you have a lot going here.” Magnus was referencing the sheet of paper with ink still slightly wet. “It’s going to take a long time to recover, buddy. But let him remind you that there are better things coming. In fact, I have one for you now.” Magnus whistled, and a dog with a yellowish white coat walked into the room, and immediately put her head in Avi’s lap.

“Her name is Soprano.” Taako told him as he leaned on his new staff.

“She’s for you.” Merle chimed in.

“I knew you needed help, and sometimes people can’t always be there for you.”

Avi hugged the labrador, tightly, and she placed a paw on his back.

“Lucretia agreed that one dog is allowed on the moon from now on.”

[k-i-s-m-e-t]

Secret Santa: Part 2

TianShan Xmas Event: Snow (Day 5) Fandom: 19 days Rating: Mature Status: 2/2 Part 1 Warnings: None Pairing: TianShan Words: 2,903

Summary: The conclusion! For pelliwelli who came up with this amazing prompt idea and has graciously allowed me to write it. 

His legs moved on their own accord, running blind, unsure of his destination, and not fully comprehending why he was running to begin with. He shouldered his way through the crowded mall, tripping over shoppers, shoving bags out of the way. He landed at a staircase that lead up to a rooftop exit and doesn’t hesitate, gasped at the air after shoving through double doors. His mind was still wrapping around the reality that Li Jie was He Tian. Out of everyone in the world, why did it have to be He Tian?

He was overreacting, why did he always overreact? There was no need to leave like that, he could have addressed the matter with He Tian after. Stupid. He squatted, buried his head in his arms. Why did things involving He Tian always get him so worked up?

It took a minute but eventually he got to his feet, head foggy, throat thick and no he wasn’t going to cry. But he could already feel the prickling, burning sensation and scrubbed a hand across his face. Finally, he really took in his surroundings. He was on the rooftop of a parking garage; approaching the edge, there was a decent view of the city. Resting his elbows on the ledge, he watched the flow of activity beneath him. Shoppers hurried in and out of their cars, the busy street a Red Sea of headlights. Breath emitted in foggy puffs as he calmed his breathing. He shivered realizing how long he had been out there, coat forgotten in his haste to distance himself. He jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder, spun around arms up in defense, fists at the ready. He sighed in relief to see it was only He Tian, then choked mid-way because, shit, it’s He Tian.

“What do you want,” he ground out, thankful his voice carried some weight, didn’t sound as high and tight as his chest felt. He Tian looked, for lack of a better word, ridiculous. Still clad in the Santa Claus outfit, though he’d removed the stomach, the beard dangled awkwardly in his hand. “I already know you’re a fraud, so I really don’t see what there is to discuss.” He Tian shuffled, tipping his weight to one side, yanked a hand through his hair. “Look, I messed up, what I did was-“ “Evil and sinister but that’s your general character so I can’t say I’m surprised.” There’s a deep rumbling sound and Mo trailed off because He Tian was laughing; laughing at him. “Evil, Guan Shan, really? Dishonest, oh most certainly but sinister? Let’s cut out the middle school dramatics.” It was true but that didn’t mean Mo had to like it, let alone tolerate it. “Your ego literally knows no bounds,” he shot back. “Middle school dramatics? Says the guy running around in disguise. Says the liar.” “This was my job, I didn’t lie.” “No? Li Jie? You’re honestly full of it.” He shoved off the ledge, not back inside just as far away from the other as possible. This time the arm came, not around his neck but a hand around his bicep, tentative. “Mo wait please,” He Tian said, voice strained. The words spilled out in a rush like he was desperate, giving Mo more pause than any force could. He waited. “I’m sorry.” Mo turned, shook off his hand, “what?” “I said I’m sorry, it was stupid and manipulative, but so worth it. For once I could talk to you with ease, laugh, joke, not have to scale all these walls you put up before I can even get a word in.” “I don’t put up walls,” Mo said defensively. He Tian laughed out loud, it sounded hollow as it echoed around the vacant space. “You are so heavily guarded I’m surprised you’re not a recluse.” “But,” he said seeing the deepening of Mo’s frown, “this week you opened up. Hell you actually asked me for my help, my advice, even when you were in serious trouble back then with She Li you didn’t ask for help.” “We weren’t friends, why would I have?” “Guan Shan, what I’m trying to say is I enjoyed the past week and a half, I know you did too. Maybe because it wasn’t me, as far as you knew, but I wish that it could be in the future. I was wrong but I want to make things right. You liked Li Jie right? Can we start over and this time you can get to know me?” Mo opened his mouth, closed it. Had he enjoyed the past week? Yeah. It was not that he’d spent it with He Tian that pissed him off. It was that aspect of forcing his will, belittling his right to make his own decision. Yeah he had walls up but how else could he buffer opposition? As soon as he let someone in they tried to control him. He peered up at He Tian and it was almost laughable how conflicted he looked, one hand gripping his elbow, face etched with concern. “Okay.” “Okay..?” “What you did was shitty and underhand but we can start over” he held up a finger, when He Tian opens his mouth “but on my terms.” “On your terms,” He Tian repeated slowly, turning the words over on his tongue.

They’re quiet for a bit, Mo considering. “I just don’t get why you put so much effort into this, into us,” Mo said, tipping his head back to look at the sky. He Tian followed his gaze, sighed in content. “I don’t know, sometimes you’re just drawn to people.”

The volunteer job thankfully came to a close and Mo was relieved but also wistful, he’d miss taking pictures, the camera, screaming kids however not so much. He let He Tian walk him home that night, heartbeat speeding up every time their hands brushed together, the touches building up like static. “You figure out what you’re gonna get your mom yet?” He Tian said, breaking the silence. “No, at this point I’ll probably get her a gift card or something.” Mo walked on, frustrated and disappointed, ready to chalk this one up as another failed year. It took him a moment to realize He Tian was not with him, and look back. He Tian was stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, head craned back looking at the stars. Brought his head up when Mo called his name, telling him to stop fucking around. His lips are stretched in a grin, mischievous look on his face. “I have an idea.”

Mid-morning sunlight slipping between the cracks in his blinds roused Mo from an otherwise dead sleep. With the pressure of the last few weeks of school before the new year, combined with the hours of his volunteer job, he would have been hard pressed to say this wasn’t one of the best sleeps he has had in ages. He craned his arms over his head, stretching, his joints popped in response, laying back content. Cautiously he peered over the edge of his bed but the futon he’d set up last night was empty. What the hell? He froze, turned slowly to his right, breath catching at the sight. He Tian lay curled in his sheets, far from where he’d left him the night before, arms wrapped over and around a pillow. From this perspective he looked innocent, face loose and tranquil, the sight not upsetting Mo as much as he thought. When he’d found out that He Tian usually spent Christmas alone something had pulled at him, mouth working while his brain tried to catch up. He’d insisted, despite his better judgement, that He Tian spend Christmas Eve and Day with him. He Tian had brightened and smoothly accepted the invitation. Mo’s mom was delighted that the top student in his class had nowhere better to be on Christmas Eve than her house. Thankfully she hadn’t pressed the matter of why He Tian wasn’t with his own family and had simply welcomed him with open arms when he’d showed up on her doorstep, overnight bag slung on his shoulder. Later that night there was a gift under the tree with He Tian’s name on it, making Mo take a moment to marvel at how blessed he was with the mom he had, she thought of everything.

He was still gazing at He Tian, lost in thought. It took him a moment to realize the other is up and returning his gaze. Mo jumped, almost ended up on the futon below, opened his mouth with the obvious question on his lips. His mother’s voice at the door cuts him off, two sets of eyes darting toward it in anticipation, but it remained closed.

Mo exhaled, glanced back at He Tian, unspoken request hanging between them before he drew back the covers and shuffled to the door to answer.

When he closed the door and turned back to his bed He Tian was on the futon.

Mo cleared his throat awkwardly. “Breakfast is ready, we should go eat, mom gets pissed if I wait too long and the food gets cold.”

They got dressed backs turned, facing away from each other, like they were in the locker room at school. Mo would be lying if he said he didn’t linger on the glimpses he caught of He Tian in his dresser mirror. Eyes traced the neat sculpting of his strong back, broad shoulders funneling to a neat waist tucked in boxers.

He Tian caught his eye in the mirror, paused half turned arms lifted, shirt around his neck.

Mo spun, excuses flying. “You’re not supposed to be looking!”

“Says who? And it’s not fair if only you get a show.” He rolled his hips seductively.

It took Mo a few tries to get his own shirt on.

He Tian laughed from the bed where he sat now fully dressed, watching unashamed. “I had no idea you blush with your whole body, it’s cute.” He dodged the book tossed in his direction, laughter increasing.

At breakfast Mo was mostly silent, pushing food around on the plate. Would his mom like the gift he’d picked? He Tian had insisted she would but he couldn’t help the clench of his stomach when she cleared their plates and ushered them into the living room.

“You first,” she said handing He Tian a slim box.

He Tian’s mouth dropped open a bit. “But I didn’t get you anything…”

Mo’s mom waved a hand in dismissal. “Open it, open it!”

He Tian hesitated a second, then he was tearing off the paper to reveal a white department store box. His hands shook slightly as he lifted the lid, parting the tissue paper. The sweater was a deep grey, soft texture, it matched He Tian’s eyes perfectly. He held it up to himself than pulled it on, turned to face them, and.. damn. An excited squeal left his mom’s lips.

“I knew it’d look great on you! Doesn’t he look nice honey?”

“Yeah,” Mo mumbled, eyes trained on He Tian’s shoes.

“Thank you!” He Tian said embracing her, cheeks tinged pink.

“Okay!” She clasped her hands moved to retrieve a few boxes and dumped them in Mo’s lap, “Your turn.”

When he’s unwrapped the last gift and set it aside finally, it’s her turn and Mo moved to pull out his gift out from behind the couch where he’d hidden it, knowing his moms tendency to peak.

“Sneaky,” she smiled as he handed her the wide, flat gift.

“To Mom, love Guan Shan,” she read eyes twinkling.

“Mom…”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

She gently eased open the wrapping paper, each piece folded carefully and placed to the side. Underneath was a large frame that she flips over to reveal a black background lit up with bright white dots, lines connecting some into different shapes of all sizes, all laid within a neat circle. At the top was written “Your Special Day”.

“I- what is this?” She looked up, confused smile on her face.

Mo gripped his elbow. “I-It’s a star map. You can get a snapshot of what the night sky looked like on any day you want. I-I picked the day you and dad got married. You always told me he was your soulmate and I wanted to get you something special… meaningful this year.”

It was quiet for a bit and when she looked up her eyes were wet.

Shit. Crap he’d messed up.

“If you don’t like it, I think I can return it,” he said hurriedly. “I didn’t mean to make you upset!”

“Honey,” she wiped at her eyes. “This is wonderful, thank you.”

“But you’re crying…”

“Not all tears are bad Guan Shan,” she laughed. “This is just unexpected …but so perfect.” She pulled him down next to her on the couch to hug him tight.

“I know we don’t talk about your father a lot and… I’m sorry.” She wiped at her eyes. “Given the situation it’s hard sometimes for me because of the memories it brings up, mostly good but sometimes bad.” She cleared her throat, “but I know you miss him as much as I do. I know he hasn’t been present but that’s not his choice and he loves both of us so much. Until the time when we can have him fully in our lives again I… I don’t want us to forget that fact.

She stroked a hand down the frame, smiled at him.

“I think this will help.”

Later that night Mo walked He Tian home for a change. It was peaceful, the streets quiet with everyone indoors with their family.

They lingered at his apartment door, neither really wanting to leave but unsure of how to ask the other to stay.

“Thanks,” He Tian said “for everything.”

“It was nothing,” Mo mumbled. “If anything I should be thanking you, my mom loved the gift.

“I told you, it’s the meaning behind the gift that matters most.”

“Yea,” Mo said, though he could feel another blush coming on. “Well, I’ll see you,” he waved, moving to leave, but He Tian caught his arm pulling him into a hug.

His body stiffened at first in surprise, then he relaxed, lifting an arm awkwardly to pat He Tian’s back. They stayed like that for a while, his nose buried in the other’s chest. He Tian smelled good, a mix of cologne (one that was a little woodsy, like cedar), and something else he couldn’t place but thought it must be He Tian himself -a scent that clung to his sheets at home.

A hand cupped his chin tipping his head up, scattering his thoughts. He could see lips inching closer to his. This time he let his eyes flutter shut, mouth parting voluntarily, but the lips fall on his cheek, just shy of the corner of his mouth.

He Tian was watching him, eyes dancing when they part, a final farewell before he stepped back into his apartment and Mo’s feet worked enough to get him to the elevator.

Inside he pressed the button for lobby, his hand drifting up, fingertips absently running along where He Tian’s lips had been a moment ago.

There was a commotion in the corridor as the doors were closing and suddenly He Tian was there prying them open, shoving a bag into Mo’s hand without comment, doors sliding shut before Mo can question him. He was so shocked it didn’t occur to him try and hold the elevator until it had begun it’s decent.

The bag he recognized as the same one from that day at the mall when he’d fallen.

The same one he’d thought had been for an admirer of He Tian’s.

In the lobby he sat on one the benches, curiosity driving him. He upturned the bag, catching a slim flat box about the size of the palm of his hand. Lifting the lid he held his breath, unsure what he would find as He Tian was unpredictable.

Nestled inside was a brown velvet drawstring bag. Opening it, he shook an orange bracelet onto his palm. It’s weighty. He fiddled with it trying to unfasten it’s clasps. It opened like a vice once undone and could be locked back into place. It was… extremely nice, it’s design simple, he had to admit He Tian had good taste.

He thought back to the last time he’d been given a gift, how it’d been forced onto him. Resentment had been his first feeling receiving that gift, though he still had the earrings tucked away in a drawer, he couldn’t just throw them away and his gut told him he’d want them later on. This time He Tian had looked nervous, so unlike the untempered confidence he’d had back in middle school.

Replacing the items he found a note wedged into the box’s corner. He pulled it out, slowly unfolding it.

I haven’t seen your bracelet in a while, I thought you’d lost it.

‘A while?’ Mo scoffed, more like years. How did He Tian even remember that? Did he pay that close attention?

He replaced the note, pocketed it as he rose from the bench, and headed home. He’d text He Tian later, tell him thanks.

As he walked he thought back over the past few weeks and recent developments.

The new year looked promising.

If you’re curious you can see the bracelet He Tian got Mo here :)

I’m playing catch up now lol 😅 I have one more fic for day 6.

I’m literally so glad you guys enjoyed part 1 & hope you liked part 2. Seriously, thank you for taking the time to read & comment! Love y’all!

x

[nebula-starlight]

Corrupt (Part 12 - Halves)

The darkness surrounded her, all too familiar to the corrupted soul as it echoed the lonely isolation she had known for centuries. She hated being alone but wondered if it was better off that way. The constant staticky hum she emitted would drive any sane individual crazy within hours... To her surprise and equal annoyance though was that her pitiful little host had yet to pick up on her return for several days now, only reacting whenever she failed to hide the pain that tore through her own head - a sign of the stirring entity she’d shoved aside not long after coming into being. The attack, for lack of a better term, had split her soul in half and caused the stronger negative emotions to become a separate consciousness that quickly overwhelmed whatever was left of the original persona. Recent events had somehow broken through her iron-clad control to begin rousing the lesser portion of her already weakened core.

Now while she could normally push away the echoes of memory that started her creation as the originally complete soul fractured, the times when she was alone only amplified the emotional pain she’d endured at that moment. Nether’s confrontation with her had divided what was once whole - creating a split in her persona. All the negativity had formed into the glitchy, corrupt entity she’d taken to calling Void while the small amount of positivity was shoved to the back of her mind. Whether it clung to their original name or not was none of her concern, her attention otherwise consumed by the desire for something to do else she feared she’d lose what little sanity she had.

Pestering her naive, former draconian host Naris only really seemed to work when she was awake and, unfortunately, it was currently the dead middle of the night. Void wasn’t even sure why she herself had woken, frustrated that she had nothing to occupy her time. So there she was stuck in the dark mulling over her past - an action she loathed nearly as much as the beast who caused her to become what she had. Yes she had memory problems on occasion but those were mostly caused by-

Static flared to life around her as she shrieked in a mixture of rage and pain, lighting up the dark interior of the mental prison within her host’s mind with jagged arcs of glitchy green strands of code. Sensing her distress was waking Narssia, Void struggled briefly to calm herself before lulling the former dragoness back into a blissful unconscious state with ease. Even with her possessive tendencies driving the act of self preservation, the glitch quickly realized as her presence infiltrated through the body that she hadn’t kept all the agony contained just to herself. In fact, judging by how tense the girl seemed, her split-second decision to possess her host hadn’t exactly been the best idea but she panicked, reacting in the only way she knew to get away from the growing tension she’d let fester for far too long. Ever since her return from Dark’s domain she would find herself occasionally getting headaches - which was typically uncommon for a spirit. Perhaps it was stress but, then again, maybe there was another cause she refused to properly address.

Grumbling under her breath as she sat up and brushed a strand of hair out of her face, Void took a look around to properly understand where she was or, to be more precise, where her lovely little human vessel had been before she took control. Apparently she was on the couch in the living room given there was a door to her right that led into the kitchen and another door on the left that led out to the hallway which would end at either a set of stairs or the front door depending on which way she walked. Deciding on where to go, she threw back the sheet that had been over her and got to her feet, although the movement was certainly not steady.

Another spasm of pain shot through her head once she was fully upright, her fingers lifting almost subconsciously to her temple as she hissed under her breath in agony. She knew what it was but the knowledge didn’t make what she went through any easier. The sliver of positivity had to have been jostled from previous events... ultimately trying to get free no matter how much it hurt either of them.

She stumbled blindly into the kitchen, free hand trailing along the wall for stability as her body twitched slightly. Glitching wasn’t supposed to hurt but for some reason it only made the pain worse, now a blinding throb that threatened to make her black out with every beat of the possessed human’s heart. Her hand lifted from her head, inky trails stuck to her fingers that refused to leave as the sight of a unattended knife on the counter drew her attention towards the shine of moonlight upon the steel.

Void crossed the distance to the weapon from where she leaned against the wall, her bare feet tapping out a steady rhythm that seemed to help ease the constant waves of pain crashing into her. She would be grateful if the little ball of sunshine stopped trying to make her presence known. After all, sometimes it was all she could do to hide the darker truth while that pleasant shard tried to chip away at her possessive control. Growling under her breath, she grabbed the knife and turned around, feeling warm air brush across the back of her neck.

“Get out of my head,” she snarled into the open space, grip tightening on the blade before another pulse of white hot pain shot through her skull. “Go away, go away, go away!”

Almost immediately she was down on her knees, head cradled in her hands as the now abandoned knife fell to the floor beside her in a clatter. The memories... the moment she tried to keep hidden. Why was it plaguing her like this? Seeing the barrel of the gun... hearing Dark’s words as he manipulated her host into-

No, she couldn’t- wouldn’t go through that again! Gathering her strength, she lowered her shaking hands even though her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. She needed help, as much as it bothered her to admit it. Maybe she could find somewhere close by?

Trying to calm herself down, she focused on the energy around her, briefly lifting away from her host’s body to weave her ethereal presence through the clutter of industrial life until she found what she was after. There was a hospital not too far away and after a good look at the building’s exterior, she settled back in like nothing had happened before glitching out of the kitchen with a low staticky hum as her body seemed to shatter into millions of black and green particles.

Her head felt even worse when she came back together in front of the building she had pictured in her mind, the bright lights of the exterior searing her sensitive eyes. With a hiss she lifted her hand to shield her eyes, body glitching slightly in place with infrequent tremors. Whether it was intentional or not, she felt like she was going to be sick, unable to restrain the more chaotic aspects of her being as her eyes glowed a dull green.

It took all her focus just to walk forward, entering the building as the glass doors slid open. The space inside was large but surprisingly empty other than the desk set up against the wall with an older woman typing away at her computer. Void grunted, risking going blind by the lights above as she wrapped one hand around her other wrist, clenching her free hand into a fist as the tremors worsened. She knew how the body seemed to react negatively to her control - an unwelcome surprise upon her return but not entirely unexpected.

“Can I help you?” The woman at the desk asked, shifting her glasses down lower on the brim of her nose before turning her head towards Void when she didn’t respond.

She had intended to make her appearance known but another throb of her already aching skull sent her reeling, tilting her head to the side as a grimace darkened her features. Whether others could see the black tar like substance dripping from her temple she wasn’t sure but she honestly didn’t care in the moment, gaze sweeping wildly from side to side in distressed panic.

“Make it stop,” she croaked out, lightly touching the black substance oozing down one side of her face. “Just... makeitstop!”

The woman rose almost instantly, bringing out a device Void hadn’t seen before and spoke softly into it before approaching her. Another spasm gripped the glitch and she twitched violently, sinking to her knees as both hands rose to once again cradle her aching head. Strong but gentle hands grabbed her shoulders, the receptionist’s voice calmly reassuring her that help was coming as she whimpered softly. Apparently her earlier conversation had been to inquire of a wheelchair to be brought to the front and, judging from the sound of rushing footsteps that soon graced Void’s hearing, the order had been received and sent out.

She felt lost and distant from the situation as another hospital employee arrived with the chair and helped the receptionist get her into it, barely paying attention to the questions that passed between the two before she was being taken away. The noise was everywhere now, the dull, ever persistent hum that penetrated her brain and made her want to cry out for relief. As they ran across a small groove in the floor she slumped back in the chair, eyes open but dull and cloudy as they flickered between her normal green and a much softer yellowish hue. Words flew by her as she was pushed into a small dark room and the man who had come with the chair left, only for two girls to approach from the shadows and start talking. Subconsciously Void knew they were trying to get information from her but the words felt foreign, her senses overwhelmed by both the pain and the constant noise. When one of the girls tried to touch her, however, she snapped back to alertness.

The faint tendrils of her magic swirled to life in her chest, her gaze suddenly sharp and perfectly clear as she grabbed the offending hand with a low snarl rumbling from the back of her throat. Sharp talons tore into the frail skin, memories of seeing her own blood splattered upon the soft snow distorting what was real and tangible. Jerking back in alarm as her hand fell, Void started to speak but her voice failed her, dissolving into a hacking cough that surely sounded as though she was losing a lung as she turned to the side almost automatically.

“Steady her!” The girl who had not tried to comfort her snapped before two different pairs of hands reached for her, grabbing her and lifting her up.

The surface Void was placed on was cold and hard; her first instinct being to curl up on herself in exhaustion as her coughing fit started to calm slightly. She was so... tired. Why wouldn’t they let her sleep? Her beloved had let her sleep after he slit her throat... Red staining the beautiful white snow...

Bright lights suddenly turned on above her, the whir of a distant machine clashing with the still present staticky crackle around her. Red, she knew who it represented, didn’t she? Flinching back, she triedto further curl into a ball when the voice of one of the girls cut in sharply.

“Miss, do try to keep still for just a moment longer. I know it’s not the most comfortable but...”

The words faded away into noise as she blinked, tears gathering in her eyes as she caught a glimpse from the metallic table under her that her irises had returned to color shifting between green and yellow. She wasn’t alone in her head then. That little pest was back and she couldn’t make it go away. Why wouldn’t it leave her alone?

Minutes passed, seeming to take an eternity before the test finished and both girls picked her up to return her to the wheelchair. She heard mentions of a room number but found it difficult to keep her eyes open, head dropping slowly to her chest...

When Void jolted awoke next, she was laying in a hospital bed with several wires hooked up to her mostly naked body. Realizing the humans had seen the scars she carried brought out a low snarl from her throat that faded almost instantly to a choked whimper of fear. She never wanted to think about that again... not after what had been done to her by both the suave illusionist she’d trusted and then the monochromatic demon once she lashed out at his weak human host.

All the painful memories only caused her head to start throbbing again, although strangely more manageable than it had been all evening. She was alone in the room though and a glance out the window to her right told her that several hours had passed from the fact that sunlight now washed against the ivory white walls.

A sense of panic suddenly gripped her, worried that her disappearance would be noticed. She had to get out of this place! Feeling for her meager reserve of magic, she lifted a hand and watched as tiny sparks of green light flickered against her palm like miniature stars. There was no way she could teleport at the moment with how her head felt but maybe she didn’t need to...

Eyeing the clipboard at the end of her bed, barely visible through the railings, she turned her wrist gently, motioning for the metal to rise. It took several tries but she eventually got the object in her hands, glancing over the information listed on the paper as she read it out loud.

“Name unknown. Female. Age unclear but suspected to be mid-twenties.”

Her eyes darted over the listing of the scars long healed across her body but still shuddered, remembering the feeling of arctic-like wind pelleting her face for the briefest second before she snapped herself back to attention. Twitching her hand once more, she summoned a pen and scribbled down the first words to come to mind.

“Void Nox, age twenty five... Now that’s all the knowledge they’ll get f me. I think I translated Naris’s draconian age properly... I hope so at least.”

Void dropped the pen she held once she finished with a grimace, feeling her host start to stir from inside the depths of their shared head. That decided things for her then. She had to get back to where Mark stayed - no matter the cost. Her eyes closed, breathing slowing before her body burst into black and green particles once more.

Landing hard on the wooden floor knocked the wind out of her, barely starting to get up when she realized she was still primarily naked. Searching around the padded room, she spotted a blanket folded up on a nearby table and grabbed it, throwing it over her shivering form. Void knew the effect of using too much of her magic, how it made her sick to her stomach, but the cost was something she’d have to accept... or would she?

Deciding to allow the waking Narssia control once more, a devious smirk toyed at the edges of her mouth before Void slipped back into the darker recesses of her host’s mind. Who said she had to be the one that suffered for her mistake when she had a perfectly unaware scapegoat coming to alertness that could deal with the harsh recoil meant for the caster?

All she had to do now was sit back and watch.

[starryeyed-char]

Crash & Burn (PART 2)

This is the final part.

The much requested second part of my celebratory 1K followers fic! I’m so glad you guys liked part one, which you should probably go read first if you haven’t yet.

Or you could just read the whole thing on my AO3.

Summary: Lance gets in a car accident while on his way to help Keith, whose car broke down. The summary on part one is slightly less vague but I’m lazy okay sue me.

Lance blinked wearily, as his vision slowly focused on what appeared to be a white ceiling above him. The bright, florescent lighting hurt to look at, so he turned his head to the side, once again squeezing his eyes shut. When he opened them, the sight before him made no sense.

He was lying in a bed, in a room he didn't recognize. Slumped in the chair beside him was a clearly asleep Keith Kogane. Lance belatedly realized that Keith was tightly holding onto his hand, and he couldn't help but blush in embarrassment, even if the main emotion he felt was still confusion.

Lance looked around, and tried to remember how he'd ended up in this situation. He would've tried to sit up, but consciousness brought with it a harsh ache in his side, and a migraine as well.

Suddenly, it all came rushing back. Driving to pick up Keith, only to be blinded by the headlights of a car that was definitely not supposed to be in Lance's lane and then... nothing. Despite having a reputation among his friends for not being very bright, Lance was smart enough to connect the dots that he must've been in a car accident. Which meant the bed he was lying in was located in a hospital room.

He slowly tugged his hand out of Keith's grasp in order to feel the lump of bandages at his side. Sighing, he successfully managed to sit up with only one or two small whimpers of pain. He glanced back at Keith, and nearly toppled off the hospital bed.

He was sitting up straight in the chair, eyes fixed on Lance, his lips slightly parted. When he made no move to speak, Lance took initiative.

“Mierda, Keith,” Lance breathed, placing a hand to his chest. “You're supposed to say something when you wake up in these kind of situations! Not that you'd know that, but seriously! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” The word choice might've not been the smartest, considering recent circumstances. Lance didn't miss the small flinch from Keith at his statement.

“You're okay,” Keith said simply, eyes searching his form.

Lance shifted uncomfortably. “It would seem so,” he tried for a grin. “Sorry to disappoint, but you won't be able to get rid of me that easily.”

Keith just continued to stare at Lance, so intensely that the other boy thought might be about to slap him. Instead, he did something that was much more surprising, at least in Lance's opinion. Keith practically launched himself out of his chair, and before Lance could react he was wrapped up in a hug.

Lance didn't think he'd ever gotten a hug from Keith before. It was nice, if a little bone-crushing. “Woah there, go easy on my ribs, Keith. Pretty sure they're a little... well, very bruised.”

Keith drew back quickly, sitting back down. “Right. Sorry,” he mumbled.

Lance wanted to say something more, maybe to try and get Keith to cheer up as he seemed pretty shaken, but he was interrupted by the door bursting open.

“Lance!” Hunk all but shouted. “I got here as fast as I could! I had to get Shay home and she lives pretty far— are you okay? How bad is it? When they called, they told me some stuff over the phone, but—”

“Hunk, calm down,” Lance smiled at his best friend. “I'm fine, okay?”

“Fine? Fine?! Three broken ribs? So much glass that you needed surgery to get all of it out?” Hunk planted his hands on his hips, and Lance wished he could disappear under the sheets. “You nearly got a concussion, Lance! What were you even doing out this late?”

Lance opened his mouth to argue back, but Keith spoke before he got the chance.

“That's... actually my fault. My car broke down, and I called him to see if he could pick me up at the gas station,” he stared at his shoes. “I feel terrible about what happened.”

“Don't worry about it,” Lance said quickly. Hunk was far less amused.

“Lance, you have work!” he protested. “Driving around when you're exhausted isn't going to help anyone, it's just going to get you hurt!”

Lance sighed, exasperated. “Did you even listen to what they told you over the phone? You're supposed to be my emergency contact! The crash wasn't my fault, I did everything right! I was wearing my seat belt and everything! The guy in the other car was black-out drunk, and swerved into my lane to crash into me head-on!”

Hunk's features softened. “Admittedly, I may have been panicking a little too much about whether you were okay to really listen to the details of how it happened.”

Lance shook his head, smiling fondly. “You've seen me in worse situations than this, Hunk. I wish you wouldn't worry about me so much. I'll be fine.”

“The fact that something like this is just a common occurrence for you by now doesn't make me feel that much better,” Hunk pointed out. “Your bad luck and lack of self preservation skills are astonishing.” Lance laughed at that.

“Hunk's your emergency contact?” Keith asked curiously. “Why?”

“My family lives in Cuba, but I go to school here,” Lance explained. “Someone close by would be notified first, and then later tell my parents to— oh, fuck, I have to tell my family! What am I going to say?! Mom's gonna kill me!”

Keith's brows furrowed. “She's going to kill you for nearly dying?”

“Sounds about right for your mom, honestly,” Hunk placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. “But I'll call her for you. You should be resting, anyways.” He stepped back into the waiting room, and Lance slumped further into his pillows.

“I've done my fair share of resting for today,” he mumbled.

There was a lull of silence in which they each avoided the other's gaze.

“That was pretty scary, for a second there,” Keith finally spoke up.

“Sorry,” Lance stared at the floor, so he didn't see Keith's surprised gaze snap to him. “I don't know how long you were stuck waiting there for me. Did Hunk call you?”

Keith's eyes widened, almost imperceptibly. “Oh. No, I was— my car was close by. I rode here with you in the ambulance, actually.”

Lance groaned, burying his face in his hands. “And now you're stuck here.”

“Shiro can just pick me up from here in a bit,” Keith told him. “It's not a problem. I... I wanted to be here.”

Lance didn't seem to have heard the last part, as Keith barely whispered it. “The whole point of you calling me was so you could get home faster, and now you're waiting for me at the hospital. And I ruined Hunk's date, too!”

“What?” Keith was confused, to say the least. “Lance, you didn't ruin anything. The crash was the other driver's fault, and you didn't even do anything wrong.”

Lance frowned. “I could've done... something to avoid collision. Is... is he okay?”

“The guy in the other car?” Keith asked incredulously. “He was drunk, and he was in your lane! He shouldn't have been...” he broke off at Lance's expression, and sighed. “He's fine, but you're not! Your car took nearly all the damage, and you probably would've died if your air bag hadn't worked!”

“Well, then it's a good thing that one of us has a fully functioning car,” Lance smirked, and Keith groaned. “Or had. I'm guessing my car is as wrecked as I am right about now. I expect you to give me rides everywhere in your motorcycle from now on, once it's working again. After all this, you owe me.”

“How can you still manage to be this infuriating, even after being injured?” Keith wondered, running a hand through his hair.

Lance's grin just widened. “It's one of my many talents,” he bragged. “How can you manage to  yell at someone who just got injured?”

“I'm not yelling at you, I'm just— I'm frustrated, in general! With everything that's happened! With your ridiculously bad luck, I guess. I thought my car breaking down was bad.”

“You and me, both,” Lance deadpanned, gesturing at the various bandages. “When will the universe give either of us a break, huh? We may never know.”

Hunk stuck his head in. “You've already got several breaks,” he said, pointing towards Lance's ribs. “And if you want them to heal, it's going to be a lot of lying down and ice packs for you. Definitely no motorcycle rides. Oh, and by the way, your mom says hi. She's also seriously worried, which is understandable. Count your blessings that I'm talking to her, because you sound about as terrible as you look, raspy voice and all. And I told her that you're resting, so you better hurry up and get on that because I hate lying to people, especially your mom.”

Lance winced, letting out a cough that seemed to prove his point. “Stupid lungs,” he muttered under his breath, before giving Hunk a weak smile. “You're a saint.” The other boy returned into the hall, pressing the phone back to his ear.

“I was too,” Keith whispered, and Lance thought he must've imagined it.

He raised an eyebrow. “A saint?”

Keith probably would've hit him if Lance wasn't already in a hospital bed. “No,” he scowled at the floor. “I was worried, you idiot! This whole thing is my fault, I shouldn't have called you so late. Should've just gotten a tow truck or something.”

“Hey,” Lance insisted, causing Keith to look at him. “How many favors do I owe you by now? Driving to get you was the least I could do. Granted, I still expect super cool motorcycle rides, but blame the drunk driver, or even me, not yourself.”

Keith smiled softly. “You really should be sleeping, Lance. I think visiting hours are supposed to be over, anyway.”

“Hunk's still here,” Lance argued.

“He's your emergency contact, and he's the one who contacted your family. He kind of has to be here,” Keith pointed out.

Lance crossed his arms, pouting. “Fine.”

Keith had to smother the laugh before it escaped his lips. “But I'll come back tomorrow, if you want me to.”

Lance's eyes widened, turning back to Keith immediately. “With Starbucks?” he asked hopefully.

Keith hesitated. “I don't really know if that's—”

“With Starbucks?”

“With Starbucks,” Keith agreed, rolling his eyes fondly. He stood, starting to make his way over to the door. “Now get some rest.”

“Wait!” Lance reached without thinking, grabbing his arm before he could leave. Keith turned back around, looking at him expectantly. For once in his life, Lance couldn't seem to find the right words. “Um... this whole thing has got me thinking, and I was wondering... if you maybe would want to... uh,” He stammered weakly, feeling a blush spread over his face. A small, irritatingly smug smile had replaced the look of confusion on Keith's face. Lance started to speak again, determined to get out a full coherent sentence out this time, but then Keith was leaning in and—

Holy shit, Keith freaking Kogane was kissing him.

That was the only initial thought Lance could process at first, and then he was melting into it, as if nothing else in the entire world mattered, terrible luck be damned. And it was over way too soon, in Lance's opinion, even if he had to catch his breath after they finally broke apart.

“Now can I go?” Keith asked, still with that barely visible, half-smirk.

“Only if you promise to come back tomorrow. We should probably, you know, talk about... that, but as much as I hate to admit you're right, I'm actually about to pass out.”

Keith snorted, and it was so adorable that Lance almost changed his mind about letting him leave. “I promise. Now seriously, get some sleep.”

“Yessir.” Lance saluted as Keith walked out of the room, unable to stop the goofy smile that came over his face.

The few times Lance had been in a hospital before, he always had trouble sleeping. The beds were slightly uncomfortable, the rooms too unfamiliar and plain. But that night when he closed his eyes, he started dreaming almost immediately.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Rumor Has It {2}

Chris Evans x Famous Reader Uriah “Riah” Tyler

Warning: Nah.

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: Inspired by a video seen of Chris and his co-star Ana De Armas on their press tour for Knives Out at TIFF where she kept touching his chest and face standing about five inches apart.

 Note: Woooow, this was not meant for a part two, but by reception and request here it is.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was September, in most parts of the US that meant fall was steadily approaching. In California, it meant a possible six-week extension of summer temps. You felt hotter than usual as if it were actually ninety-nine degrees. You could feel your heart racing as if you’d run a marathon; you could also feel tingles in your belly. Those tingles intensified and traveled through your body. Only Chris could give you those tingles.

   Slowly, you opened your eyes to the blinding Southern California sun beaming in through the window. Squinting you used your hand to shield your eyes. Gasping you arched your back off the bed and felt the telltale sign of your impending orgasm. Your toes curled, and you looked down your body to the bulge underneath the covers. Slowly you lifted the material and stared into the incredible blue eyes of your husband he smiled taking his lips from your core. “Good morning, Kitten.” It was the nickname for you he only used during sinful moments like these. You couldn’t stop your moans. You clamped your thighs closed entrapping his head between them. He wasn’t having it, he pried them open and pressed them to the mattress and went for his no-mercy approach. You were so close—so damn close. Squeezing your eyes shut you chased the promise of release, every few seconds you thought you were there.

   From a distance, you heard loud ringing that wouldn’t stop. It was becoming so distracting that your release got further and further. Finally, the ringing took over everything. Groaning you thrashed in the bed until finally, you jumped up. You looked frantically around the bright room to find you were alone. You looked underneath the covers, but he wasn’t there. Feeling completely frustrated you dropped back into the bed. The only thing that was real was the ringing. You looked ahead across the room to the TV and saw an incoming call. When you looked over to the clock on the bedside table it read two o'clock.

You hated the damn video call high tech equipment that Chris had installed. Looking around the bed for the keyboard to answer the damn thing you quickly got annoyed because it was nowhere in sight. You screamed out in the room and kicked off all the blankets. When you leaned to the edge you saw it on the floor. Once you grasped it you tapped the answer key before you slammed your back to the headboard. When you looked up there was the devil himself. He looked great, perfectly groomed hair and beard, a white polo shirt with one of the buttons at the top unbuttoned and from what you could see dark plaid trousers. Even now, angry with him he got the butterflies in your gut started and your lady bits clenching.

   “Uriah, what the hell I’ve been calling you for almost twelve hours!”

  Those were his first words. Not “Hi honey, I miss you,” or “Let me explain.” You got angry all over again.

   “Excuse me?! Fuck you, Chris. What the hell is right.”

   Chris closed his eyes and sighed as he pinched his nose bridge.

   “No, we are not flying past this first issue which is you not picking up your phone or calling me. You know our rule,” Chris chastised.

   “Don’t throw the rule in my face. I did call you.” He slid to the edge of his seat then and rested his elbows on his knees. You could see the space between his legs where you knew his manhood was and the bulge there made you lick your lips. Rolling your eyes, you hit your head back onto the headboard. Even angry at him, you still wanted him.

   “And left me some crack shit message. I call you back, and you don’t answer. That has been the case for twelve hours Uriah. I didn’t know if you were hurt, or worse. I couldn’t reach you. I’ve asked you to stop doing that.” He only used your full name when he was pissed. You didn’t care if he was pissed. You were pissed!

  “Don’t try to change the subject here, Chris. What the fuck! What is that video?”

   Again, Chris sighed out as if he were deeply annoyed. You almost flew off the handle, lurching forward like he was right before you, you tilted your head to the side. “What Chris? What the fuck are you annoyed with? I know it ain’t me. I’m the only one who should be annoyed right now. Are you fucking kidding me, Evans!”

   He sat there not speaking, just looking at you with his mouth rested on his fist. He always did this when he was waiting for you to finish. It wasn’t a respectful thing like he wanted to be sure you were done speaking before he spoke. No, it was a thing he did when he felt you were going irate for nothing and he was waiting for you to realize it. It always made you angrier, and he knew it. Then you saw his eyes were looking below your eyes. Glancing down you realized you had nothing on, but the flat sheet carelessly tossed across your lap.

   “Helllllooo! Focus,” you shouted while clapping out each syllable before you drew the sheet to cover yourself. He didn’t get to see the goodies; he didn’t deserve it.

   “Just like it’s not okay for me to disrespect you, it’s not cool for you to do it either.”

   “Yet you still disrespect me.”

   “How Uriah? What did I do?”

   “Everybody and their mama saw that video Chris. What did you do?”

   He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off instead, “You’re a married man Chris. Mar-ried!” Again, you stretched each syllable of the word.

   “I think I know that Uriah.” You could hear his rising annoyance. He was usually good at keeping his temper when you argued, but four times out of ten he got just as hot as you especially when you pressed his buttons. Being married you knew all the buttons to press.

   “Do you really? Your actions don’t say it. Why is this woman touching your chest and face Chris? Why? Is there something you need to share with the rest of the class? For the life of me, I don’t know why this woman is touching my husband so intimately!”

   “It was nothing.” Rolling your eyes at the classic response, you leaned your head back on the headboard. You wanted to throw the keyboard into the screen hoping somehow it could teleport through and hit him right in his face.

   “God, I’m tired of saying this every time you see some clearly underhanded video or picture of me with a coworker. It’s nothing; it’s never been anything!”

   He knew you hated him shouting at you. Nothing riled you up more than a man shouting at you. You didn’t know if it brought you back to when you were younger in previous relationships, or maybe you just hated to feel talked down to. “Don’t fucking shout at me!”

   He leaned back and looked up into the ceiling of his room, another sign he was close to flipping out. “If this were me, would you be cool?” He didn’t respond, so you continued. “If there was some video of my costar or modeling partner touching my chest and face, would you be cool?” You saw the tight clench of his jaw and the flare of his nose. You knew the answer already, but you needed him to switch perspectives. He rubbed his face and brought his elbows back to his knees and stared at you.

   “That’s different, and you know it. You have breasts; if a man is touching your chest he is touching your breasts.” You rolled your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose. You’d had a headache since seeing that video, and it was getting worse. You felt the prickle of unshed tears but refused to let them fall.

“You stood there and let her touch you. Where are the lines, Chris? Where are the boundaries? When I did the press tour for Blue Earth you told me you didn’t like Gerald’s hand placement on my mid-back, a mid-back. What did I say? I said okay, consider it done. The next photo op it was solved, it’s remained solved. We’ve had this conversation three times now Chris. Nothing has changed. If you’re not setting these boundaries for these women, there is none. You are fair game. If you’re not setting the boundaries then our marriage is shit.” You didn’t look at him while you spoke. You looked at your toes; you knew if you looked up and into those ocean blue eyes you’d crumble and cry. The silence stretched longer, and your anxiety rose.

   “You said you trusted me.”

   They weren’t the words you wanted to hear, and since they weren’t the dam broke, and you felt the hot stream of tears roll down your cheeks. You did your best to keep your face as low as possible. “Should I Chris?” Your voice betrayed you; the pain was evident. You hated it. You heard Chris release a rush of breath.

   “I don’t know Uriah, should you?” Your heart sank. Glancing up to the screen, he sat there silent and still with his hands rested under his chin looking into the camera. His expression softened. Just then there was a knock at the door on his end, then a woman’s voice. “All right Chris we’re ready to move. We have thirty minutes to get there. Ready?” He looked to you on the screen, and you scoffed before you wiped your cheeks.

  “Why did you ask me to marry you and then do it if you still wanted to live like a bachelor? Why do this whole song and dance? You know what? I’m so glad I decided to hold off on kids. You do whatever you want Evans, I’ll be sure to do the same.” You ended the call, and the video feed then threw the keyboard as it shattered you sunk your head to your lap and cried.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And just like that, we have another series. SMH.

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

@chaneajoyyy 

[zutaraverse]

Chapter 10: Seeing Without Eyes

Chapter 10 of Blood, Chi and Full Moons: Find previous chapters here or: Chapter 1 Part 1 | Chapter 1 Part 2 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 Part 1 | Chapter 3 Part 2 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 Part 1 | Chapter 7 Part 2 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Zuko jolted awake from a disturbing dream just before dawn, the last dregs of which were quickly dissipating into the lightening room. He replayed the scene from last night and considered how to approach the new day. Since they were earth bending he didn’t think he should wake Katara for meditation. Besides, Toph being in charge meant there was no chance of starting early.

However, as the grey light of early dawn infiltrated the room, Zuko started to worry. Katara had hardly moved the whole night. He had to place a hand on her stomach just to feel her breathing, otherwise she may as well have been dead. She must have been in a very deep sleep and he was torn as to whether to wake her or not. Finally he decided that she would probably be mad if he didn’t give her the choice - she was not one to look sympathetically at anybody who made decisions for her.

He kissed her gently on the cheek and called her name, drawing her out of her comatose sleep. Katara’s eyes opened slowly - differently to her usual confused fluttering. This was weary, tired, and her gaze was still distant.

“Hey, its dawn, and we’re meant to earth bend today,” he explained softly. Katara’s eyes closed with the same slow, deliberate movement she had used before. They stayed closed a few seconds before opening again to consider him. She reached up a hand and caressed his cheek, before letting it drop back onto the sheets.

“I’m… not… leaving… this… bed,” she breathed. Zuko nodded. He didn’t think he should argue with her - she seemed to be exhausted. There was only one problem though…

“Then we’ll leave Toph to sleep - I bet she will be happy,” he said, trying to conceal his disappointment. He had been looking forward to learning earth bending - he loved the strength it gave those who wielded it. Katara closed her eyes.

“You should learn,” she said from somewhere very distant.

“You’re the only one who can blood bend,” he reminded her. She sighed and reached for his hand.

From her fuzzy state she didn’t need to try to block out anything; it was already gone. She found his blood easily and followed a very bright chi flow in the darkness of her incomprehensibility. Katara had studied Toph’s chi flow the day before, memorising the points where it differed from hers. She wasn’t surprised to find earth bending focussed in the legs and feet. It made sense. In the back of her mind it reminded her of something, but she couldn’t quite place it.

When she had altered Zuko’s chi, she did her own.

“There, now we’re both earth benders,” she said. She hadn’t moved or opened her eyes - Zuko had thought she had fallen asleep again. He kissed her again and quietly left to wake an undoubtedly grumpy Toph.

The sun rose just before six o’clock. Nothing official happened before nine o’clock, which meant that meditation, training, washing and eating took place in those three hours. Katara woke from her stupor at about eight, and decided to find her friends. She didn’t bother hiding the black under her eyes, and she tied her hair up so it wouldn’t look dirty. Going into her bathroom, she sighed in relief at her ability to blood bend. For all of the uses blood bending had, the most mundane was also the most useful. No longer did she have to soak her cycle cloths in boiling water for hours; she could soak them for five minutes or so and bend the blood off. It was amazing. If she ever lost the ability to blood bend this would probably be one of her main regrets.

Having washed herself and thrown on some clothes, Katara hurried to the indoor arena so see if Toph and Zuko were still in there. She opened the door quietly and slipped in, almost laughing at what she saw; Toph had riddled the stone floor with holes and dips, sharp spikes, inclines, and steps of all kinds. Zuko stood, looking somewhat weary, blindfolded in the middle of the maze.

“Hey Katara,” called Toph from the other side of the arena.

“What? Katara’s here?” asked Zuko, jerking his head about and trying to work out where the damned door was.

“What is wrong with you Zuko!” cried Toph, “You are a fire bender, that means you can feel heat! You should be able to sense her in the room with your own element!” She threw up her hands in frustration.

“Yeah well I’m too damned concentrated on trying to sense the fucking death traps you’ve set out for me!” he cried back, a glimmer of his old-Zuko anger in his voice. However, he didn’t remove the blind fold. Toph growled.

“I do not understand why it is so hard to teach earth bending! With Aang what he needed was a forceful push, and I think you need the same. We are going to duel,” she said definitively.

“Duel!” exclaimed Katara. “Isn’t it a bit early for that?” She did not like the idea of a blind Zuko going up against Toph. With his eyesight they may have been equally matched, but he was at a distinct disadvantage here.

“Stay out of this Sugar Queen. This is between me and Sparky. Actually, you can play doctor when he gets his butt kicked. Right, Sparky, you can use any element you like - I will only use earth bending. But we are both blind. And you better start paying attention to the earth pretty soon because it will, quite literally, slap you in the face if you don’t. Ready?”

“Toph I think this is a really bad idea,” started Katara pleadingly. However, Zuko interrupted her.

“Please Katara! If this is what it takes I’ll do it. But you shouldn’t get hurt - wait outside till this is over.”

“Absolutely not,” she said forcefully, crossing her arms and not a little irritated that he was trying to tell her what to do, “I can defend myself, Fire Prince Zuko, and if I have to beat your arse again to prove it, believe me, I will!” And with that she leaned against the door, staring at the back of Zuko’s head angrily.

He gulped. An angry Katara was far worse than a playful Toph. He would have to deal with that later.

“Wahey! Sweetness is getting Spicy!” laughed Toph. This is more like it, she thought to herself.

“Don’t you dare make light of this Toph - I’m furious with you for doing this. You two are going to seriously hurt each other and I’m the one who is going to have to pick up the fucking pieces as usual!” she snarled, switching her cold stare from one blind person to another.

“Shesh! Calm down Spicy! Hey… Spicy and Sparky… I like it… although Sweetness and Sparky is like sweetness and light which is a lovely saying. Except I don’t know what light is,” mused Toph, completely unperturbed by Katara’s outburst. She was more than used to it, but sensed that it had put Zuko on edge… maybe she should go easy on him after all. “Well, lets get to it!” she announced, stomping her foot on the ground and changing the landscape to something completely unfamiliar. Zuko didn’t know it but it was actually easier to navigate than the previous one.

Zuko froze at the sound of grinding rock.

“You fucking changed everything again didn’t you?” he growled.

“Yup!” replied Toph lightly.

He spun around in the direction of her voice and shot a fireball at her. However, he heard the usual creaking of the expanding metal as it collided with the wall.

“Yeah, how are you supposed to get me if you don’t know in which direction I’m going? You are aiming for the past Sparky, get with it!” she instructed, leaping around and changing direction. Zuko tried to aim a few more fireballs but without success. “Not even close!” mocked Toph from yet another position.

Zuko could feel his frustration growing into anger. Anger at himself, at his damned inability to pick this up. He felt like a scolded child again, the worst one at fire bending, with his sister showing off to his father and grandfather moves that he still hadn’t mastered. The familiar rage that he had harboured for three long years on his ship returned full force, contorting his body into well rehearsed moves. He growled through his teeth as he drew on as much power as he could and shot a sheet of fire, spinning as he did so, in order to make it reach every corner of the room.

He was left panting from his sudden outburst. After a few deep breaths things started clearing in his mind as he realised what he had done.

“Katara? Toph? Are you ok? I’m so sorry…” he reached behind his head to undo the blindfold and rush to the aid of his friends. He was resisting breaking down into sobs of self loathing.

“Don’t you dare Sparky!” called Toph from a long way away, “This isn’t over!”

“We’re fine Zuko,” said Katara from somewhere closer to his side of the arena, a softness in her voice that indicated that she at least partially understood what had prompted his rash gesture.

Zuko suddenly felt something hit him square in the forehead. Then something else. They were hard. Stones! Toph was throwing stones at him - he had just whipped out enough fire to destroy a palace and she retaliated by throwing stones. It almost made him laugh.

Because she defended herself from his attack and he was incapable of defending himself from hers.

Right. He needed to find cover. Getting low to the ground, he moved along with his hands spread wide until he found a large rock jutting out. He moved so that it was between him and the rock-throwing Toph. It wouldn’t take long for her to adjust her position to come at him again, but she had been the other side of the arena, so she would have to move quite a bit. At the very least it bought him some time.

A memory presented itself to him; a memory of himself as the blue spirit, living in the shadows and being impossibly quiet - breaking into the highest security prisons and freeing the highest security prisoners. Sneaking around wasn’t going to fool Toph, and there was no wood to dampen his steps. He silently cursed himself for not having brought water in this morning - at the very least it might create some confusion!

But along with these memories came the less pleasant ones; being locked in cupboards, waiting in vents, sneaking through barracks, finding his way down the tunnels of Lake Laogai. In none of those situations did he have any light. He had done it by not searching for light - by instead focussing on what he did know and translating that into images. He remembered sitting very still, hardly even breathing, and listening with all his might to what was happening around him.

Marching boots: soldiers. The paces even: bored. Two, in practiced time: regular partners. No hesitations: knew the land to perfection - they were lookouts on duty.

Now he had more than his ears, though. He had heat. He had water. He had earth.

He relaxed and opened his mind to the arena. There. He could feel Toph not too far from him. She wasn’t moving. So she must have been waiting for him to emerge.

Katara stood somewhere behind him. She was much warmer than Toph.

This didn’t help though. As soon as Toph picks up a rock, and the rock leaves her hand, he would have no idea where it was. He might hope that the contact with her skin would make it slightly warmer than the surroundings, but hat was a vain hope. Besides, was she even picking them up? Wouldn’t she just bend them towards him?

He needed to go deeper than heat and water. He needed to focus on where he was in relation to the room. He needed to feel, through his skin, what was going on. Everything is connected he told himself. I am on the earth, I am touching it, I am part of it. He repeated this mantra in his head over and over as he ran his fingers and toes along the surroundings, paying attention to every nook and cranny he passed over. There was no movement in the room, nor was there any noise; it seemed the girls had decided to leave him to his own explorations.

He felt a dip under his feet as he inched forward. A dip meant a rise though. Where was the rise?

There. The rise was very close - the dip was not wide. But the rise seemed to be higher than where he was standing. That would mean another dip perhaps. It would be annoying to have to climb it though. But moving to the right should give him some space. Instinctively, with the speed yet caution of the blue spirit, he headed towards the easier path. There was something blocking his way though and he ducked just in time, feeling an overhang graze the top of his head. Toph would be standing to the left - stationary - a heartbeat - a more intense vibration. Carefully positioning himself, he shot a simple fireball directly at the direction of the more intense vibrations. The vibrations faded for a split second - she had stepped out of the way - and he felt a presence moving closer - too fast to be Toph - no Toph had not moved from her spot.

Something small and hard hit him on the chest. Oh. Another rock. So that’s what a rock feels like he thought to himself, too fascinated to be irritated.

“Nice one Sparky, you are finally feeling. Now quit with the fire, do it with rock,” instructed Toph.

“Hmmm thanks for the details Sifu,” grumbled Zuko, momentarily distracted from his study of the ground.

“You’ll work it out,” she replied. Zuko imagined a smirk playing on her lips underneath her black bangs.

He returned to the state he had been in while observing the stone beneath his feet. Right. Stone MOVE he mentally shouted. Unsurprisingly, nothing happened. He returned to the overhang and, standing in front of it, he placed one hand on the lip, concentrating on how the stone was shaped - not so much on the surface, but underneath it. There he exerted a force, and to his immense pleasure it shifted. Not much, just an inch. But he could do it again - and with more power. The overhang lifted so that he could pass under it without ducking.

Now he needed a stone to throw. He reached up and touched the overhang once more. Instead of pushing inside, he pulled, and a part came away easily in his hand.

Now where was Toph? Ah! There. He threw the stone but it fell short - he felt it hit the ground a few metres in front of her. He took another part of the overhang, and this time, he pushed it from inside. Not enough to separate it, but enough to control its direction. There!

The vibrations coming from Toph changed and the stone stopped. Ah. She must have lifted her hand and caught it.

“I like it Sparky! But I’m afraid we are going to have to continue this another time - your advisors are hesitating outside the arena - I think you might be late for something…” said Toph.

Zuko gasped and tore off the blindfold, ignoring the tears that sprang to his eyes from the suddenly very intense light. He ran to the door and ripped it open.

“What time is it?” he asked urgently to the advisors who stood nervously outside.

“Ten o’clock, my prince,” answered one of them.

“Shit. Prepare the meeting room, I will be there shortly,” he ordered, watching them scurry away towards the palace. Zuko turned to the two girls in the room.

He took in the terrain Toph had created. It had seemed so much more threatening without his eyes - in the daylight he could have manoeuvred it with hardly a thought! Toph had created a seat of stone and was picking at her feet, just as she used to when she was younger. Katara had also seated herself on a boulder, her legs dangling down. She seemed much calmer than before.

“We’ve only got half an hour to prepare but I reckon we can do it,” she said serenely. Zuko regarded her gratefully. He was worried she wouldn’t be there at the meeting today - but she knew so much about what was going on that she would grasp anything he happened to miss. And besides, her insights into how the normal people lived were exactly what he needed. The memories of his life as a refugee in the lower rings of Ba Sing Se were forever fresh in his mind.

Katara slid off her boulder.

“What, Sugar Queen is wussing out of her lesson?” mocked Toph, seemingly unbothered by their disappearance.

“Sorry Toph, if you like I can come back this afternoon after lunch? I had an idea I would like to try with you,” she said, still the image of composure. Toph yawned.

“Yeah alright. I’m going to go and take a mid-morning nap now. Wake me when you want to learn?” the tone in her voice was almost too hopeful, betraying how much she needed this distraction - this reminder that she could be in control of something. Katara smiled.

“Of course,” she promised, before taking Zuko’s hand and heading back to the palace with him.

The meeting had been surprisingly simple. People seemed to be on more or less the same page - which was an event in itself. Zuko had some letters to write, but Katara hurried to wake Toph and they headed to the arena. She was determined not to be put through the same thing as Zuko - that had taken hours, and to be honest, she did not have the patience to deal with it today. She had another idea though.

“What’s this plan of yours then?” asked Toph once the door had clanged shut definitively.

“Well you know how you play with metal? Its kind of like how I water bend - as in it is almost liquid - or it behaves like a liquid. So I wanted to try that,” she explained confidently.

“You want to start with metal?” asked Toph incredulously.

“Well, yes. It might not work, but if it did I think it would be easier for me to attack it that way around,” explained Katara, suddenly not so sure of herself. Toph raised an eyebrow and flicked the hair out of her face with a familiar jerk of the head.

“We might as well try,” conceded Toph. She wouldn’t admit it, but angry Katara was not something she wanted to run into twice in the course of a day. She reached out and summoned a chuck of metal from high up on one of the walls, bringing it down between her hands. She couldn’t resist playing with it for just a bit, letting it circle her hands and splay out in different patterns.

“I don’t really know how to teach you this because I learned it from earth bending. And with that you need to find the earth within the metal. It is there, it just feels slightly different, you know?”

“Like blood feels to a water bender,” compared Katara.

“I guess,” reasoned Toph, “if you can start to place it in space first you would get a feel for what it is?” She was guessing. She actually had no idea how to approach this. She solidified the metal again and handed it to Katara, who sat on the ground holding it between her hands contemplatively.

Treat it like ice, she thought.

“I think,” she spoke out loud, “that solid metal is kind of like ice, liquid metal like water. I don’t know what vapour would be… but anyway, so if this is like ice, then what I would need to do is sort of… break it apart from the inside, but all over at the same time. Does that sound right to you?” she asked Toph.

“Yeah, sort of. But you need to keep the whole together so it doesn’t splatter… the edges kind of feel different.” Toph sat down opposite Katara and waited. Katara didn’t move. She didn’t move for a long time.

Toph focussed on sensing the metal in her hands, and was surprised at how easily she fell into it. She could feel how there was a growing pressure inside, a tentative movement. But it was going in the wrong direction - or rather it was going in all directions at once. That is not how metal is structured, she registered, there needed to be more of a sliding and jostling to it. She murmured this instruction to Katara, careful not to break the concentration of either.

Slowly but surely, she felt Katara’s hold on the metal increase and the right action take place. The metal was more malleable, and then eventually liquid. She imagined Katara would be smiling.

“Fuck. Yes,” breathed Katara, playing with the liquid metal. She was right. She could treat it like water in a way, although it was less similar than she had expected.

Toph grinned.

“Nice one sugar-cake. Now can we get on with real Earth Bending?” quipped Toph, not quite managing to hide her awe for what Katara had just achieved. She wondered if she would be able to use the same technique in reverse when Katara kept up her side of the bargain.

A couple of days had passed and Katara had managed some earth bending - Zuko some metal bending. Both realised that the more they learned about any element made picking up the next one ever easier. So many things were similar that sometimes in the depth of their meditations they stated fusing the boundaries.

Toph liked fire too - she used it to sense what she could not feel through her feet. And carefully, with much caution, she learned to manipulate it. Since it was not solid it took many hours of concentration to keep hold of the shapes she created - they were not bounded by everything, but she saw it as her job to bind it to a shape.

When it came to her turn to learn water, she could hardly wait. Katara had also decided that she would attempt to teach Zuko blood bending at the same time; full moons only came around once a month and she wasn’t sure what the future would hold.

The three met by the little lake, much to the annoyance of the turtle ducks, just before sunset. Katara talked Toph through everything she had done with Zuko, and decided it would be a good idea if she kept her feet in the water. Although Toph had eventually learned to swim, she still feared the power of water, and so keeping the most sensitive part of her body connected with it might help bridge that distrust.

Katara and Zuko left her in meditation as the sun set, knowing that, at this point, it was highly unlikely she wouldn’t experience the surge of power that came with the moon. It seemed strange yet oddly logical that they were all picking up one another’s elements so quickly.

“Blood,” started Katara, “feels slightly different to water. It is harder to move, since it pulls everything else that is in the blood with it. It is heavy in that sense. And besides, there is something blocking your direct access to it. The way I like to look at it is as a reaching past a barrier rather than a going inside.”

Zuko looked around, distracted from her words by a thought that had just occurred to him. He was feeling uneasy.

“Katara, don’t you have some animal I can practice on?”

Katara stared at him hard.

“No. Blood bending takes away the freedom of whatever you are practicing on. Therefore you will only blood bend practice on willing subjects.”

Zuko sucked in a breath. He had a really bad feeling this might happen.

“Katara there is no way I am blood bending on you!” he seethed.

“Yes, you are,” she replied calmly.

“I won’t learn then,” he matched, folding his arms across his chest in defiance.

“Yes, you will. What happens if I go crazy with all this power? What happens if I need to be stopped and Aang can’t do it? What happens if people find out about this and torture me until I make them as powerful as we are?” Katara had tears in her eyes but she refused to let them fall. This was why she had to teach him. How could she trust herself with something so destructive without any way out. “You need to learn Zuko, you need to be able to control me and my chi like I can control you and yours. That way you can take away from me what might one day harm so many people…”

Zuko’s arms had fallen to his sides as her arguments computed in his mind. Out of all of them, she was the only one who could not be stopped. If he or Toph abused their power, Katara would be there to take it away. Aang had still not managed to return to the Avatar state since they had split up two years earlier and so would be incapable of doing so. But if she lost her mind, if she was used and tortured, nobody would be able to help her.

“Katara, don’t think like that,” he whispered unconvincingly. He pulled her into his arms, well aware that she was right. He was both moved by her trust in him and terrified of misusing it. An image of his father flashed in his head. What atrocities could he have achieved if he had known how to blood bend? Zuko didn’t want to imagine.

“Look, Zuko, this is important. I know you are as strong as I am, and you feel the water in the same way I do. Blood is not hard, its just as shift in how you see the element - like lightening is for you and metal is for Toph…” she pushed him away gently and collected herself before starting her instruction.

Zuko was used to observing the mass of water that was Katara. But now he needed to concentrate on overcoming the resistance provided by her skin and moving behind it. He could understand how somebody who struggled with water would find this near impossible, but by this point shifting his perspective was becoming a way of life. The constant re-analysis was opening his eyes - metaphorically - to a way of feeling  that was completely foreign to him.

It took a while, but the power of the moon was coursing through his body, and all the water in the world seemed to be at his fingertips. He reached forward with his hands and his mind, and concentrated on what was behind the skin. His fingers curled in order to take control of her body - a rigid, awkward movement, like a puppeteer. He had the distinct feeling that if he softened his stance control over her would slip. Slowly, he moved her arms around, getting a feel for how it felt.

Zuko had expected to be repulsed by the sensation of blood bending another person - especially Katara, but actually he felt very calm, just like when he was water bending. In retrospect, he didn’t really know why he had anticipated repulsion - he hardly felt repulsed by the creation of lightening, and he doubted Toph disliked metal bending.

“Alright Zuko, now I’m going to start resisting,” said Katara. She, too, looked relatively calm.

“What do you mean resist?” he asked, dropping his hold and letting her arms flop to her sides.

“Well, I’ve been letting you do what you want, but that is hardly ever going to happen. I will try to resist and you will need to use more force to control my body. Are you ready?”

Zuko gritted his teeth but nodded, retaking his stance. He hoped that he didn’t hurt her.

This time was more difficult, he needed to focus all his attention on maintaining his hold and bending her to his will. In the back of his mind he could understand how people could become addicted to such power, but he pushed that thought away.

Eventually Katara’s face contorted in pain and she gave over control. Zuko dropped his stance.

They both stood staring at one another, breathing heavily. Katara nodded and forced a smile.

“I think thats enough for tonight,” she murmured, turning towards where Toph sat in the distance.

Zuko caught her arm.

“Katara, wait. There is something I’ve been meaning to tell you. Uncle made me promise not to but I think you have a right to know,” he started hesitantly.

“Spit it out Zuko!”

“Your family is coming here. To the palace. They are arriving with Iroh.” He was looking away, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Katara exhaled audibly.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said cordially, controlling her rising panic. “How long to I have to prepare for this?”

“Erm… they arrive tomorrow.”

[xstarsinthedarknessx]

Kimber

Chapter 2; I know that this needs a lot of work - it’s literally first base first draft. Rip it apart all you like. Please be nice, though. This is a shifter/fantasy/romance novel. (YC)

In ten minutes, Nikolay would begin his two-a.m. round. On the dot. They had one round in the night, as most maids were awake not long before and the rest were to be awake not long after. Nik was particularly ruthless and intolerant of bad behavior. If you weren’t in your bed when he came into your room, there was hell to pay.

Kimber reached the doorknob, desperate to flee before the next day began. Her delicate hand rested against the doorknob. She had one ally in this place and Kimber would have to leave her behind. She pulled the door gently, ensuring it didn’t make a noise and made her way down the darkened hallway. 3 doors down, she grabbed another handle and entered the room.

Gliding across the room, she leaned down and placed her lips gently against her friend’s forehead. Her eyes closed briefly, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I promise, with all my heart, I will come back for you.”

Kimber left the room as fast as possible. Eight minutes, forty-six seconds before she was discovered. If another guard didn’t find her first. She made her way down the hallway in the opposite direction and paused at the top of the stairs, listening for the sounds of guards breathing, picking their fingernails, anything that could give them away.

When she couldn’t hear anything, she made her way down the elegant staircase and across the landing. She leaned towards the second-floor French doors and gently pulled them open, making as little noise a possible. She wasn’t the only creature with heightened senses. A thrill shot through Kimber as she tiptoed out through the door onto the balcony.

Five minutes and two seconds until room check.

Reaching for the rail that enclosed the marble balcony, she gripped the ledge and pulled herself to straddle it. Kicking her foot over the edge she used all her strength to hold onto the outside of the balcony. She wrapped her thighs around one of the columns that held the balcony, ready to slide down. It would be a fast decent, the heavy rain making the marble slick.

As she reached the ground, Kimber drew a breath and rushed into the cool wind and heavy rain that battered against the ground. She darted left into a line of bushes and stayed under their cover as she made her way into the trees surrounding the compound.

The goal was simple. Escape or die trying.

Kimber still nursed wounds from a recent beating for fighting against a guard who wanted to use her body. She wrapped her arms around her cracked ribs, hoping to ease the pain if only a little. Her legs throbbed from her decent and her feet could still feel the vibrations of landing against the hardened floor. Tears, mixed with rain, poured down her face from the searing pain.

Two minutes and thirty-seven seconds remained.

Time to get moving. Through the darkness, she maneuvered around thick tree trunks and over raised roots. Lightning crackled and fingered through the dark sky.  Frustration bubbled within Kimber. She couldn’t change into her true form and it was slowing her down. If she could change, she would be so much faster, see so much clearer and it would be easier to ignore the pain. She wasn’t a runner in this form. Especially with her reduced diet over the last few years.

She gulped a deep breath; listened for shouts, boots slapping against wet ground, any sound of being hunted.

Her heart hammered with terrified beats. She had to calm down.

Kimber’s ears pricked at a howl in the distance. There were no natural wolves in England. They had found her empty bed. Jumping up, she lunged into the blackness, running hard, fighting the panic exploding in her chest. Every survival instinct she had screamed at her to tear through the wood like a madwoman. But hitting a tree might knock her out or daze her. Instant capture. Thick underbrush clawed at her arms. Pain from the cuts burning her skin demanded attention.

She pushed harder.

Sheets of rain blasted through breaks in the trees. Thunder boomed overhead. A jagged branched snagged the edge of her thin shorts and ripped a searing gash across her thigh. An adrenaline spike masked the pain, but her lungs begged for oxygen.

Distant barking and howls broke through the deluge. Wolves were expert trackers. They were on her trail.

 Kimber burst through a break in the trees and slowed while her eyes adjusted, but moved forward steadily. The ground fell away and she stumbled down a short drop into a ditch, landing on her knees. She lay on the cold ground and stared up at the stars. Mother nature kissed her skin as her breath became a cloud in the sky.

The bays of wolves pierced the night. They were closing in.

There was a dim glow against the horizon, enough for Kimber to raise her head. There were flat stretches of tarmac and a small building across the clearing.

Pushing her arms into the ground, Kimber raised herself to her knees, and then her feet before stumbling in that direction. Her adrenaline was seeping away, leaving her bones aching and shaking. Her thigh throbbed, her ribs burned and her head felt foggy. She /had/ to make it. Forcing her heart to pump harder only made her wounds bleed more but she pushed herself into a jog.

The bright glow ahead kept her going. It appeared to be some sort of hangar, the tail of a plane peeking out the end.

She softened her steps as she neared the hangar then crept to the edge of the building. There was a plane sat in the building, the door open with boxes upon boxes of who-know-what cargo but that didn’t matter. Kimber couldn’t outrun Nikolay and the house on her feet. No matter where this plane was going, she had to go with it.

When she couldn’t sense anyone else near the plane, she dashed across the concrete floor and jumped through the door, landing harshly on her hands and knees.

Kimber crawled across the plane floor and hid in a crook between boxes. It was right near the wall she could only assume was behind the cockpit. It was the most hidden she could be in such a small space. She just hoped the pilot didn’t need to re-check his cargo before he took off.

She made herself as small as she possibly could. There was an overpowering smell coming from the cargo on this plane. Kimber was sure some of the crates must contain animals, or animal produce, or some pungent vegetation. She hoped it would cover her scent.

When the doors were shut and the plane began to move towards its runway, Kimber let her eyes close and she fell into a heavy sleep.

 #

 How was she going to get out of this plane without the pilot or someone else realizing she had been there? She could feel the plane moving across the tarmac, she assumed to its hangar in this airport. The touchdown had been rather gentle in comparison to what she though a touchdown would feel like.

The plane came to a halt and she could hear the pilot making his way out of the plane and across the area they were in. The cargo door was opened and Kimber had to squint to protect her eyes from the bright sunlight. It had been so dark in the plane that even with heightened senses, Kimber could hardly see. This sunlight felt truly blinding, burning against her irises.

Kimber closed her eye briefly, the strongest sense of relief passing through her as who she could only assume was the pilot, had opened the door and then left the plane, perhaps to get someone else to collect the cargo. She darted out and away from the plane, her muscles protesting but her mind screaming for her to move while she had the chance.

She darted across the tarmac and behind a small building. New-Mexico airfield was written on a nearby road sign. Kimber gasped as she realized she was in America. She was so far from home and the auction house but she didn’t want to take any chances.

Following the closest road, Kimber walked for hours. All she needed now, was somewhere she could change into her true form, her Lioness. She would travel much farther, much quicker if she could change.

 After walking for nearly the whole day, Kimber started seeing signs for Gila National Forest. She changed her direction and continued walking long into the night, finally reaching the edges of the forest as the sun began to rise. The golden light speared through the trees and warmed against Kimber’s face.

Once Kimber felt she was far enough into the forest, she near collapsed to the ground. She needed to hunt and then she needed to sleep. The day was almost over. She could feel her joints crack and twist as her bones moved beneath her skin, changing shape to fit her new feline form. Some bones elongated while others shrank, creating a _highness_ throughout her whole body. Her shoulders scrunched into her neck, she fell to her knees and her back arched. She stretched her fingers and toes outward as they became more feline in shape and claws began to protrude.

Her Lioness raised its hackles as it stretched and settled into it’s form. She twisted her ears in every direction, listening intently for the sound of anything she could hunt. Hooves scraped against the ground nearby.

Kimber crouched against the ground, skimming her belly against the ground as she got closer to her target. She ensured she was hidden behind the thick underbrush and narrowed her eyes on her target. Some sort of sheep. She thanked the stars that it was a female and not a ram. She had enough wounds as it was.

She leaped forward, pouncing through the air and latching her extended claws into the sheep’s flank. It made a loud noise and tried to run but Kimber couldn’t afford to let this go. She reached her neck as far forward as she could and wrapped her teeth around the sheep’s jugular, pressing down hard until the sheep stopped moving.

Kimber hated hunting, having a love for every animal but sometimes it just couldn’t be helped. It was different when her mum collected meat with the groceries. She didn’t see the animal alive, with a life or a family. This sheep could have kids somewhere in this forest. She tried to not think about it.

The Lioness in her urged her to start eating her kill, never knowing when the next meal would be. Kimber ate through it at a record speed.

With her stomach full, Kimber lay against a particularly large tree and curled into herself. It would be easier to keep herself warm throughout the night in this form. It didn’t take very long for her body to give into her fatigue and fall into a slumber, although a part of her would always have to be on alert.