#festival fugitives

[icy-watch]

Wait, is this the 1 character who was selling shoes in s1?

[schlock-luster-video]

On September 6, 1993, The Fugitive was screened at the Venice Film Festival.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Neighbors 🩵 Lovers

Part Four

Shutting his door, he placed his sturdy back against it. His head collided gently with the surface and he shut his eyes tightly. An even breath escaped his nose and his built chest rose up and down. Diesel’s barking brought his attention down to his pit bull. Erik slid down his door until his bottom touched the floor. Diesel relaxed next to him and Erik rubbed his back. His obsidian eyes stared off into space, but his mind replayed scenes from the night’s festivities over and over.

He dragged his other hand down his face.

Faedra McAdams almost made him say those three words.

Erik brought his left knee up and rested his elbow there while stroking his bottom lip with his thumb. He couldn’t believe it. From the outside looking in, you’d think he’d only known her for several weeks. Truth is, he’d known her for months. Five long months. From a distance. Through his telephoto lens while parked in a car or on a rooftop at night through a 10-power scope.

To understand why, it’s best to know what Erik does for a living more extensively. He is a Mercenary nicknamed Killmonger turned professional Hitman and a top agent for the International Contract Agency. Both Killmonger and his partner, Diana, work together during missions and she controls what jobs he’s hired to take on.

Before the ICA discovered Erik, he was a JSOC Special Ops who was kidnapped and became the product of a HYDRA experiment. The Winter Soldiers were HYDRA's elite group of assassins that were administered with Howard Stark's version of the Super Soldier Serum. Due to the mental side effects caused by Stark's serum, the Winter Soldiers were all kept in cryostasis at the HYDRA Siberian Facility, during which they were killed by Helmut Zemo. All except for Killmonger who escaped.

His genetically-engineered and enhanced body and mind (combined with his extensive knowledge and training) made him become the world's deadliest and most efficient assassin. Killmonger was a relatively emotionless assassin until Fae came into the picture. He couldn’t understand how this woman altered his controlled lifestyle so much. For once, Erik was able to relax and be himself. He was able to have real emotions.

The Ghost Fugitive was his current elusive mission he’d been hired to do months ago but Erik stalled because of Fae. He decided to move into an apartment here to keep an eye on his target. He was told to eliminate everyone involved or suspected to be involved. Instead of getting the job done, he purposefully dragged himself. He knew soon enough, Diana would come along asking questions. And that’s why he’s currently stressing. How was he going to explain this to Diana?

Erik’s phone buzzed and he turned his hip to retrieve it from his back pocket. Looking down at his phone, he paused when he’d seen her name. He hated the way he left her. She’s probably in her apartment right now questioning his change of plans. She’s probably blaming herself. Erik picked himself up from the floor and took off his shoes. He placed his jacket on the couch and took a seat.

Erik’s leg bounced as he tried to figure out what to say. She’s probably overthinking.

It wasn’t okay. He fell for her. He wasn’t supposed to fall for her.

She did have a point. He was supposed to be snugged behind her in her bed—well, that bitch nigga slept there too. He’d much rather she be in his bed right now. Cuddling with Fae beneath his sheets sounded so much better.

Erik stood up from his couch and strolled over to his door. He could see Fae leaving her apartment with Deuce in her pajamas. She knocked on his door and Erik opened it quickly. Fae slipped inside with Deuce in her arms and he shut the door. Fae’s big brown eyes looked up at him and Erik looked down at her beautiful face. Fae had her braids up in a messy bun and the cutest nightgown on. One of those nightgowns you get from Target.

“Hi.” She greeted him with a soft-spoken voice.

“Hi.” Erik replied.

“You wanted to talk?” Fae questioned.

Her eyes followed Diesel as he walked up to her. He sniffed her feet in a pair of Ugg Tasman slippers. She placed Deuce down on the floor and both dogs scurried off.

“Yeah,” Erik reached out for her hand, “Let’s go to my room.”

Fae took his hand and they walked to his room. Once inside, Erik cracked his door. Fae climbed onto his bed and kicked off her slippers. Erik took off his cargo pants and settled next to Fae. She was resting on her side while her head is propped up in her hand.

“…I’m sorry that I stormed off. I just…I was worried about Cordell popping up unexpectedly. I was thinkin’ about how he comes home every night after doing whatever the fuck it is that he’s doing and just…laying next to you after all that like shit is cool is fucked up to me. It’s manipulative. I don’t like it.”

Fae listened intently. Her eyes blinked slowly at Erik.

“…you’re too sweet, too beautiful, too much of a good woman to endure that. I love that you’re cheating back, I love that you let me do you in your apartment. I love it, I just don’t like that he’s still there…with access to you…and for that I’m sorry. It’s not my place to feel that way. You don’t owe me an explanation, ma.”

Erik turned away and stared down at his hands. Fae sat up on her knees and grabbed Erik’s shoulder. He looked up at her through his curled lashes. Fae’s eyes scanned his handsome face before she scooted closer, pressing her soft lips against his. Erik’s brows furrowed and he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in closer. Fae swung a leg over him and plopped down in his lap. They kissed for a while, Erik’s fingertips rubbing up and down the dip in her spine, Fae’s hands tugging on his locs.

Erik broke their kiss and he stared into Fae’s eyes before his gaze dropped down. He couldn’t look at her without those three words echoing in his conscious. Fae kisses along his neck, causing Erik to grunt.

“Faedra,” Erik said with a hushed tone.

“Hm?”

Fae’s face was so close to his that their noses touched.

“You’re asking for it, girl…”

Fae giggled softly, “What if I am?”

Erik’s low eyes stared her down. Fae bites her lip and Erik licked his own. Fae leaned back and grabbed the bottom of her nightgown, lifting it up and over her head in one motion. Erik’s eyes fell to her breasts with stiff, brown nipples. His hands came up to palm them and Fae grabbed his face, pulling him in for another kiss. Erik’s hands roamed all over her body. He couldn’t get over how soft her skin felt.

“Don’t think, just fuck me,” Fae shoved Erik and he fell back against the bed, “Let me ride it.”

She didn’t give Erik any time to pull his briefs down. Fae’s dainty hands tugged with force and his dick bobbed out and stood tall, pointed towards her mouth. Fae slid down his body in a rush and wrapped her plump lips around his tip.

“Fuck, girl,” Erik hissed, ��Damn…”

Fae swallowed him and she gagged a little. Erik’s hand curled around the base of her head and he forced his dick deeper. So deep that his balls were almost touching her chin.

Fae drew back and started sucking his length down her throat. Erik’s toes dragged across the carpet of his bedroom floor and his thigh muscles flexed. This is probably the best head he’d had in a long time. She had him shaking.

“Dayum,” Erik formed a crease in his brow and pouted his lip, “You’re such a nasty girl….ughhhhh—”

His orgasm caught him off guard. He fell back against the bed completely and dragged both of his hands down his face in disbelief. Fae’s lips popped off his thick pipe and she licked her lips before climbing up and straddling him. She squatted over him and Erik held her up with his hands beneath her ass.

Fae aimed his fat tip at her wet hole and she circled her hips over his sensitive head before slowly lowering her hips. They both sigh in unison. She placed her hands on his chest, arched her back, folded her feet beneath his strapping thighs, and bounced. Erik’s hands fell to his sides and he stared up at her with his eyes ablaze.

“Uhuh, Uhuh, Uhuh, Uhuh,” Fae moaned.

“You love this fuckin’ dick…look how you’re taking it,” Erik bites his lip, “Don’t stop.”

Fae forced her eyes shut and focused her attention on giving Erik the best ride he’s ever had. The sound of her wet pussy and skin slapping against his thighs filled the room. Fae’s braids fell from her bun and crowded her face. One of her hands came up to grip Erik by the jaw and her eyes crossed.

“You cumming? That pussy cumming?” Erik questioned with a soft voice.

Fae could only nod her head.

“You’re so fucking sexy—”

“Oh!”

Fae fell and she was pressed against Erik. Erik wrapped his arms around her and rolled over so that she was on her back again. He dragged her towards the edge of the bed and spread her thighs. With her ankles in his hands, Erik stood up and started fucking her. Fae clung to the sheets for dear life. Erik watched the way his fat dick split her pussy open wide. That clit was poking out at him, her labia was spread open and wrapped around his dick like a pair of lips, his dick was glossy from her arousal. It was beautiful.

“Erik!” Fae shouted.

He hunched over her and wrapped his hands around her neck. She looked up at him with surprise and her mouth agape.

“Oh! Uh! Yes! Daddy!”

Her body seized up and her eyes almost rolled to the back of her head.

“I love making you cum, baby…”

He slipped out and Fae gasped. Erik picked her up and placed her on her stomach with her head on a pillow. Fae’s hand slipped beneath his pillow and she could feel weighted steel. She withdrew her hand quickly and Erik noticed. Fae looked back at him over her shoulder and Erik's eyes were steady on hers while his hand slipped beneath the pillow to grip the handle.

“Why do you keep it under your pillow?” Fae asked.

Erik revealed his GLOCK G20 and sat it down carefully on his bedside table with the barrel pointed in the opposite direction.

“Just a habit.” Erik said.

He spread her thighs a little so he could find her entrance. Fae’s eyes shut when his dick pushed inside deep. He propped himself up on his fists behind her and he fucked her in flat doggy-style.

Fae smashed her left cheek against the pillow and both of her hands fisted the sheets. The constant clapping and bouncing of the mattress was enough to prove how deep Erik was dickin’ Fae down.

“You’re mine..your ass is mine,” Erik said with a shaky voice from the way Fae’s pussy clenched around him.

“Yes! Yes!” Fae shouted.

Erik dropped to his knees and grabbed Fae by her braids. One hand came down on her ass with a wide open palm.

“Bring that ass up,” Erik watched with hard eyes as Fae arched her back, “Good girl…”

He went in like he never stopped. Erik used Fae’s hair to turn her head so she could look back at him. Hot tears stained her cheeks. Tears of ecstasy. Erik released her hair and placed one hand around the front of her neck. His hot tongue slipped into her drooling mouth and he licked and sucked all over her lips.

“Mhm…mmmmm,” Fae could only moan.

“You wanna cum, don’t you?” Erik spoke against her lips with a smirk.

“Please?!” Fae begged with a whiny voice.

“Ask me better than that, Fae.”

Erik released her and Fae dropped forward, hiding her face when Erik started going faster. In and out his thick pipe thrusted.

“Ask me…,” Erik whacked her across the ass again, “Open your mouth and ask me, Fae.”

“Daddy–Daddy please?—can I cum?” She spoke with a hushed tone.

“You wanna bust on this dick you better fix your arch!!!”

Fae whimpered as she pushed herself up and arched her back. Erik hummed in approval and it sent a shiver up her spine so intense her shoulders buckled. Even the kiss he placed in the center of her spine made her gasp as if she’d been doused in cold water.

“Better?” Fae replied with a trembling voice.

“Good girl, that’s my good girl!!!”

Fae couldn’t believe how fucking wet she was. That dick was sliding in and out her pussy with ease. She felt a heat in the pit of her belly and it caused tears to stream down her cheeks. She almost saw heaven. It was that intense. An out of body experience. Like her soul left its vessel for a brief intermission. She didn’t even have to announce her release, Erik felt it.

“Oh, yeah? Oh fuck yeah,” Erik grunted, “FUCK.”

He slipped out and his hot cum painted her backside. Fae dropped down on the bed like she’d been knocked out. Erik sat back on his haunches and tried to catch his breath. He was sweating so much that it dripped from his nose.

“Fae?” Erik called out to her, “You okay?”

“…mhm.”

Erik’s chest was burning from trying to catch his breath. He carefully climbed off of the bed and walked up to Fae. He smoothed her braids from her face and wasn’t surprised to find her sleeping. He palmed her booty and gave it a light slap. She squirmed and scrunched her face in such a cute way.

“I love you.” Erik said.

“Mhm.” Fae responded.

Erik knew she didn’t really hear him. But damn, he wanted her to. So bad. He grew to love her from a distance before they officially met. It was hard to explain. It hit him so fast. What was supposed to be a mission turned out to be a pleasant distraction. Erik honestly didn’t know if they would ever be together. That stung worse than the blade once wedged in his side.

Erik brought the sheets over Fae’s body and she snuggled against one of his pillows. Erik went to take a piss and when he returned he could hear his work phone vibrating. His chest grew tight with anticipation as he retrieved the phone from his side table drawer. Bringing the screen to his gaze, he shut his eyes briefly.

Diana.

Erik walked out of his room, cracking the door behind him before walking into his office. He cracked the door and answered the call.

“Meet me at Liberty State Park.”

She didn’t even wait for a response from Erik before ending the call abruptly. Erik slowly moved the phone away from his ear. He knew exactly what this was about.

Twinkling night sky, glassy ink-black water, and the reflection of the New York skyline ablaze with many lights was the view that greeted Erik’s eyes. Hands in his all black hoodie pockets, he spotted the statuesque figure of Diana with her back turned towards him. She glanced over her shoulder and her golden eyes met his briefly before she tore them away.

Erik took his place beside her silently, eyes scanning the lively city. His black Doc Martens tapped the concrete impatiently. The forty-five minute drive over felt like a waste. Whatever she has to say she could have said over the phone.

“Killmonger.” Diana greeted him.

“Diana.”

Erik looked at her with a tight jaw.

“The Ghost Fugitive.”

Erik exhaled.

“I’m handling it—”

“Faedra McAdams has been a distraction, Killmonger. Since when do you get distracted?”

Erik remained silent. He had no reason to argue Diana’s point. He had been distracted and thrown off his game.

“Do you know how long it took? Do you understand that if you don’t end this now, it would have been for nothing?” Diana said.

“Listen—”

“I know you don’t care about politics, Killmonger, but we decided to do this together because of the ICA. We can’t allow ourselves to be manipulated. You know all about manipulation, don’t you?”

Diana fully turned to stare at Erik. Her wind blown shoulder-length hair fell into her eyes and she combed her hair away. The chilly air caused her to slightly shiver.

“They’re asking questions. Do you want them to step in?”

“No.” Erik replied begrudgingly.

“Let me give you a brief reminder of how the ICA system works, Killmonger. You get three penalties. Three,” Diana emphasized the number three with her fingers, “which is generous compared to other agencies like HYDRA, but after those three strikes are up, they send a top agent such as yourself, to eliminate the Assassin. You should know about that, you do it all the time.”

Erik closed his eyes and released an even breath.

“I’m aware of the logistics, I know what the fuck I’m up against—”

“Then get it done. You have until the start of the Bankok job. If you have to burn it to dispose of your little distraction, do it. Otherwise…”

Diana retrieved an all black pistol from the back of her tight black pants and Erik’s eyes didn’t leave hers. He knew that Diana would kill Faedra. Without hesitation. In that case, he’d have to kill her. No one was going to lay a finger on Fae.

“…I’ll do it for you.”

Silence stretched on for another five seconds until Erik’s sinister chuckle caused Diana to narrow her eyes.

“…Let me make myself clear, Diana,” Erik rolled his shoulders in a threatening manner and his voice took on a deeper more menacing tone, “I’ll kill you.”

Erik’s face was centimeters away from Diana’s. His eyes didn’t blink and they looked cold and dark.

“…You don’t touch her. You don’t speak to her. You don’t even breathe around her.”

Diana’s eyes narrowed at Erik and that pistol was still in her grasp.

“Partner or not, I’ll put a bullet between your eyes, Diana,” Erik looked her up and down, “Do we have an understanding?”

“How dare you—”

“I SAID…do we have an understanding—”

“How long have you known about her? Five months?! What will she think when she finds out who you really are? Then what? You think she’ll love you, Erik? You’re incapable of love. Maybe I should remind you about what you did all those years ago to your ex. You almost killed that woman. If Fae was in her right mind, she would run so far away from you—”

Erik snatched up Diana’s gun and pointed it at her forehead. Diana stared at him wide-eyed and he could see the fear beyond her gaze. He took the safety off of the pistol and Diana stared into the barrel.

“You don’t talk about my past, Diana. You don’t get to stand there and fucking judge me. You don’t know what the fuck I’ve been through!”

Diana stared at Erik with a stony expression.

“Get that gun out my face, Erik.” Diana commands with a low, threatening tone.

Erik didn’t do it right away. After another minute he slowly lowered the gun and placed it behind him in the waistband of his pants. Dianna scuffed and shook her head before creating space between them.

“Doesn’t matter. If I don’t kill her, they will.” Diana said matter-of-factually.

“I’ll get it done. Get off my ass about it.” Erik replied.

Diana looked at Erik with disappointment. He could feel her judgment through her hard gaze.

“Have you been training for the Bangkok job?”

Club 27 is Killmonger’s current high-profile mission. He’s tasked to kill Jordan Cross and Ken Morgan. One year ago, promising young actress, Hannah Highmoore, fell to her death from Cross' penthouse loft in Dumbo, New York. According to the police, Ms. Highmoore's death was a tragic accident but her parents remain unconvinced. They firmly believe that Cross murdered Hannah and only escaped justice due to the power and influence of his father: billionaire media mogul Thomas Cross.

A secondary target, Ken Morgan, corporate fixer and attorney to the Cross family, is also staying at the hotel. Cunning and unscrupulous, Morgan was a key agent in the cover-up of Hannah Highmoore's murder and Jordan Cross' subsequent acquittal. The Highmoores understandably want retribution. And while the system may be powerless, Killmonger is anything but.

“There’s a room waiting for me at the Himmapan Hotel as we speak.” Erik replied with a dry tone.

“In that case, we’re done talking.”

Diana turned to leave and Erik caught her by the arm. She didn’t look back at him.

“…I’m really sorry about putting that gun in your face. I don’t take threats lightly.”

“What a way to apologize,” Diana chuckled, “it’s just a phase, right? You fuck her?”

Erik released Diana’s arm and she finally faced him with a sly smirk.

“You did. Oh, Killmonger…”

Erik looked at her with unblinking eyes. Diana held her hand out for her gun and Erik lifted the back of his hoodie up, retrieving the pistol. He placed it in Diana’s hand and she accepted it.

“Expect a debrief in two weeks…”

Diana walked away, leaving Erik alone to his thoughts.

Fae tried to calm him down. Her tears flooded her vision. Cordell stood there with his hands up and a frightened look in his eyes. Erik was in full rage mode. It was understandable, Cordell was really asking for it.

“I’ll kill you for what you did to her!” Erik barked out.

They were standing on the rooftop of the apartment building.

“Erik, listen to me, put the gun down.”

Fae placed one hand on his arm tenderly. Her eyes were pleading with him to put the gun down. He took one look at Fae and then his eyes were back on Cordell molten hot. He lowers his P365 slowly, eyes unblinking.

Thump!

Fae watched with wide eyes and her mouth dropped open in shock.

Erik kicked Cordell off of the rooftop. Erik watched with sinister eyes as his body dropped to his death.

Erik!

He looked back at her with a villainous smile.

Fae opened her eyes and her heartbeat settled to a lower rhythm. Sleeping on Erik’s bed felt like sleeping on a cloud. Fae yawned and her sleepy eyes looked down at Erik’s side of the bed. She had a nightmare about Erik and Cordell fighting over her. It ended with Cordell falling to his demise. Fae sat up fully and climbed out of bed to use the bathroom.

When she returned after freshening up, she stared down at his Glock on the bedside table. Fae reached out and picked up the heavy gun. She turned it every which way, wondering to herself if it was a habit of his because he was a Bodyguard for important people. That would explain why he was always on high alert.

Speaking of Erik, he disappeared again. She went on a search for her phone and found it on his dresser. Fae called Erik and each time she did, it continued to ring and ring. She started to grow worried. It was so early in the morning, why would he leave so suddenly?

She opened his closet and grabbed a random hoodie from a hanger, pulling it over her head. She left his room and walked down the length of the hallway, her eyes searching from room to room. Fae sat on the sofa while Diesel and Deuce were stretched out on the floor. All of them were waiting for Erik’s return.

She reached for his remote and powered on the TV. As she flipped through random channels, an episode of House Hunters caught her attention. Time stretched on until It was six o’clock in the morning. Fae had tried his phone multiple times again and that’s when she started thinking the worst. She figured she could feed the boys so she gave them both a quick meal. She knew that they needed to go for a walk and relieve themselves.

After another hour, the door knob jiggled and Fae shot up from the couch, almost hitting her knee against the coffee table. Both Diesel and Deuce were on their feet, tails wagging expectantly. Fae watched as Erik opened the door and he looked at her then down at the dogs. He secured the door and pushed his hood off before approaching Fae.

“Erik? I tried calling you.”

He stared at her for a second and then his eyes scanned the room. What she didn’t know, was that he’d left last night in such a hurry, he forgot his personal cell phone.

“I had to step out to prepare for that job. I’ve been caught up lately and I needed some time to get it done. I gotta leave in a matter of days…I’m sorry I didn’t let you know.”

Fae’s expression softened and she tried to hide her annoyance with a smirk and a dry chuckle.

“I was—I was just worried—how did training go?”

“Good. I feel better about the job now.” Erik replied.

“Great,” Fae rocked back and forth on her heels, “I was thinking we could walk the boys? I know they need to go to the bathroom…”

“Yeah…yeah. Go throw on a pair of my sweats and meet me out here.”

Fae disappeared down the hall and Erik exhaled. She took two minutes and she was back out and ready to go.

“Ready, pretty girl?”

“Yep.” Fae replied with a blush.

They left the apartment together and Fae walked ahead of Erik to catch the elevator. Erik caught up with her and grabbed her hand. Fae looked from their intertwined fingers and up to his face. Erik smirked at her and she returned the smile.

“I had an idea. I don’t know if you’d be down for it or not…”

The elevator doors opened and they walked inside.

“What’s that?” Fae responded with curiosity.

She leaned against the wall of the elevator and stared up at Erik with attentive eyes.

“Since this is going to be my last few days with you before I leave for Bangkok, I was wondering if you’d be okay if I took you to work in the mornings? I could even pick you up…”

Fae’s brown eyes widened and Erik chuckled.

“Uhm…yeah, I would like that. Cordell usually works late and he doesn’t come home until an hour or so after me. You can’t get enough of me, can you?”

Fae wagged her arched brows playfully.

“Nahhhh,” Erik smiled, “You got me in a trance.”

Fae giggles. The elevator doors opened and Erik gave her two quick pecks to her soft lips. They quickly left the elevator and strolled out of the apartment building and onto the busy sidewalk. They made their way to the dog park hand-in-hand.

“We could have a quickie before you clock in. A quickie before I drop you off…”

Fae nibbled on her bottom lip. Erik’s eyes scanned her body. Deuce and Diesel both sped up at the same time, pulling Fae and Erik along.

“Looks like we’re moving too slow for them!”

“Guess so—AYE!”

Erik almost stumbled over the pavement from Diesel taking off running when the dog park came into view. Fae laughed boisterously at Erik trying to gain control of the leash.

“You should have seen your face! Priceless,” Fae was bent over laughing, “Looked like your life flashed before your eyes!”

Erik shook his head before crouching down to let Diesel free, “Aight, Fae, wasn’t that funny.”

“If it was me, you would be laughing, shut up!” Fae teased.

“You shut up, midget,” Erik fired back.

Fae shoves Erik and he fell back on his hands. He looked up at her with a glare and he shot up to his feet, wrapping his arms around her trim waist and lifting her from the ground. Fae writhed in his grasp and Deuce circled Erik’s body, barking at him.

“Momma’s good, Deuce!” Erik shouted.

“Put me down, Erik!” Fae yelled.

They were causing a scene. Others that occupied the dog park were looking their way.

“Manners.” Erik said.

“Please?!”

Erik placed Fae onto her feet and she gave him a death glare.

“Aww, you’re so adorable,” Erik teased before reaching out to pinch her cheek.

“You better had let me down or Deuce was gonna bite that ass!” Fae argues.

“Deuce is my friend,” Erik placed a hand against his chest, “He wouldn’t hurt me.”

After Diesel and Duece went to the bathroom, Fae and Erik let them both run around for a bit. Fae sat on Erik’s lap and they both watched their dogs sprint around. Fae looked down at Erik and she reached up to play in his hair.

“Hmm,” Erik gave her a tired look, “That feels good.”

“You haven’t slept. You know that?” Fae said.

“I know, mamas. I’m gonna take a long nap when we get back.” Erik reassured her.

“I don’t wanna go back to my place…”

Erik’s exhausted gaze stared up at Fae.

“Then don’t. Stay with me.”

“…you know I can’t.” Fae replied.

A silence filled the space between them. Erik scratched the side of his nose and looked down at his feet.

“Why can’t you?” He questioned.

Fae sat quietly for a few seconds. Erik knew she was trying to figure out what to say. But what was there to say? He cheated on her multiple times. He’s no good for her.

“Fae?” Erik called out to her.

“Huh?” She replied with a small voice.

“What’s up?” Erik peeked up at her.

“Nothing…I don’t know why…”

Erik felt his chest tighten with anxiousness.

“Hm, okay.”

Fae was struggling to look at him. She turned her head towards the front. Erik exhales.

“Fae…what’s it gonna take for you to leave this nigga?”

“I am gonna leave him—”

“When?” Erik cut her off.

“Soon—”

“Soon as in when that nigga get home or…?”

“Erik…”

Fae climbed down from his lap.

“I just don’t understand what the hold up is.”

Fae rolled her eyes.

“You still love him?”

She looked at Erik and opened her mouth to speak but Erik could tell.

“You do, don’t you?”

“That’s hard to just say—to stop—I don’t want to—he’s been there for me through a lot—I’m gonna leave him it’s just hard. I’m gonna be on my own. The apartment is expensive—”

“You don’t need him. Trust me, you don’t.”

Fae’s sad eyes made Erik feel guilty.

“Listen, I’m sorry. I keep overstepping. I just…I don’t understand why you just don’t leave.”

“…You’re right.”

Fae exhaled a shaky breath.

“You know, I’ve always been so dependent on a man. Even now with everything, I feel like I’m lost, you know? And it sucks. It hurts.”

Erik’s eyes softened as he stared at her.

“You don’t need to feel that way. Fae…listen, look at me, you’re such an amazing woman. You deserve so much better. I don’t want you to feel like you have to settle. So what if he lives there? The more you allow him to stick around, the more in control he is. He’s been in control long enough.”

Erik’s jaw clenched and his eyes were ablaze. Fae’s big brown eyes became watery and a single tear rolled down her cheek. Erik thumbed her tear away and Fae released an uneven sigh.

“I’m gonna leave him today.”

Erik nodded his head and he couldn’t hold back his smile.

“This is gonna be tough…”

“I’ll be right there if you need me, Fae.” Erik said.

Crazy enough, two days had gone by with no trace of Cordell. No text, no call, nothing. Fae was more than prepared to confront him about his cheating and end things for good. She contacted his mother and even she hadn’t heard from him. She was very very worried. It wasn’t like Cordell to disappear without letting her know. Even if it was a lie, he wouldn’t have gone this long without checking in. Fae couldn’t sleep, work, or think without wondering where he was.

She checked the news and even a murder page on Instagram for any updates but wouldn’t his family know? Wouldn’t the police have shown up to her door by now? Erik had been busy himself. He would call Fae whenever he had time to check in to see how she was doing and if there were any updates, but it was getting closer and closer for his departure. She had to reschedule brunch with her friends because she was distracted mentally. Plus, she knew they would start asking questions and Fae wasn’t prepared to tell them.

Fae got herself dressed for work on a chilly Wednesday morning and Erik knocked on her door. Fae grabbed her work bag and made sure everything was good before leaving. She opened the door and Erik greeted her dressed in lounge wear like he just rolled out of bed. His head was covered in a black beanie. Fae accepted a kiss from him but she wasn’t really in the mood to kiss. Cordell was missing and she didn’t have any answers. Erik however didn’t seem fazed at all. Not that she was expecting him to.

“How are you?” Erik finally questioned when they were both in his car.

Fae adjusted her black spectacles and exhaled, “I’m worried. I don’t know where he could be or what he’s doing.”

Erik pulled out of the garage. He one-hand whipped his car.

“Do you think he might be with that woman?”

Fae shut her eyes and shook her head.

“I don’t even want to think about that. I’d probably kill him when I see him.” She said.

Erik glanced over at her.

“I’ve been keeping tabs on the news myself. Nothing out of the ordinary. Unless…he was abducted—”

“Who would want to kidnap Cordell?” Fae laughed, “He’s just a teacher from NY who can’t keep his dick to himself.”

Erik bit his tongue. He had a lot to say but he remained silent. It was best for him to remain silent.

“I don’t know. I’m just worried. I have this nervous feeling in my gut. I just…I don’t understand why he hasn’t reached out. I know he isn’t shit, but this isn’t like him at all.”

Fae rubbed her temples. Erik caressed her thigh.

“Relax, Fae. I know it’s easier said than done, but you can’t keep stressing out over it. You’ve been in contact with his family. I’m sure they’re looking into it.”

“I hope so,” Fae sighs, “I even tried his job and they acted like I was crazy.”

Erik formed a crease in his brow, “Whatchu mean?”

Fae exhaled, “Apparently they don’t know a Cordell. Which makes absolutely no sense. He’s a teacher there and a coach. How the fuck wouldn’t you know?”

Erik cocked his head to the side.

“Maybe you spoke to someone who’s a new hire?”

“Maybe. I need to speak to Miss whatever her name is. The girl he’s been sleeping with.”

After another twenty minutes, Erik pulled up at Fae’s job and he reached behind him to the back seat. He got out of the car and jogged around to open her door. Fae slipped out and Erik handed over her work bag. He kissed her cheek and rubbed her arms.

“Have a good day at work. Call me when you get a break. I’ll see you at five.”

“Thanks, E.” Fae gave him a small smile.

“No problem.”

He got back in the car and watched Fae enter the MET. When the coast was clear, Erik drove off.

Fae greeted her coworkers as she made her way to her desk. After taking her seat, she checked her work phone voice messages and none were from Cordell. She booted her laptop and tried his phone again. A hand to her shoulder startled her and Fae jumped.

“Faedra! So sorry.”

It was her supervisor, Linda. Linda was a tall, lanky Caucasian woman with salt and pepper hair that she wore in a neat bun. Her oblong face with alabaster skin came into view. Fae stared into her concrete gray eyes with a startled look.

“I came to say goodmorning and to remind you about the field trip this morning? From the middle school? Manhattan Middle?”

Fae completely forgot about that.

“Oh! Yes, yes I remember. When will they be here?”

“In about twenty minutes or so. The teachers name is Miss. Rio.”

Fae couldn’t believe her ears. She didn’t know if this was the universe giving her a sign, but Miss. Rio being here at her job had to mean something. She was with Cordell this past weekend. He could be at her home right now. Fae was going to ask questions.”

“Great. I’ll go greet them.”

“Excellent,” Linda smiled before sauntering away.

After twenty minutes, a small history class of students in a single-filed line with their name badges and wandering eyes headed towards her. Fae could make out Miss. Rio and it took a lot of strength to be professional and smile. Miss. Rio looked at her and for a second, Fae knew that she’d recognized her.

“Hello! My name is Fae! Welcome Manhattan Middle! I’m so excited to be your tour guide for the day. We have a lot of ground to cover. Please, stay together and pay attention. We’re going to start in the African Origin of Civilization exhibition first.”

Miss. Rio was dressed in a dark purple, form-fitting pencil skirt with a black blouse and black flats. She walked to the front of the line while a substitute teacher remained in the back as an extra eye on the children. Miss. Rio gave Fae a nervous smile and Fae returned the smile.

They started making their way into the exhibit and while Fae did her thing, she couldn’t keep her eyes off of Miss. Rio.

“Scholars today recognize Africa as the source of our common ancestry. But in 1974, Senegalese scholar and humanist Cheikh Anta Diop shocked and challenged historians by asserting the influence of ancient African civilizations in his groundbreaking book The African Origin of Civilization: Myth or Reality…”

Fae continued, “This exhibition pays homage to Diop by presenting masterpieces from the Museum’s collections from west and central Africa alongside art from ancient Egypt for the first time in The Met’s history.”

Fae spent time on each exhibit and answered any questions the students had before they went to the next exhibition. Three exhibits in, the children took a lunch break before finishing up. Miss. Rio excused herself to the restroom and Fae took that opportunity to corner her. The substitute teacher had an eye on the children. Fae stepped to the side to allow a mother and her two daughters to walk out before she entered. Ironically, Miss. Rio was the only one remaining in the bathroom.

Fae only waited two minutes and the bathroom stall door opened. Miss. Rio walked out and her eyes landed on Fae’s. She shut the door behind her and walks over towards the sink. Fae locked eyes with her through the mirror and after Miss. Rio dried her hands off, she turned around to face Fae.

“What do you want to know?” She said.

Fae chuckled. Miss. Rio crossed her arms and shifted her weight on one hip.

“That’s what you have to say? After sleeping with my man? Coming to my apartment and fucking him in my bed? Are you serious?” Fae fired back.

“I didn’t know he was with anyone at first—”

“So, you just went to my apartment and not once noticed anything that made you think, oh! He’s in a relationship?!” Fae whisper-yelled.

“Listen, what do you want me to say?! An apology wouldn’t be enough, right?” Miss. Rio fired back.

“Wow…You’re a joke. Anyway, that’s not why I’m confronting you, you can have him. My beef is with him. I just want to know was he with you this weekend and is he still there? He hasn’t been home in two days.”

Miss. Rio hesitated.

“Well?” Fae pressed impatiently.

“Yes. Yes he was there this weekend. He left this morning.”

Fae turned away from Miss. Rio and shut her eyes. This motherfucker has been staying with that hoe for two days and didn’t even bother to say anything.

“I have to get back to my class.”

Fae didn’t have anything further to say. She didn’t like the woman, but what good will it do to whip her ass? She’d lose her job. Miss. Rio left Fae standing in that public bathroom with tears in her eyes. She felt like a fucking bozo. Fae grabbed a few tissues and blotched her cheeks before exiting the bathroom. The students, Miss. Rio, and the substitute waited for her.

“Okay! Who wants to see the European Paintings?”

Erik was seated in Grand Central Station. He could make out an old friend of his that worked with the ICA. His name is Ethan and he’s Asian. Ethan sat behind Erik, dressed in business attire to not draw attention. Erik turned his head slightly to his right to speak.

“Sean Thomas is missing. Anything you can tell me that I need to know?” Erik spoke with a hushed voice.

Ethan took out his phone and slipped it behind him so Erik could grab a hold of it through the opening in the bench. He retrieved the phone and his eyes dropped down to look at the screen. What he could make out was that the ICA attempted to exterminate him two days ago and Sean got away. This was bad news for Erik. He’s most likely lying low until things died down. A hoard of people made their way towards them. Ethan started speaking in mandarin.

“Tòuguò zhècì xíngdòng, tāmen zhèngzài shīqù duì nǐ de xìnrèn, kè'ěr máng gē.”

Erik nodded his head and cocked it to the side. Losing their trust in him meant penalty number one.

“Wǒ gāi xiāngxìn dài ānnà ma? Wǒ gǎnjué tā duì ICA gànrǎo wǒ de rènwù fù yǒu zérèn…”

Ethan pondered before he spoke, “Dài ānnà zhàozhāng bànshì. Guòqù yīgè yuè tā yīzhí zài niǔyuē. Wǒ bù huì xiāngxìn tā.”

So, Erik shouldn’t trust Diana. His guess was correct. She’s discussing things with the ICA behind Erik’s back. He needed to call her after this and schedule another meet up. He was going to cut ties with Diana and work alone. A lot of Hitmen work alone. It’s just a heavier workload and room for more mistakes.

They waited until the coast was clear. When the last person walked past, Erik cleared his throat.

“Have they been keeping an eye on her?” Erik asked.

“They plan to do whatever it takes to find him, Killmonger. If that means taking the girl, they’ll do it.” Ethan whispered.

“How long before they strike again?”

“Twenty-four hours.” Ethan said.

Silence stretched on. The background chatter and rushed footsteps of people surrounded them. Ethan stood up and adjusted his suit jacket before retrieving his work satchel and the phone from Erik’s hand between the seat.

“Rúguǒ nín xūyào wǒ de bāngzhù, nín zhīdào rúhé liánxì wǒ.”

Ethan pat Erik on the shoulder before walking away. Erik leans forward and props his elbows up on his thighs. This was his fault. If he didn’t get caught up with Fae and tapped into his cold, blood thirsty nature, Sean Thomas would already be dead.

He had to remain ahead of the ICA.

On his way out of Grand Central Station, Erik walked up to his car and hopped in. He dialed Diana’s number and after four rings, it went to voicemail. Erik checked the time and Fae would be off within the next hour. He made his way to her job to wait for her since he was on the other side of town. He knew that he had to be honest with Fae now. It wasn’t fair for him to keep his life a secret knowing that she had a target on her back. Even if the truth would push her away, protecting her was his number one priority.

Sean Thomas is a murderer, and a Con Artist. He’s good at stealing identities and disappearing under a new alias. He’s responsible for murdering four women across the U.S from Detroit, to Chicago, to Georgia, and now New York. He got landed in prison for a robbery charge that led him to a man named Cordell. Cordell has a history of drug-related crimes and he’s from New York. While locked up with Cordell for three years, he learned everything about his cell mate.

His family, his dream job, where he grew up. Sean planned on stealing his identity and creating a new life for himself. He got out of prison and hooked up with an old partner of his to help him with his new life. He settled in N.Y.C and reunited with his “family” who hadn’t seen him in years since he was adopted at the age of three. They welcomed him in like he never left.

What he didn’t know was that he’d been tracked down by Erik. Erik was hired to find out everything he needed to know about Sean and kill him. He’d burned too many bridges and stole from too many people. While Erik finally secured his target, he was also informed to kill anyone else who may get in the way, and that included a significant other.

Fae.

Erik had to keep an eye on Fae as well and the more he watched her, the more he fell for her. He did the one thing he normally wouldn’t do: get close. Now, he’s sleeping with his targets girl friend.

Erik’s car came to a slow stop outside of Fae’s job and he called her to see if she was finished for the day. Her phone rang and went to voicemail. Panic crept up Erik’s spine the more she wouldn’t answer. He opened his car door with force and stepped out onto the busy street. His eyes searched for anything that would give away someone watching her. From what he could tell, there was no sign of danger below.

His obsidian eyes looked towards the tops of the skyscrapers and buildings. His eyes double-backed to a short building with an open window across from the MET and three spots over. Erik knew that the window hadn’t been opened before. He had a snipers eye as well, so his gut instinct told him that a sniper was camped out in that building, waiting for Fae to arrive.

The best way for Erik to know for sure was to enter that building himself. It was broad daylight and rush hour in one of the busiest cities in the U.S. Erik rushed across the street as fast as he could and took long strides towards the building. He noted an alley and a back entrance to the building. Erik dipped down the alley and ran towards the end until he came across a lengthy fire escape. From what he remembers, the open window was on the top floor.

Erik climbed the fire escape two steps at a time. It took him five minutes to make it to the top since the building was only eight stories tall. Once there. Erik retrieved his gun and stood stealthily to the side of the cracked, dingy window. He risked a peep inside and all he could make out was a bunch of plastic sheeting since the building was still under construction.

Erik crouched down and with his back pressed firmly against the brick wall, he used his right hand to open the window carefully. Once fully opened, Erik ducked inside swiftly, his foot crunching down on broken cement and dust. His Maxim 9 pistol with a silencer integrated into the gun aimed in front of him, Erik moved haltingly with his eyes scanning the abandoned floor like a hawk. He made it into a room almost the size of a box and there, propped up in the window was a Mk 13 Mod 0/5/7 sniper rifle.

Erik surveyed the area to make sure the coast was clear. Whoever had been occupying this spot must have been here for less than eight hours. Erik got down on his knee and peeked through the sniper scope. It was aimed for the MET. He knew that Fae hadn’t been killed, but the sniper would have taken a shot if Erik hadn’t shown up. Just then, Erik’s phone vibrated deep in his back pocket. He quickly stood up and when he grabbed his phone, it was Fae calling him.

“Fae?” Erik answered.

“I’m sorry. I had to leave work earlier today. I took an Uber.”

Erik paced back and forth.

“Why didn’t you call me? I could have picked you up.”

“I didn’t want to bother you. I know you’ve been busy lately. I’m at the apartment now. Just got here.”

“Any luck with Cordell?” Erik questioned.

“No. Still nothing.”

“I’m on my way, Fae. Just—”

A garrote wire wrapped around Erik’s throat from behind, cutting off his airway. His phone dropped from his grasp and fell to the hard floor, the screen cracking and blacking out. Erik’s fingers gripped the edge of the wire and he could feel it cutting into his fingers and drawing blood. He planted his feet firmly against the floor and with brunt force, Erik shoved the person trying to choke him back, their body hitting the wall with a loud thud.

The wire slipped from Erik’s neck, leaving behind an indentation and slight blood. Erik didn’t have time to properly catch his breath. He turned and came face to face with a masked man dressed in dark camouflage and boots. The man charged Erik and Erik’s closed fist planted between the bridge of their nose and forehead. It was a sharp punch with a lot of recoil. There was no coming back from that. Erik put them to sleep.

Their body went limp and they were splayed out on the dusty floor like a starfish. Erik took that time to rub his neck and catch his breath. Suddenly, the man clipped Erik and he fell backwards on his hands to catch himself. The masked man did a kick up and was on his feet within seconds. Erik did the same move and they both broke out in combat with hard punching, dodging, kicks, and grunts.

Erik caught both of his arms and head-butted the man before body slamming him so hard his back bowed. While he squirmed, Erik’s fingers fisted the front of his camouflage jacket and he dragged him over to the wall where he tossed him against it like a rag doll. Erik put his foot in that man’s stomach before using his bloody fist to take off the mask. A Caucasian male with a rough face covered in blood and bruises met his ferocious gaze.

“The ICA sent you?” Erik questioned with a hoarse voice, “ANSWER ME!”

Erik pressed the barrel of his pistol into the man’s chin. He was probably seeing double with how hard Erik thumped him.

“Y-You’re supposed to-suppose to be one–one of us.”

As he attempted to talk, blood sprayed from between his lips.

“So that’s a yes,” Erik chuckled darkly.

He pistol-whipped the sniper with the handle of his gun, knocking him out for good. Erik emptied his pockets and found a phone, wallet, keys, and a few knives. Erik combed through his wallet before pocketing it. The phone was locked, so he wouldn’t be able to figure out how to hack it until he got back to his apartment.

He needed to get back to his apartment.

Fae was alone and an easy target without him there. Erik rushed to grab a dust barrier, snatching it from the wall and he shielded himself from the blood splatter that would come from killing the sniper. Silencer aimed at his head a safe distance away, Erik fired his pistol and the bullet hit his target in the temple. Erik cleaned up any other traces of him being there and wrapped up the dust barrier, tucking it beneath his arm before making his escape.

“Erik? Hello? Erik?”

Fae stood outside of her apartment with her phone to her ear. The call dropped suddenly between her and Erik. She pulled the phone away from her left ear and gave the device a puzzled look. Dialing him again, Erik didn’t answer.

“What the fuck?” Fae mouthed.

Confused, Fae fumbled with her keys while trying to enter her apartment. The door opened and she pushed her way inside, exhausted mentally from the amount of stress she’d been experiencing because of Cordell. Fae sat her work bag on the hardwood floor beside the door and removed her shoes. After tossing her keys on a small table next to the door, Fae proceeded to walk further into her apartment. Just then, rustling could be heard coming from her room. Fae paused, her ears perked to catch the noise again. She knew that Deuce was there, but he wouldn’t be in her things like that.

Fae walked towards the back of her apartment, her eyes staring straight ahead cautiously at her cracked bedroom door. A hard thump followed by soft cursing had Fae paralyzed with fear. One hand pressed to her chest, body frozen in that hallway, Fae’s eyes fell on her guest bedroom door and noticed it had been shut. She didn’t close it before she left that morning. Deuce was most likely in there so he wouldn’t get in the way. Deuce would be barking right now if it were a stranger. So it had to be someone he was familiar with rummaging around in Fae’s room.

Fae rushed towards her bedroom door with a fresh wave of courage, pushing the door open with force and coming face-to-face with the cheating man himself.

“Cordell?!”

The room looked as if a stampede passed through. It was filthy. Papers everywhere, clothes littering the entire room, dresser drawers out turned and hanging from the hinges, closet ransacked, mattress hanging from the box spring. Fae’s wide, shocked eyes looked back at Cordell with her mouth parted.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” She shouted.

Cordell simply looked at her with distant eyes before focusing back on finding whatever the FUCK it was he was looking for. Fae was livid.

“HELLO?! I’m talking to you!!”

Fae stomped over to Cordell, almost slipping on the papers scattered across the carpet. She caught herself by falling backwards onto the bed.

“Hey, HEY!” Fae gripped Cordell by his shoulder and forced him to turn back, “ANSWER ME ASSHOLE!”

“Get off of me, Fae.” Cordell finally spoke with a cold tone.

“Get off of you? Why don’t you explain to me why you’re vandalizing my fucking room, dick head?!!”

“WHERE DID YOU PUT IT?”

Cordell stood at his full height, towering over Fae. His voice seemed to change. It was deeper. Unfriendly. Unfamiliar. Cold. Fae cocked her head back and created space between them.

“Put what, Cordell?”

Cordell blinked at her and then he dropped his eyes down to the floor, “Doesn’t matter. It isn’t here.”

He was on his knees now, spreading the papers out, important papers that belonged to Fae. What is his deal?

“Where have you been, Cordell? I’ve been calling your phone and texting you for two days now!”

He ignored her again. Fae was shaking with rage.

“You know what! I’m sick of this shit. I’m so fucking sick and tired of your no good, CHEATING ASS!”

Cordell halted in his pursuit to find whatever it was he was looking for. His eyes slowly ascended to meet Fae’s. His face was void of expression.

“Yeah, I’ve known for days now that you’ve been cheating on me. Not one, but two women! One of which had a field trip at my job today. Miss. Rio?! She tells me you’ve been shacking it up with her all this time!”

Cordell bowed his head and exhaled.

Fae had a finger pointed at him aggressively and her voice was so loud it bounced off of the walls, “How could you disrespect me and bring these nasty women to MY APARTMENT WHERE I SLEEP?! How could you do this to me?! After everything I opened up to you about?! How I’ve been cheated on and mistreated in the past?!”

Fae’s vision blurred as tears flowed from her eyes. Cry-face and all, she was on a rampage. Cordell finally stood up and he just looked at her with no ounce of remorse. No sorries, no care as to how she felt. Nothing. Just a piece of shit man.

“YOU NEVER LOVED ME, HUH?!!! I loved you! I would have done anything for you!!!! How could you—just–how could you just stand there and say nothing?!!”

Fae threw her hands up and stared at Cordell with sadness. She was broken. He broke her. She tried to stop herself from crying, but the more she stood there, waiting for him to speak, the clearer it was to her that he didn’t care. He didn’t love her.

“ANSWER ME, CORDELL!!!!”

Cordell slowly blinked at her and then he started smirking. SMIRKING?! Fae was taken aback. She didn’t even know how to react to that. What kind of sick individual do you have to be to stand there and find this situation amusing?

“…what is wrong with you?” Fae questioned with a tremble in her voice.

Cordell turned his gaze towards the ceiling and released a slow, even breath. Fae waited, an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach.

“You wanna know why I was so drawn to you, Fae?”

Fae squinted her eyes at Cordell with confusion.

“…it’s because I could see that you were broken. I could see the pain. I could see that you craved love and affection. No matter how many times your heart had been broken, you still loved hard. An easy girl. Easy to manipulate. To control. To trick. That’s what I craved. And guess what? That’s exactly what I needed to secure what I really wanted from you…”

A hand covered Fae’s mouth and she scanned Cordell’s face, in full disbelief of what he was saying to her right now. It was so disheartening and cruel. She was stunned to silence even though she wanted to break down and cry.

“You see, I’d just gotten out of prison before I met you. I had no place to go…to start fresh…to make a new living for myself. Just like the other bitches before you, I played my part and used my skills to weasel my way in. As soon as I found out about all that money you were sittin’ on…fuck…I knew I hit the jackpot.”

Fae couldn’t believe her ears. She lowered her gaze and scanned the floor. She’d recently moved her paperwork that had all of her information regarding the money she’d gotten from her mother’s death. It was a lot of money. Fae hadn’t thought about it much lately because she planned to use that money to purchase a home soon. A beautiful home in upstate New York. Now, she wondered if Cordell had been planning to steal from her all this time.

“And now, I need that back, Faedra.”

Cordell stared at her expectantly, waiting for her to reveal where she’d put them.

“…Do you even work as a teacher?”

Cordell narrowed his eyes at her.

“No.” Cordell replied nonchalantly.

“So, what was all that shit about seeing Miss. Rio at school?!”

Cordell shook his head and chuckled with annoyance.

“I go to the school during her lunch break and fuck her, Fae.”

Fae was numb to it all now.

“Wow…wow…”

She placed her hands on her hips and tried to fathom why she ended up in this situation.

“I know it’s a lot to take in right now….but I need that bank information.”

“Or what? You’ll kill me for it?” Fae mocked.

Cordell tilted his head and stared at her unblinking. Fae stared at him with a mixture of shock and fear.

“Believe it or not, Miss. Rio is in on it. The other chick? She had bank too until I cleaned her out. Miss. Rio and I have an understanding where no matter how pissed off we are with each other, we’ll always get back together. It’s been that way for years. Anyway, I played my part to get what I wanted.”

“Wow…Congratulations, Cordell. You really fooled me. Too bad I fooled you too.”

Cordell gave Fae a confused look.

“You wanna know what I’ve been up to these past few days? Closer than you think. Right next door actually.”

Cordell’s entire demeanor switched to anger.

“That’s right, I’ve been fucking the neighbor.”

Cordell balled his fists up and his nostrils flared. He was becoming even more aggressive. Fae folded her arms and smirked at him.

“It was good too. The first time. So good I ain’t never have dick like that before in my life. He’s big, he’s attentive, he knows how to work my body, he spoils me, he adores me, Deuce loves him. He fucked me so good in our bed when you were gone this past weekend…mmm…all over the bed. In the shower…on the sink…”

Cordell’s eye twitched. He was ready to snap. Fae knew she was pushing her luck, but one thing about Cordell, he hated Erik. He knew deep down that Erik is more of man than he ever was. He was afraid of Erik. Afraid of what he was capable of. Not only did Fae feel his big dick energy the moment she laid eyes on him, Cordell did too. Erik stole the one thing Cordell thought he could control forever. That struck a nerve.

“I can still feel him inside of me right now…raw…thick…long…”

Cordell took a step towards Fae.

“Doesn’t feel good, does it? Knowing that another man makes me cum with his mouth and his dick? Treats me with respect? A man I barely knew? Stings, doesn’t it? I hope it does. Because that’s how I felt. You’re right, I do love hard. I did allow myself to be mistreated more than once. Guess what? I took back my power! And it felt soooo good.”

Fae’s tears rolled down her cheeks. She shook with rage. She felt empowered.

“Damn,” Cordell shook his head with disgust, “Just desperate, huh? You think that’s a flex? You offered up the pussy to a random nigga you barely know just to get your lick back? That’s some wild shit…”

Cordell broke out into a fit of laughter. He doubled over and laughed. Fae simply stared at him. She knew he would deflect and turn it against her. Didn’t matter, she still won. She could see past it all. His ego was bruised.

“Now, since you got that off your chest, back to the main issue,” Cordell started walking towards Fae, “Where…is…the…bank information, Faedra?”

Fae backed away and almost tripped over a dresser drawer. She caught herself against the wall and eased towards the bedroom door.

“Don’t act scared now, Fae. You were so bold not too long ago.”

“I’m not giving you the information, Cordell.” Fae said.

“Hm, you will. Even if I have to choke it out of you.”

Fae took off running and Cordell was right on her heels. He pushed her and she fell to the floor in the hallway. Deuce started clawing at the door and aggressively barking. Fae lifted herself by her arms and looked up at Cordell. He grabbed her by her hair and forced her to look at him. Fae gasped, trying to unravel Cordell’s hand from her braids.

“It’s okay. You must want me to take it by force, huh? I got just the trick…”

Reaching behind him, Cordell revealed a Glock 17. He aimed it at Fae’s sternum and pressed the barrel firmly into her chest. Fae squeezed her eyes shut and her tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Now, I’m not gonna kill you here. I’m taking you with me. On your feet, NOW.”

He yanked her by the hair to control her movements and it felt as if he ripped her hair from her scalp. Fae whimpered in pain and looked up at Cordell with a petrified gaze. He trailed the barrel of the Glock 17 up the side of her neck and then stuck it deep into the flesh of her cheek.

“Get your shit, we’re going for a ride, baby girl.”

With one forceful shove, Fae stumbled further down the hallway, afraid to look back at the gun aimed at her head, ready to fire.

Ding

The elevator doors separated and Erik didn’t wait for them to fully open before he rushed out and into the hallway of the thirteenth floor. He jogged up to Fae’s apartment door and banged.

“Fae?!”

He couldn’t use his cell phone because it had blacked out. His other phone is in his apartment, but all he cared about at the moment was whether or not she was safe.

Erik tried the door knob and was shocked to find it opened. Shocked and anxious. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, looking from left to right.

“FAEDRA!!!”

Erik shut the apartment door and sprinted towards her bedroom. Deuce’s barking stilled his footsteps and he opened the door for him to come out of the guest bedroom. Deuce leaped up at him, continuously barking as if he had something important to communicate to Erik.

Erik’s heart practically rattled within his rib cage when he followed Deuce in the direction of Fae’s room. Erik’s thick fingers pushed the door back and as it creaked open, his eyes grew wide and his lips parted. It was a disaster.

Sean had been here. He was looking for something and Fae showed up at the wrong time. He’d taken her. Erik combed through the room to find anything that stood out at him. Most of the papers chaotically covering the floor were important documents like bills and work information. Erik made his way back out towards the living room, scooping up Deuce and leaving the apartment.

Out in the hall, Erik quickly opened his door and rushed inside, placing Deuce on the floor and locking his door. He knew no one had been to his apartment because he would have seen them coming and going. He couldn’t check the surveillance on his broken phone so he entered his room and retrieved his work phone.

Erik had placed a tracker on Fae’s phone the night she’d discovered Sean AKA Cordell had been cheating on her. It was the best way to keep tabs on her while he was away. Using his private tracking app, Erik was able to see where she was. Sean was on his way to the Bronx. Erik was never able to track Sean’s phone. The man may be a coward, but he was a great criminal. He was good at what he did. Swindle, rob, and murder.

Erik made his way towards the foot of his bed and after placing his cell phone within his back pocket, he used both of his hands to lift his mattress. Underneath was a gun safe filled with all types of weapons. Erik tucked a few hand guns in his waistband, two blades in his socks, extended clips, and a few silencer attachments

Lastly, he retrieved a full face, tactical mask in all black. Diesel tried to gain his attention, and Erik didn’t want to leave Deuce and him alone, but he had to save Fae or Sean was going to kill her. Rushing into his office, he opened his closet door and grabbed a vest and a pair of biker gloves. Before Erik left the apartment, he made sure there was enough food for the boys and then he was out the door.

Erik was out of that garage and onto the street. He used his all black sport bike to get their faster. The sun was setting and the longer it took to get there, it would be too late. Erik would never forgive himself. He refused to let anything happen to her. Bluetooth connection from the bike allowed him to follow their trail. Her sensor paused on Edson Avenue. Erik was fifteen minutes away.

Fae was led towards a beautifully maintained residence, a place where comfort meets convenience in the vibrant neighborhood of the Bronx. The large fenced-in private yard is adorned with men who didn’t look like the type to mess around with. One look past the weed smoke, you could sense the evil within.

She was taken around the side of the home to a set of concrete steps that led down towards a door. Cordell forced Fae to walk down the steps and she took her time so she wouldn’t fall. When they finally reached the bottom, Cordell banged twice and five seconds later, the door swung open and Fae locked eyes with Miss. Rio.

“La trajiste aquí, Sean?!” Miss. Rio argued. Rolling her eyes at Fae.

“Cálmate, I had to, Alejandra.”

She kissed her teeth and stepped to the side. Cordell entered the basement and Alejandra shut the door.

“Did you find it?” She questioned impatiently.

“No. I combed that apartment and ain’t find shit.”

“After playing house all this time you still don’t know where it is?!”

Fae cut her eyes at Alejandra and mugged her. She had a gun pointed at her back, there was no use in fighting her way out of there.

“She moved shit around, baby!” Cordell fired back.

“We had a plan! Our plan was to take that money and get out of New York! What now? No money, no leaving. I thought we were going to give Gabby a better life?”

Who’s Gabby?

“We will, we will. I promise. I’m not going anywhere, we’re back together as a family. Stop stressing.”

“estúpido,” Alejandra rolled her eyes, “you fucked her because I gave you permission!”

“Alejandra, I’m not getting into this argument with you right now. Listen, baby, while you stand there yelling at me, we’re wasting time. Get the chair and the rope for me.”

Alejandra turned on her heels, jet black hair swaying behind her as she walked away to get the chair and rope Cordell requested. Fae was beyond dumbfounded. Who the hell is Sean and who the hell is Gabby?! Alejandra appeared and with an aggravated look on her face she sat the folding chair down and presented red rope for Cordell to take.

Fae was reminded of the gun aimed at her spine when Cordell aggressively shoved her with it. She winced, walking over to the chair while Alejandra forced her to take a seat with her hands on Fae’s shoulders pushing downward. Fae took that opportunity to raise her leg and put her foot in her back so hard Alejandra fell face first on the floor of the unfinished basement.

“You BITCH!”

Fae didn’t see it coming. She wasn’t prepared for Cordell’s assault.

WHACK!

A hard, crisp, head-hurting, back-handed slap to Fae’s face caused her bottom lip to split open and bleed. Hot tears flooded her vision and she bowed her head, stunned and embarrassed.

“I FUCKING HATE YOU!” Fae shouted.

“YOU SHOULD HAVE KILLED HER FOR WHAT SHE DID!”

Alejandra wrapped her small first around Fae’s hair and yanked. Fae looked her in the eyes with a rage beyond words. Alejandra smirked with her glossy lips before spitting in Fae’s face. Fae squeezed her eyes shut to avoid it from getting in her eyes.

“perra estúpida…estás muerta perra…”

Fae wipes her face free of tears and spit and she used her tongue to lick up the blood. Cordell pressed the barrel of the gun into Fae’s temple.

“I need you to give me your information so I can get the money myself. I want you to write out a check for the full amount and take it from there. Do you understand?”

“…Yes.” Fae responded.

“That’s all you had to do, baby. I wouldn’t have put my hands on you if you weren’t being so fucking difficult.”

Cordell disappeared behind Fae and he tossed Alejandra his gun so she could keep it locked on Fae. Cordell wrapped Fae to the hard, metal chair tightly.

“We’ll keep you here for the night. First thing tomorrow morning, we’re heading to the bank.”

Fae watched as Cordell strolled over to Alejandra. He gripped her chin delicately and used his thumb to caress it. They closed the space between them and kissed passionately, like lovers would. It was just a reminder that he never loved her. It was all a game to him.

“Who’s Sean and Gabby, Cordell?” Fae questioned with a shaky voice.

Cordell slowly turned his head to look at her.

“…I guess I owe you that much. Gonna be dead within the next twenty four hours anyway…”

He leaned his back against a wall and folded his hands over his crotch.

“…My real name is Sean. Cordell is a stolen identity from a cell mate of mine some years ago. I decided to make a new life for myself since I was on the run from other shit that went down…anyway, I got in with his family. They accepted me without hesitation, because Cordell hadn’t been in their life since he was three. I knew that I needed money, so I did what I do best. I found you, did my best impression of the perfect man, and finally I get to take what I’ve worked so hard for…”

Fae listened, hanging on to every word. She was dealing with a real criminal mastermind. The worst kind of individual.

“Alejandra and I go way back,” Cordell laughed and Alejandra blushes, “She’s been my down-bitch since I could remember…yeah…I met her in ‘08 through her brother which is a partner of mine. Derrick and I used to get into some shit back in the day. We reunited when I got out of prison and we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other…she got pregnant with a beautiful baby girl, and it made me want to work harder to get us a better life. We plan to get away to Mexico hopefully.”

“Wait…you have a daughter?” Fae was stunned.

“…All those times I went to work? I was actually spending quality time with Gabriella. She’s three, almost four. Full of life, funny, smart. The best thing to ever happen to me…”

She didn’t have anything to say to that. A secret child? A life of crime? An ex-con? On the run?

What the fuck?

“Story time is over, papi. She knows too much already.” Alejandra said.

“When the lady speaks, you listen.”

Cordell wrapped his arms around Alejandra’s waist and stared longingly into her eyes. Fae wanted to vomit.

“Make sure Pedro and his guys keep an eye on her. You know what I want, right?”

Cordell smacked Alejandra on the butt through her jeans.

“Está bien, papi.”

With a bite of her lip, Alejandra peeled away and towards the basement door leading to outside. She shouted at the men standing in front of the house. Two of them descended the stairs into the basement. They stared at Fae with amusement. Sinister smirks and dark chuckles.

“You know what to do if she tries anything. Slap her around.”

Cordell and Alejandra leave Fae alone with the two Latino men.

4403 Edson Avenue.

The night sky and flickering street lights made Erik blend in. He parked his bike a few homes down and slipped on his tactical mask. Erik knew a little about the neighborhood. It was a community full of Latin Kings. One of the biggest Hispanic gangs in the U.S with a power base built on massive amounts of drug trafficking and a reputation for violence. So much power that the law couldn’t even control them.

Derrick Rio is a member of the Latin Kings and Sean’s partner in crime. Alejandra Rio is a wolf in sheep clothing. She’s a friendly teacher by day, and a drug dealer by night. Erik had known about Sean and Rio for a while now. However, he doesn’t know what their plan is with Fae. Why hold her hostage? Why not just go on the run again?

As Erik stealthily made his way towards the house, he couldn’t help but blame himself. Fae wouldn’t have been kidnapped if he killed Sean when he had the chance. He brushed this job off as a side hustle. If he’d known from the beginning that it was much bigger than he initially thought, he would have handled it before the ICA intervened. He called himself trying to be multiple steps ahead. Turns out he was wrong. He’s never wrong.

Outside of the single family home, Hispanic men littered the front yard smoking weed and goofing around. Erik assumed this house was Mis Rio’s. His assumption was correct when the lady herself appeared from the side of the house.

“Oye, ¿podéis ustedes dos vigilarla hasta que regresemos?”

She asked if two of the men could keep an eye on Fae. That meant that Erik didn’t need to go on a search for her. She was in the basement. Two men separated from three others and headed towards the side of the home. Erik crouched down and moved along the side of a black Chevrolet Tahoe. He could smell their weed and his eyes searched to see if there was a way he could get around them and do a sneak attack.

Two mean were leaning against an all black Honda Civic while the other was pacing back and forth. As far as physical appearances goes, they didn’t appear to be a threat. All three of them looked between the ages of eighteen and twenty five. Erik guessed that they didn’t have a say in whether or not they would join the Latin Kings. If your friends and family are affiliated, then it’s destined for you to be.

Erik got down on one knee and grasped the handle of his B&T SS9 pistol and plucked a silencer out of his front vest pocket to screw on. With a full magazine, Erik took a second to position his pistol and then he shot up from behind the car so fast they didn’t see it coming.

The muzzle blasted off followed by a reduced pop similar to the sound of a puff of air. The first two young men slumped backwards against the car and the last man was two seconds two late trying to grab a hold of his gun before Erik put a bullet in his head.

Erik made his way over to them to make sure he’d finished the job and after close inspection, all three of them experienced instant death. Erik moved as quickly as he could and he dragged their bodies one-by-one towards the yard of the house, stacking them next to a trash can. Now that he had that taken care of, Erik jogged over towards the stairs leading down into the basement.

There is a short, black curtain concealing the window within the door. He was able to get a tiny peek inside of the basement and he could see two men guarding and watching Fae like a hawk. Straining his neck, Erik could only see Fae’s lower half sitting in a folding chair and restrained with red rope. The best option was to draw one of them out. Erik knocked on the door with two quick rasps before speeding up the short concrete stairs and hiding.

Like clock work, a short, beefy, latino male with buzz cut hair opened the side door and stepped out. Erik tightened the grip on his pistol when he started to climb the stairs. His shadow could be seen coming closer so Erik turned fully to face him. With quick precision, Erik raised his gun, and as soon as his feet touched the top step, Erik gave him a head shot to the temple. With all his strength, he caught him before he hit the ground hard. He slowly lowered him to the steps.

Now, he descends the stairs. He didn’t even waste time. Erik appeared within the doorway and the other guy—slicked back stringy hair, tattoos all over his face and arms—did a double take and stood up. He raised up on Erik and grabbed his hand gun from the front of his jeans. Erik was faster; swifter. He snatched his gun and used his pistol with the silencer to kill him.

He hit the floor with a hard crash. Fae could be heard trying to catch her barely audible breath. Erik turned his relieved eyes onto Fae and he quickly revealed himself so she wouldn’t think he was trying to harm her. The way her face transformed in front of him almost made him emotional.

Fae looked as if she’d seen a guardian angel. Her eyes lit up like sparklers in the summer and her lips spread into a slight smile while tears streamed down her cheeks. As Erik approached her, Fae continued to cry, only this time she was breaking down. As Erik got closer, he could see a blue-black bruise on the side of her face and her lower lip was swollen and bleeding.

She looked as if she wanted to shout his name. Erik watched her writhe and cry, too anxious to wrap her arms around him. Erik worked fast and after a final knot the rope fell from her body. Speedily, Fae shot up from the fold chair and turned, embracing Erik with a hug similar to a boa constrictor. Erik rubbed her back and with one gloved hand he cupped the back of her head, leaning in to plant a few kisses to her forehead.

“Thank you…thank you…thank you…”

Fae wouldn’t let him go. She was cutting off his circulation.

“It’s okay…I’m here now…you’re safe…no one’s gonna hurt you any more…it’s okay, Fae. It’s okay…”

He pried her arms from around him and stared down at her.

“We gotta go. The longer we stick around, the more dangerous this shit becomes…”

Erik gripped Fae’s much smaller hand and they both made their way towards the stairs leading up. Erik halted his steps and turned his eyes onto Fae with intensity.

“You have to stay back at all times, do you understand? I refuse to let you die.”

“Okay,” Fae swallowed spit, “What about Sean and Alejandra?”

Erik looked at her for a second before speaking. So, he told her his real name?

“I’m going to kill them.” Erik replied.

Fae nodded her head and let out a sigh of relief.

“Listen to me, stay right here. I’ll come back for you.”

Erik kissed Fae’s forehead one more time, put his mask back on, and made his way up the steps.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

The music continued to blast and all eyes turned towards Erik materializing from the basement. In unison, they all stood to their feet, guns raised and aimed at him. Erik put both of his hands up and slowly backed away towards the door. The closer he went, his eyes scanned the room and one of the thugs closest to him had an AK47 pointed at Erik. Erik didn’t take his eyes off of him.

“NO TE MUEVES!”

Derrick Rio marched out from the kitchen. Erik locked eyes with him. He’s a pretty boi with slicked back wavy hair, earrings in his ears, and swagger. Teardrop tattoos on both sides proved that he was a killer. The scar on his right cheek let Erik know that his face had been sliced open. Nothing scary to Erik. Just a wanna be gangsta. He’d killed plenty of those types.

“Do you know who you’re fucking with?”

Erik remained silent.

Derrick squinted his eyes, “Can’t speak, brother? Hard of hearing?”

“HABLAR!!”

The AK47 almost touched Erik’s cheek. Erik finally parted his lips to speak.

“…quita esa arma de mi cara antes de que te haga.”

The man laughed in Erik’s face.

“KILL HIM, ACE—”

Erik did a move similar to Denzel in The Equalizer and now he had possession of the AK47. His finger didn’t hesitate to fire off rounds in Ace’s ugly face. Erik dropped behind a couch and it was guns blazing. Erik would appear from behind the couch and fire off rounds into anybody he had his eyes on. He didn’t miss. He was better at this. In the middle of it all, Sean and Alejandra were at the top of the steps, no intentions on going down stairs. They didn’t know what was happening or who the masked man was.

Bullets flying, holes in the walls, shattered glass, ruined furniture. Derrick was the only one left standing. He couldn’t believe one man took out a room full of Latin Kings. Erik walked from behind the couch and made his way over to him. Derrick didn’t know whether to point his gun at Erik and shoot or run for his life.

“Ima get yo’ ass either way, Derrick. Just put the gun down and put your hands behind your head.” Erik said.

Derrick hesitates, but eventually he complied. His pistol dropped to the floor and both of his hands raised and his fingers interlocked behind his head. He tilted his chin up and gave Erik a prideful look.

“I’ve waited for the moment I get the chance to kill off a Rio…”

POP! POP! POP!

Derrick’s body slowly and dramatically slid down the eggshell-white wall, a vertical trail of crimson painting the surface. Derrick’s head dangled to the side and he went limp. Erik peeled his eyes away from his lifeless body and just then, from the stairs, Sean began shooting at Erik. Erik ducked and moved out of the way just in time.

“COME OUT MOTHERFUCKER!!”

“Derrick! Oh my God! NO—”

“STAY BACK ALEJANDRA!”

“MY BROTHER! mi hermano esta muerto! ¡DERRICK!”

Erik looked at Fae from the top of the basement stairs. She was holding onto the railing with a vice grip. Erik extended a hand for her to take and Fae clung to him as Erik pulled. Fae rushed up the stairs and pressed her small frame against Erik’s back. Sean continued to fire off rounds at nothing.

“COME THE FUCK OUT! FACE ME!”

Erik dropped the AK47 to the floor and grabbed another fully loaded pistol with a silencer.

“Get down, Fae.”

Erik walked out and shot back at Sean. Fae crawled out on her hands and knees, staying back while she looked up at Erik putting in that work. If it was any other moment, Fae would have been turned on. Right now, all she wanted to do was get her hands on Alejandra. Sean didn’t stand a chance with Erik.

POW! POW! POW!

POP! POP! POP!

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“URRR! UGH!”

Erik got Sean in his shoulder. Sean quickly scurried backwards up the stairs, shoving Alejandra as he went to get her to move. She got to her feet and tried her best to move Sean.

“BITCH! GET BACK AND HIDE!” Sean shouted.

Alejandra dropped him and ran away towards the room they were having sex in. She wasn’t even fully dressed. She only had on a pair of panties.

“Shit,” Sean hyperventilates while trying to apply pressure to his wound, “Fuck—”

POP! POP!

Sean fired off his gun and Erik dodged a bullet to the face. Sean got to his feet and stumbled into a vacant room to his right. He pressed his back against the door and tried to catch his breath but each time he breathed in, his lungs were on fire.

Erik was at the bottom of the stairs and Fae came come out of hiding. She creeped over towards the side of the staircase and out of sight. One look at her beautiful face, Erik wordlessly reminded her that everything was going to be alright.

“STOP HIDING, SEAN! WHAT HAPPENED TO THAT TOUGH GUY SHIT?” Erik yelled up the stairs.

“FUCK YOU, NIGGA!” Sean replied with a shout.

“YOU PUT YOUR HANDS ON FAE! YOU COWARD ASS NIGGA! I SHOULD’VE KILLED YOU A LONG TIME AGO!!”

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TO QUESTION ME?!”

Sean peeked his head out of the room and his eyes widened and bulged. Erik had taken off his tactical mask.

“You…” Sean spoke with astonishment.

“WHAT’S UP, NEIGHBOR?!”

POP! POP!

Cordell moved out of the way and two holes formed in the door. Erik took two steps at a time and Sean jumped out at him, swinging a bat and hitting Erik in his ribs. Erik couldn’t feel the impact too much since he wore a vest. Snatching off his gloves, Erik gave Sean a mean uppercut in his stomach and then a jab to his face, clipping him in the jaw. Sean stumbled backwards, blood gushing from his mouth.

“THAT’S FOR PUTTING YOUR HANDS ON FAE!”

Fae cautiously climbed the stairs. She remained a safe distance away while Sean and Erik tussled.

“GET THE FUCK UP!” Erik barked out with a sonorous voice and spit flying, “NOW!”

Sean would try to stand on his two feet and Erik would knock him back down again with his fist colliding with his jaw. Erik released a menacing chuckle with his fists covered in blood.

Alejandra dashed out of the room and charged at Erik. She started windmilling him and Erik grabbed her frail arms and shoved her ass back. That was Fae’s moment.

“ALEJANDRA!”

Brown eyes connected and Alejandra tried to escape but Fae grabbed her by the ankle and she fell to the floor in the hallway. Fae clawed her way up towards Alejandra’s face and she wrapped her fist in her hair and yanked so hard a chunk of her hair ripped out.

“AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!” Alejandra screamed.

“Baby!” Sean shouted.

Erik put Sean in a head lock. Sean struggled, his left fingers grabbing a vase from a small table and smashing it over Erik’s head. Erik ate that shit like he had a skull made from steel. He picked Sean up and like Bane, he put his knee in his spine and dropped him to the floor.

“SEAN!” Alejandra cried out.

Alejandra punched Fae in the face and kicked her off before racing down the hall and back to the room. Inside, she found a gun and turned on her heels. Fae moved out of the way and Alejandra fired off the gun into the hall. Erik took this opportunity to use Sean as a shield. He picked him up by the back of his neck.

The bullets entered his torso and his body shook from side to side. Erik had Sean by the neck and he brought his lips to his ear to give him one last word before he fell into eternal slumber.

“That fake LV bag you gifted Fae? That shit was a chew toy for our boys.”

Erik let out a dark chuckle and then dropped Sean to the floor. He could see Sean crawling and Erik cocked his head back and scrunched his face up in a disgusted manner.

“Nigga, you still moving?”

POP!

Fae was paralyzed. To witness her ex being murdered in front of her felt unreal. She turned away so she wouldn’t look into his dead eyes.

“NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!”

Alejandra shot at Erik and he caught a bullet in the chest. Fae gasped, ready to come to his aid, but Erik’s vest is bullet proof.

Click click click

She was out of bullets.

Fae ran so fast towards her Erik didn’t have time to do it himself. She tackled Alejandra to the floor in the room and Erik jogged over, watching them tussle. He went to grab Alejandra by her arm but Fae pushed him back.

“No! No Erik! Let me handle her!”

She drew her fist back and jabbed Alejandra in the face.

“She spit on me!”

Erik furrowed his brows and looked down at Alejandra like she was the scum of the earth.

“That’s some nasty shit.” He said with a hushed tone.

Fae climbed on top of Alejandra and wrapped her fists around her neck. She squeezed and squeezed, Alejandra turning purple in the face.

“AYE!”

Erik had his pistol in his grip fast and turned to shoot down the hallway. More thugs came to the rescue. The entire neighborhood was full of Latin Kings. A neighbor probably put word out that they were in trouble.

Alejandra used Fae’s hair for leverage and flipped them over so that Fae was on her back. She stood and dragged Fae by the hair towards the bathroom where she lifted the toilet seat with her foot, preparing to water board her. Fae saw what she was attempting to do, so she used her legs muscles to stand and she had Alejandra by the hair again, twisting her neck.

“GET OFF ME!” Alejandra screamed like a banshee.

“YOU GOT MY HAIR, BITCH!” Fae yelled.

Alejandra tugged and Fae tugged harder. They were out of breath, muscles fatigued, and hearts racing.

“LET ME GO, STUPID BITCHHHHH!!!!!!!” Alejandra screeched.

POP! POP! POP!

POW! POW!

Erik was holding it down at the top of the stairs. They just wouldn’t stop coming. At first, he was shocked that the police hadn’t shown up, but then he remembered the power that the Latin Kings had, and that most of the police were on their payroll.

Back in the bathroom, Fae was finally able to get Alejandra off of her hair. She picked up a rat tail comb with a metal tip and stabbed Alejandra in the thigh. She let her go and leaped back, pulling the comb out, blood spraying out of the small puncture. They were both pumped full of adrenaline that any pain they felt didn’t register in their minds.

B-cup titties swaying, Alejandra lunged at Fae and Fae stepped out of the way, watching her trip over the toilet. She got behind her and smushed her face along the rim of the toilet seat.

“AHHHHHHH!!!!” Alejandra shouted.

Water covered the floor and Fae slipped.

“COME HERE!”

Alejandra grabbed Fae by the ankle and Fae kicked her in the face. Fae fell back against the wall and pushed up on her feet. Before Alejandra could attack Fae again, Fae pushed her so hard, her head hit the mirror and put a crack in it. Alejandra fell to the ground and Fae could see a laceration on her scalp and blood.

“FAE!”

Erik returned to the room, face sweaty and locs wild in his face. You couldn’t tell from his dark clothing that he had blood there. Fae’s knees buckled and Erik caught her. He gripped her face and examined her.

“I gotta get you outta here,” Erik looked down at Alejandra, “I’ll finish her off.”

Erik didn’t hesitate when he aimed his gun for the back of her head and pulled the trigger. Blood pooled out of her head and onto the tile floor.

Erik grabbed Fae’s hand and they ran so fast down the hall and steps. They decided to leave through the basement. Fae collected her things and Erik made sure he didn’t leave any of his guns behind. They left the home in just enough time, taking the back way and down an alley. Just then, like a scene from a movie, the entire home exploded. Fae had never seen anything like it.

“How—”

“Let’s go, Fae.” Erik urged.

They ran two blocks until Erik could spot his sport bike. Putting his mask back on, Erik worked quickly to take off his vest. He had a hoodie on underneath that he slipped over Fae’s head.

Fae’s tired eyes scanned his body covered in a fitted black beater. Erik put the vest back on and hopped onto the bike. With his strength, he wrapped an arm around Fae’s slim waist and placed her on the bike behind him. He revved it up and Fae wrapped her arms securely around him. Hood up, Erik zoomed off down the street. When he finally made it off of the block and onto the busy rode, he could see NYPD, Paramedics, and two Fire trucks.

Even as the bike slowed down to a stop, Fae didn’t take her cheek off of Erik’s back. She opened her eyes and looked around, noticing that they weren’t back at the apartment. They were parked outside of a warehouse in Staten Island. They’d been riding for an hour and a half. Time was lost to her, all she kept thinking about was the nights events. Erik climbed off of the bike and turned towards Fae.

Fae looked up at him as he removed his mask.

The tears began to pour. She will be forever grateful that Erik rescued her. He removed his gloves and cupped her face in his hands. His thumbs smeared away her tears.

Fae parted her dry lips to speak, “He was trying to steal the money I’d gotten from my mother’s death.”

“That explains why your room looked the way it did. How much money did you get?”

“About 100k…”

Erik strokes her cheek.

“I moved the information to a safe that I have hidden in my guest bedroom. That’s where I keep all of my personal documents.”

“Smart,” Erik smirked at her, “I’m just happy to be looking at you right now. I thought I was too late…”

“How did you know where to find me?” Fae questioned with a trembling voice.

Erik hesitated speaking and Fae noticed. She searched his eyes and then Erik dropped his gaze to the dirt.

“Fae…I haven’t been honest with you.”

Fae tilted her head but remained silent. Exhaling, Erik took both of her hands in his and squeezed.

“…I’m not a bodyguard.”

Fae nodded her head slowly her eyes lowering to their hands.

“I’m a professional Hitman.”

Fae’s head lifted to look at him again.

“I’ve been assigned to a job to track down Sean and kill him. He has an extensive history of murder and scamming from all across the U.S. I’ve been assigned to the job for five months…”

Fae stared at Erik with an intense gaze.

“I have something to show you.”

Erik helped her off of the bike and they headed towards the warehouse.

“As a Hitman, we have these specific safeguards implemented in different states. In New York, there’s three. I’m stationed here until I decide to relocate.”

Fae allowed Erik to lead her towards a door on the side of the warehouse. Erik used his thumb against a fingerprint identifier and it ignited green. The door clicked open and Erik walked inside. The door shut on its own behind Fae and as if the warehouse was controlled by some artificial intelligence, everything came to life.

She didn’t know which area to take in first. On one end of the warehouse, there were parked cars and bikes. On another side there was an area for combat. In the middle there is a work station with many computers and a giant TV screen suspended from the ceiling. Fae’s eyes fell on a wall covered in weapons from guns, to knives. Finally, she spotted another wall with a spotlight. This wall was covered with a diagram of photos thumbtacked together.

Erik made his way over to that specific wall with Fae in tow. As they inched closer, Fae recognized something that caused her to pull her hand away from Erik’s. She walked around him and over towards that wall. Fae’s footsteps paused right before the giant billboard and she looked back at Erik with a mixture of confusion and frustration.

“Erik…why am I up here?”

Fae’s eyes scanned the billboard. The covert photography of her made her feel uneasy. There were photos of her leaving work, her apartment, New Jersey, walking Deuce, out with friends, on dates with Sean. Any and everything she could be doing. There were even photos of her through her apartment windows from a distance.

“Wha–wha—I–I don’t—I don’t understand. I—”

Fae wrinkled her nose and her mouth fell open. She blinked her eyes rapidly, as if trying to make sense of what she was staring at. Erik stood in front of her, a guilty expression on his face.

“Fae…I was given the job to Kill Sean—”

“You told me that already.” Fae spoke.

“…So, with that job came rules. Rules that can’t be broken. Not only was Sean a target…you were too. I had orders to assassinate you and him.”

Fae’s lower lip quivered.

“All this time? So what? You moved in next door so you could keep tabs on me? You showed up and tricked me into having sex with you—”

“NO.” Erik cut Fae off.

“So why did you get close to me?! Why did you even do that knowing the risk?!!”

Erik shrugged, unable to find the right words. He looked towards the ceiling, hands in his pockets.

“I just…Fae I fell for you.”

Fae narrowed her eyes at him and tightened her jaw.

“This may sound crazy, but all that time I spent following you, watching you, learning everything about you…I started catching feelings—”

“STOP.”

Fae put her hands up and shut her eyes.

“This is crazy,” She ran a hand over her frizzy hair, “So you fucked me and sent me back to a psycho when you could have told me the truth?! What is wrong with you???!!!!”

“I COULDN’T TELL YOU THE TRUTH!” Erik shouted.

“”WHY? WHY NOT?” Fae yelled back.

Erik put his hands together, leaning in with his face inches away.

“WHY NOT, ERIK?”

“Fae, please. I fucked up, I know that, okay? But you gotta understand me when I say this…what I do, and the people I work for…they don’t play about shit like this. They will interfere and fuck shit up. The ONLY REASON why shit hit the fan, is because of my partner. I have to update her on everything that’s going on. She put a bug in their ear, making me look bad. SHE WOULD HAVE KILLED YOU.”

Fae flinched when Erik’s tone went dark as his tone elevated. He was pissed. Locs in his face, slugs peeking through and muscles flexed.

“AND I WOULD HAVE KILLED HER!!!!…okay?” Erik lowered his voice to a soft timbre and tucked his chin, looking at fae through his lashes with a penetrating gaze and flared nostrils, “I fucked up because I caught feelings. It was deeper than a hit, baby. I fell in love with you. I couldn’t be cold-blooded Killmonger. All eyes were on me 24/7. If I would have said one thing to you, I could have found you dead in your apartment.”

His chest rose and fell with deep breaths. Fae hugged herself and her vision blurred with tears.

“I’m so sorry,” Erik shook his head, “I truly am, baby. I know I fucked up. Sean would have had the entire Latin Kings coming after you if he so much as caught a whiff of anything. Alejandra and Derrick are a part of the Latin Kings. She was in your apartment. They knew where you worked, where you lived…Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?!”

Fae nibbled on her bottom lip to try and calm her hiccuping from crying. She nodded her head rapidly in understanding.

“You have every right to hate me right now. I wish I could go back and fix this. I wish I could, baby. I wish you never met that fucking nigga…”

Erik’s hands pulled Fae into his body. She looked up at him and her hands were pressed against his chest.

“…I wish you didn’t have to go through what you went through tonight…”

Erik’s body shook with rage.

“I knew where you were tonight because I put a tracker on your cell phone that night after the bar. I’m glad I did. Because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to find you…”

Fae shifted from one foot to the other. She was nervous. Erik lifted her chin so she could look at him.

“I want to be honest with you. I want…”

Erik’s eyes went from her lips to her eyes.

“I want what you want. Even if that means you want nothing to do with me…but I’ll never stop loving you, Fae.”

Fae lowered her head and stared at her hands against his chest. She had a migraine, her face hurt, her body hurt, her hair was a mess, her ex was a murderer and used her for her money, Erik is a Hitman. It was all too much. Her head was ready to explode. And now, she’s finding out that she was supposed to be dead too? Not only did Sean want to kill her, so did the people that Erik worked for. But wait did he just say—

“Fae?”

Erik’s voice snapped her out of her daze. She slowly lifted her head to look at him.

“You love me?” Fae asked.

“…Yes.”

It all made sense to her now.

“Was that why you left my apartment that night? You were going to tell me that you loved me, weren’t you?…”

Erik smirked, “Yeah, I was.”

Fae chuckles as tears rolled down her cheeks, “You should have.”

She broke down crying and Erik wrapped his arms around her and hugged her right.

“This is a lot,” Fae said with a shaky voice.

“It is. I couldn’t wait to tell you tomorrow. You deserved to know…you been deserved to know.”

“…Wow,” Fae shakes her head, “I can’t believe this is my life…”

She pulled away from Erik so she could look at him.

“Erik, I’ve only known you for such a short while, but when I’m with you…I’m a better version of myself. You bring out this confidence and self worth in me that I never knew I had,” Fae released a shaky breath, “I’ve been so broken so many times,” Her bottom lip trembled, “And you showed me the true meaning of what it’s like to be loved.”

Erik stared at her, a soft smile on his face.

“…You didn’t have to fall for me, you could have just—just done your job and got rid of me. And as much as I don’t like that you kept this a secret, all of it just proves that you cared for me, a girl you barely even knew…you saved my life in so many ways. And I just want you to know, I love you too.”

Fae pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes to control her tears. Erik felt his own eyes sting. He blinked his eyes rapidly to stop himself from crying.

“Fae,” Erik picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, “I told you, you’re special. You’re amazing. I love you...”

She buried her face into his neck and Erik rubbed his hands up and down her spine.

Fae sniffled, “I want to go home…”

Erik couldn’t agree more.

The energy felt different.

The moment she entered his apartment, she felt like it was her home. Her apartment didn’t feel like home anymore. It was tainted with Sean. Everything he touched, his side of the bed, his clothes, his scent. She didn’t want any part of it.

Erik took her bag from her and helped her remove her boots. They silently walked together, Erik guiding her to his room. Diesel and Deuce were excited to see them. In Erik’s room, he shut the door behind him and proceeded to undress Fae. His eyes never left hers as each layer of clothing peeled away from her frame. Erik walked her to his bathroom and sat her down on the toilet while he ran her bath.

Fae watched him take off his vest, beater, boots, and socks. They were both filthy, but Erik was concerned with making sure Fae was clean and comfortable. The bath water ran and Erik poured in epsom salt. He opened his medicine cabinet and grabbed all the first aid items to tend to her injuries. When the water had finished, Erik turned off the tap and he helped Fae into the tub.

He got down on his knees and went to work cleaning her off. He gently washed her off and after each pass of the sponge, he would press his lips into her wet flesh. Fae felt an instant jolt of arousal. She couldn’t control the pleasant tingling between her legs when he washed her there with a rag. She gripped his wrist and they locked eyes. Even with a bruised face and scared lip, she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

Fae’s hand covered Erik’s and she guided his fingers lower. He got the hint and sat the rag on the edge of the tub. Two thick fingers found her entrance and pushed inside. Fae gasped, Erik muting her noises with his lips. Fae gripped the edge of the tub and fell back so that she could tilt her hips for deeper access.

Erik didn’t take his eyes off of her. Fae pressed her face into his arm and nibbled on his skin. Erik could see her juices and feel how creamy her pussy is for him. Her nipples were rock hard and making Erik’s mouth water.

“Erik…”

She squeezed her thighs together and the water sloshed as her body moved back and forth with her climax. She exhaled an airy breath and her walls convulsed around his fingers. Erik slipped his fingers out and sucked them clean. He let the water out and helped Fae to her feet. Erik grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her. Back in the room, he sat her down on his bed and proceeded to rub her body down with a soothing and calming body oil scented with a sweet aroma of vanilla combined with a surprising touch of lemon.

“Killmonger.” Fae spoke.

Erik chuckled while massaging her body with the oil, “That’s my nickname.”

“Why Killmonger? I mean, I know you’re a killer…”

“…I earned the nickname from the amount of kills I racked up. It was so impressive that they had to give me a nickname for it…”

“Okay,” Fae giggled, “I like it…it’s sexy.”

Erik’s eyebrows shot up and disappeared behind his locs.

“Hmm, really?” His dimples popped out while trying to hide his blush, “I’m glad you think so.”

Fae rolled her eyes, “I mean…it’s fitting…”

“Fitting for what else?” Erik looked down at her while massaging her feet.

“…with the way you kill this pussy—”

“Huh? What was that, Miss Fae? I couldn’t hear you.” Erik teased.

“I said, with the way you kill this pussy…”

Erik bowed his head and laughed. When he finished, He dressed Fae in an old graphic T-shirt of Jimi Hendrix and he excused himself to take a shower. Fae used that opportunity to go see Deuce. The last time she’d seen her dog was before she left for work that morning. Fae walked out barefoot with her frizzy and loose braids up in a bun. Her scalp felt so tender and sore. She found Deuce and Diesel both lying in Erik’s office. Deuce ran up to her as Fae got down on her knees. Up on his hind legs, Fae hugged him and couldn’t help but to cry.

Sean could have killed Deuce. She was so happy that he was safe. She was so happy that she didn’t die and she could come home to her boy. Diesel rubbed his head against her and Fae gave him a hug too. She smiled brightly at both of them and couldn’t help but to giggle. I guess that means Diesel was her dog now too.

Fae stood up and walked around Erik’s office. Her curious eyes moved about the room, taking it all in with a new perspective. Sure, he was in Special Ops and she understood that killing people came with the job, but it felt different knowing that he’s a Hitman. Fae skimmed her fingers over his books when Erik appeared. He was oiled down himself and wearing a pair of all black ball shorts.

“I came to see the boys and I started snooping around. I know, I’m pryjng,” Fae tucked her chin bashfully.

“It’s okay. You’re curious.” Erik said.

“It just seems so…mysterious…”

Erik walked up behind Fae and pressed his lips against her exposed neck.

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

That made Fae feel good knowing that. She turned to him and Erik’s lips were on hers. They tongue kissed while their hands roamed all over each other’s bodies. Erik had his hands full of Fae’s ass and he backed out of his office. They walked backwards into his room and Erik slammed the door shut to keep the boys out. With only a single lamp light on, it gave off the perfect vibe.

Erik sat down on the edge of the bed with Fae between his legs. She cupped his face while they continued to kiss. Their heads moved back and forth and their tongues reached crevices that elicited sounds of pleasure. Fae needed him. She didn’t care that her body was sore, she needed him inside of her. Erik did too, his dick was brick hard and tenting the front of his shorts.

Fae broke the kiss and she lifted his T-shirt over her head, naked body the perfect shape in Erik’s eyes with the softest skin that glistened similar to honey. Fae took her place in his lap with her pussy sitting directly over his clothed erection. Erik couldn’t get over how soft and smooth her skin felt beneath his calloused hands.

His lips kissed her neck, her collarbones, and between her breasts. He tilted Fae’s body back and her breasts were pushed out towards his mouth. He sucked each dark brown nipple into his mouth and flicked them greedily with his thick tongue. Fae arched her back and gripped Erik’s shoulders tight when he started humping her from underneath.

“Unh….”

Fae’s moans sounded angelic.

Erik pressed his face between her breasts and grunted. His dick was twitching between her pussy lips.

“Fuck…I need you,” Erik whispered.

“I need you too…”

Fae dug her fingers into Erik’s shorts and they wrapped around his fat dick. She whipped it out and lifted her hips while her hand pointed his tip towards her opening. Erik exhaled a longing breath. She sat down on him fully and Erik bounced her.

“Fuck…fuck…” Erik was staring up at Fae through hooded eyes, “I missed this pussy…”

“Mm!” Fae’s mouth fell open, “Mmm!”

Her moans were driving him crazy.

“Mm! Mm! Unh! Uh! Ooo!”

“You’re a fuckin’ angel, baby,” Erik praises.

He secured one arm around her waist, sliding his hips lower so he could plant his feet on the floor, and he pumped upward while simultaneously bouncing Fae, bringing her down on his dick himself. She had a death grip on Erik’s shoulders. She was so small and limber while Erik’s much larger and more powerful body controlled her movements.

“Ahhhh, ahhhhh…” Erik couldn’t hold back from making his own noises, “That’s it baby…let me do all the work…”

“Oh gosh,” Fae moaned, “Yes!”

“I’m deep and I ain’t leaving, baby,” Erik groaned, “Mhm…too much big dick?”

“No,” Fae said with a whiny voice.

“That’s my good girl…”

She came on his dick and Erik raised his hips to the bed again. He lifted her off of his dick and got down on his knees. He started eating Fae’s pussy while she was standing up. She couldn’t believe it. He hiked her thigh up and proceeded to suck on her pussy while his other hand fisted his dick.

“Shit,” Fae wrapped her fingers around his locs, “Mmm!”

Fae’s leg shook out of control and she fell forward against the bed. Erik’s hand smacked her on the ass and she positioned herself so that she was hanging over the edge of the bed. Erik turned and started eating it from the back. Fae rocked her hips back and forth, feeding her pussy to his plump lips and thick tongue. Erik spread her cheeks as best as he could so he could get every inch of that pretty, pink puss in his mouth. He was sucking that shit off the bone and Fae was losing her sanity.

“Daddy, please don’t stop,” Fae moaned weakly.

He slurped her pussy, put his tongue in that pussy, sucked on that clit, tongued her folds. Fae was drooling into the sheets.

“OH FUCK!”

She bit down on her bottom lip, the pain from her scar mixed with the pleasure of getting her pussy devoured giving her a big orgasm. She convulsed and released into Erik’s waiting, gluttonous mouth.

He sat up and Fae turned her body. Erik was on his feet and with his lustful eyes watching her, he took off his shorts, revealing his fat dick and balls. It was so hard that the veins in his shaft popped out. His tip is covered in pre-cum and dying to be sucked on. Fae arched her back and grabbed his dick. She looked up at him and wrapped her lips around him.

She took her time putting him down her throat. It’s a big boy. Erik’s humming and grunting caused her clit to jump. It was thick enough to make her jaw muscles sore and long enough to trigger her gag reflex.

“There you go…good girl…such a good girl,” Erik tilted his head so he could watch, “Get daddy’s dick in there, baby…”

She started sucking him while tugging on his sack. Erik’s brows furrowed and he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. His eye rolled shut and his head went back. All Fae could see was his beautifully-sculpted body and the long swath of his neck.

“Just like that…look at you…mmm, mmm, mmm…”

Erik groaned when Fae focused on slurping his wide tip between her lips. She knew that’s what he liked. He loved it when she did it nice and slow. Her spit rolled down her chin and she looked into his eyes while sucking. That’s what did it.

“Fae…”

She loved it when he said her name.

“Fae…”

Keep saying my name.

“Damn, here it comes—”

Fae swallowed him whole. She tightened her throat and milked him while the tip of her tongue wiggled in his slit. Thick, warm, nut coated her tongue. She slowly released his dick from her mouth and it popped out covered in spit. Erik stuck his tongue down her throat with his fingers around her neck to control the flow. Fae sucked on his bottom lip like a pacifier.

“I’m gon’ fuck you all over this bed,” Erik said with a husky voice barely above a whisper, “And your ass gon’ take it every single time…”

“I need it, big daddy,” Fae whispered seductively.

Erik raised a single brow at her.

“I can handle it,” Fae spoke confidently with a smirk.

Erik picked her up and put her ass on the edge of his dresser.

“You can handle it, huh? Yeah?” Erik plopped his dick down on her pussy and guided his hips so his dick could glide up and down between her fat, outer lips.

“Yes,” Fae moaned.

“Your pussy is wet and gushy, mamas…”

He hooked his arms beneath her knees and with his hips, he thrust forward and his tip slipped between her labia and popped right into that wet pussy. He pressed further inside until he was halfway in before retracting his hips slowly, only to thrust back inside again.

“Fuck,” Fae gasped when Erik twisted her hips, “Mmm!”

She gripped the edge of the dresser with one hand while the other wrapped around Erik’s neck. His crotch and lower abdomen collided with Fae’s inner thighs and it stung so good.

“Daddy, you’re fucking me so good!”

“Mhm…I know it is, look at this dick.”

Fae tried to watch but he was digging her out so good she couldn’t focus.

“Oooo…I know whatchu finna do, pretty mama…daddy making that pussy cum, I know it.”

“I can’t control it, daddy—”

Fae’s pussy pushed Erik’s dick out and she rubbed her clit back and forth, her juices like a fountain.

“So that’s what I gotta do to make that pussy squirt like that?”

Erik crouched down to lick it up. Fae couldn’t control her legs from squirming and shaking. Erik needed to make her do that again. He moved her to the bed and parted Fae’s legs with his hands on the back of her thighs. Erik got up on that bed, dug his toes into the mattress, and started grinding his hips so that his dick could hit her spot. Each time he would thrust, his hips would grind, making his fat dick hit her spot.

“Oooo!” Fae started crying, “I’m gonna squirt again!”

“That’s what I want, give me that shit,” Erik commanded.

“It’s all for you!”

That was music to Erik’s ears. Fae looked up at him and he had his bottom lip between his teeth and a smirk on his face. She was falling apart beneath him and he just fucked her like that with a dimpled smirk and a big dick. He was dangerous.

“My pussy, daddy!”

Fae’s eyes crossed and Erik was pushed out once again. It just kept going. He beat her clit with his tip and she just covered him and the sheets.

“Dayum, you’re my little waterfall for real, fuck. I love it when you make a mess on me…”

“It’s so much, I’m sorry,” Fae shielded her face with her arm to hide her blush.

“Don’t be sorry about what that pussy can do, baby…”

He had his mouth on her pussy again. Fae was growing lightheaded. Erik looked up at her through his lashes and licked his lips.

“You okay?” He questioned.

“Mhm,” Fae replied.

Erik gave her a moment to catch her breath and then he sat up in the middle of the bed. He made a come-hither motion with his fingers and a bite of his lip and Fae crawled to him. She straddled him and Erik lined his dick up with that beautiful pussy again for more. Fae sank down on him fully until her ass was sitting on his balls. Erik dropped his thighs out and leaned back on one hand. He rolled his hips up slowly and fae rolled her hips down on him. Her hands were on his shoulders and she was looking down at him from above. They were locked in a sensual gaze.

“Tell me you love me.” Erik whispered.

“I love you,” Fae whispered back.

“Say it again.”

“I love you…”

Erik hooked his arms beneath her armpits and gripped her shoulders from behind. Fae cupped his face and they kissed passionately. Erik broke the kiss and his tongue licked along Fae’s jaw. He dug his heels into the bed and surprised Fae with sharp upstrokes with his hands planted on the bed. She was squirting again.

“UNH! UNH! UNH!”

It was ball-slapping strokes. Erik lowered his hips back to the bed and his dick slipped out with ease. He shook his locs from his eyes and lifted from the bed.

“C’mere…bring that pussy here.”

Fae took one look at that dick and she whimpered.

“Don’t worry, I’ll l be back in there. Arch that back.”

She did as she was told. Erik nibbled and kissed all over her ass. He put a humb in her butt and his dick deep in her pussy from the back. Fae’s hips bounced off of him causing her cheeks to turn red.

“Go head, cry into the sheets, tell me how good it feels.”

“It feels so good!”

“You taking it, mamas. Just watching you take this dick makes me so hard.”

“Yes, daddy!” Fae moaned.

“Don’t stop taking this dick…don’t stop taking this dick…”

Fae turned her head back and forth, she fisted the sheets, she cried out. Erik would speed up, then slow down. Bring her to the peek, then edge her.

“Can I cum daddy?! Please?! Can I cum, please?!”

“Cum on this dick right fuckin’ now.”

“Unh—ahhh!”

It was creamy and slippery. Erik watched with his bottom lip pouted and gold slugs gleaming. That pussy was hot and tight.

“Daddy, I feel you throbbing inside me!”

“Yeah?” Erik growled, “SHIT—”

“YES! Right there—”

“UGH!”

Erik gripped her waist for leverage and he withdrew his hips. Fae spun around quickly and opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue. Erik held her gaze through his locs and his mouth formed an ‘O’ while he jerked himself. His cum shot out like a spider’s web. It covered Fae’s face and tongue. Erik couldn’t believe how much it was. Fae cleaned off as much as she could and then Erik left to grab a wet rag.

He returned and cleaned Fae off. They both went to the bathroom and after using the toilet, took a shower together. Fae let Erik fuck her up against the shower wall with her chest pressed against it. She reached behind her to hold onto his thigh while he took that pussy from behind. He slipped out and Fae got down on her knees again to clean him off. They were both satisfied.

When they were done, they both rubbed eachother down with the oil again and stood at his sink to tend to their scars. Fae sat on the sink and Erik took his time tending to her. She did the same for him, it was mostly his knuckles. It was so intimate.

Teeth brushed, Erik put a towel down on the bed to cover Fae’s mess and snuggled together beneath the sheets. Fae rested her head on Erik’s chest with one arm draped across his torso. Erik stared up at the ceiling while playing in her hair.

“I love you, Fae. I mean it.”

Fae sat up and looked up at Erik through her lashes.

“I know you do. I love you too.”

Erik shut his eyes and smirked. Fae caressed his thick lips with her fingertips. Erik caught them between his lips causing Fae to giggle.

@goddessofthundathighs @theegoldenchild @hearteyes-for-killmonger @imagining-greatness @chaneajoyyy @uzumaki-rebellion @theeblackmedusa @lisayourworries @bellleame @ratedbadgal @bombshellbre95 @cecereads209 @cancerianprincess @dameshaemonique @6lack-1otus @thickemadame @thickeeparker @stinkalinkkkk @ehniki @electrixit @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @bakarisprxncess @melodicheauxxlovesfood @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @bxolux @sweet2krazee @bluesole16 @90sisthenew80s @ispywithmylileye @geemamii @unbotheredblackchild @nubianbabee @adoreesun @blackpinup22 @nayaxwrites @dersha89 @honeytoffee @thickianaaaa @modelmemoirs @why-wait-4-eventually @angelicniah @queenfaithmarie @soulfulbeauty19 @asweet-serendipity @aijha @novaniskye @princessxotwod @callmemckenzieee @blowmymbackout @lahuttor @momobaby227 @blackerthings @kenbieee @palmstreesallday @kokokonako@coolfancyone @soulsparker @d3kstar @richgirlaesthetics @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @beautybyfire @abluesforlyssa @xo-goldengirl @mbakuetshurisprincess @4ftwonder @raysunshine78 @sensitivelegend @sourbabynaee @gotbeefbitch-blog @cool-fancyone @efonteno @akimi-youngblood @badassdoll @shyblackgurl @childishgambinaax @teheeboo @skylahb @gigafaex @readingaddict1290 @circeaphoenix @xsweetdellzx @carewornblackgirl @queengodiva619 @certifiedlesbianbaddie @seyven89 @jamaicanqueenaa

[poppyplate]

minor season 5 spoilers for lmk!!!

(some sketches + my thoughts on the new season :0)

this season was so good!! i'm gonna put my long rant about my thoughts below, just cause i have a lot of things i wanna talk about :3

animation: ik the animation change was jarring for some people and i did almost cry about flying bark leaving the show when the news first dropped, but i honestly think wildbrain did a great job and the animation is still super cute and fun. it's definitely different and you can tell, but they still do all the silly animation things that flying bark did and this season honestly had some of my favourite humor (visual and otherwise).

i'll definitely miss the old animation, fully hand drawn 2D animation is becoming harder to come by in cartoons now so it's sad to see this show lose one of the most exciting aspects of it, but i'm looking forward to seeing how wildbrain does in the following season(s?). i'm honestly just glad we're getting more monkie kid content.

plot: i did enjoy the plot they set up. this season did feel different pacing wise? if that makes sense. not that it's necessarily bad i just noticed it felt a bit different. i'm really excited to see more about this whole chaos thing.

ik li jing wasn't necessarily a villain, but he was an antagonist for a bit so i'm adding my two cents about him and nezha. i didn't love what they did with their story arc, but ik there's only so much that can be done in a 10 episode season where each episode is only 10 minutes long. i think their arc would've just benefited from more time :(

villain(s): i think the nine headed demon is such an interesting character (even though he did confuse me a bit) so i hope we get to see more of him. probably my favourite big bad so far personality-wise.

main characters: i'm glad sun wukong had more screentime this season!! he always either isn't around or gets trapped, so it's nice that he was present again.

i definitely felt this season focused a lot more on the monkie trio, which was bound to happen, but i like them so i was fine with it. idk how much of a redemption arc macaque is trying to have, but i kind of hope it's not a standard redemption arc. not that i didn't enjoy macaque's character this or any other season, i do like him most of the time. i just personally hope they keep him as more of a neutral figure even if he does stick around with the group.

i don't have much to say on mk that hasn't already been said. i love the guy and i hope he gets to be happy again soon T^T

side characters? ig: i thought mei and red son's episode was cute. i love dragonfruit interactions a lot, but i do hope red son gets some more screentime next season cause i miss him </3

i am happy sandy got some more screentime though, his episode with mk was cute. also tang was so real this season, he's just like me fr (i hate manual labor).

other notes and whatnot: this season felt shorter somehow, even though it wasn't and i'm not sure if we'll be getting a special like we always do or if they're just going to move on to the next season. either way, i'm excited to see where it goes from here.

although i wasn't in love with the ending of this season, it just felt a tad rushed and i definitely think we would've benefited from a few special episodes again.

i'd give this season a solid 8/10. i would love to go through all the episodes and share my thoughts on them, but i'm just gonna share my ranking of the episodes.

(i feel pretty even with 1-2 and 3-5)

1. collar the king

2. temple of the goddess

3. the cage

4. sacrifice

5. strings that bind

6. into the pagoda

7. claim to flame

8. harbinger

9. the storm within

10. festival fugitives

[uranium-bender]

The idea of azula and yue travelling constantly and surviving on the land is many things but mainly funny.

Both of these 2 are princesses, young girls who have spent their entire life in luxury and wealth, and now they have to survive living in the wilderness with no money or servants or experience. The only thing they’ve got is yue’s spiritness azula’s bending. They would complain and whine as much as they want but It’s not like anything would change because of that’s since they’re not around anyone to follow their wishes and commands, and then again azula is too prideful to act too much like a child and yue put herself in this situation so she can’t complain that much.

We already know azula is strategic and tactical so she would try to plan and micromanage every aspect of their travels, but nature isn’t like that, there are always gonna be surprises and unplanned factors playing in, I think that would help azula deal with her obsession of perfection and control.

Being with yue, a spirit, especially an important one like the moon spirit, helps. Animals and plants are gentler with her since spirits are more in tuned with nature. They tend to find good spots for camping and more than once animals help yue and subsequently azula find food and so. If their sailing or on water, it would be even easier, since the moon controls the tides.

They still have to assign chores: yue hunts, especially for sea food. Azula uses her fire to cook. Yue can identify the non poisonous plants and read the stars, and azula plans their trips in the most efficient way so the least time and energy is wasted as possible.

They still have to cross civilisation, towns and villages, for supplies and shelter during harsh weather and so. Yue handles most of the the socialising and people handling because, number one, she’s not as socially inept during non-conflict as azula, and number two, there’s a risk of them recognising azula, the fugitive fire nation princess. They’d need an alias and coverup story, so most of the time they just say they’re wives and they’re travelling together, since they’re too different to be relatives and saying their just friends undermine the value of their companionship (neither of them faced her feeling for the other and so both are in constant denial).

They probably participate in peasant activities as to not draw too much attention. So maybe they’ll go dancing during parties, and play games during festivals, basically just having fun. If they interacted with the other villagers for more than necessary it would either be comedic as they lie about their true selves as much as they can, or fuel a jealousy dynamic between them if either one was, or had a woman be, too friendly. I imagine they’re both very possessive and territorial of each other.

They can’t stay too long though, not longer than a week, they always leave at the end.

I can’t imagine their travels as completely peaceful. Even if fire nation soldiers aren’t looking for her to put her back in prison/asylum, azula has a lot of enemies in all the nations due to her status and also her actions. What if they come across a group targeting azula specifically, so now there’s another stake in their mission (which is literally just her staying alive). Cue to azula and yue training together. Azula teaching yue what she knows to the point yue’s waterbending look and behave more like firebending, and azula begin to do the same and take waterbending inspiration in her firebending. I’m thinking of ways they can combine their respective combat styles and be more efficient in battle, like yue covering a lot of opponents in water so azula can electrify them all at once. A lot of combination like that. They’d be an epic fighting duo.

But still the majority of their travels are filled with peaceful and domestic days. Yue cuddling azula for warmth in their joined tent, them stargazing and cloudgazing while they lay atop the grass. Telling each other their deepest secrets and wishes and childhood stories under the cover of the night while no one else hears them but each other and the sky. They grow impossibly closer to each other. Yue would panic and sweat and heave breath and have her body shake and tremor all over in terror if azula is away for more than usual, and of course, vice versa. They’re so in love, and they don’t even know it yet.

[jake-s-azaleea]

Dancing with our hands tied

Duskwood one shot

pairing: Jake X mc

warnings: I'm the best writer y'all know

a fanfic I promised in the comments of an incorrect quote 🤍

(if y'all didn't get it, the title is from a Taylor Swift song)

***

As time flowed onward, the band of companions who weathered a profound loss gravitated towards one another, forging bonds more profound than ever. MC relocated to Duskwood, taking up residence in a dwelling near Lilly's place of employment, while Jessy and Dan found themselves employed at Phil's Bar, with Jessy immersed in administrative tasks behind the scenes. Cleo remained dedicated to her mother's ventures, and Thomas... his frequent companionship with Hannah hinted at a blossoming connection. Their unity grew steadfast as they discovered solace in each other's presence.

Jake, still evading capture, continued his fugitive existence. With the case concluded, he no longer needed to risk himself as he did in the past, allowing him to slip away for extended periods, evading detection until his trail could be picked up once more. The winding roads beckoned him toward his elusive destination, guiding him to where he felt he truly belonged- Next to her.

It's been a year and everything feels normal. The Pine Glade Festival was getting closer and Jessy planned a whole day of activities for them.

They were all staying at Aurora at a table listening to her and the perfect fantasy she imagined.She looked like she was getting her colour back into her face after all this time. She looked more content, her eyes reflecting a newfound sense of peace. It's a subtle shift, but one that speaks volumes. She was destroyed after the incident and didn't speak to anyone for a whole month.

a part of her died in that fire.

But now they were all so invested in her plans for a perfect day. The road to the waterfall was now opened and she wanted so badly to go there. the others just agreed and smiled at her.

A few days passed and the Pine Glade Festival came. They were supposed to meet there at 6 PM.

***

You grab your phone, keys and wallet and head towards the center of the town. The sun lingered in the sky, casting its gentle glow over the town, its pale rays painting the streets with a comforting warmth. As daylight stretched its fingers across the rooftops and cobblestone paths, the town seemed to bask in a tranquil embrace, a serene moment captured in the soft light of day.

You get there pretty early, but your train of thoughts is stopped by the sound of your phone buzzing.

Jake: I see you.

You sigh, your lips curving into a small smile. 'Of course you do' you thought to yourself.

You glance around and catch sight of him standing by a terrace, clad in a black hoodie. Despite the distance veiling his eyes, his shy smile is unmistakable, a subtle yet intriguing expression that hints at hidden depths beneath the surface. You sprint towards him, your heart racing with anticipation, and envelop him in a tight embrace, your arms encircling his neck in a moment of closeness and connection. The rush of emotions floods through you, mingling with the thrill of the unexpected encounter in the midst of the mysterious setting.

His gaze meets yours, a silent exchange of emotions and unspoken words

"Hi there"

"Hello, MC."

"We should get going, the others must be waiting for us."

"After you." he said smiling, his gestures expressing for you to lead the way.

You two walk in a comfortable silence most of the way until you see the others in distance. As you approach them, Jake's gaze meets yours:

"How are you feeling?"

"I will be fine"

He sighs and puts his hand on the small of your back, slowly closing the distance between you and your friends. He knew what this day meant to you. Losing Richy must still sting after all this time and being here after a year... Perhaps torture.

"Hello guys"

"Hi, MC! Hi, Jake! I'm so glad you could make it here" Jessy exclaimed happily.

"Oh, me too, you have no idea" you said smiling warmly.

You warmly greeted everyone and embarked on a journey through the festival, immersing yourself in every game and delight it had to offer, savoring each moment of joy and excitement. You anchored yourself in these moments, enjoying them wholeheartedly next to your friends.

You found yourself in a spot where the music was enchanting, and the atmosphere was filled with joy as people danced and had a great time.

Thomas and Hannah flew like two lovebirds towards the platform and started dancing, their movements as light as a feather. The sheer joy radiating from them was truly enchanting, spreading like a sweet melody through the air: it was just intoxicating. Jessy led the charge, followed by Cleo, Lilly, and Dan, while you and Jake strolled behind, soaking in the magical moment. The scene was filled with energy and excitement, creating a vibrant and lively atmosphere.

As you were walking quietly and listening to the music, you decide to break the silence.

"Do you dance?"

"No." he said without looking in your direction.

"Oh, alright."

"Ask me anyway"

"Do you want to dance with me?"

"Yes." he said glancing at you.

You smiled, maintaining eye contact as you got to the dance floor.

He extended his hand for you to grasp, guiding you onto the platform. As the music enveloped you both, you began to dance as if the melody was composed solely for the two of you. With each note, Jake skillfully led you in the dance, creating a harmonious and captivating rhythm between you.

After a few songs, a slow one began, and he drew you near, enveloping you in the gentle embrace of the music. The closeness between you two added a layer of intimacy to the dance, intensifying the emotions shared in that moment.

"When did you learn how to dance?" you asked.

"I figured you might want to dance today so... I did my research."

"You learnt to dance for me?"

He said nothing in return but tightened his embrace.

Maybe home has a heartbeat 🤍

****

I just loved writing this

prompts to @duskwood-mc-art for inspiring me to write it

[bearlytolerant]

Fandom: Star Wars: The Acolyte

Pairing: Qimir x fReader

Fic Rating: E

Chapter Rating: M

AO3

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

SEVEN

A sharp intake of breath and you jolt upright as a boot digs into your side. Your landlord’s face comes into focus as you rub away sleep. The elderly woman snaps her goggles over her eyes as she hunches, nose scrunched as she squints, scrutinizing you. There’s another scream that echoes in the streets, followed by an outbreak of cacophonous commotion. Something shatters followed by a series of grunts and droid protocol interference.

Must be another fight in the trinket markets. Your panic washes away.

“Someone here to see you.” She jerks a thumb toward the hall then grunts,“Jedi.”

Panic rips you back into the undercurrent. You tumble out of your bed, noticing the cortosis helmet from your dreams as it hits the ground and rolls away.

No. That can’t be right. It’s not real. It’s not.

It hits the wall and stops, those familiar rounded metal teeth mocking you in your disbelief.

It is real.

Shit.

Not again.

There’s instinct to blame Qimir for dropping into your life, but the only one to blame is the person staring back at you in the dingy, dirty mirror hanging on the wall at the end of your bed as you throw back your covers. Maybe a little blame for the stranger who you should be calling Master. But he didn’t force you to visit him in dreams. He only planted an idea. You made sure it grew into—your eyes flick back to the cortosis helmet as your feet hit the floor.

Your landlord hobbles out of the room while you scoop up clothes from the clean laundry pile next to your bed. You stuff your legs into a loose pair of pants. Arms into a tee, layered under a synth leather vest with pockets aplenty. Fingers into your usual fingerless gloves. Socks and sturdy, laced boots last and you’re snatching up the helmet, tucking it into the crevice of your pit as you sneak out of your room. You creep down the hallway. Two, four, six steps and your fingers reach out to tap the code into the keypad, hoping the Jedi doesn’t reach you before you slip outside. A few impatient breaths and you hear muffled voices in the hallway.

“Come on. Come on,” you mutter to yourself.

A hushed click and the door swings open.

“Stop! You’re under arrest in accordance with—”

You sprint. Helmet rattles but stays tucked up under your arm. Your hip bumps into a bystander and their grunted swears hit your back as you continue to weave through the streets knowing the Jedi is on your heels.

“Stop them!”

Not a glance is spared behind you. Looking back means inevitable failure.

Chest pounding, lungs nearly bursting, you propel yourself forward. Feet slamming against the ground, you take a turn behind the markets where the street is decorated with brightly colored clothes hung from lines stretched from window to window all the way up to the sky. A festival of garments. With your free hand, you yank a few outfits free and release them, letting them fly out behind you, hoping they’re enough of a distraction. You kick over a rubbish bin for good measure and a part of you wants to use the Force. Slow them down. But you know if you do, the Jedi will swarm you like hot shit in summer. You’re not that powerful. Not yet.

Another right and you can see the shape of the apothecary. Your heart tugs at the realization you won’t get to say goodbye to Qimir. Your feet slow. A swallow but your mouth is too dry. Shaking your head, you pick up the pace.

Maybe you’ll see him again one day. But for now, you have to keep running. So you do.

A quick glance back at the apothecary and you spot a Jedi. They turn their head in your direction. You dart out of view and dive into the nearby dumpster. The helmet bangs against the side, rolling away as you duck under the metal lip of the dumpster. Your heart rate skyrockets as you press yourself against the side of the dumpster, voices on the outside growing louder.

“Have you seen this fugitive?” A deep baritone asks and you still your breathing.

It benefits you doubly, quelling the stench and keeping you from bursting from panic. Beneath you, there’s a million maggots as the trash sifts and a familiar shock of clothing peeks through the layers of rotten food and mold covered cardboard boxes. A quick swipe and you can easily identify Nej’s cloak. He loved lining the colorful patchwork with bottle caps and safety pins. You don’t need to know if the rest of his body is under there. You stifle your scream and the urge to wretch as your fingers hook around the top edge of the dumpster. A short peek and the Jedi isn’t there anymore. A quick jump up and you hurl yourself back onto the ground. Hurl yourself away from the rank and vile dumpster.

Gulping in fresh air, you check to make sure your path is clear and scan for the helmet. You don’t see it and crunched for time, you’ll have to just let it lie and hope the stranger doesn’t get angry at you for losing. It’s there that you spot Qimir outside, chatting with the Jedi. He briefly catches your eye and you wonder if he’ll give up your location. Will he betray you in the end? He wouldn’t.

Anyone is capable.

You shut up the voice in your head. There’s no time to dwell on it.

Qimir leads the Jedi to the front of the apothecary, opposite of you, and you chastise yourself for doubting him. Veering away from the apothecary, you dart down another alley that spits you out closer to the spaceport. A brief glance around the corner and you spy yet another Jedi questioning a nearby pedestrian with their back turned to you. There’s no time to guess how many more are on your tail.

Does it matter when you’re clearly outnumbered?

You take off to the left, zigzagging through clueless civilians, trying your best to stick to shadows in your escape. Rounding the back of the cantina, you pause momentarily as another Jedi passes by—a padawan you note with the singular brunette braid that tumbles down their back. Once they’re further away, you slink along the cantina wall, catching a glimpse of the expansive port looming in the short distance. Nearly tripping over a fallen gonk droid, you beam for the smallest ship. Caught up in a false sense of security and freedom, you close the distance.

A Force push hits you by surprise and you fly backwards. Air whooshes, filling your ears. You crumple into a pile of crates then rebound, a million splinters suspending as they shoot up into the air with you. You feel weightless, almost as free as a bird skimming through the sky, defying gravity with three whole deep intakes of breath. Your body folds in on itself before gravity humbles you, yanking you downward. Thunk. A hard crack against the ground, between the broken crates, and your breath leaves your lungs. Pain alights through your limbs. Pricks and needles dig into your nerves. It burns relentlessly like that peppery spice you sometimes put on your noodles.

But you can’t dwell on it.

Get up. Get up. Get up.

It’s too hard to breathe and your limbs won’t obey your commands. Your eyes flick to the clouded sky and the nose of a large ship as a shadow falls over you.

A tsk and you shut your eyes.

“You’ve managed to avoid me for many years but its time to quit fleeing and face the council.”

You know that voice, embedded in scorn, all too well. Your father—or at least the man who sheltered you for much of your youth—curls his fingers around your vest as you’re lifted to your feet. The toes of your boots scrape against the dirt as he reminds you of his strength. Your eyes fly open again, cementing what you know to be true. He has the eyes of that beast in your darkest recurring dream. And his hair is just as dark, layered in gentle waves around his angular face. If you didn’t know better, you’d say his face is the kind that’s trustworthy, noble and good. That’s what he should be. What a Jedi should be. But you know better now.

“Just get it over with,” you spew the words, jaw tightening as your teeth clench together.

Eyes roaming over his face, your mind floods with ancient memories and you choke back the nausea bubbling in the back of your throat. Your father wears an eyepatch over his right eye. Behind it lies a jagged scar left by your own hand. Accidental or purposeful? You’ve never been able to sort out the truth. You want to forget it but it’s impossible when it's blatantly leering at you. Is the mark you left a faded pink now? Or is it still blood red?

“I’m surprised you’ve finally grown some sense. I suppose all those years apart helped you develop at least one redeemable character trait.”

He’s always loved his lectures and monologues. You don’t bother wasting anymore words on this man. Refuse to let him launch into a speech that’s meant to assassinate any good qualities you might have in you. If there is still any. You blink away the thought that matches his voice and not your own and refocus. Your father is right about one thing, and one thing only. You are more sensible. It’s why you’ll never turn yourself over to the Jedi—to him.

The Force buzzes in your mind. Snapping your arm back, you summon all the splinters from the broken crates with a flick of your wrist. They fly like miniature daggers, ripping into his robes and lodging themselves into his exposed skin: throat, forearms, knuckles. Blood gathers in little rivulets that stream down his skin and drip.

He shrieks. Reels away, releasing you.

Two steps back and you’re further from him but not far enough.

He recovers quick.

Too quick.

The familiar static hum of his lightsaber descends on you and you dodge, rolling to the left as he slashes at the air. You crawl backwards, scraping your hands.

“I’m unarmed. Aren’t you afraid somebody will see you acting dishonorably?” you ask as you hasten to your feet.

A grin and he powers down the lightsaber.

“I wouldn’t actually harm you. You know I love you. I just need you to know this is serious business. And that no matter how much love I have for you, it cannot prevent the inevitable outcome. There are consequences for your actions.” He offers his empty hand. “Are you willing to surrender? Make it easier for the both of us? I know you still have it in you to make the right choice.”

He beckons you and takes a step forward. But you know he’s always been a liar. He means to hurt you. Slowly he circles you and you feel small. Like a helpless creature to be snapped up in his maw. He was always a tall and broad man but it’s his presence and the coldness in his good eye, reserved specially for you, that heightens that small feeling. It’s infuriating to cower before him but you find yourself doing it anyway.

“You know I can’t do that,” you whisper, eyes falling to your feet.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Another whisper of a voice enters your mind.

Passion is your strength.

The remembered words fill you with vigor and courage. Surviving is your passion. Survival is your strength. You snap your head up in defiance and throw your hand forward. A Force push against the ground sends dust and dirt into the air, obfuscating your father’s view.

“That old trick?” He laughs at you. “Disappointing.”

Then your lungs constrict and your body is tugged in his direction. The air is closing off as his Force grip tightens around your neck. In the dust, his one eye bores into you as he shoves you down, head smashing against the ground. The dust slowly settles around you as your eyes bulge. You claw at his wrists and kick your feet at his fluttering robes for as long as you can. But it’s hard to breathe.

You stop fighting.

You can’t fight.

Arms still at your sides.

Look at the clouds. Look at the clouds. Look at the clouds and breathe.

One labored breath and you see the clouds.

Grey and swirling and blocking the sun.

Will the rain come?

Your eyes roll.

Vision blurs.

Pinned with slowed breath, you know you're trapped and you’ll have to face your forced surrender. If your father doesn’t kill you first. He won’t. He won’t. He will just make sure you feel the full extent of suffering he thinks you deserve. And nobody is going to save you from this torture. Even if there’s nearby workers, you know they’ll turn a blind eye to Jedi business.

You’re on your own.

Alone.

Hope is as black as the back of your closed eyelids.

But then your father is ripped off of you and you choke in air. Eyes fly back open.

The blue of his saber lights up as he scrambles back to his feet. You roll onto your right side, curling into a ball as you desperately gulp in more air. Another lightsaber, crimson, threatens your father and you’re left gaping when you see the stranger of your dreams, somehow wearing the helmet you’d lost in your escape. He’s more menacing in the daylight. His stride is more powerful. His presence is large, though his stature doesn’t match your father’s. You can’t see his face but you know his intent. The muscle of his arm tightens as he throws his saber at your father. It spins, gaining speed as it slices through the air. The saber doesn’t land. A lucky dodge from your father, but it comes at the expense of a lock of hair as the saber boomerangs back into the stranger’s hand.

Another deep breath as you pull up onto an elbow.

The stranger—your Master—closes the distance between himself and your father. He aims for the kill. But your father parries the blow. Their sabers clash. Sparks split off, scattering in pretty colors before disappearing.

You’re finally on hands and knees. You crawl forward, away from the foray. Glance back. The helmeted stranger is chaos in battle. You’ve never seen anyone fight like him but there is a method to his madness. He is both agility and power and unafraid to use his hands. Other Jedi have joined in the fray and you watch with horror and fascination as he snaps a neck with his bare hands. A glance at you and he flicks two fingers towards your destination—the smallest ship. It’s your cue to flee.

Up on your feet again, you will yourself to sprint the remainder of the distance to the landing ramp. A droid wanders down, crates stacked in its four metaloid arms, ignoring you as you slip by.

Just a few more steps and you’re inside the ship, stumbling your way to the cockpit. It’s been a long time since you’ve flown a ship and you’ve never stolen one before. You glance out of the window, hoping you have time to plan your escape still. But your father and the stranger are nowhere to be found. There’s Jedi bodies strewn about and you force yourself to look away. It’s more dire to get off this planet now than ever before.

You hit a switch and the radio blasts in your ears. Hit that same switch back off. A hand clasps your shoulder. You jump, startled by the touch. Hands closing in fists, you prepare to face your father.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. It’s just me.”

“Fuck! Qimir, you can’t do that! How the hell did you find me?”

“I followed you after I saw you in the street and then I saw that fight. Who was that Jedi?”

“Nobody important,” you reply. “Look I don’t have time to sit and chat right now. I need to figure out how to get this ship going.”

“Do you know where you’re going?” he asks.

“No,” you say.

He shakes his head and grins. “Move. I’ll get us out of here. This is my ship anyway.”

You gape at him as you trade places. You sit down in the jump seat behind him, fastening yourself in. “You have a ship?” You ask, peering around his chair to get a partial look at him.

“You don’t?” he asks as he pulls up the navicomputer and enters destination coordinates. It’s not long before the ship lifts.

You shake your head. “I kind of crash landed here years ago. By the time I earned enough creds to repair it, scrappers had taken everything and left me with a skeleton. At that point, I’d settled in here and didn’t really plan to leave.”

The ship shakes through the bit of turbulence as you break through the atmosphere and enter space.

“But then that nobody special showed up.”

“Exactly.” You sigh.

“You need to rest,” Qimir says. “You’ve been through a lot. Why don’t you head back to the bunk and lie down? I can take it from here.”

You hesitate, adrenaline down, remembering that Qimir had a life before you. But now he’s an accomplice to you. You’ve disrupted his life. Shame pools in your gut. “Qimir, I don’t think you should come with me. You’ll be wanted.”

“Well it’s a little late now, don’t you think?”

“It’s never too late. I can hitch a ride in the cargo of another ship—”

“Do you want me here?”

“Yes but—”

“Good. Because I also want to be here.”

“But what about your job?”

“I can sell poison from anywhere.”

The statement sends your world reeling. You always knew you could be participating in shady work but you hoped—“Poison?” You blurt, annoyed. Though you have no right to be at this point.

“Surprise,” he says and shoos you away. “Now go. Drink water. Maybe eat. Definitely lay down and sleep. Hopefully, when you wake up, you’ll be worry free.”

“I don’t think that will happen if my father is still alive.”

“Jedi Master Nobody Special is your father?”

You get out of your seat just to playfully smack him on the shoulder. “Very funny.”

Qimir’s brows raise as he shrugs. “He’s intense.”

“That’s one word for it.” You should be grateful to be rid of your father for now but there’s a part of you that can’t help but wonder what became of him. “Did you happen to see how the fight ended?”

“The guy in the helmet incapacitated the Jedi, I believe,” he finally says. “Saw him get tossed into a dumpster from where I was standing.”

You don’t know why you feel relief. You should want your father dead. You’d really be free if he was. “I wonder why he was left alive?”

Qimir shrugs. “Mercy maybe?”

“He doesn’t seem the type to be merciful,” you mutter.

“You know the helmet guy? Is he also nobody special?”

You ignore the sarcasm. “Just a gut feeling,” you say, knowing ‘helmet guy’ is nothing but special to you. Even more so now.

“Mmm,” Qimir replies, like he doesn’t believe you. And he shouldn’t.

A silence passes between the two of you and you shift uneasily from one foot to another. “So do you have any idea where you’re going?”

“Outer rim. I know a few planets to hide out on.”

“I imagine so if you’re poisoning people.”

“I just sell the stuff.”

“Right,” you say.

“But selling poison hasn’t always been my thing. Done a lot of jobs. Some not so great, like gunrunning for the Hutts. I wouldn’t say it was my best work.”

“I can’t picture you as a gunrunner.”

“It’s better if you don’t.”

“You said it wasn’t your best work, did you get caught?”

“I made it on a wanted list but never got caught.” You can hear the grin in his voice.

“Is that why you took up the job as apothecary?”

“Not exactly.”

“What do you mean?”

“Listen, as much as I love playing twenty questions with you, it would be better if you got some sleep and I got us safely to our destination. Don’t you agree?”

You sigh. “Fine. But I’m not letting this go.”

“I wouldn’t want you to.”

He raises a hand and shoos you away again. But you pause, squeezing his shoulder. Even after what you’ve learned of him, you’re glad he’s with you. “Thank you.”

“I told you you’d need me. And you’re welcome.”

You chuckle and shake your head. Reluctantly you go. Slumping down into the bunk, dirt and boots and all, exhaustion hits you. Your back and sore throat beg for respite. Though questions still loom in your mind, you close your eyes, drifting asleep to the hum of the grav drive.

[rosamundpikesource]

Rosamund Pike poses for a portrait for ‘Fugitive Pieces’ during the 2007 Toronto International Film Festival on September 8, 2007 in Toronto, Canada.

Ph. Matt Carr

[chaoticclownage]

Honkai Star Rail Sona/OC!

Info below the cut:

Star is a 5 star Imaginary character following the path of Destruction. As the brute member of the IRS, they possess large scale mutli-target damage capabilities and great strength on the battlefield.

Star is a founding member of the IRS (the abbreviation of the IPC Resistance Squad's name being something they found quite humorous and ironic). Before, they travelled from planet to planet as a wanted fugitive with a thirst for revenge, striking IPC buildings and landing zones independently. They want only one thing, and that's the total destruction of the entirety of the IPC, and they won't rest until they see it's presence erased from the universe.

As one of the last few Draconians left in existence, they are highly empathetic towards those who have been forced away from their homes, or are of a dying race. Despite having no ties to the IPC, Star has dismantled a number of poaching rings and illegal animal trade markets during their travels. They also show great hospitality and respect towards other dragonesque individuals, such as the Scions of Long the Permanence.

Star sports a friendly and excitable personality towards those not affiliated with the IPC. Easily distracted and filled with a sense of beauty and wonder towards all of the unique sights and individuals across the cosmos, something they never knew of before leaving the ruined battlefields of their homeworld. Though it's unclear if the smile on their face is merely a façade to hide the deep rooted rage that burns under the surface, only visible through the the light that glows from the namesake "star" in Star's chest. During downtime between missions, they often go to arcades, raves, and carnivals. This is likely due to the lively atmosphere and music reminding them of the grand festivals and holiday celebrations of home.

"I'd rather remember the good days, and avenge the bad ones. Otherwise the sweetness in my mouth will turn bitter. And that's no way to live."

[icy-watch]

Is it bad that I really want a classic MK and Mei Adventure?

[dark-elf-writes]

Feral teen mom Harry Au

All top tens know about magic. They have to , if they want to protect the world as best they can.

All Might initially was going to arrest Harry, because he was legally dead and faking your death is bad. However, he realizes that if he does, then he leaves a child alone. He doesn’t know much about Nana’s son, but he does know it was devestatijg to have to leave him.

He doesn’t arrest Harry, and if he is a bit kinder when it comes to his training exercises and if he tries to learn about trauma so he doesn’t have a repeat of his first class with the lights being blown up, well. No one needs to know.

(He starts to realize that maybe, just maybe, he had been on top of the world for too long and had stopped seeing people as people. He vows to fix that, and starts by donating to quirkless and mutant charities. And maybe he starts to notice the signs in a violet eyed, blonde boy of something more sinister, and reaches out.)

Endeavour immediately tries to arrest Harry at the sports festival, and he isn’t having it. Harry knows his darkest secrets (boys too small burnt and scarred for forever, a girl forced to be a mother too young, a boy ignored for what he lacks, and a woman forced to wed too young to be legal.) Endeavour feels fear in the first time in how long.

(And if a certain red and white boy saw this, and felt hope for the first time in who knows how long, well, he could always go up to Harry. And if Harry claims that boy and connects him to the brother he thought gone forever, well. Harry always did like making families whole again, not like how his turned out to be.)

Hawks only really starts to care about Harry existence after Tokoyami brings it up, about his friend who always tried to give Tokoyami his lunch (the bird was too small, too jumpy, and never wore shorts or sleeveless tops) even when he had only bites.

Meeting him, Hawks shook his hand and stared him down. Keep him safe was the unspoken agreement between them. And if Hawks started to take Tokoyami on patrols more after that meeting well…he wants a chick, and Tokoyami needs someone to care for him. (He won’t let another kid go through what he did.)

(Harry always made fun of Dabi for his crush on the bird, and for his caring nature when it came to the two people Harry claimed. Harry wishes, in the unshattered part of his heart, they could be together.)

Harry Potter was strange.

It was the thought that hit most heroes when meeting the Once Savior turned fugitive.

He didn’t fit the expectation of a “mad dark lord to be who died before he could start his reign of terror” like Magical England kept claiming him to be but he was certainly… odd. Unsettling. All of them had met magicals good and bad before but Harry felt like neither. (It was only Hawks that truly understood what the feeling was like. Who had the same beast hiding just underneath his skin. Harry Potter was a living breathing weapon and he had slipped his leash.)

They handled that difference with… varying degrees of success.

All Might had started off on a bad foot before their meeting had ever truly started. Slamming into the room so suddenly had startled Harry so badly that every light on the entire floor of the building exploding all at once. It didn’t get any better when, after Harry had seemingly calmed down — eyes constantly darting, breath carefully measured, one hand always free and ready to grab the wand he no longer needed — the drills had started. Harry had made it halfway through the matchup with Bakugou and Midoriya before he had disappeared from the observation room with a sharp crack pulling all four kids from the building just before it crumbled and taking an explosion point blank for his trouble and had shook it off like it was nothing. He swung on All Might when he ran up. The Number One hero could not blame him.

He comes to Harry slowly after that, always one step forward for every three back but he slowly manages to if not win the child’s trust (an impossibility he is sure at least for him. Harry was too wary around him. Eyes full of too many shadows.) at least assure him that he means to harm to him or his little pack he had built. That tentative truce was all but shattered when Harry worked out the secret of One For All and had to be pulled hissing and screaming from the room before he could finish the job All For One had started. The hurled screams accusing him of sending Midoriya to their death would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Endeavor would never admit to being afraid of the little Dark Lord. Harry was barely over five feet tall, more often than not carrying a baby, and looked like a stiff wind would blow him over. He was not afraid of him.

(He would never forget the pressure that had pressed him down to his knees outside of Shouto’s prep room at the sport’s festival, never forget the writhing shadows behind the boy that made him appear taller, never forget the ice cold grip around his throat after he had waved away Endeavor’s fire like it was nothing and bared his teeth in the Number Two Hero’s face.

“Do you want to talk about sins, Enji Todoroki?” Harry had hissed at him with eyes burning with green fire. “Try looking to your own home first. I certainly have, and your flames don’t burn hot enough for all the skeletons in your closet.”)

He is not afraid of Harry Potter… but he never tries to arrest him again.

Hawks would have been content to ignore Harry Potter if he was entirely honest. So the kid has slipped his leash, good for him. Anyone stupid enough to try to take it back deserved what they got as far as Hawks was concerned. The danger of raising a person to be a weapon was that they could always turn back to cut the hand that wielded them and once they did… well it was a lot harder to hold a blade with hands slick with blood. Then his little fledgling intern had brought up his friend during work studies (okay so Hawks caught him laughing at his phone during off hours and annoyed him into telling him who it was out of professional concern) and Hawks couldn’t not ask more.

Tokoyami’s little savior. The half wild thing that hissed at him the first time they met. And his chick’s first friend. Looking at Harry Potter was like looking into a mirror, albeit before Hawks’ less marketable traits had been trained out of him, and Hawks was grateful for it.

Keigo was grateful for it.

He knew from that first meeting that an understanding had been reached. That the two of them would look over Tokoyami as a team. (And perhaps that if Keigo should ever want to slip his own leash that there was someone who understood waiting for him on the other side)

[littlemisspascal]

Anytime, Anyplace, Anywhere

pairing: modern-ish Pero x Female Reader

summary: In which Reader is a newspaper columnist with few self-preservation instincts, Statesman is an insurance company with a catchy jingle, and Pero is the insurance agent assigned to look after you. Except only two outta three of these statements are true.

word count: 3k+

rating: T

warnings: Reader is nameless with no description except for being shorter than Pero, language, blood, violence, guns, non-major character death, Author’s poor attempt at humor, Author knows nothing about insurance and/or a career in journalism, mistaken identity, supernatural elements, worldbuilding

author note: this is what happens when I watch Puss in Boots The Last Wish and then a Statefarm commercial and then random inspiration sparks. It’s borderline a crack fic, but hey, sometimes that’s what the muse wants. I even have more scenes outlined beyond this so...Hopefully someone out there enjoys this 😊 

The story of how you wound up in Wader’s Rest is a rather boring chain of events that can be summed up as follows: you graduate with a journalism degree, spend the next five years trying and failing to convince a major news outlet to hire you all the while typing up fluff pieces for your hometown’s website so you can afford food and other necessities, receive a job offer out of the fucking blue offering you a columnist job in a town hundreds of miles away, decide screw it let’s go and…yeah, that’s about it. For these last six months, Wader's Rest has been your new home.

Wader's Rest is a medium-sized-ish community settled along the southern coastline, perpetually smelling of freshly caught fish and sea salt. It’d be a decent tourist destination, in your opinion, if it wasn’t also a hive of criminal activity, crawling with smugglers and drug dealers and fugitives. The city can be split into two types of people: crime-doers and crime-avoiders. 

Oh, yeah, and then there’s you in a solo category of your own making: crime-seeker. Insert trumpet fanfare here.

There’s a grand total of one newspaper responsible for updating residents on all things Wader's Rest-related. Wader’s Reader has a staff of twelve working all hours of the day in an ugly brick building on the corner of Main Street, right across from a coffee shop you’re 65% sure is a front for black market antiques but it’s also the only place that doesn’t judge the ungodly amount of sugar you pour in your drink so. Until that percentage rises up to 100%, you reckon it’s alright giving them a pass in the meantime.

In a time where a quick search on your phone or computer can answer any conceivable question you have in seconds, the residents of Wader's Rest are strangely protective of their newspaper. Like, Gollum my precious! kind of protective. The most likely reason is probably because the internet access out here is so painfully slow it’s practically nonexistent, but you like to think they actually look forward to reading your column. No more writing about baking contests and music festivals, not when you’ve discovered the addictive adrenaline rush of investigating the many, many, many crimes of Wader's Rest. Nothing else gets your blood pumping as much as witnessing an illegal exchange of weapons in the back parking lot of a Wendy’s. 

So it isn’t uncommon then, to spend your nights crouched behind dumpsters (or sometimes even inside them) or picking locks or doing other shady-as-hell-if-you-had-any-other-job activities in order to gather all the facts and details you need to write the perfect piece for your loyal readers. Insert inspiring quote here like fortune favors the bold or whatever.

It also isn’t uncommon for your nights to end either in the hospital or covered in so many bandages it looks like you spent the night in the hospital. You’re on a first name basis with most of the staff, including Dr. William Garin who’s got such vibrant crystal blue eyes he could’ve been a glasses modeler in another life. Shame he’s got such overwhelming heart-eyes for your boss or you’d be severely tempted to shoot your shot.

Anyways.

See, the problem is, you’re not exactly a master of subtlety yet, and also some of your column subjects don’t always appreciate being watched like they’re zoo animals—they appreciate it even less when you point out that conducting their illegal business in creepy alleyways and abandoned warehouses doesn’t magically make them invisible. Really, any Average Joe could stroll right in and watch the proceedings.

You grunt, head banging against a cement wall so hard you see stars. A meaty fist tightens its grip on your shirt, holding you high enough the toes of your sneakers barely scuff the ground, while the owner of that fist—so massively muscular he’s more of a grizzly bear than a man—glares down at you through narrowed eyes.

Yeah, all those Average Joes really don’t know the fun they're missing out on. Concussions plus bruised, possibly cracked ribs equal exciting times

“Hey Big Mac,” you wheeze, blinking until your vision’s more or less clear and his unimpressed face swims into focus. “Did you get more muscles? You look like you got more muscles.”

If possible, his unimpressed look increases. 

Big Mac’s been a recurring foe since your first week in Wader's Rest when you went out for a midnight McDonald’s run—you have a weak spot for their McFlurries, alright?—and discovered him throwing bricks at the neighboring weed shop’s front window. Where he got the sack of bricks remains a mystery, but upon shattering the glass he was in and out in a matter of thirty seconds with an armful of edibles before disappearing into the darkness of night. You’d been so stunned by the whole ordeal not only had you forgotten to call the police, but your McFlurry had melted before you’d even tasted it.

You’ve lost count at this point how many times he’s been featured in one of your columns. Big Mac’s like a really nasty stain on a white shirt, impossible to ignore, but he’s also smooth as fucking butter, sliding out of cuffs before any charges can stick. You don’t even know the giant’s real name (don’t care to learn it either, the nicknames you hand out like free candy add some extra pizazz to the writing)—just that he likes edibles and that when he’s not breaking store windows he can usually be found working as a henchman for any one of the twenty something crime lords in the city. Apparently they don’t mind sharing lackeys so long as there’s no loose lips. Snitches wind up in ditches after all. 

Tonight you’ve interrupted a clandestine meeting in the factory district between Big Mac and a new fellow you’d decided to call Stringbean due to his lithe frame—you never claimed to be creative with your nicknaming ability. All it took was accidentally knocking over a trash can with a deafening bang and here you are, helpless as an overturned turtle, hoping you can talk your way out of this predicament with as little bloodshed as possible.

The telltale cocking of a gun immediately dampens those hopes.

Both you and Big Mac look to the sound, finding Stringbean aiming a pistol your direction. He’s a nervous-looking thing, sweat shining on his brow, and there’s few things in life as scarily unpredictable as a twitchy man with a loaded gun. 

“What are you doing,” Big Mac rumbles without any inflection in his tone.

“We agreed no witnesses,” is the breathy, slightly nasally response. Nothing about Stringbean–aside from the weapon in his hands–screams bad guy. He’s thin, bespectacled, suit too neatly pressed like it’s his Sunday best clothes. You estimate him lasting about a week before the bigger sharks gobble him up and spit out his—you squint, oh good lord—his bumblebee patterned bow tie as the only evidence of his existence. 

“Witness?” you pipe up. “Witness to what exactly? Care to shed some light–ugh!”

The rest of your sentence ends in another choked wheeze as Big Mac shoves you against the wall again. Yep, something’s definitely broken in your body now. He’s not even looking at you, the bastard, like you’re not even a worthy enough threat to keep an eye on for any devious tricks.

Instead, Big Mac says something to Stringbean, probably some kind of grumbling threat about tearing Stringbean’s head from his shoulders if he doesn’t put the gun away, but the thunderous whooshing of blood in your ears prevents you from hearing if that’s right or not. It’s a good line though, the kind of line that tempts you to sneak it into your draft and hope your boss doesn’t cross it out with that damn red pen of hers, possessing a special sixth sense for sniffing out bullshit.

Stringbean retorts something that’s also lost on you–God, you really need to invest in a tape recorder, or some sort of phone app–but whatever he says has Big Mac dropping you without warning, lunging at the smaller man like a lion after a mouse. You fall on your hands and knees with a faint yelp, gritting your teeth at the instant blooms of pain shooting along your nerve endings. It takes you a second to collect yourself, but it’s a second too long to have wasted, remembering too late how dangerous your situation is—

Bang.

A scream escapes you, cowering against the wall in a scrunched up ball. Big Mac’s lying on the ground, unmoving, a chunk of his shoulder missing and gallons of blood gushing out like a damn river. Oh shit. Oh holy fucking shit. Stringbean’s on the cusp of hyperventilating, seeming unable to process his own actions, and then those anxious, too-wide eyes lock onto you. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“I’m sorry,” Stringbean says, and he actually sounds sincere. But the effect is immediately dulled when he lines up the gun directly with your face.

One would think, being mere seconds from a bullet entering your brain, that you’d have some kind of epiphany about the meaning of life. See flashes from your childhood, hear an angelic chorus, that kinda thing. The odds aren’t in your favor. There’s no healing from a headshot at this close range. You are going to die and the only stupid fucking thing you can think about is that damn catchy jingle.

Squeezing your eyes shut, words tumble out of your mouth at a frantic speed, “Anytime, anyplace, anywhere Statesman is there!”

Stringbean pulls the trigger.

—

Statesman designing a new kind of workers compensation insurance specifically catered for your risky lifestyle had been your boss’ idea. She knew the head guy of the company, some old bearded fellow straight out of a Wild West Eastwood movie called Champagne (no last name, just like Cher), pulled a couple of strings (which is probably code for glared him into submission), handed you a pen, got your signature, and boom—as of three days ago, Lin proudly informed you “You’re completely covered. Cuts, broken bones, rabid squirrel attacks, the whole shebang. Now get out of my office.”

You’d liked your old insurance and had been quite happy with their care, thank you very much. But there’s no arguing with Lin when she gets that glint in her eye like some kind of bird of prey. And besides, forcing insurance on you is a sign she cares, right? That’s what you’ll keep telling yourself anyways.

The commercials are enjoyable, you can admit that at least. Especially the ones where there’s some kind of dangerous situation involving rampaging bison or avalanches or whatnot and the agent, whose uniform includes a leather jacket and cowboy hat, swoops in to the rescue after the poor would-be victims shout out the jingle Anytime, anyplace, anywhere Statesman is there!, then teleports everyone to safety.

Entertaining? Yes. 

Realistic? Hell no.

—

There’s a high-pitched ringing in your ears, rattling around inside your skull. 

“—ime for this. Get up.”

Huh? Who’s that? 

“I don’t like repeating myself. Get. Up.”

Oh no. Eyes still shut, your hands search for a wound, for blood, patting all over your head, then your chest and torso. Nothing. Fuck, you’ve died and crossed over into the afterlife. That’s why there’s no injury or pain. Your life is over. The end. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. You can’t—

Something hard hits your leg. “You’re still alive.”

Your eyes snap open, surroundings blurring into focus. You’re in the warehouse still. Stringbean’s on the floor near Big Mac, sightless blue eyes staring back at you, a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead revealing blood and bone and brain matter. Immediately you avert your gaze, tasting bile in the back of your throat, and it’s only then you see the pair of boots by your legs.

A man stands over you, dressed in a leather jacket and jeans with soft-looking, unstyled brown hair and a stubbled jawline sharp enough to give papercuts. The words ruggedly handsome come to mind and stay there, banishing all other thoughts. Brown eyes so dark they’re verging on black stare down at you beneath furrowed brows, the perfect image of silent judgment. What the hell. He might just be the most attractive person you’ve ever seen, beating Dr. Pretty Eyes Garin by fucking leagues.

“Did you just kick me?” you ask before you can stop yourself, rising to your feet. Your head barely reaches his chest—a very broad chest, you can’t help noticing, leather straining at the shoulders to contain him—and you have to crane your head up to continue meeting his dull, half-lidded gaze.

“You weren’t listening,” says the stranger with a voice like the scrape of a butter knife on toast. Your heartbeat stutters, discovering a new favorite sound, and it takes you an embarrassingly long moment to realize you’re staring at his mouth with way more intensity than a person should look at another person’s mouth.

“Uh, yeah, well I-I thought I was dead. He was going to shoot me.” Your eyes drift towards Stringbean again, frowning at the gun in his hand. It doesn’t look like a pistol anymore, metal mangled and warped. “What the hell?”

“Backfired on him. Rare, but it happens.” He shrugs a shoulder, unconcerned, like he’s seen a thousand bloody incidents and he’s numb to the gore. And that’s…a scary thought to consider.

“Right...” You eye him a bit more critically now, taking in the scar dissecting his eyebrow. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“I didn’t throw it.”

Irritation flares, momentarily overtaking the budding apprehension. It brushes against your journalist instincts, insisting you’re missing something here. “Alright, Mr. Nameless, do you want to at least explain what exactly you’re doing here in the middle of the night?”

“Same as you. Work,” he answers curtly, glancing at his wrist where an expensive-looking watch is wrapped around the tan skin. Your fingers twitch with the urge to touch. “When I’m called, I show up. No matter the time or place.” His eyes flicker around the room with thinly veiled disgust. “Even if it means coming to shitholes like this.”

He goes where he’s called? That’s an interesting and ominous choice of phrasing. What is he, some kind of hitman or secret agent or—

Wait a minute.

Dangerous situation. Popping up out of nowhere. Wearing a leather jacket. Your life is saved despite all the odds stacked against you.

Understanding hits like one of Big Mac’s bricks, finally connecting the dots together and good lord it’s so fucking obvious you fully deserve the forehead slap you give yourself. “Holy shit the jingle actually worked.”

His scarred eyebrow lifts. “What?”

“How did I not know this was a real thing?” you half-ask, half-demand, hands settling on your hips. “You’re proof teleportation is fucking real! I feel like this is something more people should be talking about. Unless…Unless not everyone has this kind of coverage. Oh my God, is this some kind of extra health protection bundle attached to my new contract written in the fine print?” 

That stupidly attractive eyebrow lifts even higher.

“Don’t give me that look. Nobody under seventy-five reads all those tiny words, especially when the whole stack is five hundred pages front and back. All those poor trees…Also,” you point an accusing finger, “you’re missing a cowboy hat so I really can’t be blamed for not recognizing you.”

“A cowboy hat?” His face screws up at that, and somehow he makes the expression of someone who stepped in dog shit look attractive. Seriously, how is this guy even real? “I’d rather die than wear one of those.”

You stare at him, slack-jawed at his bluntness. “First of all, too soon, man, too soon. There are dead bodies literally right there. And secondly, wow,” a smidge of awe slips into your tone, “you must have some balls, rebelling against the big boss man like that.”

Oh to have been a fly on the wall seeing Champagne’s reaction to the refusal to comply with the uniform policy. You’d only met the old man for a hot second, but considering his love of westerns it wouldn’t surprise you if he challenged his opponents to quick-fire duels at high noon. Water guns or foam pellets instead of actual bullets, of course. He might gargle with bourbon and use a spittoon, but that doesn’t mean he’s a total heathen.

You snort a quiet laugh, then wince at the ache in your rib cage. Oh, yeah. There’s that fun pain again. The nameless agent turns away with what you think is an eye roll, but it’s too fast to tell, and looks down at Big Mac and Stringbean.

“I-I guess I need to call the police,” you say quietly, stomach churning when a sideways glance reveals a growing pool of blood beneath the bodies. Scary to think how close you’d been to being one of them.

“If it makes you stop talking to me, go right ahead,” your companion quips, uncaring of the scoff he gets for it. 

You find your bag by the trash can you’d hidden behind before Big Mac seized you. Bag is a generous term for the accessory that’s more duct tape than fabric after being dropped, kicked, and run over amongst other unfortunate fates. Still, it does a good job of carrying your stuff so you’ll keep on stubbornly holding onto it until the bitter end.

Pulling out your phone, you open the keypad only for the whistling notes of a song to have you freezing in place. Literally, your body feels like it’s become a block of ice, goosebumps rising along your exposed skin. As surreptitiously as you can manage, you sneak a glance at the agent, and it shouldn’t be fair how someone can look so seductive with puckered lips while whistling such an eerily haunting tune. The sheer contrast is enough to make your brain hurt.

Or maybe that’s a side effect of your skull smacking against the wall.

“Did you forget it’s three numbers?” he says abruptly, startling you, and the way he’s now looking at you gives the distinct impression he thinks you’re an idiot. “Two, technically, since one repeats itself–”

“I know what to do,” you snap defensively, turning back to your phone with a huff. Deliberately you slam your thumb against the three buttons, but find yourself hesitating to press call.

Looking up, you find the nameless agent already staring back at you. His head tilts, displaying the same confusion of a dog not understanding their owner’s behavior. It’s…almost ridiculously cute.

“Thanks for, um, being here and stuff,” you tell him, barely restraining yourself from doing something awkward like giving a thumbs up.

He blinks, a flash of something you think resembles surprise crossing his face, and then he’s back to blankness. “I had to come,” he replies.

“Well, yeah, ‘cause of the magic jingle,” you wave a flippant hand, words tumbling out faster than you can keep up with them, “but still, it’s nice, you know, having someone to watch your back, even if I don’t know who you are–”

The sound of your name has your jaw shutting with an audible click. For a second time you think about the unfairness of the situation. He has access to your file, knows your name and personal details, and what do you get to know about him? Bupkis.

“...Yes?”

“Make the phone call,” he says, an edge of amusement in his voice that produces a funny warm feeling in your stomach. Nausea, you decide, that must be it.

Grumbling under your breath, you look back to your phone and finally hit the button, listening to it ring. 

“See,” you say, purposefully smug, turning around, “I’m not an idiot–”

The man is gone. 

Didn’t even say goodbye, the ill-mannered jerk.

And as the operator picks up, asking what’s your emergency, you can’t help but think your insurance agent is a bit of an enigmatic asshole. All intimidating and sour-faced to ward off unwanted attention. Probably thrives off confusing his clients like he’s some kind of damn Rubik’s cube personified. 

Which is good for you since you thrive off of solving mysteries and inserting your nose where it doesn’t belong. You’ll know his name, his birthdate, hell, his entire history by the end of the week.

You eat Rubik’s cubes for breakfast.

[headcanonsandmore]

Do The Doctors Drink?

One: Yes, but only a small glass of brandy. Never in front of his companions. 

Two: No. He gets panicky enough as it is. 

Three: This guy drinks wine. But not cheap wine; it has to be vintage and immensely expensive. Not that he ever seems to pay for them, though. 

Four: Would you give this creature alcohol?  

Five: This dorky dad only drinks tea. No alcohol whatsoever. Whenever one of his kids friends wants to drink (usually Tegan), he gives them a lecture on being responsible; he has to set a good example, after all. This is normally about five seconds before he falls over a priceless vase (breaking said-vase) and knocking himself unconscious. Again.

Six: Likes a glass of scotch on occasion but tends to prefer being alert. He needs all the alertness he can, given what he has to deal with most days. 

Seven: This little Machiavellian does not drink, but pretends to do so as to keep everyone off their guard. Has had to pull drinks away from Ace on several occasions, as she’s still underage. 

Eight: Only on occasion, only wine, and only socially. Normally in a bohemian French café. 

War: He needs a drink but doesn’t have the luxury of doing so very often.  

Nine: A couple of pints. No nonsense about it, and never drinks too much. Will sometimes start quoting the Vimes Boot Theory of Socio-Economic Unfairness, depending on who he’s with. 

Ten: This twink has woken up in random alleyways after a night out so often that he had to invent a homing device on the TARDIS so he could find his way back. Somehow, this actually managed to get worse after Donna turned up. 

Eleven: Would like to drink, but everyone keeps refusing to serve him because he looks, like, nine years old. Even the psychic paper doesn’t help. 

Twelve: This man has been drunk at more music festivals than he would like to admit. Although he does start to limit his intake after Bill shows up. 

Thirteen: Too neurotic to drink and tends to get very clingy around Yaz on the rare occasion that she does (not that Yaz is complaining too much). 

Fugitive: Holds her drink very well and will drink anyone under the table. Always something cool and sophisticated without being expensive. 

[somethingclevermahogony]

WIP Tour Tag!

Finally getting to this! Thank y'all for the tags @paeliae-occasionally, @illarian-rambling, @willtheweaver, and @topazadine!

For the sake of simplicity I'll be showing you around a single city, the Grand City by the Lake, Labisa.

(There is a 99.9999 chance that I missed at least one typo, please be forgiving haha)

Stop 1: The Serpent Road

You find yourself walking down a worn and dusty road, one which stretches far behind you, curling serpent-like through the forested hills, as well as farms and villages, eventually vanishing into the looming Red Cedar Mountains. At first glance you may believe it to be little more than a wide dirt path, but as you look closer you can see the faint outlines of cobblestones, laid in times long forgotten, their surfaces sanded down by centuries of feet, hooves, and wagon wheels. Other travellers surround you, many dressed in strange clothing, some are Kishite some come from far more distant lands. They have come to partake in the Festival of Humbalibal, Goddess of the Mountains. Performers draped in the skins of leopards and boars, dancers bedecked with bells and ribbons, and poets bearing harps and drums ply their trade. Over the excited chatter, they sing of great heroes and tragedies, of beautiful Hiru and sorrowful Lat. Through the people, on either side of you are steles, dozens of them, some as small as a child, others as large as a house, pillars of stone their surfaces carved and chiselled with decrees of kings and queens, living and dead. Gods and beasts glare down at you as you pass beneath their stony gaze. Woe the Thief, Woe the Murderer, Woe the Traitor they seem to whisper. Or perhaps the whispers come from the lips of the heads, their eyes plucked by birds, cheeks sunken, skewered upon the poles of pine wood which line the roadside, their crimes scrawled in black coal upon their foreheads. To your left glittering under the mid-day sun is Lake Shebali, its massive expanse seems to swallow the horizon. White-feathered shorebirds stalk black sand beaches and weave amongst reeds. Ships bob lazily at the docks, grandest among them is the royal barge, a floating palace, its two masts extend high into the air like two massive trees. Beyond the docks you can see the fishing village, humble buildings of mud and timber, racks where fish dry, and leather cures. Children run between the houses whooping and crying, waving sticks and dolls of hair and cloth above their heads. Neither you, nor your fellow travellers have the time to ponder as to their games.

Stop 2: The Outer Walls of Labisa: The Black Walls of Tamel and the Serpent Gate

This rural scene does not hold your attention for long, for now you have reached the walls of Labisa. They tower above you, their stony surface rising 70 ft, and almost as thick, each one of the tens of thousands of blocks is the size of a horse. The lowest stones are made from black basalt, dragged from the looming mountains. Above these are yellow limestone, the surface of the stones each lovingly carved with scenes of animals, forests, battles, gods, and spirits, most so worn by the ravages of time that are all but incomprehensible. One could spend a lifetime inspecting all the images. The upper most layer and the towers placed at regular intervals are made from snowy marble. Long ago these walls had been built by the demigods Tamel, Sadaric, and Mikrab alongside thousands of workers and artisans. These walls had been made to withstand all enemies from armies to dragons. No tree or shrub grows against the imposing stone, nature kept at bay by fire and bronze. Before you, rearing high above, are two gargantuan stone serpents, one is crooked, its snarling face cracked. Any of the excitable travellers will tell you that the story goes that it was Narul that cast down the serpent while fleeing from the city with the fugitive princess Ninma. How any one person could do this, you do not know. But now is not the time chat, you are approaching the gates. Doors of thick cedar, 30 ft tall, freshly painted, as blue as the sky, bolts, and rivets of bronze glimmering in the sun. Guards stand on either side, inspecting the wagons and carts as they pass through. They wear armor of bronze, scaled like dragonskin. Their tall helms are bedecked with red feathers. In their hands are gripped spears, shields of bronze and oak hang from their backs. They stand stern and proud, these are not the men of Hutbari, untrained and inattentive, these men serve Akard, King of Kings. As you reach the gates they look you over. After a thorough but quick glance, they beckon you inside.

Stop 3: The Grand Square and The Tomb of Tamel

You enter a grand square, larger than most villages. Tents and makeshift ovens have been placed around the square to feed the hungry people. Honey cakes, stretched flatbreads, snails, sausages, olives, wine, beer, fried fish, fruits, nuts, fried dough, cups of stewed beans, dozens of different choices, each with a hungry crowd jostling for the next spot in line. The smell of fried foods hangs heavy in the air. Surrounding the square are buildings, many are beer halls from which sounds of laughter and twangs of harps emanate. Still others are brothels, men and women hang from windows cooing and calling to passers-by.

Musicians blow on flutes and pound at drums, while men dressed in naught by ram's skin, their faces and bodies painted, dance their arms raised above their heads, their eyes rolling in their heads as if in a trance. Sages awe children and terrify adults with streams of fire and crackling electricity which arcs from their fingertips. Exotic animals pace in cages under the curious eyes of Kishite children. If you look closely among the crowd, you may notice hillfolk, short and broad, their thick fur and long arms easily distinguishing them from their human neighbors, or perhaps you might see the amethyst hair of an Ikopeshi, or rarer yet the great winged form of a kiriki, their feline bodies draped with beads of amber and bone.

Laborers are hard at work, constructing a massive stage at the center of the square, here is where priests from the Temple of Humbalibal will perform odes and songs in honor of the goddess. But it was what lies beyond that catches your attention. At first you assume you must be hallucinating, for it seems that somehow a mountain has sprung up here in the middle of a city, complete with lush forests and trilling birds. As you draw near, you can see marble steps among the greenery leading up to the summit, three hundred feet above you.

This is the Tomb of Tamel, built to house the bones of the founder of the city. What appears now as a massive mountain, is in actuality a tiered structure, composed of thousands of stones, concealing a burial chamber within. As is the tradition of the Kishites, the tomb has been covered by soil and planted with a lush garden, fed by manmade rivers, the water drawn up from underground sources. Entire orchards of fruit trees inhabit each rounded tier. Tamel alone has been given the honor of being buried in the city, the tombs of his successors dot a nearby mesa. While magnificent in their own right, none can match the grandeur of this tomb. Kishites pour bowls of crimson wine at the tomb's base, libations in dedication to the spirits said to guard the dead king's bones. A man approaches you, offering you a bowl for a small fee. However, as the crowd grows you are quickly forced to continue on with your exploration of the city.

Stop 4: The Temple of Humbalibal

The city is marked by three hills, aside from Tamel's Tomb. The first of these, which stands opposite to the square, is the Temple District. As you walk up with stone steps, statues of many armed gods and animalistic spirits dance on either side of you, freshly painted with vibrant shades of red, green, yellow, and blue. Dozens of temples flank the steps, some little more than huts, others grand structures of stone and wood. The smell of burning incense combines with the aroma of sacrificial fires and of the city below. The greatest temple lies before you, dedicated to the patron of the city, Humbalibal. The red doors are swung open to allow all entrance. Priests and priestesses, devotees of the Mountain Goddess, go about their work, some tending to the statues, others kneel, their heads bowed in reverence, hands raised with palms flat in silent prayer to the watching divinities. Their white robes swish as they walk, their horned headdresses click and rattle as they walk, adorned with pins in the shape of poppies. Also, among them are many of the city’s sages. They are recognizable by the ivory circlets rested upon their brows, traditionally sourced from the dwindling Kishite elephants of the southern cedar forests, though increasingly, the city’s ivory supply is reliant on the elephants of Namut.

The great statue of Humbalibal, sits within the eastern alcove. As with the other various statues and reliefs that fill the great altar room, Humbalibal is painted with garish colors, her skin the color of ice, her nude form draped in iridescent dragon skin. The muscles and veins in her four powerful arms have been carved with loving detail, as have been the curling ram horns which sprout from her jet hair. Her silvery eyes, creased with the cold fury of the avalanche, look down at the mortals milling around her feet. Opposite her in another alcove sits a simple wooden throne, it is from here that the king of the city listens to the concerns of his people. Between the throne and Humbalibal, sits the grand altar where sacrifices to the goddess are made. The flame there has burnt, uninterrupted since the days of Tamel. At that moment another one of the temple doors is opened and six cattle, five geese, four sheep, three pigs, two gazelles, and a lioness are guided into the temple, flanked by priestesses wielding knives of cruel obsidian. Rather than sticking around to see the sacrifices, you decide to travel on to the next part of the city.

Stop 5: The Markets

You descend one of the other staircases, winding back down into the city proper. You can see ships approaching on Lake Shebali, carrying yet more visitors to the already crowded city. To the north, hugging the Black Wall, you can see the so-called Lower City, named for its elevation rather than its position on the map. It is marked by many small, cramped hovels of mudbrick and straw, interconnected through various doors and halls to form a sort of hive. There is no such thing as a private home in the Lower City. A man could walk from one end of the district to the other without ever stepping onto the street. Peasants lie on their roofs, chatting, trading, and playing games of dice. There are fewer travellers there, for it is there the city's poorest live. There are no statues, the beer halls are puny, and the shops ill-supplied. Yet cramped and humbled as the lower city may be, you have heard stories of how it once looked under the reign of the previous king, Hutbari, crumbling and filthy. Under the reign of King Akard, no longer do children pick through piles of rubbish, no longer do disease and fleas run rampant, nowhere else in the city are the praises to Akard sang so loudly.

In front of you, to the south, can see the palatial hill, rearing high above the city, the Blue Walls, those that separate the hill and the palatial olive grove from the rest of the city. You decide to head in that direction to see the Palace for yourself, but first you must pass through the Market Districts. Called the 26 Streets, these form the economic and production backbone of the city. The streets are as follows: The Potter's Street, The Perfumer's Street, The Weaver's Street, The Butcher's Street, The Slaver's Street, The Bronzesmith's Street, The Coppersmith’s Street, The Carver's Street, the Brewer's Street, The Vintner's Street, The Jeweller's Street, The Plantbrew's Street, The Scribe's Street, the Ropemaker's Street, The Tanner's Street, The Spicer's Street, The Painter's Street, The Dyer's Street, The Stonemason's Street, The Fishmonger's Street, The Carpenter's Street, The Basket weaver’s Street, The Papermaker's Street, The Musicians’ Street, The Farmer’s Street, and the Candlemaker’s Street. Your path through towards the castle will take you through the first three: Potter's, Perfumer's, and Weaver's. You start with the Weaver's Street.

As with the Square, the market streets are bustling, crowds of people, mostly visitors, rush to gawk at and purchase bits and pieces of Labisian clothing. Garments of silk, linen, and wool of every color are waved by enthusiastic shop owners and hawkers seated in front of the flat-topped brick and wood buildings that function as store, workshop, and home. The shops are colourfully painted with blues, reds, and greens, in the hopes that their bright tones will draw in curious patrons. The pungent smell of dye lays over the distract like a blanket and the squeals and clicks of the looms and wheels fight to be heard over the many chattering voices.

You may have heard of the state of these streets thirteen years ago, when Hutbari and before him, his predecessors reigned. Then mounds of various kinds of filth had formed stinking barriers along the road. Human muck had clogged the streets, bodies of livestock, broken pottery, and every other imaginable pollutant rendering the market district and the surrounding city a stinking cesspit of disease. There were and are tunnels beneath the city, meant to carry waste out of the city. But these had been neglected for years, with monarch after monarch failing to delegate the duties of their upkeep. Upon taking the throne Akard and his new court had undergone a disgusting and arduous quest to see that the tunnels were returned to their former functionality, and the grime removed from the city. This was later derisively called, The Shit War. Methane gas, collapsed tunnels, and dark things living below the city made the endeavour a nightmare, one which claimed the lives of many guards and even a nobleman or two. And yet after 3 long years of constant work, the city was cleaner than it had been in the last 90 years.

This is not to say that the city is in anyway perfect. As you pass into the Perfumer's district The smell of dye is quickly overwhelmed by a headache-inducing melange of fragrances. Jugs and bottles of dozens of sizes, from the size of a child’s palm to the height of a grown man, line the street, images have been painted on their surface to advertise their contents. Perfume is of immense importance throughout the lands of the Green Sea, but especially in Kishetal. No person leaves their home without first scenting themselves, slaves are typically the only exception. Indeed, among some peoples like the Makurians and the Korithians, the Kishite people were thought of as feminine for their love of perfume, adornment, and their extravagant bathing practices, even the presence of public toilets was at times considered to be unduly opulent. As you look at the various decorated perfume bottles, a thought occurs to you. You recognize visitors from Korithia, Shabala, Makur, Ikopesh, Knosh, and beyond, but there is a group that is missing. Despite being one of the largest and most wealthy kingdoms you see no one from Apuna. Perhaps it’s not surprising, after all Labisa is currently war with Apuna.

At least that is what you think at first, until you look closer. There are Apunians here, slaves. They follow behind Kishite masters or else can be seen cleaning the streets and do other kinds of menial labor. Many are missing eyes, a hand, a thumb, or other parts. Kishite Palaces have a long and proud tradition of mutilation when it comes to their prisoners of war. You quickly avert your attention, but it lands on something else, the figure of a woman, sat in an alley, her knees tucked beneath her chin, her eyes hooded. At first you assume she is a beggar, though thus far they have been a rarity in this city, until you see the pustules. Her face and arms are covered in hundreds of angry red swellings, her teeth are chattering, her eyes vacant. Disease is an inescapable reality of living in a city, particularly one as massive as this. There are no hospitals or hospices, and in favor of the festival most of the temples have temporarily banished those being cared for there. And so, the ill gather here in the Perfume District, where the sweet smells may in some way cover the smell of pestilence.

In recent years Pyrian Fever become an increasingly dire problem throughout the domain of Akard. Though Kishites may not know what bacteria or viruses are, they have managed to identify where this particular outbreak originated from. As is often the case, war is a flashpoint for plague. Some of the same prisoner's war and slaves, you had previously noticed, brought the deadly disease with them. Now every slave is inspected for any signs of disease, but it is too late, they sickness is already here. You notice the plantbrews, medicine women, marching up and down the street, tending to the sick who huddle in alleys and under doorways. Some of the treatments seem to be working, certainly the disease seems less virulent than it has been in the past. Even still, you take note of the warnings scrawled on wooden boards. " Enun Nadolul Na Lumiga" "Do not touch the sick." You quickly decide to move on from the perfume district.

Soon enough the smell of rose and cinnamon declines, replaced by the earthy scent of clay and the sharp tang of kiln smoke. Potters line the streets, hawking their wares, hands stained with the rich red brown of freshly fired earth ang glaze. From tiny, ornate perfume bottles to massive pithoi, many of which you recognize from the previous district. The pots, jugs, and jars are adorned with intricate designs, some depicting scenes of daily life, others abstract patterns that seemed to dance around the curves of the vessels, still others are unglazed, fiery orange or ashy grey. A group of Korithians, immediately recognizable by their short colourful kilts and their long-braided hair, are gathered around one such shop, gawking at the erotic imagery that adorns those particular bowls and plates. You stop to look for yourself, though you quickly find that the going price is far too high for your tastes.

As you leave the Market Districts and approach the Palatial Hill, you enter the area where many of the richer families dwell, minor nobility, and wealthy merchants. Here too are the grand estates were visiting dignitaries stay. Buildings of stone and cedar wood, one, two or even three stories tall. Their surfaces painted and carved with stylized frescos of nature and festivity, curling palms, and leaping gazelles alongside bell-adorned dancers.

Kishite nobles, lounging in front of their homes, sipping wine, and eating dates and olives can be seen dressed in expensive clothing, their hair bedecked with many beads, ribbons, and rings, their necks and wrists choked with chains, collars, and baubles. Their robes are made from silk and soft linen, purple, red, and saffron yellow, their hair and beards are slicked with scented perfumes. Some wear capes and cloaks of lion and leopard fur.

The Kiriki Gates now stand before you.

Stop 6: The Palatial Hill

The Blue Wall separates the Palatial Hill from the rest of the city, while considerably smaller than the Black Wall, at only 32ft in height, it is no less magnificent. The wall itself is made from limestone. Unlike the carved surface of the Black Wall, the stones of the Blue Wall have been sanded and smoothed until it almost seems to sparkle in the afternoon sun. Even the cracks and gaps between the stones have been filled in to create a uniform surface. It is named for the upper most layer of stones, each one painted with a mixture of cobalt and copper to produce a vibrant blue. The only break is the Kiriki Gate, named for the two massive guardians which stand at either side, stone statues of Kiriki, each larger than an elephant. Kiriki are bull-horned and winged lions with the human-like faces. They are culture is secretive, their language indecipherable to most humans, yet they are seen on occasion, you had even seen earlier at this very festival.

While the statues are immobile, the same cannot be said of the guards, eight of the, standing on either side of the open cedar doors. They carry spears and axes, and massive shields in the shape of hourglasses. As you approach one of the guard's holds out his hand. You place a small tablet, no larger than a postage stamp in his palm. Carved on its surface in miniscule writing is a number of Kishite glyphs. This tablet acts as your permission to enter the palatial grounds. After a minute he nods and steps back. He does not return the tablet, this particular privilege is only being afforded, once.

You walk through the gates, head respectfully bowed. It is as if you had just been transported miles away to the countryside. An olive grove stands around you, gnarled trunks twisting and turning. Many of these trees have been here for hundreds of years since the time of Tamel and his children. Currently the workers and caretakers are lounging by ponds and pools, a handful are pruning and attending to the trees, but overall, with the harvest still being months away, the Palatial Olive Grove is tranquil. A few of the laborers wave as you pass by. Stags, gazelle, pheasants, and other peaceful creatures roam through the rows of trees, their presence meant to simulate a rural farm or hillside orchard. A gazelle approaches you, hoping for handouts, upon finding none it goes back to nibbling at the grass.

You spot a small stone shrine tucked among one particularly thick grouping of olive trees, you are not sure which god it is meant to honor, for there are no markings on the alter. Before the shrine is a ring of stones placed on the ground. You immediately recognize this structure as one of those in which Kishite dead are placed, allowing their flesh to be reclaimed by nature before their bones are buried or placed in tombs. However, this particular ring has never held a corpse, rather this ring is used as part of the naming ceremony performed on Noble Kishite children upon reaching the age of 4. The child is made to sleep here, and upon awakening, they symbolically rise up from their "old life".

Beyond the olive grove you enter an area filled with fig, pomegranate, regalu, and quince trees. You even spot a peach tree, still a rarity this far west. Myrtle and laurel trees also make an appearance, their trunks seemingly wrapped in grape vines. The fragrance of these trees mingles with the dry scent of earth and old wood. A few more workers, dressed in simple linen wraps, tend to the trees, and prune the vines, their movements slow and deliberate.

You spot a number of terraces built into the hill side; great blocks of limestone topped with soil. Here is where the king's plantbrews grow their stock, exotic berries, tubers, and flowers.

The ground is crisscrossed by stone pathways, like the one that you are walking on, however it seems that most of the laborers choose to ignore these, instead walking over grass and roots.

The White Wall waits before you.

Stop 7: The Palace

The last and smallest of Labisa's three great walls, at only 24ft is The White Wall, which separates the palatial complex from the rest of the hill. In similar fashion to the Black Wall, the White Wall is made from massive blocks of stone rather than many smaller bricks like the Blue Wall, the lintel above the king's gate is the single heaviest stone in all three of the walls, at nearly 20 tons. The White Wall is the only one with stones that were not quarried in Kishetal, rather its stones were sourced from the original homeland of Tamel and his followers, Shabala. Each massive stone was transported by ship, barge, and finally by rope and manpower over hundreds of miles to the top of the hill, thus while the wall itself may be the smallest, its construction was arguably the most expensive. At first glance you might be confused as to why it is called the White Wall, the stone used is a pale grey, distinctly not white. The name comes from a thin layer of marble tiles that once covered the entirety of the wall, placed there by Tamel the Second, the last monarch of his namesake's line and the last king of a united Kishite kingdom. The tiles cut from the ruins of Arkodian temples, their capture viewed as the symbolic end of the war that had ravaged both Kishetal and Arkodai for decades, the single most destructive war in the recorded history of the Green Sea.

The tiles were stuck to the walls, with the plans for the white marble to be painted not only with images of the valiant heroes of Kishetal, but also those of Arkodai, their faces meant to stand guard over the palace as a memorial of the terrible war. After the last of the tiles had been placed but before the first of the paint could be applied, Tamel the Second was assassinated by his own son, Kerim. United Kishetal died with Tamel. Kerim cancelled the plans to paint the walls.

After Kerim was himself, killed by his younger brother, Farut, the tiles were taken ripped down and instead used to decorate the tomb of Tamel the Second. If one were to venture to the mesa where the royal tombs sit, the tomb of Tamel the Second would be easily identifiable by the snowy white Arkodian marble which still peaks from under the greenery.

The King's Gate is surprisingly plain, there are no great guardians looking over you as you pass under the massive lintel. The eyes of the guards burn into you as you pass, though they do not stop you.

The main palace along with the other palatial buildings function as a miniature city of sorts. The royal residence, a temple, storage buildings, a smithy, a pottery workshop, several workshops reserved for the palace weavers, two different sets of kitchens (and several massive outdoor ovens), the slave quarters, the bathhouse, and the stables are all contained within the White Wall, forming a large palatial citadel dotted with oleander, chestnut, and beech trees. The nobility and their guests who visit palace bathed in the grand bathhouse which stands directly beside the palace, constructed from polished granite, built atop an ancient spring, its interior is decorated with exotic plants and birds, carvings of dancing gods and heroes adorn the walls, and steam curls constantly from its high-set windows. Three similar though decidedly less extravagant baths can be found in the lower city, open to the people of Labisa. The palatial slaves make do with a large pond which lay at the edge of the courtyard.

The palace stands like a fortress atop the rugged hill, its thick stone walls towering above, as imposing as the demigod Tamel the First, who both ordered and assisted in its construction. Built from massive limestone blocks and mudbrick, it seems to have risen from the earth itself, sturdy and timeless. At six stories tall, it is the highest structure in all Labisa, save for the Tomb of Tamel. The outer walls are fortified with battlements and defensive towers, making the palace not just a seat of power but a stronghold overseeing the sprawling city below. Black soot still scars the walls, a grim reminder of Barunaki's brutal raid during Akard’s coup, when soldiers snuck in, murdered Hutbari’s children, and accidentally set the ancient structure ablaze. Only heroic effort saved the palace from complete destruction.

As you pass through the massive stone gate, you enter beneath an arch adorned with reliefs of lions, leopards, and horned men. Inside, the vast central courtyard opens before you, its stone floors smooth from centuries of footsteps. This space, often the site of ceremonies and rituals, is now empty—the king is far to the south. Yet, the palace is far from abandoned; at least two hundred nobles, along with their servants and slaves, occupy its thousand rooms, overseeing its care and performing sacred rites.

The halls are vast and labyrinthine, easy to get lost in. The lofty ceilings are supported by cedar beams and painted columns, every surface intricately adorned. Walls, pillars, ceilings, and even floors are decorated with colorful cloth, carvings, and frescoes. The murals depict royal processions, epic battles, dragons, divine figures, and tales from the Age of Glass and Metal, drawn from "Ti Jali Chasma," the Great History. You pause to admire a fantastical depiction of an ancient city, its twisting, impossibly shaped buildings a testament to the imagination of the artisans. Peeking into some rooms, you find many to be storage spaces, filled with pithoi and vessels holding oil and grain. One door nearly costs you your head, as the Chief of Wine glares at you with a spear in hand, clearly protective of his charge. Hastily, you move on, climbing stone stairs worn smooth from use, the center dipped from countless feet. Banquet halls line the next level, each filled with ornately carved furniture inlaid with pearl and ivory. Large hearths and massive braziers warm the rooms, the scent of smoke and wood blending with resin, stale perfumes, and the earthy smell of stone. Light filters through narrow windows, casting sharp contrasts of shadow and brightness across the floors. As you ascend further, you pass thick wooden doors fitted with bronze, marking private chambers—most are closed, and you wisely choose not to linger. The throne room is at the heart of the palace, both intimate and imposing. A raised platform holds a richly adorned stone throne, carved from black rock streaked with gold. Frescoes and tapestries line the walls, depicting heroic figures battling savage beasts. High above, barely visible, are the words of long-dead kings carved into the ceiling, some written in dialects so ancient only a handful of scholars can decipher them. At the back of the room are doors leading to upper floors, reserved for the royal family and palace sages. As you approach, a guard blocks your path, his stern expression and sharp spear making it clear that your tour ends here. As you leave the palace, the painted eyes follow you. Descending the palatial hill along with stern guard, you are guided back towards the bustling city. Somehow in your brief time away, the streets have become even more hectic, alive with color and activity. With the festival’s opening drawing near, you ponder your options for the time being. You could choose to explore the vibrant market districts, engage with the locals, or simply enjoy the lively atmosphere, the city offers a myriad of experiences. Perhaps if you can find a good beerhall or city corner, you may just be able to hear one of the many tales of Princess Ninma and the giant Narul. Regardless, the festival promises to be a grand affair, the likes of which no other city in the region can match.

I hope that you enjoyed your tour!

Tagging @kaylinalexanderbooks, @melpomene-grey, @mk-writes-stuff, @elizaellwrites, @unrepentantcheeseaddict

Also gonna go ahead and leave this one open

@patternwelded-quill, @persnickety-peahen

@elsie-writes, @the-ellia-west, @the-octic-scribe, @the-golden-comet

@finickyfelix, @theprissythumbelina, @autism-purgatory, @diabolical-blue , @tildeathiwillwrite

@katenewmanwrites, @leahnardo-da-veggie

@drchenquill, @marlowethelibrarian, @phoenixradiant, @pluttskutt

@dyrewrites, @roach-pizza, @rivenantiqnerd, @pluppsauthor

@flaneurarbiter, @dezerex, @axl-ul, @surroundedbypearls

@treesandwords, @skyderman

[mysticmonkiebusiness]

Civilians in 5x6 “Festival Fugitives”

[ravenclawwitchc]

Normal People

*Happy New Year!

*a family bonding story

I took off to Beika like a fugitive, hastily launching without even getting fully dressed. The moment I touched down, the cold Beika air hit me. That chill snapped my soul back from its tropical island drift. Luckily, my grandmother, who came to pick me up, had brought a thick coat. When I asked about it, I learned that my grandfather, lying in his sickbed, had foreseen my wanderings and thoughtfully worried about me. Before putting on the padded jacket, I peeled off my loose-knit sweater. Grandma took it from me, examined it closely, and laughed, asking why I was still hanging onto the sweater she had knit for my mom so many years ago.

For an old woman, her body could be called robust.

I was still pondering whether her reassurances about her health during the small talk were just politeness – considering the Japanese cultural nuances and the estrangement of several years could easily create a facade of false dialogue. However, in the blink of an eye, she effortlessly heaved my massive suitcase into the trunk, making it look like a breeze.

The last time I visited Beika, I was just entering adolescence, a troublesome thirteen-year-old.

At that time, my grandparents were already retired, and they used to take me around Beika, riding roller coasters at Tropical Land and overlooking the Park from the Tokyo Tower. During the summer break, we happened to catch the summer festival, and it was my grandma who picked out the yukata I wore to watch the fireworks – a yukata with a ripple pattern of plum blossoms. I couldn't tie the obi of the yukata properly, so she stood in front of me, skillfully creating a bow shape with her warm fingers. That was the first time I felt a sense of familiarity with her, and I couldn't help but shed tears before leaving.

"Did you come back because of your grandpa?" Grandma asked as she drove.

Beika had just experienced snowfall, and the snow on the asphalt had been shoveled to the sides, forming towering snowbanks. The air in the wind was sharp, and the biting cold seemed to penetrate the car. I wondered if it was just my inner perception. The smell was my first clue to recognize Beika – the refreshing scent of Ramune Soda, the lingering smell of fireworks – all summer imprints. In contrast, winter in Beika felt like an unfamiliar rejection, making both the residents and the messages they conveyed seem unfamiliar.

"Yeah, but I had planned to come to Tokyo for an exchange next semester anyway, just a bit earlier, nothing much," I replied.

After hesitating for a while, I asked her if my grandpa was okay and took the opportunity to explain why my mom couldn't make it.

Grandma didn't look at me; she stared straight ahead at the road, as if there was something at the end of it. Her brow was furrowed, quite different from the always-smiling middle-aged woman in my memory – not just because of the passage of time. I feared her current expression might be the prelude to tears, and I dreaded hearing bad news about my grandpa. Clutching the tissues in my bag, ready to pull them out, I finally gathered the courage to ask again, and she replied, "Don't worry, it's not a big deal. If you're concerned, come with me to the hospital tomorrow to see him."

Before leaving, I asked my mom if she wanted to come.

I used Messenger for the inquiry, as international texts and calls were expensive, and messaging seemed more convenient and swift. There was an alternative possibility – I wasn't particularly keen on talking to her on the phone, and she probably sensed that. Yet, we both pretended as if everything was normal, skirting around the issue of our strained family dynamics. The last argument occurred when I wanted to go on an exchange to Tokyo University. The time before that was when I disregarded her advice and dated an Afro-Asian boyfriend – now an ex. But this didn't stop her from using stern words when she found out.

I also sent her Japanese news links, carefully choosing ones that weren't too sensational. However, the headlines in the links still sounded alarming with phrases like "seeking revenge" and "extremely vicious." The news images were pixelated, but one could vaguely make out people lying on the ground and blood spilled around. Mom read the messages but didn't reply. In the end, I called her. No answer. I didn't even have her new boyfriend's contact information. So, I tentatively emailed Mouri Law Firm, not expecting a response, but surprisingly, someone replied. And that's how I ended up flying over alone, in a rush, bringing only clothes, medicine, and my laptop. I forgot items like a comb and makeup – things my grandma had already prepared.

Grandma's house is a three-story building that seems to have been recently renovated. When I visited before, it had low Japanese-style tables where we knelt to eat. Now, it has been transformed into a Western-style dining setup with comfortable wooden chairs. According to my grandma, they replaced many components, including adding non-slip facilities and assistive devices in the bathroom. A savory aroma filled the room, and on the cutting board were scattered half-cut vegetables, fish, and tofu. Glancing at her watch, Grandma told me that her timing was just right, and the potato stew with pork ribs was almost ready to be served.

This marked my first meal back in Beika.

What gave me a bit of relief was that my grandpa seemed to be doing okay. Grandma mentioned that my perception of "okay" might be due to not comparing him to how he was before the surgery, let alone using Kudo Shinichi from even earlier as a reference.

The ICU at Beika Central Hospital had snatched him back from the clutches of death. Now he was recovering in a single-patient room, with only two hours of visiting time allowed each day. On this point, Grandpa expressed a different opinion, attributing his survival to the "goddess of luck." As he said this, he looked at my grandma, who silenced him with a disapproving gaze. I sensed there was something I didn't fully understand in their exchange.

Regarding the attack, he spoke about it casually, mentioning it was simply a matter of a former suspect he once investigated seeking revenge after being released from prison. Death sentences are rare in Japan, so it's not uncommon for the perpetrator to consider him prey years later. He had mentally prepared himself for this possibility. However, he emphasized that if anything were to happen, it would be best not to involve his family, including me. His tone grew solemn here, and a certain aged expression appeared on his face. Before this, I would have described him as cheerful and indomitable.

Of course, he said this while my grandma was out. When she returned to the hospital room, he changed his tune, mentioning that the situation was unexpected, and that he would take precautions in the future. As for the details of these precautions, he evaded the topic. Grandma advised him to rest more, not to overthink, and to discuss these matters later. It was clear from her expression that she knew what he had just told me.

"If it weren't for... in the past, I could easily block a slow knife like that," Grandma said as she was cooking at home in the evening, adding butter. "But Shinichi's legs are not what they used to be either."

I initially joined her out of courtesy, not wanting the elderly to work alone in the kitchen. However, her discussion of food philosophy was so exquisite that it pulled my wandering thoughts away from my studies, the grandfather in the hospital, and the unanswered messages from my mom. The conversation gradually extended to those who weren't present. I took the whipped cream she prepared and, under her guidance, added low-gluten flour and eggs to the plate, then started stirring. My hands remembered before my mind did.

"Are we making lemon pie?"

"You remember? I used to make it for you."

"Oh, ... my mom taught me before."

The memories connected through food were more distant than I had imagined. It was an image of me, who now often ate alone while watching Netflix, almost forgetting. The lights, the kitchen, the child teetering on a chair, and the mom deftly grabbing the knife – no one else, no other sounds.

"Is your mom doing okay now?" she finally asked.

"She... has a new job and a new boyfriend," I replied, not wanting to delve into details. One reason was that I wasn't sure if this fell under my mom's privacy, and the other was that we had grown distant in the past few months. Discussing topics like "privacy" and "distance" with my grandma felt a bit odd, after all, it was her daughter – a daughter she didn't often see. "By the way, you're still keeping that bedroom on the third floor for Mom. It's a pity she can't come back to stay."

"That child... she won't want to come back to Beika."

Grandma turned on the tap, washing her hands back and forth. "You two had an argument about you coming to study in Beika, didn't you?" Seeing my expression, she smiled gently and added mischievously, "It seems I've picked up some detective skills after all."

Despite her playful words, Grandma's expression still seemed a bit tense.

"Has she ever talked to you about the past?"

"The past?"

"Guess not... Well, you have to protect your mom's privacy, and I have to protect my daughter's privacy too," she laughed. "If there's a chance later on, let her tell you herself."

While it's true that Mom hadn't talked much about the past with me, it didn't mean I was completely unaware.

Occasionally, she would mention my grandpa and grandma, her tone complex. Sometimes, I would catch her flipping through her own photo albums. When I was a child, I played with her iPad once and found a long string of search records for "Kudo Shinichi" and "Mouri Ran." These names were unfamiliar to me, so I clicked on them, reading stories that seemed like something out of a novel – a person capable of everything, solving injustices and fighting evil. At that time, I didn't know they were my grandparents. I asked my mom if she knew these two people while holding the iPad, and she then told me they were her parents.

On the second night in Beika, I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned, trying to recall any hints my mom might have dropped about the past, attempting to piece together what happened. However, what lingered in my mind were my grandma's seemingly carefree attitude, my grandpa's attempts to be strong in front of her, and my mom staring blankly at photos. A family that was difficult to understand.

Unable to sleep, I walked to the window and opened the curtains slightly. It was snowing. The street lamps cast a yellowish halo on the pure white snow. Beika had gradually shifted from the central area due to Tokyo's development over the years, and this area with its old buildings was especially quiet, occasionally interrupted by the sound of cars speeding by.

I took out my phone and looked at the album I had secretly taken of my mom. The first picture showed a young and handsome couple holding a baby, smiling together. The second one captured them frantically trying to calm down a crying baby – the look of anxiety written on the faces of the new parents. It was evident that the person behind the camera must have burst into laughter, as the second image was slightly blurry.

My mom and grandma looked very similar. The first time I saw them, I almost thought it was a picture of my parents.

The events that unfolded the next day proved my grandma's reasoning error, particularly the notion that "she won't want to come back to Beika." Mom came back.

My mom is a very meticulous person, someone who dresses neatly and immaculately even at parent-teacher meetings. It seems like she perpetually carries a part of Japan or Beika with her – it's not that she won't return; it belongs to her. She is also very strict with me, down to specifying the exact times I can't eat ice cream. So, I eventually learned to buy two cones – one for myself and one to shut her up when she started lecturing me. My cunning side is probably something Grandpa would appreciate. However, some matters are not negotiable, unlike ice cream. For example, my desire to come to Beika – or rather, my intention to settle down here – was an absolute mistake from the beginning.

So when I saw her in the hospital room, I was genuinely surprised. She looked a bit disheveled, and that's when I realized the inheritance of our hair – if not carefully maintained, it would defy gravity and stand tall, a trait shared between me, my mom, and my grandma.

Grandpa lying in the hospital bed, seemed more lively than the day before, clearly not anticipating his daughter's arrival.

I could deduce that she arrived in a hurry, perhaps having bought a ticket as soon as she read my message, taking an overnight flight. Seeing Grandpa looking seemingly fine, she wore a face that expressed both relief and slight annoyance. When I arrived, she had just finished talking with my grandpa, and it was clear she still remembered that the man in front of her was now a patient, so she tried to keep the atmosphere at a warm level.

She asked Grandpa, "Is the culprit caught this time?"

Grandma answered, "He's been detained, going through the legal process. This time, it's your father's disciple who's handling the case..."

She glanced at Grandma and said seriously, "This time, you were lucky. What about the next time? Do you plan to keep relying on luck to survive?" Her tone softened, "Is it really that bad for you to live outside Japan with me?"

I started feeling awkward and quietly slipped out, opening the door. The hospital corridor twisted, with people waiting to visit Kudo Shinichi holding gifts not far away. The windows were clear, reflecting the falling snow outside. After a while, Mom came out. There were tears on her face. She wordlessly grabbed my hand, gripping it tightly. Grandma followed, calling her name.

"If I won't take her away, how will you protect her?" Mom turned back, sadness in her eyes. "What if those people want to kidnap her, like they did back then..."

Grandma held my mom's hand, leading her back into the hospital room, as if guiding a child.

I stood there in confusion, with red marks on my wrist from my mom's overly strong grip.

The pie crust for the lemon tart can be refrigerated for an hour or more after being kneaded into dough. It can even stay for a day, with the maximum duration being a month. I took the crust out of the fridge, preparing to press it into the mold, and then put it in the oven for a bit. Grandma was next to me, making lemon custard and squeezing juice from the green lemons. Her hands were steady, and she handled the knife with expertise. I encountered danger during the summer; Beika had an unexpectedly high crime rate. It might be the mutual attraction between detectives, lawyers, and criminals. At that time, my grandpa spoke calmly, intertwining his hands and supporting his chin, presenting his deductions, while my grandma swiftly ended the criminal's counterattack with a spinning kick, appearing smooth and agile.

"About your mom's situation..." she hesitated this time.

"I'll hear it directly from her," I interrupted her, feeling that a serious family discussion required my mom's presence. "She messaged me, and we plan to meet tomorrow. So, why don't we talk about your past instead?"

My mom's "past events" might have some similarities with what my grandpa was currently facing. However, rather than delving into those matters tonight, I would prefer a cozier atmosphere and save the family affairs for later.

"I once read news reports about you and grandfather," I said, "They described you both like superheroes or something."

"... " Grandma mixed lemon juice, sugar, and eggs, creating a fresh and tender custard. She asked softly, "So, have we disappointed you?"

I was poking holes in the pie crust and nearly distracted enough to poke my own hand. "How could you be a disappointment? It's just that stories from others always have some element of exaggeration."

For instance, my grandparents are not omnipotent. For instance, they can also make mistakes in weighing their decisions.

"Alright," Grandma said thoughtfully, "Well, I haven't talked to you about it yet..."

She began, stating that everything started with a lie, a case that spanned half of their lives and consumed almost all of their energy. The initial point was quite ordinary.

"Is it the one where you took me to play at Tropical Land?"

Not just Tropical Land. In the memories that followed, there were shadows of places I had been to, such as Beika Central Hospital, the summer festival, and the Tokyo Tower. The events experienced by Kudo Shinichi and Mouri Ran together grew more and more, until finally, she realized that the boy with round glasses was her boyfriend.

"Do you just forgive him like that?"

"Yeah," she smiled, "Your grandpa and I, we've made a lot of mistakes... in the end, we're just ordinary people."

The ordinary proposal, ordinarily giving birth, struggling to take care of their daughter in the intervals between work, wanting to protect her world from being destroyed but always falling short. Cases solved, the exciting ones get written and reported, and the ones with no follow-up are pondered in the late hours of the night, sometimes waking up the sleeping person beside, two people brooding together. Losing some people, and gaining others in their lives.

Beika is a complex and three-dimensional city, dangerous, yet stamped with layers of intertwined memories. Over seventy years, piled into thick heaps like snow, starting with Kudo Shinichi and Mouri Ran, then becoming a family of three. Later, the daughter leaves, and the granddaughter occasionally returns, like a migratory bird. In the photos, those two young people who were once at a loss gradually turned into elderly figures who now admit their shortcomings, narrating to me the dark and bright years.

The oven signaled that it was time. I watched as my grandma poured the lemon custard into the pie crust, creating a complete lemon pie.

"Wait until tomorrow, take this to your mom," she said softly.

Fin.