#where did this sudden burst of talent come from???

[thecomfortable]

LEOPRIL MOMENT!!! I am spiralling fr fr

Click for better quality! Me when I impress myself with my own talent/lh

Bonus: Alternative Colouring.

[julietsf1]

Irritating, But Irresistible – Franco Colapinto X Reader

Summary: Alex Albon’s sister is not happy with Logan’s new replacement who seems to be very sure of himself.

Words: 8k

Warnings: cursing, smut after ***

A/N: this is my first time writing anything, just wanted to do something w franco since there is not much out there yet :) English isn't my first language so I hope it reads okay! smut is just the last part so you can read without and it will still be a complete story *muah*

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It was press conference day at Monza, one of the busiest times during a Formula 1 weekend. I walked through the paddock, juggling my internship deadlines on my phone. Even with my hectic schedule, nothing beat being around the buzz of the F1 world, where I could support my brother Alex and enjoy the company of his friends. Today, however, my thoughts were consumed by Logan’s sudden exit and his replacement.

Franco Colapinto.

I had yet to meet him, but from what Alex had shared, I already had my preconceptions: talented, confident, but most likely arrogant—a rookie straight from Formula 2 who had taken Logan’s seat.

I had been devastated by the news. Of course, Logan hadn’t been performing as well as he did in F2, but he and I had formed a special bond over the course of the past seasons. After every crash, when Logan would be back in the team garage to sit out the race, I had been there to talk with him, and we developed a deep and valuable friendship. I couldn’t help but feel frustrated by the team not sticking with him until Newey would join next season and provide a better car.

As I approached Alex and George Russell, they were already deep in conversation, Alex’s usual easygoing grin on his face as George prattled on with his distinctly old-fashioned vocabulary.

“And I dare say, Alex, it’s an absolute travesty that the press still insists on asking the same infernal questions,” George was saying, sipping from his water bottle. “There’s only so many times one can answer, ‘What’s your strategy for qualifying?’ without going mad.”

Alex chuckled, shaking his head. “Come on, George, don’t act like you don’t secretly love the attention.”

George sniffed, clearly unconvinced. “Attention, yes, but repetitive inquiries? It’s rather pedestrian. Honestly, one would expect a touch more intellectual curiosity.”

I grinned, stepping into the conversation. “You should start answering in riddles, George. Give them something to think about.”

George’s eyes lit up, considering the idea seriously. “You know, that’s not half bad. I could begin each answer with a Shakespearean quote. ‘To pit or not to pit, that is the question.’”

Alex burst into laughter, shaking his head. “Please do. It’ll be the highlight of the weekend.”

Before I could join in with my own jab, a smooth voice with a slight spanish accent interrupted our banter. “You must be Alex’s sister.”

I turned, and my breath caught for a second. Standing before me was Franco Colapinto, and he was—well, to be honest, he was a lot more attractive than I had expected. His dark hair was fluffy and slightly tousled as if he had just run a hand through it, giving him a charmingly casual look. His eyes—bright, shining with a mix of mischief and curiosity—immediately met mine, and there was something about the way they sparkled that unsettled me.

Franco stood with a relaxed confidence, a teasing smile playing on his lips as he waited for my response.

“And you must be Logan’s replacement,” I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended, trying to ignore the little flip in my stomach.

Franco raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that response, but his grin only grew wider, a playful glint in his bright eyes. “Franco Colapinto,” he introduced himself, extending his hand toward me.

I glanced at his hand but didn’t take it, crossing my arms instead. “Y/N.”

Franco didn’t miss a beat. He chuckled softly, undeterred by my cold reception. “Guess I’m not winning you over just yet.”

“You could say that,” I muttered under my breath, unable to stop myself from taking in his appearance again—his fluffy hair, the way the sunlight seemed to make his dark eyes even more intense.

“Give it time,” Franco said lightly, his tone soft but still laced with confidence. He shifted his gaze to Alex, giving a friendly nod. “See you up there, mate.”

As Franco walked away to the press room, I couldn’t help but stare after him, irritated by the way my heart skipped a beat. “He’s got some nerve,” I muttered.

Alex, always the peacemaker, sighed beside me. “Don’t be too hard on him, Y/N. He’s just trying to find his place.”

“Yeah, well, Logan had his place, and it was taken from him,” I shot back, folding my arms tighter across my chest.

George, ever the diplomat, chimed in with his usual formal tone. “Alas, it is the nature of this sport, Miss Albon. Drivers come and go as swiftly as the wind changes its course. It’s unfortunate, but inevitable.”

I sighed, knowing George was right but still unable to shake my irritation. I cast one last look at Franco, who was now chatting with some team members, his bright eyes still sparkling, that teasing grin still lingering on his lips.

The atmosphere that evening was electric. After a long day of press conferences and media obligations, the some of thedrivers, teams, and close friends gathered for a small party in the paddock’s private area. Music thumped through the speakers, and the energy was light despite the high-pressure weekend ahead.

I found myself by the bar, sipping a drink, trying to focus on my conversation with Lando and Oscar.

“You seriously didn’t even know how to do a basic rumba?” Lando was saying, laughing so hard he nearly spilled his drink. “Come on, Oscar. I thought Aussies were supposed to know how to dance.”

Oscar smirked, unbothered. “I’m a racing driver, not a dancer. I don’t need rhythm on the track, mate.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Rumba, Lando? That’s what you’re testing him on?”

Lando grinned, tossing his head back dramatically. “Oh, come on, Y/N. You know it’s important. It’s all about balance! Quick on your feet, suave with the moves—it’s practically the same thing as cornering at high speed.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Pretty sure it’s not the same thing.”

“Well,” Lando shrugged, “when the media isn’t on your back, you’ve got to perfect something other than driving. For me, it’s dance moves. For George—” Lando leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “it’s his ancient vocabulary. I heard him use the word ‘beseech’ in an interview once. I thought we’d time-traveled.”

I burst out laughing, picturing George in full seriousness. “Oh my God, that’s so him.”

Lando wasn’t finished, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “That’s not even the best part. He used it to answer a question about tire degradation. I swear!”

Oscar finally cracked a smile, shaking his head. “George could give my grandma a run for her money.”

I was about to add another quip when I caught sight of Franco across the room, his familiar silhouette standing out as he laughed with Max and Daniel. I quickly looked back at my drink, but Lando, ever observant, wasn’t going to let it slide.

“You keep staring at him,” Lando teased, nudging me with a smirk.

“What?” I blinked, caught off guard. “I’m not staring.”

Oscar, who had been quietly sipping his drink, glanced at me. “You kind of are.”

I frowned, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. “I’m not. I just… don’t like him, that’s all.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Lando said, wiggling his eyebrows. “You’re not usually this flustered. It's kind of cute.”

“Shut up, Lando,” I shot back, though my voice lacked the sharpness I intended.

Oscar chuckled softly, glancing toward Franco. “You talk about him more than I’ve heard anyone talk about him since he joined.”

I rolled my eyes, clearly frustrated. “He’s arrogant, alright? Thinks he can just come in and—”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it. You don’t like him,” Lando interrupted with a grin, clearly not buying it. “But let’s be real—he’s not exactly lacking in the looks department, is he?”

I felt my face flush even more, and before I could respond, a familiar voice broke into the conversation. “What’s with the staring, cariño?”

My heart raced involuntarily, and my cheeks flushed red, but I forced a sarcastic smile. “I—I just don’t like that shirt, that’s all.”

Franco’s playful grin widened as he tilted his head slightly. “I’ll gladly take it off for you if you want me to.”

Lando burst into laughter and took a step back, clearly enjoying the tension. “Oh, I’ll leave you two to sort that out.”

Oscar, ever the quiet observer, gave a smirk and a knowing nod before following Lando, leaving me and Franco alone.

“You’re way too smug for someone who just got their seat,” I muttered, crossing my arms defensively.

Franco chuckled softly, his dark eyes still sparkling with amusement. “They brought me here for a reason, Y/N. There’s nothing wrong with being self-assured.”

I opened my mouth to retort, but the words caught in my throat as I found myself staring at his eyes again—the way they seemed to shimmer in the dim light. His presence unnerved me in a way that no one else ever had.

“I’ll prove it to you,” Franco said quietly, stepping closer, his voice dropping slightly, filled with both promise and challenge. He softly brushed his hand against my arm, the touch sending a shiver through me. “Just watch.”

Before I could respond, Max’s voice boomed from across the room. “Oi, Franco! Stop flirting! I got us another round of gin tonics!”

Franco glanced over his shoulder and smirked before turning back to me. “See you tomorrow,” he said, his voice soft and teasing, before walking off, leaving me standing there, heart racing for reasons I didn’t want to admit.

Friday morning’s free practice was the perfect chance for the teams to fine-tune their setups before qualifying, but for me, it was another opportunity to watch Franco. I stood in the Williams garage, my arms crossed as I kept one eye on the lap times flashing on the screen, the other on Franco’s progress on track.

“How’s he looking?” I asked Alex, trying to keep my tone neutral, but the curiosity in my voice betrayed me.

Alex, who had already come back into the garage mid-session, didn’t look away from the data in front of him. “Decent. He’s still getting used to the car, but he’s quick. He’s got potential, Y/N.”

I raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Potential doesn’t win races, though.”

Alex glanced at me with a grin. “You’re tough. Give him a break. He’s still new.”

Before I could argue back, James Vowles, the Williams team principal, stepped into the conversation, his voice measured and commanding, but always reassuring. “Patience, Y/N. Drivers need time to grow, especially in this environment. Franco’s performance has been promising so far, and that’s all we can ask for at this stage.”

I smirked, shaking my head. “I’m not sure Franco’s the ‘take time to grow’ type. He’s way too sure of himself.”

James folded his arms, smiling slightly while shaking his head. “Confidence is a tool, Y/N. If used correctly, it can be an asset. And from what I’ve seen, Franco understands that balance. Let’s not underestimate him too soon.”

Alex chuckled, nudging me. “Even James is on his side. Come on, give the guy a chance.”

As if summoned by the conversation, Franco’s Williams car came flying past the garage on track, a blur of blue and white as it whipped around the corner. I watched his lap times closely—each split was faster than the last.

“Looks like he’s getting the hang of it,” Alex said, raising an eyebrow toward me.

I couldn’t help but let out a small sigh. “Fine. He’s… better than I thought. But that doesn’t mean anything yet.”

After the second practice session ended and the drivers returned to the garage, I found myself lingering near the pit wall, watching as the cars were rolled back into the garage. Franco emerged from his car, pulling off his helmet, his fluffy hair tousled and damp with sweat. He was wiping his brow with the sleeve of his race suit when his eyes caught mine.

Franco approached me with that familiar, irritating grin. “Enjoying the show?” he asked, his voice light but teasing as always.

I raised an eyebrow, trying to sound unimpressed. “It’s fine. Could be better.”

Franco chuckled softly, stopping just close enough that I could catch the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the track’s lingering heat. “You’ve got high standards, I see.”

“I am just realistic,” I shot back, finally meeting his gaze. “Not sure you’ll live up to your own expectations, Colapinto.”

For a second, Franco’s playful smile faltered, but he quickly recovered, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Y/N, I’m pretty sure I can meet—and exceed—any expectations you’ve got for me.”

I crossed my arms, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Big words for someone who hasn’t proved anything yet.”

Franco took a step closer, the teasing edge in his voice never fading. “Oh, I’ll prove it. Just keep watching.” He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering to a murmur. “You’ll be impressed soon enough.”

My pulse quickened as his words hung in the air. I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, Franco winked and stepped back.

“You can tell me what you think tomorrow,” he added over his shoulder, walking away with that infuriating confidence, leaving me standing there, frustrated and flustered all at once.

Just as I tried to collect myself, Lily, Alex’s girlfriend, wandered over. Her soft, sweet demeanor was the perfect counter to the high-pressure environment.

“Everything okay, Y/N?” she asked gently, noticing the slight tension still lingering on my face.

I huffed, folding my arms across my chest. “He’s impossible.”

Lily smiled knowingly, tilting her head. “I’ve seen you two talking more and more recently. Doesn’t seem like you think he’s that impossible.”

“He is trust me,” I muttered, though my tone was less convincing now.

Lily gave me a soft, encouraging smile, her voice gentle and kind. “You know, sometimes it’s okay to let your guard down. Not everyone’s as bad as they seem at first.”

I looked at Lily, rolling my eyes but feeling the truth in her words sink in. “You really think he’s a good guy?”

Lily shrugged with a sweet grin. “Maybe. I think you’re more interested in finding that out than you want to admit.”

I shook my head, but the feeling that maybe—just maybe—Lily was right gnawed at me as I watched Franco walk away, his figure disappearing into the garage.

Saturday was always charged with anticipation—qualifying day. The pressure in the paddock was thick, and I could feel the weight of it hanging in the air as I wandered through the bustling paddock. Every team member was focused, every driver mentally preparing for the intense session ahead. I, on the other hand, was lost in my thoughts, trying to distract myself from the growing irritation I felt whenever Franco popped into my mind.

Why does he always have to be so smug? I thought, frowning to myself as I made my way toward the drivers’ rooms. Always with the teasing, always with that stupid grin.

I was looking for Alex, but my mind was still tangled in thoughts of Franco—how his words had lingered from yesterday’s exchange, how his presence had become harder and harder to ignore. Whether it was the playful sparkle in his bright eyes or the way his fluffy, tousled hair fell effortlessly, something about him unsettled me.

Absentmindedly, I pushed open a door, not thinking twice about it—until I froze.

There stood Franco, half-dressed.

He was in the middle of pulling on his race suit, shirtless, his toned torso on full display. His skin gleamed under the soft lights of the room, and his dark hair was slightly damp, falling in messy waves over his forehead. He hadn’t noticed me at first, but when he looked up, his dark eyes locked on mine, surprise flickering across his face. It didn’t last long, though—his expression quickly shifted into that familiar, teasing grin I had come to expect.

“Well, well,” he drawled, voice laced with amusement, “didn’t expect you to walk in on me like this, but I’m not complaining.”

I froze, my cheeks flushing as I struggled to recover my composure. “I wasn’t—this isn’t—I was looking for Alex!” I stammered, my voice sharper than I intended.

Franco raised an eyebrow, his grin only growing wider. “Uh-huh. Sure you were.”

My irritation flared, and I crossed my arms, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “Don’t flatter yourself, Colapinto. This was clearly a mistake.”

Franco took a step closer, his tone still light, but the teasing in his eyes unmistakable. “A mistake, huh? Yet, here you are. Still standing here.”

My pulse quickened, and I cursed my body for reacting to his presence. He was too close now, and the space between us felt charged, heavy with something I didn’t want to name.

“You’re full of yourself, you know that?” I shot back, lifting my chin, refusing to be intimidated.

Franco chuckled softly, his eyes locked on mine. “Maybe. But you seem pretty caught up in me for someone who claims not to care.”

I scoffed, stepping back but finding myself backed against the door. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible?” Franco echoed, the amusement never leaving his voice. “Or just irresistible?”

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t hide the faint smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “In your dreams, maybe.”

Franco’s gaze softened slightly, and for a moment, the teasing edge faded. “You keep acting like this, but I see through it.”

I frowned, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. “Acting like what?”

He shrugged, taking another small step closer, his voice lower now. “Like you hate me. But every time we talk, it feels like something else is going on.”

My breath hitched, the intensity of his gaze making it hard to look away. I hated that he could read me so easily, hated the way he made me feel like I was constantly on the back foot.

“Don’t get it twisted, Franco,” I said, my voice firmer this time. “You annoy me. That’s it.”

Franco smirked again, but there was something different in his eyes now—a challenge. “If you say so. But if I annoy you so much, why do you keep ending up here? In my space?”

I didn’t have an answer. Or at least, not one I was willing to admit out loud. The truth was, every time we clashed, it felt like the air between us was crackling with more than just annoyance. But I wasn’t ready to face that yet.

“I’m here because I thought this was Alex’s room,” I said finally, the sharpness returning to my voice. “Don’t read too much into it.”

Franco laughed softly, his expression softening as he stepped back, giving me some space but still keeping that annoying smirk. “Alright. But next time you want to drop by, just knock.”

I shot him a glare, my frustration flaring again. “You wish.”

With that, I turned on my heel and reached for the door, determined to leave the awkwardness behind. But before I could open it, Franco leaned in close, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “You’ll be back.”

I whipped my head around, my eyes narrowing. “Don’t count on it.”

Franco chuckled as he watched me go, shaking his head in amusement. “See you around, Y/N.”

The door clicked shut behind me, and I leaned against the wall, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. My mind was spinning, my heart racing, and the worst part? I couldn’t stop thinking about that damn smirk.

Inside the room, Franco finished pulling on his suit, a small smile still tugging at his lips. He couldn’t help it—there was something about me that made every interaction feel like a game, one he was very much enjoying.

By the time qualifying ended, Franco had placed 18th—not spectacular, but solid enough for a rookie still adjusting to the car. The Williams team seemed satisfied with the result, and after the session, I found myself lingering in the pitlane, chatting with Oscar and Lando, both of whom were waiting for their post-quali interviews.

Lando, ever the jokester, leaned against the wall with a grin. “You know,” he said, “I like that guy. He’s got that cheeky energy. A bit like me.”

I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Great, that’s exactly what we need—two Lando Norrises.”

Lando laughed, nudging me playfully. “Hey, the world would be lucky.”

Oscar, always the calm and collected one, stood with his hands in his pockets, his expression thoughtful. “You’ve got to admit,” he said casually, “Franco’s improving. He’s faster than last time.”

I shrugged, unimpressed. “Yeah, well, let’s see if that holds up. Confidence doesn’t always mean results.”

Lando grinned, nudging me with a playful elbow. “You’re only saying that because you don’t want to admit he’s growing on you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “He’s not growing on me. If anything, he’s just growing more annoying.”

Oscar smirked, glancing between me and Lando. “Annoying, huh? Funny how you keep talking about him, though.”

Before I could respond, Franco appeared, fresh from his post-session debrief. He looked as smug as ever, a towel draped over his shoulders, his hair slightly damp. He caught my eye immediately, his usual grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Franco approached, clearly enjoying the way I tensed up at his arrival. His grin grew wider, and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks even before he said a word.

“What’s this? Talking about me again, Y/N?” he teased, his voice smooth as always.

I crossed my arms, determined not to let him get under my skin. “I’m pretty sure not everything’s about you, Franco.”

Lando, grinning like a Cheshire cat, leaned over to Franco, speaking just loud enough for me to hear. “Oh, mate, trust me. She’s been talking about you all day.”

Franco’s eyebrows shot up in amusement. “Really?”

My face flushed as I shot Lando a warning look. “Lando!”

Lando threw his hands up in mock surrender, enjoying every second of my discomfort. “I’m just saying what I see. You’ve been all eyes on Colapinto here. Don’t blame me for stating facts.”

Oscar chuckled softly, his quiet amusement adding to the playful atmosphere. “It’s true. You’ve mentioned him at least three times already.”

I glared at both of them, my irritation growing by the second. “You two are impossible.”

Franco chuckled, stepping closer to me, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Come on. I saw the way you looked at me this morning. You can admit it—you’ve been thinking about me.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow, watching the exchange with quiet curiosity, while Lando stood by, grinning like he was watching his favorite sitcom unfold.

“Thinking about how you’re the most irritating person I’ve ever met? Maybe,” I shot back, refusing to back down as Franco leaned in slightly, his bright eyes sparkling with mischief.

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself,” Franco said smoothly, lowering his voice just enough to make my heart race.

I was about to retort when Alex joined us, clapping Franco on the back. “Good session, man. You’re getting faster.”

Franco nodded, but his eyes never left mine. “Thanks, but it seems like Y/N here has higher standards than the rest of you.”

Lando smirked, clearly loving the drama. “Oh, she does. Don’t take it personally, Franco. She’s got high standards for all of us.”

I glared at Lando, but before I could say anything, Franco leaned in slightly, his bright eyes still locked on mine. “Good thing I love a challenge.”

I scoffed, tightening my arms across my chest. “Trust me, Colapinto, you’ve got a long way to go before you meet my standards.”

Franco’s grin only widened. “Good thing I’m persistent.”

Before I could respond, Alex laughed, clearly oblivious to the tension bubbling between us. “Alright, let’s cool it before the next round of banter turns into an all-out war. Y/N, we’re having dinner with the guys tonight—join us?”

I hesitated, my gaze flicking between Alex and Franco, who was still watching me with that infuriating smirk.

“Yeah, I’ll come,” I muttered, “just need to freshen up a bit,” shooting Franco one last look before heading toward the paddock exit.

“Fun! We’ll meet you in the lobby at 8!” Alex called after me as I walked away, while the guys gathered for their post-qualifying interviews.

Dinner that evening was supposed to be a chance to unwind after the high-pressure qualifying session, but the moment I realized Franco was joining us, my mood soured. I hadn’t expected him to be part of the group, assuming it would just be me, Alex, George, Oscar, and Lando. But as soon as I saw him enter the restaurant, his easy confidence on full display, I knew the night wasn’t going to go as planned.

Of course he’s here, I thought, rolling my eyes as he slipped into the seat across from me, wearing that same infuriating smirk.

Franco greeted everyone with casual charm, clearly enjoying himself, but every glance he threw my way felt designed to provoke me. It didn’t help that Lando, seated beside me, was in a particularly mischievous mood.

Soon enough, the waiter came over to take our orders, and things started to get even more interesting.

“Alright, what’ll it be?” the waiter asked.

“I’ll take the risotto,” Alex said, glancing at the menu one last time before handing it over.

"Might I be so bold as to request the same for myself?" George added.

Oscar ordered quickly, as calm and collected as ever. “Just a steak, medium-rare, thanks.”

I scanned the menu, trying not to think about Franco sitting directly across from me. I settled on my favorite pasta dish, handing my menu to the waiter. “I’ll have the truffle ravioli.”

When the waiter turned to Franco, I braced myself for whatever cheeky comment he was about to make.

“I’ll go for the truffle ravioli,” he said, then paused, glancing at me with a smirk. “But only if it’s as good as they say it is.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s ravioli, Franco. Not a fine wine. Relax.”

Lando, who had clearly been enjoying the tension building between us, grinned as he scanned the menu. “I’ll have the spaghetti. Extra sauce.”

“Surprising,” I deadpanned, “I thought you’d go for something a bit less… messy.”

Lando leaned back, tossing his menu aside with dramatic flair. “Messy? You must not follow the gossip pages, Y/N. I love messy. Besides, I have big plans for this spaghetti.”

Alex groaned. “Please behave.”

Lando wiggled his eyebrows, already looking pleased with himself. “Oh, just wait.”

As the waiter left, the group settled into casual conversation, the mood light despite the simmering tension between Franco and me. Alex, always the big brother, couldn’t resist dragging me into an embarrassing memory.

“You should’ve seen Y/N when she decided she was going to be an inventor,” Alex began, grinning as I sighed dramatically. “She built this elaborate ‘trap’ to catch the family cat. We’re talking string, boxes, and a broomstick involved—it looked like something out of Home Alone.”

I groaned. “Oh God, here we go.”

Alex was enjoying himself too much to stop. “She spent hours perfecting it. She swore it would work. And guess what? It didn’t catch the cat—it caught Mum instead.”

Lando burst into laughter, his eyes wide with excitement. “Y/N, an engineer in the making! I would’ve paid to see that.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide my grin. “Okay, it wasn’t my best idea, but it wasn’t that bad!”

Alex snorted. “Mum had to wriggle out of it while holding the groceries. To this day, she doesn’t trust any ‘surprise’ Y/N sets up.”

Franco, who had been quietly following the story, leaned forward with his signature smirk. “Sounds like I need to watch my back around you, Y/N.”

I shot him a look, my voice dry but teasing. “Trust me, I’ve improved since then. You wouldn’t see it coming.”

Franco smirked. “I’ve got my eyes on you.”

Before I could reply, the waiter returned with our food. Plates were placed in front of us, and Lando’s spaghetti arrived with an extra helping of sauce just as he’d requested.

“Oh, yes,” Lando said, rubbing his hands together like a mischievous child. “Now, let the fun begin.”

It looked like he was up to his usual antics, twirling his spaghetti with great concentration, his grin widening as he arranged the strings very carefully on his plate.

“Lando,” I said, raising an eyebrow, “what are you doing?”

Lando leaned back, arms crossed proudly as he surveyed his masterpiece. “Creating art, Y/N. Pure, unadulterated art.”

"Goodness gracious, Lando we are at a bloody restaurant!" George put on his sunglasses, trying his best to distance himself from the childlike behaviour of his friend.

I glanced down at his plate and burst out laughing. “Bunda? Seriously?”

Lando’s grin only widened. “What can I say? I’m a man of culture.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Yeah, spelling ‘BUNDA’ with spaghetti really says a lot about you. Deep.”

Lando pretended to be offended, clutching his chest dramatically. “Ouch, mate. I’m expressing myself here.”

I laughed, shaking my head at the absurdity. But despite the humor, I could still feel Franco’s eyes on me, watching every move I made.

As the evening wore on, the banter at the table continued, but the undercurrent of tension between Franco and me was impossible to ignore. Every time I looked up, I caught him watching me—his eyes glinting with amusement, like he knew exactly how much he was getting under my skin. It was maddening, yet I couldn’t deny the strange pull that kept drawing my attention back to him.

Finally, unable to take it anymore, I decided to address the elephant in the room.

“So,” I began, cutting through the chatter at the table, “Franco, how does it feel stepping into a seat that wasn’t exactly yours?”

The table went quiet almost instantly. Alex shot me a look—half warning, half pleading—but I ignored it, my eyes locked on Franco. I couldn’t hold back the resentment that had been simmering for weeks. Logan had been my friend, and I wasn’t about to let Franco think he could just waltz in and take his place without any consequences.

Franco’s smile faltered for just a second, but he recovered quickly, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I’m here because I earned it,” he replied evenly, his voice calm but with an edge. “Not my fault if others couldn’t keep up.”

I didn’t back down. “I don’t think you earned it. I think you’re just here because of the sponsors. Anyone can see there are plenty of drivers with more potential than you.”

Franco’s jaw tightened slightly, and the playful glint in his eyes dimmed. The atmosphere around the table shifted, and even Lando, who had been proudly admiring his spaghetti art, stopped mid-bite to watch the exchange.

“Y/N,” Alex said softly, trying to ease the tension, but I barely registered his voice.

Franco’s gaze didn’t waver. “I don’t need to justify my place to you.”

I leaned in, my voice cold. “You don’t have to. It’s already obvious why you’re here.”

Franco’s eyes flashed with something darker, but instead of responding with the sharp retort I expected, he stood abruptly, pushing his chair back from the table. “I think I’ll call it a night. See you tomorrow.”

Without another word, Franco walked away, leaving me sitting there, my own words hanging in the air. The weight of what I had said settled in, a knot of guilt forming in my chest. Maybe I had gone too far.

Lando let out a low whistle. “Well… that escalated quickly.”

Alex sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Y/N, that was harsh. You didn’t have to push him like that.”

Oscar, who had been quiet for most of the dinner, finally spoke, his voice calm but firm. “You’re allowed to be upset, Y/N, but that wasn’t the way to handle it.”

I didn’t respond immediately. I knew they were right—deep down, I knew—but something about Franco just set me off in ways I couldn’t control.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you two,” Alex said, his tone softening as he looked at me, “but you need to talk it out before this gets worse.”

I glanced toward the door where Franco had disappeared, the guilt gnawing at me. Franco had a way of bringing out the worst in me, and now, I wasn’t sure how to fix it.

Later that night, I found myself sitting on the edge of my bed, staring out of the hotel window at the glowing city lights below. The confrontation with Franco during dinner replayed in my mind, each pass making me feel worse. I hated how easily he got to me, how every exchange with him seemed to spiral into something bigger than it needed to be. But what bothered me most was that deep down, it wasn’t just anger. There was something else beneath the frustration—something I didn’t want to admit.

A knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts. I hesitated for a moment before standing up to answer it. When I opened the door, Alex stood there, leaning casually against the frame, his expression a mix of concern and that familiar big-brother teasing.

“Mind if I come in?” he asked.

I stepped aside, letting him in without saying a word. Alex walked over to the small seating area near the window and sat down, waiting for me to join him. The silence stretched between us for a moment before he finally spoke.

“You want to talk about it?”

I sighed, closing the door and sitting across from him. “Not really.”

Alex chuckled softly. “You sure? Because I’ve been watching you two for a while now, and it’s pretty clear something’s going on.”

I ran a hand through my hair, avoiding his gaze. “He just—he gets under my skin.”

“That much is obvious,” Alex said, his tone light but not unkind. “But there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?”

I shook my head, feeling frustration bubbling up again. “I thought I couldn’t stand him. He’s arrogant, cocky, always trying to show off… but today, I pushed too far. And I know it.”

Alex nodded, watching me closely. “Franco’s sure of himself, yeah, but did you ever think that maybe he has to be so overly confident? The media and Netflix are always after us already, let alone if you replace someone halfway through the season. He’s not a bad guy, Y/N. You’ve been pretty hard on him since he joined.”

I sighed, feeling the weight of his words settle on my shoulders. “You’re right. I just didn’t expect him to… I don’t know, get to me like this.”

Alex leaned back, giving me a thoughtful look. “Y/N, you’re used to having things figured out—people, situations. But Franco doesn’t fit into that box you tried to put him in, and it’s throwing you off.”

I frowned, feeling the truth of Alex’s words sink in. I had been so sure of what kind of person Franco was, but the more time I spent around him, the harder it became to keep him in that neat little box I had created.

“He’s different than I thought,” I admitted finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “He’s still confident, but there’s more to him than just the cocky guy I thought he was.”

Alex smiled softly. “Exactly. So maybe instead of pushing him away, you should try to figure out what’s really going on between the two of you.”

I bit my lip, my heart heavy with guilt. “Do you think he’ll forgive me?”

Alex chuckled, his voice gentle. “You won’t know until you try. Talk to him. You’ll feel better once you do.”

Unable to sleep, I tossed and turned in bed, my mind spinning with guilt and frustration. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the look on Franco’s face when I pushed him too far at dinner. I knew I had crossed a line, but admitting it was harder than I thought.

Before I even realized what I was doing, I found myself slipping out of bed, grabbing my jacket to cover my nightgown, and quietly leaving my hotel room. The hallway was dimly lit, and the quiet hum of the city outside felt distant as I made my way toward Franco’s room.

My heart pounded as I reached his door. I hesitated for a moment, unsure if this was a good idea. But before I could talk myself out of it, I knocked softly.

The door swung open, and Franco stood in the doorway, his expression a mix of surprise and something else—something unreadable. He was dressed casually in a t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair still slightly damp, as if he had just showered.

“Y/N?” he asked, his voice low. “What are you doing here?”

I swallowed, suddenly feeling the weight of my nerves. “I—I came to apologize.”

Franco crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe, his dark eyes watching me carefully. “For what, exactly?”

I bit my lip, trying to find the right words. “For what I said at dinner. I… I was out of line. I let my frustration get the better of me, and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”

For a moment, Franco didn’t say anything. He simply studied me, his expression unreadable, and the silence between us felt heavy, charged with something I couldn’t quite place.

Finally, he sighed, stepping aside and gesturing for me to come in. “You might as well come in. We shouldn’t do this in the hallway.”

I hesitated, but eventually stepped into Franco’s room, the door clicking shut behind me. The air between us was thick, the unspoken tension hanging like a storm ready to break. Franco leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as he watched me carefully, his dark eyes searching my face for something I wasn’t sure I could give him.

“I didn’t expect you to apologize,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, softer but still holding that familiar edge. “You’ve been pretty set on hating me.”

I shook my head, my voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t hate you. I was just… frustrated. I thought you were just this arrogant guy who didn’t care about anyone but himself, but you’re not like that. You surprised me, and I guess I didn’t know how to handle it.”

Franco’s expression softened, but there was still a teasing spark in his eyes. “Surprised you, huh? So I’m not as terrible as you thought?”

I couldn’t help but laugh softly, despite the tension in the room. “Not completely terrible I guess.”

We stood there in the quiet for a moment, the weight of the apology settling between us. His eyes never left mine, and there was something in his gaze that made my heart race, something that had been there all along but that I’d refused to acknowledge.

“You didn’t have to come here,” Franco said, his voice low, a slight vulnerability in his tone that caught me off guard. “But I’m glad you did.”

My breath caught in my throat as the distance between us suddenly felt smaller, more intimate. The tension that had simmered for so long now felt like it was about to snap, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready for it. But I couldn’t move away, couldn’t bring myself to break the moment.

Instead, I took a step closer, my heart racing as our eyes locked. The silence between us felt heavy, full of things neither of us was willing to say, but we didn’t need words. I could feel it in the air, in the way his gaze softened, in the way my pulse quickened.

Franco reached out, his hand brushing lightly against mine. His touch was hesitant at first, almost as if he was waiting for me to pull away. But I didn’t. Instead, I took another step closer, closing the gap between us, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it.

When he leaned in, it wasn’t sudden—it was slow, deliberate. His lips brushed against mine softly at first, a hesitant kiss that quickly deepened as the tension between us finally broke. My hands found their way to his chest, and I felt the warmth of his skin beneath his t-shirt as his arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer.

The kiss was everything we had held back, all the frustration and unspoken attraction we had been pretending didn’t exist. It was slow at first, then more urgent, as if we were both trying to make up for all the time we had wasted fighting it.

Franco’s hand moved to cup my face, his thumb gently brushing against my cheek as he kissed me, and I felt a warmth spread through me that I hadn’t expected. I didn’t want to admit how badly I had wanted this, how much I had been waiting for this moment, even though I had denied it to myself for so long.

When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathless, our foreheads resting against each other as we caught our breath. My hands were still pressed against his chest, and his arms stayed firmly around my waist, neither of us willing to break the connection completely.

Franco was the first to speak, his voice low and filled with a soft amusement. “So, I guess that’s one way to make up.”

I laughed lightly, my heart still racing. “Maybe.”

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at me properly, his gaze more serious now but still holding that familiar teasing edge. “You know, I didn’t think this would happen.”

“Me either,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m not mad about it.”

Franco’s lips curved into a small smile, and he leaned in again, this time pressing a softer, lingering kiss to my forehead before pulling away entirely. He didn’t let go of me completely, though, his hands still resting on my waist as he looked at me, his eyes searching mine for something I wasn’t sure I could name.

“We don’t have to figure everything out tonight,” he said quietly, his voice gentle but filled with something deeper. “But I think we both know there’s more going on here than just… whatever this is.”

I nodded, unable to find the words to respond. He was right, of course. This was more than just the heat of the moment—it had been building for a while, even if neither of us had been willing to admit it. But now that the tension had finally broken, it felt like there was no going back.

“Yeah,” I whispered, my voice soft. “There’s definitely more.”

***

He looked me deeply into my eyes before closing the space between us again. When our lips met again, it wasn’t the tentative kiss from before—this time, it was full of fire, all the pent-up tension and frustration we had been holding onto. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer, and my hands slid up to his shoulders, fingers threading into his hair.

Everything felt heightened—the softness of his touch, the warmth of his breath, the way my body responded to every move he made. There was a sense of inevitability between us, like this moment had always been coming, but now that it was here, it was overwhelming in the best possible way.

As we stumbled backward toward the bed, the kisses deepened, more urgent now. Franco’s hands found the hem of my dress, his touch both careful and eager, as though he wanted to savor every moment spent undressing me. My heart raced in anticipation, my skin humming under his fingertips.

Franco softly pushed me onto the bed, taking a few seconds to admire the sight before him before taking off his shirt and lowering himself onto me. My breath hitched as Franco’s lips trailed down my neck, each kiss sending sparks through my body. 

“Fuck you are so beautiful.” He softly mumbled, making heartbeat race even faster. What was this man doing to you?

His kisses softened around your inner thighs. 

“Do you want me to keep going?”

Awakened from my trance, I opened my eyes and looked down to meet his. “Please, don’t stop.”

That same cocky grin reappeared on his face. “Are you expectations as high as they are for my driving?”

I rolled your eyes. “Stop with the jokes Franco, I need you, please!”

“I’ve been waiting to hear that all weekend”

Without hesitation he roughly pulled down my lacy black panties, inserting one finger into my core while his tongue worked my already swollen clit. 

Sweet moans filled the room like music as he added another finger inside me. I could feel him smile down there.

“Can’t believe how wet you are for me. It’s so sexy.”

Soon my back started arching involuntarily. My hands, that were softly stroking through his hair as he worked me, now began gripping his dark brown locks tightly.

“Fuck Franco I’m so close.” I moaned, heart racing in my chest. 

To my disappointment he pulled away. Before I had the chance to start whining, he pulled down his sweats to reveal his huge dick. With lustful eyes I looked the beautiful man standing in front of me up and down. He looked incredible, the messy hair making him even sexier. 

He climbed back on top of me, softly kissing me, leaving me to taste my own excitement on his lips. 

Leaning over, he gently kissed my ears. “I want to feel you finish around me.” he whispered in his low husky voice.

Before the excitement had even reached my core, he slid his dick in, leaving no time for me to adjust to his size. He started ramming into me at dangerous pace, leaving me to cry out from the mixture the pain and pleasure. 

Franco’s hands roamed over my body, exploring, claiming, as though he had been craving this moment for too long. Every touch, every sound was laced with the weight of everything we had been holding back.

My breath hitched as he pulled out and flipped me over. His hands gliding over my ass while he repositioned himself in front of my entrance. 

“Where do you want me to cum later?” he asked, while grabbing my hair, giving it a little tug.

“In my mouth please.” My voice was hitchy from the thrill. 

I felt Franco’s dick twitch against me. He pulled me up to him by my hair and began kissing my neck more, his free hand playing with my boob.

“Is that so? And are you going to swallow it for me?”

I moaned. “Happily.”

He let go of my hair which led me to fall back on all fours on the mattress. I felt the palm of his hand smack hard against my ass, breath caught in my throat, my body trembling in response to his. He slid in and sweet sensations filled my body yet again. 

As the intensity built, Franco’s voice dropped to a whisper, his breath hot against my skin. “I’ve wanted this… wanted you… for so long.”

My only response was a soft gasp, my body arching toward his. I could feel the raw need in every movement, in the way his hands gripped mine tighter, his lips tracing fire along my skin. The tension that had been crackling between the two of you for weeks finally exploded in a wave of release, leaving us both breathless.

“Franco I-“ I couldn’t finish my sentence as a wave of pleasure went through my body.

He kept going as I completely soaked him, the wet pounding and both of your moans being the only sound in the room. 

When he was close, he flipped you over again to face him, stroking his long dick a couple times while I opened my mouth for him.  While I looked deeply into his glistering eyes, he released into my mouth. The warm salty taste made me ecstatic, sucking him off to make sure I had every last drop to swallow. 

Exhausted, we both let ourselves fall down on the bed. Heavy breathing filling the room.

“Such a good girl for me.” Franco smiled as he brushed through my hair. He pulled me closer in his muscular arms, our bodies still pressed close, the remainder of the storm we had just weathered lingering in the quiet of the room. Franco’s fingers traced light patterns along my arm, his breath still uneven as he looked at me, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of something deeper than just satisfaction.

I smiled, heart still racing but in a calmer, more settled way now. “Neither was I.”

We both didn’t need to say anything more. The silence was comfortable now, the tension replaced by a quiet understanding that whatever had just happened had changed things. As the two of us lay together, the connection that had once been full of conflict now felt like something new, something Franco and I both wanted to explore.

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 7

Summary: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 7: new revelation

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I can't find him!" A woman burst through the doors. Her boots were barely on and she wore no jacket.

"Find who?" Althea asked, one wolf ear flicking at the sudden noise.

"Rodney!" She ran over to us and spoke directly to the healer. "We-we were arguing and he ran out but I thought he would come back."

"How long has he been out?"

The woman was hesitant, eyes jumping between all of us. Althea had to prompt her again, pressing that we needed to know as soon as possible.

"Since...since this afternoon."

Althea and I locked eyes. The sun was about to set which meant the boy had been out for hours in the freezing cold. "Which way did he go?" she asked.

The woman was in tears now, guilt probably pulling her heart in two. She shook her head in her hands as an answer. She had no idea.

"Where do we start?" Althea looked to me. I almost wanted to ask 'why would I know?' but I did in fact know. I had been on this land for two years now and ran or explored most of it.

"Either the shore or the forest," I answered.

"We don't have any winter clothes, though," Vivian warned. She was right. We had yet to make winter clothes for everyone since they only moved in the cold when going between warm buildings. Someone going out could get frostbite themselves before they found the boy.

I thought for a moment before an idea came to mind. "Find Husker. His magic lets him keep himself warm and he can fly along the shore."

"What about the forest?" Althea asked.

"I'll go. I can also keep myself warm and can move fast as a dragon."

"As a what?" Vilcin popped their head out from behind Vivian. I noticed by the looks on their faces that I had yet to let my friends know of my abilities. They mostly seemed surprised but I worried if there was a hint of anger at keeping a secret from them.

"I'll be back." I turned swiftly on my heels and out into the cold. The wind caught me off guard but I pushed the cold away and replaced it with warmth. I took a few steps in the shallow snow, some Humans having shoveled for easier walking, and jumped forward. My claws enlarged and it took a second jump for my whole Dragon form to come out.

I moved swiftly out of the haven and into the forest. It was much easier to maneuver through the forest with four feet. My tail whipped behind me and I felt a rush of adrenaline run through my veins. I loved running like this. I felt so free and natural, like I belonged doing exactly this.

A presence came to my mind and I instantly recognized it as Alastor. He seemed to wrap around my mind but not quite pass through my shields. I slowed to a trot and looked around for his stark red coat against the white snow, but he was nowhere to be found. Was he close?

I shook my head and picked up my pace back to a run. I had only so much time before I lost the sunlight. It was taking a lot of magic to keep my Dragon form, keep myself warm, and move as quickly as I could through the forest.

The sun was moving faster than me, though, and the forest became next to impossible to run through. I was forced into another trot to avoid running face first into a tree.

"You lack imagination." Alastor's voice echoed in my head. He was always saying those exact words. How could I use my imagination when my entire world has been grounded in reality and the limits of the physical body? I could only do so much.

I came to a stop and stomped my front foot. I wasn't going to return without this boy, dead or alive. I could manage to find him, assuming he even came into the forest to begin with and not the shore.

I took a deep breath to let out a sigh but stopped. I quickly let out the breath and took another huge one through my nose alone. I could smell something. It wasn't natural, nothing like wood or snow. It was something else—someone—else.

Bringing more magic energy to my head, I started taking short, deep breaths. I padded through the cold snow keeping my head close to the ground. The boy was young so he was shorter. If only it was light enough then I could see footprints.

I tried brightening the dark shadows, reverse shadow work, and watched everything brighten. I picked up the pace as I followed the boy's trail. He was close. The smell was getting stronger and the snow wasn't smooth - he had come this way.

Then I spotted him. He was laying on his side curled up against a tree. I sprinted over and slid to a stop. He had dug himself a little burrow in the snow but it did him nothing. His body was barely moving and his fingers were already purple.

I lifted his cold body into my arms and took flight. I kept the cold away and gradually pushed warmth into him. He wasn't dead but he was awfully close. I flew as fast as I could back to the haven and found Althea in the grand hall. She rushed him over to her hut, wrapped him in blankets, and immediately started attempting to heal him. The mother was hovering but fortunately Vivian convinced her to sit to the side with her.

"What about his hands?" I asked nervously, touching the poor boy's black tipped fingers under the blanket.

"Healing speeds up the process, it can't undo anything," Althea explained. She was bringing color back to his skin.

Surely that can't be right.

I pulled his arm out of the blanket and gently ran my fingers across his own. The mother was sobbing at this point and mumbling her guilts to our teacher.

I looked down to the boy's fingers. I remembered Lucifer, King of Hell, saying that magic was ever expanding and not constrained to the categories already set in place. Vox was obviously a new improvement to their type of magic. Surely I could do the same? Alastor himself said I had a lot of power.

Carefully and slowly, I imagined the black skin crawling away from my own hand and fading into the tips of his fingers. I was shocked to find it actually working when I opened my eyes. A surge of happiness filled me as I continued my work until the black had disappeared entirely. I watched one of his fingers twitch.

I did it!

Alastor's presence surged through my shields and his hand suddenly gripped my wrist, wrenching it up so quickly and painfully that I was spun around to face him. His eyes were narrow and I could see his black gums on his terrifying snarl. He was angry.

"How did you do that?" he demanded. My fingers were feeling funny from the death grip he had on my wrist. I could feel him searching my memories and I tried to pull my hand free to break the connection.

"Let go of me, Alastor." I met his sharp, cat-like eyes with equal anger. He was violating the peace we had managed to build these past few weeks. He was reverting back to his self that I first met.

I was pulled into the shadows and transported into the library. I stumbled back into the wall from the motion and Alastor chased me, slamming a hand on the wall beside my head and bringing his sharp teeth close to my face. "How. Did. You. Do that?" he demanded again.

"You don't get to treat me like this!" Still in my Demon form, I made myself a few inches taller and pulled my lips back in a snarl. It still felt much weaker compared to his yellow one but I wasn't about to drop the challenge.

"Answer me," he ignored my response, "how? You shouldn't have been able to do that."

"Well I did. You're the one who keeps telling me I lack imagination but when I use it you get mad at me."

"I want to know how. Explain it to every detail."

"Why are you so upset about this? Tell me that first."

"This isn't a negotiation, darling~" the name was anything but sweet, sending a chill down my spine that I repressed.

"You don't get to control me. We've been over this time and time again. You. Cannot. Control me!" I went to shove him away but he grabbed both hands at the last second. He moved them barely to the side and my momentum took me into him. He took advantage of my loss of balance, holding my hands far enough past his shoulders that I was leaning on his chest and craning my neck back away from his teeth. His breath smelled horrible.

Without warning, he invaded my mind and went through my memories. I brought my back foot up and shoved against his leg. His tentacles came up to keep me in place, his eyes seeing through me as he fished for his answer. I did the next best thing and brought my forehead to his teeth.

His ears pinned back, something I didn't know he could do, and jerked his head away. The tentacles reached up to my shoulders to hold me down further. So I went the magic route.

I closed my eyes and followed the connection, reaching into his mind this time. I barely got in when he withdrew quickly from my mind to shove me out of his.

"I told you-"

"Then don't search through mine!" I let Alcine, my shadow, free from my form and she towered on the wall behind me. She morphed into the dragon and attacked Alastor's shadow. She wrapped around him like a snake and held his face in her claws, ready to snap his neck.

Alastor's eyes widened at the loss of his shadow. They then jumped back to me, a smirk pulling at my lips. It's only been two years but I was already giving him a run for his money. Something in me had unlocked tonight and he was furious about it.

His tentacles suddenly disappeared and he shoved me against the wall by my neck. He leaned down close to my ear as my throat squeezed shut. "You have been gifted by the force of the universe that our fates our tied."

I put my weight on his arm and looked up at him through half lidded eyes. I put both feet against his leg but without oxygen I was useless. I tried using magic to fill my lungs but I felt him block me. My anger boiled from being unable to do anything.

He suddenly let go and I fell on my tailbone, letting out a strangled gasp and high pitched noise. "No matter," he said, his cane appearing in his hand so he could lean over me, "I found my answer. For the time being, you are not to tell a soul what you did. It could mean worse things for both of us."

I watched him disappear into his shadows to who knows where. I retracted my horns so I could slam my head into the wall and punch the floor. I let out a deep yell and looked at Alcine on the wall. She had turned back into her elegant long hat outfit.

I pulled my legs up and wrapped my arms around them. He was always going to beat me. Two years felt like awhile but to him it was milliseconds. It would take me so long before I could match him on skill level. Why couldn't he just be normal? Why did he have to push and invade my boundaries?

I glared up into the dark library, my Demon side fully out. This meant I would have to go about this a different way.

****

"Since when do you willingly want to speak with me?" Lucifer Morningstar asked, closing the door behind the Radio Demon. Alastor spun to face the short king and placed his hands atop his own—better—cane.

"You have information only you would know. I came to retrieve it."

"Oh? And why would I give it to you?"

"I think you'd find it rather interesting what I'm about to tell you." He cocked his head to the side.

"And what is that?"

Alastor took a few steps to close the distance. "My soulmate healed completely frostbitten fingers."

"Why is that so interesting?" Lucifer kept his arms crossed. Alastor's eye twitched at the king's oblivion. He remained silent, waiting for him to figure it out himself. Indeed he did because his eyes widened and his arms dropped to his sides.

"She healed...that's not how Demon magic works," Lucifer said slowly.

"Precisely," the word rolled off Alastor's tongue. "She healed it. Who else wields such magic?"

"Well...that would be me, Lilith, and Charlie. And any and all Angels who—" It clicked. "She's...you think she's a..."

"A fallen Angel," Alastor finished for him. This man's mind worked so slow yet he was running all of Hell.

Lucifer started to laugh. Alastor watched, completely unamused by the behavior. Why was this so funny? This meant the Angels were losing more of them and allowing them to fall to the surface instead of Hell.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Lucifer wiped a tear from his eyes. "It's just...I find it hilarious that you, the Radio Demon, are soul bound to a fallen Angel."

"Why is that? She must've done something to earn such a banishment."

That made Lucifer go quiet. He put a hand under his arm and another under his chin to think. "Have you not seen her memories? Or has she been making sure you can't be twenty yards from her?" He smirked, knowing full well from Charlie what the status of their relationship was like.

"I have. She has no memories of Heaven, though. Hence why I thought a fallen Angel himself would certainly have more information." Alastor was trying to threaten Lucifer with a lack of knowledge, hoping he'd try to prove himself and give up the information willingly.

Lucifer didn't find it amusing, mostly hurtful, but he played the part. "Then she must be a child of a fallen Angel. It would explain why I didn't see a halo when I first met her."

"Excuse me?" Alastor tapped his fingers on his cane.

Lucifer ran his black hand over his smooth hair then pointed an inch above it. "Fallen angels have a faint outline of their halo above their head only I can see."

"She did not have one?"

"No," he shook his head, "but I can imagine she would have some Angelic magic if one of her parents were one."

"Outstanding."

Lucifer watched Alastor's expression intensely. "Why is this so important? What do you intend to do to her?"

"That is for me to know." He held his cane and arms behind his back as he smiled down at the King of Hell.

"I feel real bad for your soulmate." Lucifer's tone was somber as he crossed his arms again.

"You will envy us with time. Ta ta for now." Alastor slipped into the shadows.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

I'm back on a roll! Time for feelings!!!

[pandorasword]

Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.

Chaeri's Masterlist

Web article

June, 2023

The K-pop community is abuzz with questions and speculations as Chaeri, the only female member of BTS, and the leader of Ateez, Hongjoong, have not been seen together for quite some time. Adding to the intrigue, recent reports suggest that Chaeri's contract as Ateez's choreographer with KQ Entertainment has come to an end.

Fans are left wondering about the reasons behind Chaeri's departure from her role as the mastermind behind Ateez's captivating dance routines. While she proved her talent and left an indelible mark on the group's performances, the sudden silence surrounding her professional life is leaving many perplexed.

Furthermore, the once inseparable couple of K-pop is raising eyebrows with their apparent absence from each other's lives. No sightings, no public appearances together, and no social media interactions have fans concerned about the status of their relationship.

In a world where idols' every move is scrutinized, the mysterious circumstances surrounding Chaeri and Hongjoong's recent actions are only fueling the rumor mill. Fans are eager to know if there's a rift between the two or if they are merely keeping their personal lives private.

As the duo's fans eagerly await any updates or official statements, the K-pop world is on edge, hoping for clarity and reassurance. Until then, the question marks continue to grow, and the mystery deepens, leaving everyone to wonder what's next for Chaeri and Hongjoong.

Twitter: Search results on #Chaejoong

💭 The total lack of updates about Chaeri and Hongjoong is seriously, like, causing me to lose it! Seriously, somebody, anyone, pretty please, shower us with some news about our nation's couple 🥹

💭 I am totally convinced that they're taking a break from the spotlight to have some super sweet quality time together, just the two of them! 🥰💕 Ahh, my fangirl heart is bursting with happiness at the thought! 😻💖 I'm beyond excited for their comeback, 'cause I know they'll be back stronger and happier 🌟💪 Let's all send them all the love and support they deserve

💭 I can't even deal with the fact that Chaeri won't be Ateez's choreographer anymore ❤️‍🩹

💭 I'm keeping my fingers crossed for Chaeri and Hongjoong to surprise us with some good news soon! They've been through so much together

💭 It's strange not seeing them together lately. I hope they're both doing well and that their relationship is as strong as ever!

💭 I hope Chaeri's decision to leave the choreographer role was her own choice and not due to any conflicts with Hongjoong

💭 I hope the media will give them space and not speculate too much about their relationship. They deserve to have their privacy respected

💭 Honestly, I think Chaeri and Hongjoong would be better off without each other. They don't seem to fit together, and it's time they moved on

💭 I can't wait for them to break up. Maybe then we can stop hearing about their relationship and focus on the music

Hongjoong at the airport after the article was published

Twitter: Search results on #Chaejoong

💭 Hongjoong's response has me even more anxious. I hope everything's alright with Chaeri

💭 Those who are fans of Hongjoong know that that smile on his face is a facade. HE WAS REALLY NERVOUS

💭 Maybe it's just a private matter they don't want to share with the public. Let's trust they'll handle it together

💭 Stop saying he was upset because they broke up, the reporter was clearly invading his personal space and assuming false information, Hongjoong did wisely to ignore him

💭 I won't believe they broke up even if they release an official statement. they are THE match

💭 I hope they're taking care of each other. It must be hard for them to deal with rumors and speculation

💭 I hope Chaeri finally realized that she deserves better 🤡

💭 We should remember they're not obligated to share every aspect of their lives with us

Chaeri on Weverse

Bouncy Challenge

Comments section

💬 ATE AND LEFT NO CRUMBS

💬 Yunho and Mingi don't care if their captain and Chaeri are still dating, they will keep being their babies 😩

💬 lets all clap for this woman who, before leaving her role, blessed all of us by putting together this choreo

💬 The fact that she can perform male group choreography better than men 😮‍💨💀

💬 we deserved a challenge with Chaeri and Hongjoong

💬 BABE WAKE UP CHAERI BOUNCY CHALLENGE JUST DROPPED

💬 I WANT THE BEHIND THE SCENES OF THIS TIKTOK

taglist: @alixnsuperstxr | @bts-dream | @enchantingbrowneyedgirl | @ycuvi | @cosmicwintr

[corie-is-writing]

↳ ❝ [S Y N P O S I S] ¡! ❞

Y/n L/n, a simple minded reader, is one of the biggest fans of a popular web novel, Twisted wonderland. In their shock after finding out it has ended, they froze in the middle of a busy street and got hit by a truck.

Dizzy and confused, they have awoken in a coffin in the world they adore so much, and must use their knowledge to survive and stop the boys from overblotting.

↳ ❝ [M A S T E R L I S T] ¡! ❞

↳ ❝ [THE CRIMSON TYRANT] ¡! ❞

˗ˏˋ Finally, becoming a student! ´ˎ˗

Kind of a short and boring chapter, slower updates for now cuz school just started a during sunday, sorry!

Crowley darts his eyes left right, looking at you pouting in your seat, pushed on to it by Deuce, and the angered beast on his own seat, not making eye contact with you.

"I've been meaning to ask, but.." He sweats, "What happened between these two?"

Ace sighs, "Grim ate a rock off the floor and Y/n tried to make him throw it up." He explains nonchalantly.

Deuce shudders at the memory. "They suddenly had the strength of a hundred bears, Ace and I barely managed to pry them off Grim."

"...I see.." Crowley blinks, before relaxing in his seat. "In any case.."

Then he sobs.

The cards and the beast flinch, taken back by Crowley's sudden burst of crocodile tears.

"Oooh....Ohhh.... OOOOOHHHHH!! Sob..!!"

"WHAT'S WITH THIS GUY??" Grim questions, staring at the crying crow.

"In all these that I've been headmaster.." Crowley suddenly calms down, speaking again. "For the day to come that students of Night Raven College to hold hands and defeat a common foe!" He cheers.

"What?! I did not hold this guys hands!" Deuce shouts, disgusted.

"I would never do that either, gross!" Ace gags, before raising a brow. "Wait, how old are you, Headmaster??"

"I am overwhelmed with emotion." Crowley ignores the question, looking at you. "This incident confirms it. You are without a doubt a future beast tamer!" He exclaims, pointing at you.

"Students of Night Raven College are budding mages chosen by the Dark Mirror. But due to their excellence, many of them turn out to be prideful, egoistical, and self-centered individuals who never give a thought about cooperating with others."

"You're really not saying anything good.."

"You cannot use magic. But maybe, precisely because you cannot use magic means you could give instructions to magic users and get them to cooperate." Ouch

"Surely a mediocre, run-of-the-mill human like you is exactly what this school needs right now!" Double ouch.

"He's just insulting everyone now!" Ace widens his eyes.

"I have no doubt that your existence is essential to the future of this academy." The masked man begins again.

"So says my intuition as an educator. Along with rescinding Mr. Trappola and Mr. Spade's expulsion, I shall give you qualifcations to attend Night Raven College as a student."

"EEEHHH?!"

"Cool."

Crowley coughs into his hands, ignoring your lack of reaction. "But, there is one condition." He says.

"You can not use magic and complete all your lessons, that's where Grim comes in."

Said beast's ears perk up.

"You have proven to me that you possess enough talent to become a mage." Crowley continues. "Therefore, I shall enroll you two as one student."

Grim's blue eyes light up as he hears this, bewildered. "Fggnaa?! I can go to this school too..as a student?" He asks.

Crowley nods his head."Yes, provided that you don't let ever an incident like yesterday occur again! Do we have an agreement?"

Grim stays silent, still not believing his ears. "Fggnaa..W-we..we can.." His words don't come out.

Your eyes soften and you smile, clapping your hands lightly. "That's great, Grim!"

Grim smiles, jumping out of his seat. "Fgggnnaaa! I did!" He cheers.

Crowley then opens his drawer, taking out a shiny crystal. "Well then, I shall give the symbol of your status as a student of Night Raven College. A magic crystal." He says

"Whoa! A magic crystal?" Grim widens his eyes in surprise, staring at the gem.

"It is the norm for students to have their magic crystals in the form of a magic pen." Crowley explains.

"But, You wouldn't be able to grip it in your paws, right? It is a special custom."

Crowley begins to smile, a sign he's going to praise himself. You immediately tune out his voice.

'Oh, I wonder if Ace would like to eat dinner with us.' You think, you need him to not steal the tart if you don't want Riddle to overblot.

"I did it!" Grim brings you out of your thoughs. "I'm so cool! I got my own special magic crystal collar~"

"Listen, Y/n." Crowley calls. "As you can see, Grim is not accustomed to human society. It is up to you to make sure he doesn't cause any trouble!" He says.

Ace smirks, laying a hand on your shoulder as he chuckles. "Look at you! School's just started and you're already a prefect?"

Deuce brings his hand to his lips. "I see. There's only two of you in your dorm.." He mutters. His fist hitting his palm as he smiles. "So monitoring Grim makes you a prefect!"

"Pufft!" Ace laughs. "Isn't that unheard of? For there to be a prefect who is unable to use magic."

His gaze softens and he gives a genuine. "Nice. It's cool. A superviser who is unable to use magic!"

You smile along with the cards and the beast, "I'll do my best!" You exclaim.

"Good luck, prefect." Ace says.

"I see, a prefect." Crowley murmurs. "I do have a work request.. and having a title makes it very conve..I mean wonderful!" He corrects himself.

"Prefect, I entrust you with this."

Crowley hands you a familiar camera. 'I almost forgot about this.'

"This is nicknamed the 'ghost camera'." The crow says, your eyes glued to the camera as you observe the littlest detail.

"Ooh, my grandma's told me about those." Ace mentions. "It's a super old magic tool, right?"

"It's not that old.." Crowley sighs, displeased with the description. "It's true this may have been invented during your great grandmother's time, or your great-great grandmother's time."

"There is a very unique spell cast on it." He explains, "It not only captures the subjects' form, but also a part of their soul."

Deuce raises a brow. "A part of their souls..?" He questions.

"Memory: A fragment of Remembrance" is another name for it." Crowley says, "Further more, the most interesting thing about this camera is that the souls of the photographer and the photographed become deeply connected and the memory in the photo comes jumping out!" He finishes.

"It comes jumping out?" Grim asks, the crow nods.

"Depending on how close the subject and the photographer are, the picture could move like a video." Crowley explains. "Or bring to life the situation in the photo. Fascinating, right?"

"Bring the photo to life? It's lkke a ghost photographer!" Deuce exclaims.

"Yes, therefore it is called a 'ghost camera.'" Crowley says.

"People would scream 'ghost!' in surprise when the memory comes jumping out."

"A camera for freaking people out.." Ace furrows his brows, who would make something like that?

"Prefect." Crowley turns to you. "Please take photos of Grim and the other students to leave behind many of your memories of your lives in this academy." He says.

"La-lalala~ Take lots of cool photos of me~" Grim sings.

"Be sure to leave a memory especially when someone misbehaves. It's the most suitable way to report to me, Right?" The headmaster speaks. "To give you such a rare item, does my graciousness know no bounds?"

"Thank you headmaster." You smile.

Crowley smiles back at you, "It is already late. Let's save the detailed conversation for tomorrow." He says, "Return to your dormitories, everyone."

You all nod and leave the room. Grim finds his way in your arms as you picked him up.

"La lala~" Grim begins singing again, "I start as a student of Night Raven College tomorrow. I'm gonna leave you all and take the top spot!" He says.

Ace furrows his brows. "You talk big for someone who is only half a student.." He sighs, "Anyways, it's fine." You see his eyes soften slightly.

"We're classmates tomorrow, Prefect, Grim." Deuce speaks up, smiling.

"I'm glad to attend here with you guys." You say with a smile.

The tip of Ace's ears turn red as he scratches the back of his neck. "Saying stuff like that is really embarrassing, will you stop?"

Deuce chuckles. "That's true. Even if we don't want to, we're going to see each other everyday. I'm even in Heartslabyul with this jerk." He points to Ace, making him glare.

"The thought of having to see Mr. Serious mug everyday makes me sick." The ginger gags.

"That's my line, truant Ace."

"You guys are still fighting?"

A familiar voice joins in the conversation, you all look up to see the ghosts from the mainstreet.

"GAAHHH!" You all scream, you feel your heart jumping out of your ribcage.

"GRIM! FIRE!"

"DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!"

The beast still follows your orders, and a he breaths out a burst of flame aiming for the ghost.

"How rude! I don't wanna talk anyway..!" The ghost's voice echoes as he disappears of to who knows where.

Grim pants, shaking. "It's that ghost again..."

"Who even are they?" You ask. Ace turns his head to you.

"You seriously don't know?" You raise a brow, making him facepalm himself. "Right, another world.." He mutters, recalling you telling him of your situation on the way to the Hall of Mirrors.

"He's the Mainstreet Ghost, randomly appears a few years ago and mostly sticked to the, well, Mainstreet." Ace explains, "He quickly became popular outside of NRC because of him helping others or spooking them."

"And everyone is okay with him staying here..?" Grim asks, the card duo nod.

"He's seen in a good light thanks to his navigations and information about the great seven, so the headmaster just let him be, I guess.." Deuce says.

'None of that is helpful to finding out why he isn't in the story.' You groan.

"Oh, yeah." You perk your head up. "You guys wanna eat at our dorm? Dinner must've already passed at your dorm."

Ace shakes his head, "Nah, I'll just eat whatever is in the fridge." He says.

"I'm not that hungry either." Deuce mentions, "It's already late anyway, we shouldn't impose."

"It's not imposing if I'm inviting you." You sigh, "Oh well, don't steal a tart or something."

Ace raises a brow, confused by your words, but doesn't question it.

"I'm hungry!" Grim says, raising his paws like a toddler.

"I know, I know.. Let's just eat leftovers." You mutter, he seems content with that.

"As long as it tastes good it's good for me!"

𓆩♡𓆪

The roses are painted bright red with brushes held by card soldiers, singing as they do so.

"Hurry, hurry! We have to paint them all red!" The Ace of Clovers rushes.

A small blonde girl clad in blue raises a brow, "Why do you need to paint a roses red?" She asked.

"Well, the fact is, Miss." The Two of Clovers begins. "We planted white roses by mistake."

"The Queen, she likes them red," The Ace of Clovers continues. "Of she saw white roses instead, each of us will quickly lose our heads!"

The blonde gasps, putting a hand to her mouth. "Goodness!" She exclaims.

"Since this is the part we dread," The Three of Clovers speaks up. "We're painting the roses red."

Your head begins to ache at the sound of the door banging loudly, Grim turns and groans at the noise.

'I just told him not to steal a tart..' You scowl, getting up from the bed already.

You and Grim walk to the foyer, you immediately open the door to reveal a collared Knave of Hearts.

"Ace, what're you doing here this late.. Gah?! And what's with the collar?" Grim questions, looking at the heart-shaped collar on Ace's neck.

"I'm never going back to Hellslabyul ever again! Starting today, I'm going to join your dorm!" The ginger announces, surprising Grim.

"You WHAT?!" Grim shouts.

"How about we talk about this inside?" You say, letting Ace in.

You go to the kitchen to make some tea while Ace and Grim go over to the living room, sitting down on the torn couch.

"Geez, this place is a mess." Ace darts his eyes around. Grim huffs, crossing his paws.

"If you wanna be apart of this dorm then deal with it!"

You return with a small tea set that you found in the cupboards and the kettle, pouring tea for everyone in the room.

"Thanks." Ace smiles, blowing on the hot tea.

"So, what exactly happened?" You ask, sitting down.

"That's the same collar that red-haired senior put on me during the entrance ceremony." Grim mentions, "What's it doing on you?"

"I ate a tart." Ace replied nonchalantly, sipping on his tea.

"Huh?" Grim blinks. "A tart?"

"You heard me. Literally just that." Ace sighs. You slouch in your seat as you cross your arms.

"Didn't I tell you not to? Truly, you are such a knave."

Ace looks at you with confusion, raising a brow, a signal for explanation that you did not get.

"There were three whole tarts! So I just took one slice!" Ace yells. "Then that tyrant of a dormleader collared me for it! Saying something about them belonging to him." The ginger huffs.

"........"

"........"

"You're both in the wrong here, y'know?" Grim speaks up first.

Ace finishes his tea. "Don't you think it's a little much to seal my magic because of one tiny tart? It's like having my arms and legs chained up." He says.

"Besides, there were three whole tarts in there! There's no way he can finish them."

"If there were that many tarts, don't you think it might be for a party?" You ask.

"Yeah, like a birthday party!" Grim adds.

"A birthday party...?" Ace mutters, looking down as he thinks.

"Did you apologize?" Ace furrows his brows at your question, clenching his fists.

"Isn't this the part where you say he's being to much of a power freak?" The ginger pouts, you just shrug your shoulders.

"You're also at fault for eatin his food." Grim says.

"Just apologize to him tomorrow."

"Fine, whatever." Ace grunts, displeased with both of your reactions and lack of sympathy. "But you're coming with me! This is your idea afterall." He adds.

"That's fine with me." You nod.

"So, where should I sleep for the night?" The knave asks,Grim gives him a puzzled look.

"Wait, you were actually being serious?" The beasts questioned. "All the rooms but ours is still a mess. Better get scrubbing." He tells Ace.

"Bleh, I am not cleaning up." The ginger then turns to you. "I'm practically a noodle and won't take up much space, so let me stay in your room!" He begs.

"Sure." You smile.

"W-wait. Seriously?" Ace blinks, surprised by your quick answer.

"No."

𓆩♡𓆪

You were at the door before the Two of Spades even knocked, unlocking the door as he did.

"Ah, good morning prefect." Deuce greets. "Is Ace here?"

You simply nod. "He's eating breakfast with Grim, wanna join us?" You ask.

"No, it's fi-" You don't let him answer as you drag him and throw him on the chair, a plate of eggs and sausage already on the table for him along with orange juice.

"Deuce? What're you doing here?" Ace asks in between bites.

"I, um, heard what happened from the other residents." Deuce says, dazed as his eyes are fixated on the plate of food.

He then turns to Ace, a look of disappointment on his face as he breathed out. "You really are an idiot." He mutters just loud enough to be heard.

"Shut it! I don't wanna hear that from you!" The ginger grumbles, "By the way..Is the dormleader still mad?"

Deuce shakes his head. "Not really. He looked a little irritated at these three guys who missed morning roll call...The most that happened is they met the same fate at you." Ace gave him a questioning look as he furrowed his brows.

"That's your definition of not really?! He's angry, no matter the way you toss it!"

"Ah, Ace." You speak up, finishing your food. "Have you found a way to apologize?" You ask.

"I hate this so much. Why am I the one apologizing?" The ginger groaned.

"We've still got time before class, and I'm curious about other dorms." Grim says, "Let's go on a wander while we go watch Ace's apology." He suggests.

"This isn't some kind of show!" Ace yells.

You all have finished your breakfasts and found your ways in the Heartslabyul dorm. The heart shaped rose bushes everblooming, complimenting the red and white dorm with heart patterns.

'No wonder it's called Heartslabyul.. ' You think to yourself.

"Woah! This is gorgeous!" Grim exclaimed, turning to look at every sight in his view. "It's so much better than whatever ours is!"

"Crap. I've gotta hurry and get these roses painted." You hear a mutter from nearby, Grim's ears perk up as he does too.

"Hey, someone's here." He says, the card duo and you follow the beast to near where the maze is.

You see buckets filled with red paint, some spilled on the ground and one knocked over. Footprints were left behind and there are some white roses standing out from the red ones, paint on the roses still drying.

You see a certain diamond on the ladder, his eyes and mind focused on the roses and nothing else.

"Hello?" Your voice startles him. He turns to you, and see how his green eyes shined brightly under the sun and how his ginger hair is of a lighter shade of red than Ace.

"Hm? You guys need something?" He speaks.

"What are you doing with that?" Ace asks, pointing at the buckets of paint and the brush in the diamond's hands.

"This?" Cater raised his hand. "Can't you see I'm painting the roses red?" He replied dryly.

"But why?" Deuce looked perplexed.

"Ahh, it's been a while since I've got to see cute reactions like this. Actually, aren't you guys the students who destroyed that 10,000,000 chandelier yesterday?" The card duo and the beast sweat at the question.

"Ugh..We're never gonna stop hearing about this until graduation." Ace exhaled.

"And you're the one who added on even more punishment by stealing the dorm leader's tart that very same night!" The diamond pointed at him.

"I feel so lucky meeting you guys! Hey, hey~! let's take a selfie! Yaay!"

None of you have time to decline as he instantly whips out his phone (or maybe it was always in his hand?) and points it it himself and everyone else.

"Can I put this on magicame? Tell me your name so I can put you in the tags."

"I'm Deuce Spade.."

"Ace."

"Grim and my henchman!" You flick him away.

"It's Y/n." You correct the beast.

"Boop! And up it goes~" The green eyed diamond smiles,tapping on his phone. "Oh yeah, I'm Cater Diamon, I'm a third year." He finally introduces himself.

"You can call me Cater or Caycay, nice to meetcha~"

"This guy is really carefree." Grim mumbles, trying to bite your ankle as revenge for flicking him away like crumbled paper.

"It's nice to meet you too." You say, smiling.

"Ah, you're the student that became the prefect for Ramshackle dorm!" Cater points out. "You seem to be setting in pretty well. That place is so dark and unmagicammable!"

"Man, this guy really doesn't shut up does he?" Grim tries to speak. Keyword being tries, as he is current muffled by your hand to keep him from biting you and what ever noise comes out of him is barely understandable.

"What am I doing? I don't have time to chitchat!" Cater slaps his cheeks lightly, holding onto the brush with a firmer grip.

"Can you guys help me paint the roses before the party tomorrow?"

"But why are you doing something so weird anyways?" Ace tilts his head.

"Because red roses at a parth are the most photentic I guess?" Cater brought his hands to his lips, shrugging his shoulders after. "I've also gotta color in the flamingos for the croquet march, so mt hands are full right now."

"You have to color in flamingos?! Your chores are so weird." Grim says, staring in disbelief at the boy.

"So the tart Ace at was going to be for the dorm leader's birthday party..." Deuce mentions outloud. Cater raised his brows.

"Ummm...No? They're for our dorm's traditional 'unbirthday party.'" The ginger says. "The dorm leader chooses a random day that isn't anyone's birthday and we have a tea party."

"The heck kind of tradtion is that?!"

"Worry about that later! Just focuse on painting the roses red!" Cater looks to you and Ace. "Since neither of you can you magic right now, here's some paint."

Deuce widens his eyes in surprise as he stares at the ginger. "W-we can change color with magic?"

"I've never done something like that!" Grim exclaims.

"Don't worry! You're amazing upperclassman CayCay will help!" Cater does a peace sign as he strikes a cutesy pose that makes you die on the inside.

With your brush in hand, you begin painting. Making sure none of the white is shown.

It would be no good if Riddle beheads another person even before his overblot.

[fieldofdaisiies]

gwyn x balthazar | 3k words | warnings: none| masterlist

"Be careful of my ears!" 

Warning laces Balthazar's voice and it draws a vicious chuckle from his sister. Thena flips the scissors in her hands, twirling them around her fingers, before catching them again. She grins at her little brother through the mirror. "Have a little more trust in me, huh? I've been doing this for years, I am a natural talent."

Balthazar fights the urge to roll his eyes, not trusting his sister with a pair of scissors in her hands. He sits perched on an old chair, wings open and draped on the ground so Thena stand close while cutting his hair. When they were younger their mother always cut their hair, but now, with her trembling hands, this is no longer possible. 

Thena's mischievous eyes danced with mirth when lifts up the first strand she has wetted before. "Ready, little brother?"

He chuckles nervously. "Ready, but please don't make me look like an idiot."

Her laughter tinkles like a melody, filling the air with warmth. "Don't worry, it is already too late for that." 

Balthazar wants to swat her, his hand already lifting to fling backwards, but Thena clicks her tongue. "Remember who has the scissors."

With a comb in one hand and scissors in the other, she starts her little brother's transformation. Locks of hair drift to the floor, pooling around her feet as she goes about her job. 

"A very important question," she sings, her tone teasing. "This sudden interest in grooming wouldn't have anything to do with a certain someone, would it?"

Warmth rises in Balthazar's cheeks and he wonders just how obvious he must be. Not only Corrian noticed but also his sister — brilliant. 

The young Illyrian playfully rolls his eyes, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. "I don't know what you are talking about."

Leaning in, Thena glowers at him through the mirror. "Oh, please. I've caught you stealing glances at the red-haired female more than once."

Feigning shock, he gasps dramatically before both burst into laughter. Balthazar shakes his head, wondering exactly how obvious he had been. "Alright, alright."

"So, you admit it?"

Balthazar shurgs. 

"But she is not Illyrian."

"I am well aware of that, Thena." The bitterness in the Illyrian's voice is quite audible and sends a spark of sadness to Thena's heart. 

"But that should not be a problem. Nesta Archeron is also with the general and he is Illyrian and she fae. Just like High Lord and Lady." She beams at her brother through the mirror, comb now discarded and her hand on his shoulder. Of course, being Illyrian and being with someone who is Fae will come with difficulties and issues, but the relationship is not impossible. Obviously, it isn't. 

"I would really love it for you if you finally meet the one, if you are finally no longer afraid of falling in love." She gives her brother's shoulder a tight squeeze, before grabbing the comb again to finish up his look. 

Balthazar says nothing, though the smile on his face speaks volumes. 

Thena finishes her work, placing the tools she used down on the kitchen table. Stepping back, she surveys her work, hands on her hips. "Well, well, well. Look at you, absolutely dashing. My expert styling skills truly never fail."

Balthazar rises from his chair, snorting, his fingers running through his freshly-trimmed hair. A contented smile graces his lips. "So full of yourself, but you truly did a good job. Thank you."

Balthazar really likes the new look, although—

"You look a lot like your father." 

There is no emotion in his mother's voice. Not a hint of sadness, nor joy. It is emotionless, like she is stating certain data and facts. She observes her children form where she leans against the kitchen counter, a cup tightly clasped in her fragile hand, her eyes narrowed. 

Thena slides her hand around Balthazar's elbow, squeezing, and pulling him to her. He has gone rigid, his eyes trained on the picture he sees in the mirror — his reflection. 

He truly looks like his father. He has his mother's nose. And the eyes. But that is it—

"This is bullshit. You look very handsome, and a lot like me. You know how much we resemble each other. And I clearly don't look like…him. Don't let her get into your brain, look forward to meeting the beautiful girl." Thena's smile could light up the darkest night in this moment, her eyes full hope and love for her brother. She leans in and kisses Balthazar's upper arm, then nods her head in an encouraging way. 

Yet, he does not move immediately, his gaze still focused on himself. What if I become like him?

"Baz, don't…" Thena glances at their mother, but her gaze is now lowered to the cup in her hands, her long, matted, brown hair falling over her shoulders, silver threads weave their way through them and make her seem so much older. And she appears much thinner than she always used to be.

"Thank you." Turning, the Illyrian moves his arm out of Thena's hold and leans down to kiss the top of her head. He can't look back at her mother, knowing it will only hurt him more. 

"I hope I still look dashing after hours of flying." A smile that does not reach his eyes graces his face, but at least it is a good attempt at trying to get rid of the negative feelings inside of him. 

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

It is already close to midday when Balthazar steps into the old, dusty office. 

His goal is clear – he is here to collect certain documents and also maps to bring with him to Velaris. With determination, he gathers all the documents, maps, placing each one carefully into a worn bag. It is the only bag he could find and so it will have to do. 

Sunlight sneaks in through the curtain framed windows, casting a warm glow upon the walls. Balthazar knows that one of the first things he will do when he is camp lord, is to wash those old, dusty curtains and clean up the whole office. 

When he is camp lord…So, he really starts to live with the idea, to like the thought of it, the sound of it. Yet, worries plague him daily. Is he really good enough for this? He doubts it. He is so young, way too young and inexperienced. And not really respected. That could change once he is camp lord, but…He doesn't know. 

When finally done with collecting everything he needed, Balthazar slings the bag over his shoulder, careful of his wings. 

There's a feeling of excitement in the air, and Balthazar draws in a deep inhale. Why does this, despite all worries, feel so damn right to be in here and be thinking about camp lord stuff? 

It is actually a good sign, isn't it, he thinks? Yes, yes, it is!

With one last look around, he pulls the door close behind him, locking it. When outside, the sun high above the Illyrian mountains greets him. He spreads his wings, and with a push, he takes off, leaving the ground and Windhaven behind. The crisp wind whips around him, brushing his skin and his wings. He soars over the barren landscape of the Illyrian steppes, leaving behind the looming mountains and large forests. 

In this moment he can forget about everything and anything, his mind as clear as a forest river, his sense sharpened, the cool air like balm to his soul. Balthazar allows himself to close his eyes for a moment, allowing the sounds around him to guide him. With each graceful flap, his wings guide him over the landscape, over the villages, over the small forests.

His powerful wings stretch wide, catching the sunlight as it reflects of the leathery membrane. With each graceful sweep, he propels himself higher, leaving the familiar landscapes below.

The young Illyrian soars above ancient trees, his mind at ease, just like it was during the mind-stilling. And there it goes…his thoughts moving to Gwyn once again.

They have barely made conversation, but somehow she is there, always there, always on his mind. A small smile appears on his face just at the sheer thought of her. 

But he shakes his head, turning to look over his shoulder to make out how far he has already gone.

Snow-capped mountain peaks touch the cerulean sky behind him, but it is in the very far distance, telling him that he has already been travelling for quite a bit. 

In the far distance Balthazar can eventually make out rooftops that glint in the sunshine and he slowly, but gradually starts to descend. 

His eyes land on the river that winds its way through the city like teal ribbon that reflects the bright sun and immediately makes him think of Gwyn. Her eyes are just too captivating to not think about them all the time. 

Balthazar shakes his head anew, and adjusts the strap of the bag over his shoulder. 

As he descends even more, he notices that the streets bustle with life, a melody of voices and noises reaching him. There are many shops, and even more people crowding the streets and it makes a warm feeling appear in his heart. Velaris truly seems like a lovely place. 

A cool breeze brushes his wings and skin when draws closer to the House of Wind, where he will once again be expected. 

Finally, he descends gracefully, his wings flapping lazily as he aims for the balcony he last landed on. 

He lands softly, his feet touching the stone while he folds in his wings and Balthazar draws in a deep breath. He smoothes his palms down his pants, brings one hand up to brush it through his hair and places his knuckles against the cool glass of the balcony door.

He waits a moment. Then knocks. 

Soon he is greeted by Nesta, a bright smile on her face as she opens the door. "Balthazar." She dips her chin and leads him inside. "Had a nice journey?"

"Very alright," the young Illyrian answers. 

Nesta answers with a warm smile, his new hairstyle not going unnoticed by her, but she leaves it without comment. 

And this new hairstyle is also the first thing Gwyn notices and then…his marvellous scent. Somehow magically, his scent, the woodsy aroma, the slight musky hue, and…some sort of cologne reaches her and she breathes in deeply, her eyes not leaving his.

A beautiful rosy colour touches the Illyrian's cheeks and he lifts his hand to wave at Gwyn. "Good to see you, Gwyneth," he says, his tone light and happy. 

Gwyn wants to answer him, straightening up on the couch, but Cassian is quicker. He steps around the desk in Rhysand's office and clasps Balthazar's shoulder in his large hand. 

"Balthazar," he greets and then points to the large bag thrown over the Illyrian's shoulder. "I see you brought something?"

Balthazar averts —although it is quite hard— his gaze from Gwyn and nods at the general, both in greeting and confirmation. "I did. I found some documents and lists in Devlon's office, thinking you might find them useful."

An approving noise leaves Cassian. Balthazar places the bag on the table, after greeting everyone else in the room. He places the documents on the table, opening them and soon Cassian and Rhys, alongside Feyre and Balthazar surround the large oak desk. 

Nesta claims the seat next to Gwyn, a tiny, smug smile on her lips. "New hairstyle?" She nudges Gwyn whose eyes widen the slightest bit.

"Really, I haven't noticed…" she whispers, feeling how her cheeks warm. 

"Yes, of course. That is also why you immediately know who I am talking about." A grin now replaces the smug smile. "But it suits him."

Yes, it definitely does, Gwyn thinks, but does not know how to answer Nesta. Her cheeks are already so warm, and she knows when she opens her mouth, her brain and thoughts will definitely give her away. Thank the Gods, Balthazar rescues her. Somehow at least… 

"Should we wait for Lord Azriel?"

Cassian's hand once again lands on Balthazar's shoulder, this time with a loud smack. "It is Azriel. Just as much as it is Cassian and…Rhysand. We agreed on skipping the formalities, stop being such a good boy!" 

The general laughs and is soon joined by Feyre's hoarse chuckle. She bites down on her lip when she sees how the young Illyrian starts to blush. 

"Sorry…Cassian." Balthazar brings his hand up and brushes it through his curls, a sheepish smile on his lips. 

The general bows his head. "And concerning your question, no we don't need to wait. Azriel is out for business."

The three males and Feyre lean over a large oak table, their forms slightly stooped as they start to discuss the contents of the documents and lists that are scattered across the table's expanse. Lists of food rations, maps, and ancient parchments adorned with aged seals carry information that is beyond all three of them. 

Cassian's fingers trace lines on maps, highlighting routes and regions that existed long before he was born. 

The things Devlon has kept in his office are both breathtaking and absolutely surprising — the secretes he must have hidden and known about. 

Lists of supplies, kind of irritating in their detail —because how much time must Devlon have spent with them?— unfurl in the mass of papers and parchment. 

While looking at the documents, their conversations always surround the war camp and they tie the lists and documents in with their conversation — food rations and also wood chopping for winter are discussed. It is soon clear that more Illyrians have to go wood chopping from now on. 

Hours must have passed when the meeting finally comes to an end. Outside it is dark already, having gone unnoticed by everyone inside the office. The house has provided them with drinks and food all throughout the day. Feyre is no longer with them, having left some hours ago to go back home to baby Nyx. 

"Oh, Mother," Balthazar blurts out when his eyes land on the dark landscape outside the floor-to-ceiling window. "I should be going home, it is already dark." "You can sleep here. We have so many rooms, you really don't need to travel home at night."

Balthazar looks unsure, his hesitation obvious in every line on his face. 

"You are not going to fly back to Illyria in the middle of the night. No matter how skilled you are, or that you are Illyrian, but this is too dangerous." Rhysand shakes his head. "And that is an order from your High Lord."

Balthazar raises his brows, and then lets his shoulders slump."Well, then I guess I have to accept the offer and stay the night. Thank you very much. "

Cassian takes upon him to show Balthazar to his room in their house. 

Lit by fairylights, Balthazar finds himself marvelling at the largeness of the house as they walk through the corridors. 

"Thank you, Cassian, for letting me stay. I am basically a stranger in your home, so I am really grateful about the offer and your kindness."

"No, you are no stranger. You are the new camp lord, and I have a lot of trust and faith in you." 

It is out of place, totally, and this is the only thing that keeps Balthazar from curling his arms around the general and giving him a tight hug while jumping up and down. 

But he can't avoid the big grin from spreading over his face, reaching from one ear to the other. The general's statement just makes him so incredibly proud and also a little happy. 

Cassian has to chuckle slightly, watching the boyish happiness on the young Illyrian's face. He is so young, has his whole life in front of him, but he will be a great camp lord, the best Windhaven has probably ever seen, he knows this.. 

The air smells like old wood as the ascend a staircase and Balthazar marvels at the interior of the house. Yet, he is soon ripped out of his gazing again. 

"I have noticed you and Gwyn exchanging glances," Cassian then says matter-of-factly, his tone giving nothing away. "She is a wonderful female, don't ever think about hurting her, or you will lose my trust and faith."

Balthazar is shocked, so shocked he stops dead in his tracks. His heart makes one skip, then another with more force and his breathing halts. 

Firstly, the general has noticed his shameless looks at her. And secondly, he would never ever consider hurting her in any way possible. 

The young Illyrian clears his throat, shakes his head and begins to walk again. "I would never. Never ever would I hurt her. I…I…I think we could be good friends." He wants to face-palm himself for the last sentence, but he did not know what else to say. 

"Good." Cassian turns to him with a smile and stops. He lifts his hand, gesturing at the dark, oak door. "You room. The house, don't ask how, will provide you with everything you need. And wake you for breakfast. If you need anything, just ask the house. Good night, and hold you chin a little higher, you are going to be the next camp lord." 

Cassian winks. "And you have the most powerful general and the most powerful High Lord on your side, this is a reason to walk with a little more pride." 

Cassian grins and pushes down the door handle, showing the young Illyrian in. 

He is not really able to communicate then, so overwhelmed by the compliments and their trust in him. And what the general said about Gwyn. And the sort of magic house.

His throat feels dry and his head a little dizzy. 

"Thank you," he finally breathes when he steps in. "For all of it."

Cassian bows his head and turns to walk away, leaving Balthazar alone in the dark room. Alone with his thoughts and a single pair of sleeping pants on the bed. No shirt. 

Interesting house, Balthazar thinks, and the door falls close behind him. 

~~~~~~~~ tag list: @a-frog-with-a-laptop @brekkershadowsinger @moonlightazriel @callmeblaire @headcanonheadcase @waternymphia @autumndreaming7 @devilsfoodcake22 @readercacau @sv0430 @bubybubsters @cyntia-ktn

[girlinlotsoffandoms]

day twenty six - thrown out of a window

notes: the end is in sight! thanks for sticking around!

read on AO3 or below

Kelly’s repeated involvement with OFI had been the source of many, many arguments between him and Stella in the past. After his time in Alabama put a huge strain on their marriage, Kelly really cut back on full-scale arson investigations and only let his ‘fire cop’ side out when he had Stella’s full support.

Kelly had a natural talent for arson investigation and denying him the opportunity to use that talent was doing him, the CFD, and the city of Chicago (and beyond) a disservice. Stella never wanted Kelly to feel like she was holding him back, and he’d earned her trust again after Arizona, so she tried to be on board with Fire Cop Kelly coming out every now and then.

Things had been going well for Kelly; he was focusing on Stella, their relationship, and his job at the firehouse. Truck was going through a lot of changes and Kelly wanted to be there for Stella as much as he could.

Then the fires started.

At first, they were small. The fires only caused structural damage but it was clear they’d been intentionally set. Chicago had itself a serial arsonist.

Very quickly, the fires got bigger and more dangerous as the arsonist grew bolder. More injuries were reported as the arsonist moved on from abandoned buildings to stores, businesses, and apartments.

Two firefighters died after a collapse at a department store fire, which was a loss felt by every member of the CFD, and others were injured in a fire at an office building but it was the members of Truck 81 getting trapped and nearly dying during an apartment fire that did it for Kelly. The arsonist needed to be stopped so, with Stella’s blessing and a whole lot of anger and determination, Kelly made a temporary jump to OFI. 

Time was of the essence but there was a lot of evidence to get through. The arsonist was careful but the bigger and bolder he got, the sloppier he became. A pattern became noticeable and, whether intentional or not, clues were left behind at different scenes.

The police were helping as well, turning over any recovered CCTV footage from the fires to OFI. Between the camera footage and tips called in, Kelly and the OFI team finally had a lead on who the arsonist was and where he was hiding. 

It was just after sunset when the OFI team rolled up to a rundown motel near the city limits. It was a seedy looking place, just two stories tall and in desperate need of renovations. Half the rooms were boarded up, there were cracks in the walls and rust on the railings and stairs. The motel had closed a while ago but the accompanying police officers said they wouldn’t be surprised if people had taken to squatting in the empty rooms. 

One by one they searched through the rooms. While there were signs of obvious squatting, none of the rooms so far had shown any recent activity. 

Until they arrived at the room on the corner.

Kelly was the first one through the door and right away, he knew they’d found the right room. The walls were covered with newspaper clippings of the fires, those that mentioned deaths and injuries were front and center. Bottles of accelerants and empty gas cans were scattered on the floor, along with boxes of matches, lighters, and other fire-starting mechanisms.  

Seager radioed the others to report what they found while Kelly moved further into the hotel room. He knew PD would come and process the room and hopefully give them an ID on this guy, but Kelly was more interested in trying to figure out this guy’s next target.

As Kelly approached the back of the room, a sudden rush of movement caught his eye. A door on the side of the room burst open and a man rushed towards Kelly. There was a quick fight, but Kelly was soon overpowered. Before he even knew what was happening, Kelly was crashing through the back window and falling to the ground below.

Pain engulfed Kelly’s body as he hit the cracked asphalt below. His vision blurred and he fought to stay conscious but he was in agony. Through the ringing in his ears, Kelly heard yelling and thundering footsteps growing louder as they came closer. 

Kelly’s last thought, before he gave into the overwhelming darkness, was the arsonist’s face and the overwhelming knowledge that Kelly had recognized him.

… … …

It was a slow night at Molly’s, just the 51 crew and a few regulars in the bar. Stella was behind the bar and had just served Violet and Carver another round of drinks when her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number, which normally meant she wouldn’t answer, but there was a gnawing feeling in her gut that told her to answer it.

“Hello?”

Stella listened for a minute, her eyes growing wider and wider as each second passed. “Is he okay?!”

After another minute Stella threw her dish towel on the counter, grabbed her keys, and started rushing towards the door. “I’ll be right there!”

“Kidd, hey,” Herrmann said, grabbing her arm gently before she made it around the bar. “What’s going on?”

“That was Seager. The serial arsonist OFI was looking for? He just threw Kelly out of a second-story window.” Stella looked at Herrmann and noticed she had the attention of everyone else from 51. “I need to get to Med.”

… … …

It took about an hour for all of the team from 51 to make it to the hospital, where they joined Stella and the OFI team in the waiting room. Apart from the initial update Seager and Van Meter had been able to give Stella when she arrived, they hadn’t heard anything else about Kelly’s condition. 

It was another 30 minutes before Dr. Ripley came into the ED with an update. 

“Lieutenant Severide is going to be fine,” he shared. He gave the group a moment to soak the news in, knowing the group in front of him cared greatly for his patient. “He’s got a pretty bad concussion, some broken ribs and a broken shoulder from the fall, but those should heal up just fine in a few months.”

“Our biggest concern is the fractures on the C5 and C6 vertebrae.”

“He broke his neck?!” Stella cried, the shock and fear making her voice louder than she intended.

“He did,” Dr. Ripley confirmed. “But ortho and neurology have both been in to see him. He’ll be in a neck brace while the fractures heal but as of now, there’s no need for surgical intervention. Neuro has also ruled out any deficits and paralysis. As he heals, Lieutenant Severide might experience some weakness and nerve pain but we’ll get him a referral to physical therapy for the rehab process.” 

“We’ll be keeping Severide overnight to monitor his concussion and get a handle on his pain. He’s being moved to a room now and then you guys are good to go see him.”

“Thank you, Dr. Ripley.” Stella said, sincerely.

Dr. Ripley nodded and headed back into the ED. The waiting group of firefighters and arson investigators all relished in the relief that Kelly would (eventually) be fine.

“That Severide luck strikes again,” Capp murmured.

“What luck is that Capp?” Cruz asked. “The bad luck that keeps getting him hurt or the good luck that has him surviving?”

“Uhh, both?”

Stella snorted and that helped break any remaining tension in the waiting room. Kelly Severide was a lucky guy…whether it was good luck or bad seemed to change in the blink of an eye. 

… … …

Kelly Severide was miserable. The neck brace and sling were uncomfortable, his entire body hurt, and no amount of pain medication could completely get rid of the throbbing ache in his head.

Seeing the team from 51 had been nice. Kelly had missed seeing everyone and while he liked the OFI team, they weren’t his team. They kept the visit short since visiting hours were almost over but they were all just happy to see Kelly awake and relatively okay.

When just Stella and Boden were left in the room with Kelly, Seager and Van Meter entered.

“Severide, how are you feeling?” Van Meter asked as he came to a stop at the foot of Kelly’s bed.

Kelly shrugged (or tried to) his good shoulder. “Not my first time going out a window.”

“Hopefully it’s your last,” Stella said, fixing him with a glare. “Take the stairs next time, hmm?”

“Hopefully there won’t be a next time.”

“The arsonist you were chasing,” Boden started. “Did you get him?”

“We did,” Van Meter answered. “PD is holding him at the precinct but he’s not talking yet.”

“Who is he?” Stella asked.

Before Van Meter could answer, Kelly jumped in. “Martin Carlisle.”

“That’s right,” Van Meter confirmed, raising an eyebrow at Kelly. “How’d you know that?”

“I met him in Alabama. He was an arson investigator from California, I think? He ended up getting sent home early for spouting all this crazy rhetoric. He presented a few times and had the most outlandish takes. Every time he got correct or even questioned he’d get mad and just spew even more nonsense. He got hostile so they sent him home.” Kelly explained. “No one knows for sure what happened to him after he got sent home but rumor was that he got fired.”

“Any idea what brought him to Chicago?” Seager asked.

“None,” Kelly mumbled. “But Carlisle did get into with me and a few others as he left. I’d check and see if there were any suspicious fires in Houston, Atlanta, and Seattle before he came here.”

“You think he’s done this before?”

“Maybe? I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Van Meter nodded and finished jotting something down in his notebook. “We’ll look into it, thanks Severide.”

“Rest up,” Seager added. “The CFD needs you.”

Seager and Van Meter left after that, heading back to OFI to look into the information Kelly had given them. 

Boden stayed with Kelly and Stella for a little while longer before heading out himself. He had things to handle on his end and he had some calls to make: he wanted to find our more about this Carlisle guy.

Once they were alone, Stella ran her fingers through Kelly’s hair. He’d gotten quiet since Van Meter and Seager left and Stella knew he was lost in his thoughts. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Kelly moved his eyes to look at Stella. “It’s just a lot.”

“You know this isn’t your fault, right? Whatever choices this guy made, the destruction he caused, that’s all on him.”

“I know.” 

And Kelly did know. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard of an arsonist making things personal like this. Hell, thanks to Hadley, this wasn’t even the first time he’d been on an arsonist’s hit list. Their actions were completely their own but innocent people had been injured, good firefighters had been killed, his wife and her team had almost died. The fact that Carlisle could’ve done all of this as some sort of revenge plot against him made the guilt feel worse than the broken neck. 

“It still sucks though.”

“Yeah, it does.”

Stella knew her husband well. If Carlisle had done all of this to get back at Kelly, she knew he’d carry the guilt with him for a long time. He wouldn’t be carrying it alone though; she’d be there, helping him carry it, every step of the way.

[writingalovestory]

Wonder-WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

@eventide-roses

Lexi, thank you for this wonderful idea.

"Where are you going?" Ace tiredly asked when he looked up from the bed, seeing Togo fully dressed and putting a few things in a bag. She blinked, turning to Ace.

"Ah- Tsukasa asked me for help with coming up with a script, since Otori-san and Kamishiro-san's ideas are going off of the rails for him, and Kusanagi-san rejected his." Togo explained, walking over to Ace and softly kissing his forehead "I'll try not to take too long, okay?" Ace frowned. It was supposed to be his weekend with Togo, where the two of them would just chill out. But no. Apparently, the blond haired bastard that wants to be a star has decided to be selfish. He gritted his teeth.

"I'm comin' with ya. Just give me a few minutes." he stated, getting up. Togo let out a noise of confusion by the sudden statement. Ace wanted to come?

"Wah- Ace, you don't have to, you know-"

"It's supposed to be our weekend, I'm not letting this blond haired bastard take it." Ace interrupted her, grabbing clothes from the closet "He didn't specify the time, right?"

"Ah- He said that if I could come before 2 pm, because then the troupe would be having lunch-"

"It's 10 am, so he can wait." Ace deadpanned, heading to the shower. Togo blinked when she heard the bathroom door close. She just stood there, processing all of the information.

"Is he still jealous of Tsukasa?"

___________________________________________________________

"Tsukasa-kun, when is your friend gonna arrive?!" Emu asked, excited and impatient, as she always is.

"She said she wouldn't take that long..." Tsukasa mumbled, looking at his wristwatch with nervousness. Was Togo really gonna come? She promised him she would, but... What if she was busy? He did call her at 7 am, and maybe she was busy studying? He didn't fully understand the whole 'Ultimate' concept, but from what he heard, you have to polish your talent to the fullest.

"Tsukasa-kun? You seem worried." Rui asked, raising a brow. Tsukasa flinched.

"Nothing's the matter, Rui! I'm just- It's really hot out here!" Tsukasa replied with a smile. Rui hummed.

"Well, it is summer... and you are wearing a jacket..." he pointed out.

"If you are so hot outside, take off your jacket." Nene deadpanned, Tsukasa groaned at that.

"Tsukasa!"

Everyone perked up at the voice, and Emu swore she saw the biggest smile she had ever seen on the blond's face. He practically ran to the person, tackling them in a hug. "Woah- Tsukasa, careful!" Togo laughed, maintaining her balance, Ace behind her. Someone who Emu did notice, but not the others.

"Sorry sorry, my star! I'm just so happy you agreed on helping us out!" Tsukasa beamed, holding her hands with excitement. Togo chuckled at that.

"Tsukasa-kun, who is she?" Rui asked, curious.

"You all must be Tsukasa's troupe. Greetings, my name is Togawara Togo, nice to meet you." Togo smiled. Nene's eyes widened.

"W-Wait a second! Y-You're... You're the writer of 'Aurea Borearis'!" she exclaimed. Ace raised a brow at that.

"Ahaha, yes, that is me. You must be Kusanagi Nene, right?" Togo asked, gently grabbing the girl's hands "Tsukasa has spoken nothing but great things about you and the others, so I'm excited to work with you all." she smiled. Nene's face bursted into a bright shade of red.

"The pleasure is ours. But please do not overheat Nene, we need her to function." Rui chuckled, sticking his hand out for a handshake. Togo nodded, returning the handshake as well.

"Hmm? Where's Emu?" Tsukasa asked, looking around for the little pink haired performer.

"Eh? There's another person?" Ace asked, walking to them. Tsukasa flinched.

"M-Markey-san?! What are you-"

"It was my time to be with Togi this weekend, you ass." Ace deadpanned, glaring at Tsukasa. Nene and Rui looked at the redhead, then at the blond. Then at the redhead. Then at the blond.

"Ace, please." Togo sighed, wanting to face palm. That's when she noticed Emu sneaking behind Ace, signalling for Togo to be quiet.

"Eh-"

"WONDERHOY!" Emu screamed, hugging Ace.

"GYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

___________________________________________________________

[hummingbird-of-light]

Against All Odds

Part 289

McCoy

He had closed the door to Robbie’s room behind him, then sat on the end of the other boy’s bed. McCoy took a very deep breath before he pushed to call his father.

‘…our most loved and cherished ones…’

Scotty’s words went through McCoy’s head again as he waited. Scotty was his heart. He loved him so completely, and it hurt incredibly to see him so upset at what had happened. How could McCoy keep his promise to keep Scotty safe?

His attention was jerked back to the PADD when his father greeted him.

“Hi,” he answered dully.

David frowned at him. “What’s wrong?”

“I… I think you’re going to have to send more security.”

David’s expression tightened. He knew McCoy’s thoughts about that. They had discussed it before McCoy left for Scotland.

“And why do you think that Leonard?”

“To protect the Scotts. They… they shouldn’t have to deal with invasions into their lives and home because of who I am!” McCoy couldn’t keep his sudden burst of anger in. “It’s not fair or right! Why can’t they just be left alone? Why can’t we make them leave Francine and Robbie alone?”

David’s eyes had widened at McCoy’s outburst. He studied his son’s face as McCoy took another deep breath. Away from Scotty’s side, his anger had come flooding back.

“What happened?”

McCoy explained about the reporter at the door. And about the car with the photographer the day before. David rubbed a hand across the lower part of his face.

“I need more information. Where was the reporter from?”

“What?”

“Which publication? They must have had credentials.”

“I… I don’t know. Scotty answered the door. Spock made Jim keep me in the other room.”

“Find out from them.”

“Ok,” McCoy said, trying to keep the question from his face. “Just a second.” He pulled up his messaging program and tapped out a message to Scotty. He assumed Spock’s PADD was in the guest room.

“How are you doing?” McCoy asked, hit with the realization his father was still sitting in a hospital bed. “I should have called Leah. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright Leonard. This may be a bit beyond Leah’s talents so far. She’ll get there. And I’m doing well. Phil says I’ll most likely be released tomorrow.”

McCoy smiled. That was something good. His messenger chirped and he looked at it.

“Spock says the guy was from the Alpha Quad Herald,” McCoy said, closing the messages and looking back at his father.

“Ok. Leonard, I want you all to sit tight. I have some calls to make, I will get back to you soon. I know that more security is not what you want, but I’m glad you’re thinking of the Scotts and not just yourself. I’ll call you back, ok?”

McCoy nodded.

“Love you Leonard.”

“Love you too.”

David ended the call and McCoy leaned back against the wall. He blew out another deep breath then stood. He’d go back to the others and wait for David to call.

Scotty was sitting on the couch, red eyed, with Robbie and Jim on either side of him. Jim jumped up when McCoy entered to let him sit by his boyfriend. McCoy slid his arm around Scotty, who leaned into him.

“What did the king say?” Spock asked.

“He has some calls to make,” McCoy shrugged. He wasn’t sure what that meant. “He’s going to call back soon.”

“Does that mean more bodyguards?” Jim asked.

“I’m not sure. I told him what happened, and about yesterday with the car, but he didn’t say he was sending them yet.” McCoy turned to look at Scotty and Robbie. “I don’t want your lives and family invaded because of me.”

Twenty quiet minutes passed in Scotty’s room for the five young men. None of them had much to say while they waited on the king’s call. All but Spock jumped when the PADD finally chirped.

“Leonard?” David said when McCoy answered.

“Yes?”

“I’ve gotten some answers I hope you’ll like.”

“Should I go somewhere private?” McCoy looked around at his friends. “Scotty and Jim and Spock and Robbie are all here.”

“No, no. I’d actually like them to hear this as well.” McCoy glanced around the room again and saw the various levels of interest crossing the other boys’ faces.

“The reporter who came to the Scott’s door was not authorized in any way to do so. He was also the one in the car yesterday. I spoke with the editor-in-chief. The reporter has been fired.”

McCoy blinked in surprise and satisfaction filled his chest.

“The editor was shocked one of his people would do such a thing. He has promised to spread word to his colleagues that the Scott’s home should be off limits. If this happens again Scotty, we will bring legal action. When you boys are in public is one thing, but at your own home is such a violation.

“Now, knowing this, do you still want the extra security or is Spock still enough?”

Part 290

Scotty

Scotty was incredibly relieved to hear from David. He had wondered all along how the king was doing by now. The man was still lying in a hospital bed, but his face had color and a confident expression. His voice sounded strong and probably better than before. And the words he said also pleased the Scotsman.

The reporter had deserved nothing less than to be fired! He had had no right to simply enter their property.

Scotty's gaze was tensely on his boyfriend. What would the boy say? Was Spock's protection enough for him?

As their eyes met, Scotty felt the responsibility rested on both their shoulders. They had to make this decision together.

"Scotty?"

He swallowed for a moment.

"I... I don't know. I want very much for ye to be safe, and for my family to be safe, too... But maybe we can wait it out. Hopefully, the threatened legal consequences will teach the reporters a lesson."

Scotty could see gratitude flashing in Leonard's eyes. He, too, knew how much the other boy hated the idea of having to be surrounded by adult bodyguards at all times.

"Leonard?" The king's voice rang out from the PADD in Leonard's hands.

"I... agree with Scotty. We should wait and see."

The king nodded in understanding and Scotty could see a smile on his lips. He seemed pleased with this decision.

"How are ye?"

Scotty was sorry that they bothered David with their problems while he was still busy getting well again. He should rest, not take care of others.

"Better. Thanks, Scotty. I can go back home tomorrow. Eleanor's waiting anxiously for that."

Scotty could well imagine. In his time on Georgiares, he had seen how close the crown couple was. They loved each other so much. As much as Scotty loved Leonard.

"She'll be glad to have ye back."

David chuckled at that, nodding.

"And that's even though she's in the hospital most of the time to be with me anyway."

They talked for a while before David looked tired.

"Thank you for your help, Father," Leonard said, and Scotty joined in the thanks before they said goodbye.

Leonard dropped the PADD in his lap before resting his head on Scotty's shoulder.

"It's good to see him feeling better," Scotty said as he ran a hand through his loved one's hair.

"And that he's ready to work again," Robbie added. The younger Scott brother was also very grateful to the king.

"So... anything you guys want to do?" Jim asked, breaking a newly forming silence.

Leonard shrugged.

"I don't know. Maybe we could play a game? Get our minds distracted from what happened?"

The others agreed.

"And I have just the right game." Robbie got up and left the room, only to come back with a small box.

Scotty knew what it was. But Leonard and the others didn't.

"What's that?"

Robbie placed the game on the table in the middle of them.

"It's an escape room. But as a board game. I got it for my birthday but never had the right mates over to play with. What do ye think?"

Leonard laughed softly and it filled Scotty's heart with joy.

"Well... with Spock at our side I'm sure we can solve any problem."

[libertys-lovers]

As some of you may or may not remember, I said at the beginning of the month that I’d conduct an experiment studying the minds of non-psychics outside my home dimension. I was merely going to look into the minds of some of Liberty’s other lovers, in an attempt to see why they (and by extension, their own dimension) couldn’t unlock psychic ability. Though not too many of her lovers were keen on the idea, I still had a few willing participants. Some of them were even willing to let me use Psycho-Portals on them.

Now, interestingly enough, when I used a Psycho-Portal on them, their Mental Worlds were much more abstract than the average world. In fact, it’s hard to call it a world at all. There’s no ground, no sky, no sense of direction whatsoever. They were all merely these realms of light, all around me flashed images which I believe to be thoughts or memories. When I asked Liberty on why this might be, she said that it was because they just “weren’t written to have Mental Worlds”. How strange, whatever that means. Is it really possible that a person can simply be meant to not have them? Now, luckily for me, the experiment of reading their thoughts was much simpler, meaning it actually worked.

LÚCIO: His thoughts were incredibly pleasant to read, to be quite honest. He stayed positive during the entire session, and there was even music playing in there. His thoughts reminded me a bit of Milla’s, and a bit of Liberty’s too, actually. And yet, no psychic abilities from him, though I have heard that he’s incredibly smart.

LICORICE COOKIE: As it turns out, the dimension he comes from does have psychics, or at least “supposed” ones according to Liberty. However, I can certainly understand why Licorice Cookie isn’t one of them. He has an easily irritated, often cluttered mind, at least from what I can tell with his thoughts. Liberty claims that he’s truly talented in “magic”, whatever that means to them, but he would most certainly make an unstable psychic at best.

HAWKS: Hawks is an intriguing specimen; if anyone in this group were to be a psychic, it would most certainly be him. Even by just reading his thoughts, I can tell that he has great control over his mind. His thoughts reminded me of my own thoughts, which makes me curious on what his thoughts are hiding. In any case, I was rather surprised to hear he wasn’t a psychic, honestly. I assumed his feathers were a result of some sort of psychic manipulation, but apparently they’re more of a physical ability than a psychic ability. Still, in the chances that he somehow unlocks psychic prowess, I’m offering him a chance to join the Psychonauts immediately.

KARAMATSU: Karamatsu was my last subject; for as chaotic as his thoughts were for the most part, he’d have sudden bursts of being able to control himself quite well. That being said… he was my last subject for a reason. Perhaps I won’t tell too many of his thoughts on here. The most I can say is that he truly loves Liberty, and that he has a thing for brunettes.

As interesting as reading these minds were, I’m not sure if this experiment really got me anywhere. I suppose it did tell me that, if the other dimension’s inhabitants can unlock psychic abilities, the criteria to do so surely can’t be the same as our dimension’s. Then again, what criteria our dimension has is still rather blurry, so maybe I can’t say that for sure.

I remember asking Liberty how she unlocked her abilities, and she said it had something to do with her creativity. I wonder if psychic ability can be developed from a simple expansion of the mind, of any sort! Liberty unlocked hers from an expansion of her creativity, and it could be argued that I unlocked mine from an expansion of my curiosity. It’s a base idea at best; the problem is that not too many psychics remember where their abilities came from, so it’d be difficult to validate this idea. I can at least save that idea for a future time, however.

Sasha Nein

[thefamilyeldritchabomination]

Chapter Eight: Hunting High and Low Pt.6

“Envy, where are you going?” Lust asked at the sudden departure. “Back to the apartment, someone has to be at the apartment once the power is on.” Envy said, shifting into a random soldier as they exited. While true, Envy did want to be there the moment the power was back on, it was also true they wanted to check in on Dolly since making her teleport back with Dorian to the apartment the moment word got out that Pride was coming back. Envy would, however, need to figure out a way to discreetly dispose of Sloth since the last thing any of them needed was a leech. Perhaps a happy little visit to the freezer would do the trick with Sloth, a thought that amused Envy a bit. That mood would soon burst as an unwelcome brief encounter happened. The Elrics were released from the office of Colonel Mustang and were off to the train station, likely to Dublith. The bitterness was there, but as hard as Envy could try, they still couldn’t feel that hatred that they once did. It was just this irksome numbness Envy had been dealing with in regards to that bastard of a man and the two brats he had. The plan to kill Daddy Dearest the moment the new stone was made and Ernest was found was still going to happen, but it just wouldn’t feel the same without that hatred. 

“Those damned brats got lucky tonight, but, once everything is settled, I’ll go after them.” Envy thought to themself on their way off the base.

 The cooler breeze could be felt after the storm had concluded, the starry sky shimmered above the city as work was being done to get power back up in various sections affected by the lockdown. Envy started to head up to the apartment complex when they heard something in the alley close by. In pure paranoia, Envy walked towards the alley. Whoever was there was gone now, but, what Envy could see was that Freddy’s apartment window no longer had its cardboard covering. Quickly making sure no one could see them, Envy shifted back to their preferred form and started climbing the building. It was very much like watching a gecko as Envy climbed up the building and right through the broken window. The room was dark, but somehow it managed to stay warm despite the missing cardboard covering. From what Envy could see there was a cereal box out and the cupboard was opened, but other than that, nothing of importance had been stolen luckily. Tomorrow, Envy would have to have Wrath be brought over to transmute a new window like he had with the broken in door before the lockdown happened. 

 Relieved, Envy headed out of the apartment and back to their own apartment where Dolly should be in. It was pure luck that Dolly didn’t walk into the apartment when it was broken into as Envy reached for the door knob when they paused. Why were they relieved? Why did they even care? All Envy wanted was revenge against their father after abandoning them with their monstrous mother from hell and the perpetual recurrence of mercury poisoning. So, why was this suddenly happening now? Envy was told so many times they were a monster and had taken pride in being a monster, after all, being human meant being weak. At least, that was how they saw things before being assigned to Freddy. Nothing made sense to Envy anymore as they finally went into the apartment, after all, they had a job to do and the job takes top priority at that moment.

=======================================================================

  It had been five hundred years since the aisling called Gort had been lost. The Queens Tournament, a gladiatorial fighting match that had been used whenever they couldn’t determine who the new queen for that generation was should the queen’s talent be more subtle than most, had concluded. The Autumn Mist had been worried about this tournament and was even more uneasy after seeing who had won. A dullahan from the Autumn Blaze District, Cuileann, had won the tournament and was declared as Queen Elect of the current generation. While yes, Cuileann had been the most promising of the generation as Queen material for her martial prowellness and her height, but the thing that made the Autumn Mist worry though was the lack of the second talent making itself present. There were times the Autumn Mist had attempted to persuade the Summer Dusk to do the blood test instead, to see if Cuileann’s blood had that transformative properties, but all was shut down by the hard headedness of the Summer Dusk. 

 “You’re just sore that your district didn’t hold one worthy of being our Twelfth Tir Na Nog Queen, Autumn Mist. Cuileann is everything we could hope for in being a new member of our counsel.” The Summer Dusk would scoff anytime the topic would be brought up.

 The Autumn Mist had lost track of how many times he had tried to bring back that topic, but would be dismissed or outright ignored. He had debated about going back to the Summer Dusk’s domain once again as the Autumn Mist made his way to the Nursery room to speak to his aislings before the form lockings could be undone. When an aisling has been brought into existence, they are always given a seal on them, a form lock,  that prevents transformations from happening to them and typically gets them removed by the time they’re in their ‘teenage’ years. The only one that stays form locked is the queen of that generation, something that can never be undone once they turn one thousand years in age. The Autumn Mist looked over his thirteen aislings before motioning to Victoria to come forward to him. Nervously, Victoria, who appeared to be fifteen in human years, came up to the Autumn Mist as he gently placed a taloned claw on her shoulder.

“Victoria, I can never forgive myself for the trauma I put you through as a small one when you took my blood. The best thing I can do for you right now is offer you this, you may keep your form locked so long as you don’t tell anyone else outside of our district. You have five hundred years to change your mind if you decide you want to shapeshift, but if you don’t ever feel like it, the form lock becomes permanent after your one thousandth birthday.” The Autumn Mist said softly to Victoria who had started tearing up upon hearing that offer.

“Thank you! I don’t ever want to experience that ever again!” Victoria cried as she hugged the Autumn Mist, catching him off guard by the reaction and simply patted the aisling on the head.

 Tinne, who had mellowed out after being hunted down by Muin and getting ambushed constantly by his batch brother Duir, no longer hated Victoria but hated the Autumn Mist still. Never once did the Autumn Mist do anything about his missing batch sister and now the tournament was over with a strong possibility that wasn’t the true Queen Elect. There was a sharp elbow bump to the rib cage by Muin as she gave Tinne the look of ‘don’t do something stupid or I’ll rip your organs out in your sleep’ glare. In turn, Tinne straightened up as the Autumn mist ushered the twelve other aislings out, allowing Victoria to stay behind. Watching most of his aislings head out to get their form locks removed, the Autumn Mist turned around  and started to make his journey to the Summer Dusk district once more to persuade the Summer Dusk.

 All around the Autumn Mist, most of the other districts were in celebration of the form lock removal, some having feasts, others having festivals to celebrate the milestone rite of passage. The Autumn Mist felt a pit in his stomach as he watched the careless and joyous crowds as he passed by them, something just didn’t sit right with him. To the Autumn Mist, it felt like a celebration before a disaster happened in a sense as his flight to the Summer Dusk District soon came to its end. Landing softly on the mosaic streets that were once flawless, was now cracked and uneven as the Autumn Mist walked along the path as festivities were being set up for the aislings of the Summer Dusk. As he was walking up to the castle that stood like spiraling unicorn horns, the Autumn Mist noticed one thing of major concern, the foundations of the buildings that have stood for eons were starting to separate from the buildings.

[umichenginabroad]

Rome Week 1: Falling in Love

Hello! It’s Ryan again. This past week has been so busy, with settling in and meeting new people, starting classes, and exploring Rome. I moved into my apartment and met my roommates (all 7 of them). Our neighborhood is so pretty, the apartment is conveniently located, near the metro stop and bus station, and my classes are only a 10-15 minute walk away. The apartment itself is large and I, by pure luck, was assigned a single room instead of sharing one. My travel, though long and uncomfortable, went off without a hitch and my move-in process was quick and easy. My first priorities were to get a SIM card and find my class locations, both of which I did. That first day I was so tired but knew that I had to beat the jetlag so I walked around with some friends. This city is gorgeous, talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before, unafraid to reference or not reference…

But for real, it is STUNNING. We went on a guided walking tour and I learned a bit more about the history of the city (for instance, that the modern city is built on top of the ancient one, which is 40 feet under the ground), but I was mostly just taken aback by the beauty. It seems as though around every corner is another surprise, whether that be a bustling piazza, gorgeous church, or an impressive historical landmark. There were times that we walked through a side street and emerged in front of the ruins of a temple, or even the Pantheon itself! 

There is beauty in the mundanity as well. Even walking around my neighborhood in the morning I am often shocked by the views. The apartment buildings are all decorated beautifully, painted bright colors and with balconies bursting with plants and flowers. It is a welcome change from my hometown of Los Angeles where it seems that every building is being turned into a glass-and-steel monstrosity. In some ways, though, it reminds me of home. The temperate climate (so far), the abundance of palm trees and seagulls, and the brilliant blue sky present a welcome change from the rather gloomy previous months in Ann Arbor.

As excited as I am about falling more in love with this city, I also look forward to falling (slightly) out of love with it as well. I am still waiting for the “honeymoon” phase to wear off but I want to see all of this city, both the good and not-so-good. I am trying to ditch the tourist mentality and see the city and its people with a more comprehensive view. There are already a few things that I think to note. First, cigarettes. Literally everyone here smokes, and often. The streets are littered with cigarette butts, wedged between the cobblestones and scattered in the planters. The odor lingers in the air and seems to permeate into every crevice. I have since grown used to it, and I think I have gone nose blind to it, but the prevalence of it here is quite jarring compared to the states. The traffic here is crazy as well. Everyone drives small little cars (think fiat or smart cars) but drive like maniacs. There are no stop signs anywhere at intersections and you just have to commit to crossing and hope that the driver breaks (they will, but it is so scary). 

I have done so much, and this post has covered so little, but there will be more time for everything. As I settle in I find things becoming less hectic and I have more time to think and plan out my time. A sneak peak into what is to come… Croatia! But for now, I will leave you with some photos which probably better document my time here than my words ever could.

My first view of the Pantheon. I am afraid that this image does not do it justice. It is an impressive, imposing structure, an effect made all the more dramatic by the suddenness of its appearance.

A view of Il Monumento nazionale a Vittorio Emanuele II, which I saw against the backdrop of the most brilliant sunset. Photo credit: Batool Mahesri.

A sunset over Rome. We could see the whole city laid out below us. (That is the Vatican in the background.) Photo credit: Batool Mahesri.

The beauty in the mundane. Buildings lining one of the shopping streets. Photo credit: Batool Mahesri.

My first roman dinner. It was delicious.

Me, hanging out on a bridge. When the sun is low in the sky the whole city glows. Photo credit: Batool Mahesri.

Ryan Ettner

Biomedical Engineering

Engineering in Rome

[pr1ncesspopstar]

Red on White - FFXIV Write 2023 - Day 19: Weal

!!Content/Trigger Warning for heavy Child Abuse. Please be aware!!

Ao3

-

It happened so quick and harsh; she is not even sure what happened.

One moment she was standing ‘neath the dusk sky in the training grounds, eager to show off her improved skill with the floating blades that resonated in kind with her mind and the small white stone around her neck. The hoots and cheers from the meager knights encouraging her on silenced by her father’s sudden arrival. Then she was on the ground, the silence deafening to hear the beat of skin on skin. Heat and shame are quick to race through her body. The blow on her face swelled and prickled with heat. Her father’s titan-like hand slammed into the entire right side of her head, making her brain feel like it was rattling in her skull. She only knows she bled because she can see the splotches of red on his heavy rings where they burst through her skin.

Fat tears crowded her vision, the sound leaking from her throat and chest she did not mean to make and try to stifle to no avail. So, her father forces her to, grabbing the leather cord that she hung the white stone from and yanked her to her up with it, leaving the tips of her toes dangling just a centimeter off the ground.

“Stop it!” His hiss is still a boom through the silent training yard, but she can barely hear him over the panicked beating of her heart in her own ears. “You will not embarrass us any further, Snoebryda! Silence your guilt, or I will silence it for you.”

Her throat strained for air, so she gulped and nodded, unable to see a thing through the water clouding her vision. She was dropped, but not without further action. Her father yanked the stone off her neck, the leather leaving rub burns from the force around her skin. Her connection to the flying blades was severed, and they clattered onto the ground. She lowered her head, using the curtain of red that was her hair to hide from the many eyes she could feel upon her.

“Your Majesty,” Wilfward was the only one brave enough to speak to the king. His armor clanked heavily with each step. “Please, be gentle on the young Princess. She- It was only out of childish innocence that she was-”

“Don’t you try to cover this up, you helbroegan! His Mightiness already knows the girl has been sneaking off against his wishes!” From somewhere, Snoebryda heard her nanny screech. That witch probably followed the king here, reveling in the misery like a vulture to carrion.

“‘Innocence?’” the king said, speaking from his gut to lower his voice deeper than it was natural. “Stealing from my treasury is an innocent game now, is it? You think it fine to pardon such disrespect of not just my laws and possessions? To reward her slacking, forgoing her training in battle for weaker, healing arts?”

Each word got louder and louder, soon bordering shouts of rage and vitriol. Snoebryda flinched with each word, because they were true. She had not dared to disclose her thievery to anyone, believing who could miss or recognize something that sat collecting dust beneath the castle for years? The captain of the guard struggled to respond.

“I know, the intention for her was to become a warrior like her mother before her, but, Snoebryda is deeply talented in magic and healing. She already rivals the skill of my own fellow soldiers. It would be a loss to not foster this natural love and-”

“I will hear no more of what is best for my daughter coming from you, Captain Rhotraelsyn. Nor ever again. You’ve entertained this disrespect long enough. I will command and oversee her training, since you are so incompetent as to forget who you serve and in whose best interest you act.” As he spoke, the king leaned in to speak softer to the captain of the guard, voice laced with a poison reserved only for those he deeply hated. A tone Snoebryda heard more and more, as less and fewer people worked in the castle, disappearing overnight. “And remind me, who is it you can thank for everything you and your son still have? Who you, above all else, you were born to serve? Or must I remind you of your boy as my example?”

“… You, Roegakoan. Forgive me for my lapse in judgment.” Wilfward spoke quietly, armor clinking as he kneeled to show reverence and submit to the king.

“You are lucky I reserve my judgment only towards the guilty today, Wilfward. You and your son should remember that mercy.” Her father huffed. “I’ll return the princess to her room myself. Since it’s apparent, I cannot trust anyone here to handle her other than myself.”

He wrapped a heavy hand around her arm, holding onto her with the same force one would lug a sack with. He yanked and dragged her along, her child leg unable to keep up with the long, heavy stride the adult roegadyn was capable of. She had to stifle her whimpers and yelps of pain by holding her breath, refusing to take even the smallest breath until her face was properly blue, fearful any sound would make him turn and laid a blow upon her other cheek as strong as his previous. The tongue lashing she got was nearly just as harmful, each word a lashing inside the cage of her chest like someone was turning the soft organs within inside out.

“I feared you were a disappointment of a child, and tonight shows I should have listened to those fears long ago. Since the day you were born, they warned me of your weakness! Born while it snowed during a spring eve, such an obvious omen I let her trick me into thinking was a blessing… What good was siring a child with that wild woman if you try to throw it away!” His grip tightened enough on her arm as her fingers tingled, the lack of blood making her skin prickle in want for the flow to return. Snoebryda could only curl her fingers to help what she had along, too afraid to loosen her arm and make her father think she was trying to break his grip.

“I will not let my fear of her control me any longer. I’ve been too lenient with you too long and forced my hand. You must be broken down and rebuilt into the strong heir I need.” His sharp words became mumbles as he took her up the stairs to her room, in one of the far corners of the castle, in a keep made into a section just for her. One way in, one way out. What once felt like a sanctuary, more and more a cell of isolation. And even that did not guarantee safety, especially from the one that kept her there.

He tossed her in with no care, body slamming into the elaborate antique bedframe passed through the family for who knew how long. The king slammed the door to her room, sealed her in with a heavy ‘chink’ from the iron lock. That small bit of privacy was all it took for her walls to break down.

Her whole body ached, bruises swelling and filling her with an exhaustion she’d never known before. Body shaking with each loud, wailing sob that rattled from her chest. She crawled into bed, candles offering meager enough light to illuminate the tear-stains on the fabric where she nuzzled her face into her pillow, seeking its coolness to ease her burning face. She didn’t even remove her dress or shoes, curling into the safety of her sheets to cry out the hurt and fear.

She had been so careful when she used the stone. She hadn’t even intended this, only delving into the treasury using a secret path she found to see the gifts brought by others as mourning gifts in the wake of her mother. Not money, treasures, rare things the eclectic queen would have enjoyed. Things her father had all intentions of selling as soon as he could. She went to appreciate them, in the way her mother would have shared them with people.

And in that dark room the stone called out from its box, glowing, all alone. As she cradled it in her hands, she felt a peace like no other. A firm, kind embrace, reassurance guiding her hands and filling her with magic. It was something she had never known before, a comfort, one that endured even during the dark. She could not leave it alone, feeling it so deeply entwined with her heart so quickly. So she took it, relishing in the magic it gave her. So strange, so new. It was intoxicating, to find an affinity and love for something all on her own, and hone it. Perhaps that joy and comfort made her careless.

And now she and the stone were severed, alone once more. That would have been punishment enough, but Snoebryda was not naïve to think this was all that waited for her. Come tomorrow, something worse awaited. But she could not not spare a thought for that, too wrapped up in the hurt of now. Her sobs echoed down the halls, seeming to mock her misery back.

Come morning, all was sore. The red marks discolored into purple and blue lumps, and the gashes on her cheek solidified into itchy scabs. Her eyes and throat were raw from all the crying. They gave her only a meager breakfast, an apple and some bread, barely anything for her body. In such a state, she did not realize what was amiss until she was already being guided down the hall, dressed in her training clothes.

The air was chilly this morning, a thin layer of fog coating the training ground with a few stars hanging in the sky as her witness. Her father stood next to… Snoebryda shivered with fear. Her father’s head of his personal guard, Cwinleita. The brute of a woman grinned down at her, a smile stretched too wide over her thin teeth.

“Well, good morning, Princess! From now forward, I’ll be your opponent with the new regimen His Majesty oh so kindly made you himself. Isn’t that kind of him?” Her tone was honey sweet while her eyes flashed with a viciousness Snoebryda had only seen in the eyes of hunting dogs, bred only to rip things to shred. She attempted to speak, but found her throat too hurt and weak. She just nodded, hoping that was enough to appease both adults.

The training ground door closed from behind her. The hair on the red-head child’s neck and scalp prickled, feeling like a cornered hare as her heartbeat raced in her ears. Being alone with these two, it felt naught but dangerous.

“As we discussed, Cwinleita. Refrain yourself.” Her father said and removed himself from the battlefield. As he settled into a dark corner, something clattered on the ground in front of her. A wooden training sword, the kind meant for an adult that was easily taller than her. Snoebryda dragged her blue eyes up to the imposing woman. At her side, she had her sword still within its scabbard.

“Pick it up.”

Snoebryda obeyed, leaning down to grab the oversized wooden tool. Her first mistake. The iron tip of Cwinleita’s boot embedded hard into her jaw, enough to where the child feared it would crack. She sent her flying a few feet, but the guard clearly felt that wasn’t enough, kicking the wooden sword into her body as hard as she could. Enough to welt and break the skin across her legs.

“You’d best leave any knowledge of how your previous training went at the door, whelp,” Cwinleita proudly announced, giving Snoebryda enough time to scramble to her feet before kicking her down again. “Because until decreed otherwise, I’m permitted to act as your enemy until you show some promise.”

This time, the guard pressed her entire weight down onto her chest. Three hundred pounds of muscle and malice squeezed all the air out of her, pushed the child into the dirt so hard she could feel the pebbles dig into her skin and lungs couldn not draw in air. 

“Can’t… breath…!” Snoebryda’s cry fell on deaf ears, Cwinleita imprinting her boot hard onto her skin. Her vision faded when the boot was removed, and she could gasp for air. A dread sunk into the child’s bones. They may accidentally kill her if she did not improve. The thought of death so sobering it made her freeze. A terrible reaction, as her opponent bashed her scabbard into her leg, creating a deep, bloody gash.

The pain was enough to ground Snoebryda back in the moment. She struggled to her feet and fought. A generous word for her flailing against the practiced fighter. Again and again, she was shoved to the ground, insulted, even spat upon. Tears refused to come out, but her eyes and body still trembled with them, a sight the woman took great joy in mocking. Snoebryda couldn’t think straight, both from an empty stomach and panic. She didn’t know why her form faltered, her hits were poor. She couldn’t understand the feeling upon her body of anxiety, a tight, mounting panic that swirled beneath her skin, crawling through it like a parasite. Sending shocks through that made her hesitate, and those small moments enough for Cwinleita to further her assault, and further throw Snoebryda off her rhythm.

The brawl went on for hours, until they covered her pale skin in marks, beaten red and bloody. Her muscles were caught in a state of tension, trembling but too tight to relax. She’d seen similar on other warriors and knights, after brawls where they wore the injuries with pride. Looking down at her own, as they lowered her arms in lumps and bloody patches, her skin crawled with a disgust she could not explain. There was no pride in these injuries, only shame. They were marks of failure. 

She was brought to her knees, and Cwinleita seemed to have the mind to push her further, if the Roegakoan had not spoken. “That’s enough for today.”

“Eh? I was promised these things would last all day. Not going soft, are you?” The guard captain complained.

“Watch your tongue. Of course not,” he moved toward the door as he spoke. “I simply have better things to do than to watch the weakling flounder. We’ll continue the day after tomorrow, when her punishment is over.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the guard bowed her head, before turning to Snoebryda and giving her one final, venomous grin. “Try not to gnaw your hands off from starvation, Princess. A day without food should hopefully toughen you up nicely for our next spar. I’ll even start trying next time.”

The child was left alone, struggling to manage the pain coursing through her muscles. So much of it felt bone deep, refusing to leave no matter how much time passed. All the water in her body was gone, sweat out under the sun, leaving her tongue feeling like paper against her teeth. The emptiness of her stomach only amplified the pain of her injuries, bruises and welts so heavy they’d turn an array of colors beneath the skin. Her eyes were impossibly heavy.

It was clear none would help her, so she dragged herself to her feet. Dragging her heavy limbs through the halls and up the stairs. No servant met her eye, refusing to. All but her nanny, who took great joy in scrubbing her skin raw in the scalding back after training to wash away the sweat, leaving her truly raw, every movement a pained one. Her only relief was the sound of nature just beyond the colored glass window, the trees and wind and birds and an orchestra she could focus on as she laid in bed, the most bearable thing she could manage. With the curtains drawn to hide away from harmful stares. Letting the girl lose herself to daydreams of the world beyond castle walls, places she’d been promised she’d get to learn one day. ‘One day’ couldn’t come soon enough, it felt to the girl.

Snoebryda was soft. It would take time before she’d learn to hide her softness, create a shell to endure the hurt, to even recognize it for what it was. Until then, pain would become a familiar presence for the years to come.

[mihaibrinas]

GWYDION by Robert J Dornan (Author)

A book review by Brinas

"My name is Robert J Dornan or Bob and I am living my passion by writing novels. I do my best to create unforgettable characters in stories you will treasure and read again.

On a personal note, I am a heart transplant recipient who wakes up every morning adoring life and appreciating every molecule of love.

On her sixteenth birthday, Princess Poppi receives an extraordinary gift from the castle gardener that will change the lives of her entire family and hand her an astonishing power."

He wanted to write his novel about princess adventure, mystery, kingdoms, and castles. He has been struggling for years in the dark and forgotten corners of the uncontrollable heart.

Little did he know that his life would become a chapter in his writing story.

He was writing feverishly, but as the days passed, it seemed that the end of the story would never be near enough. He had reached a point where he had almost given up all hope of seeing his book completed. Then something extraordinary happened.

He awoke from a dream with a sudden burst of life and love of life.

Bob had been blessed with a new heart.

As the author continued to write, he felt a new sense of freedom. He was no longer held back by his heart condition and could explore his ideas without fear. He had been given a second chance at life and was determined to make the most of it.

An exploration of the human condition, the limits of mortality, and the fantasy world the author has created in his mind.

Overwhelmed by a strange mixture of fantasy and reality, the author hopes readers will appreciate his story.

As he lovingly crafted the story, the author could feel the characters come to life on the page.

The princess is now by his side, lighting his path with her ray of light and hope. Both are carried on the back of the giant bird. They fly over the alternate world, and the bird tells them about the stubborn prince and the evil wizard. They laugh together as the beautiful scenery of the fairytale land can be seen below them.

A fairytale land where you want to live forever.

The story unfolds before our eyes and imagination, written with attention to detail and polished words.

Bob enters the enchanted clearing surrounded by trees. He sees the princess on a bench in the garden behind the stables, playing with the doll's blonde hair.

She is guarded by giant birds and the fiercest guardian, the massive boulder with a red line painted on it.

Bob is now walking on the soft grass, once a mud puddle.

And in place of the wooden hut is a magnificent white palace.

It is about change, the color of hope through which a new beginning is seen.

Robert J Dornan, or Bob, possesses an exquisite vitality of writing that seduced me.

The story certainly has originality, demonstrated by a magical fusion of talent and heightened emotion.

Amazon link

All formats and edition-Kindle, Hardcover, Paperback.

[runawaycarouselhorse]

"Tohru smiles at him, something warm coming to her cheeks. He’s more considerate than people give him credit for, she thinks. There’s something about the brightness of his smile and the energy that’s constantly running through his veins and coming out in bursts of laughter and movement that makes him seem childish, that makes him seem like he’s less than he is. Seeing him here, holding the violin, in his element, Tohru thinks that maybe she’s beginning to see through all of that."

This passage is so beautiful!

"Last time that they had talked, Momiji had said that he was going to quit playing violin, but he had promised her a concert, just between the two of them. Tohru is, with a sudden and acute awareness, terrified that this is going to be the last time that he plays violin. She doesn’t know what to do with that, with this gift— if she’s the last person to hear him play, play for real, that means he’s given up on his dream of a concert just for his family.

She can’t let that happen.

For the hundredth time that week, Tohru promises herself that she’s going to find a way to break the curse. This isn’t going to be Momiji’s last concert. His mother hasn’t heard him play, not yet."

Oh, so that's when this is set… and ah, even now, Tohru's thoughts are on other people… ;_;

"Even in such a simple song, Tohru can hear the talent that rests in Momiji’s fingertips, she can feel the longing in the notes— the wishing for something that you can never have, the aching desire to hold it in your hands and the coldness in your palms where you know it will never lay. She can hear every emotion that she’s ever felt poured into each note."

Oh, this is where I also teared up, this is so beautifully and poignantly written!

"the bow of the violin falling across the strings as if it were the wind brushing through the trees."

Beautiful imagery.

"The music spills out from the violin in a kind of heartbreak, in a kind of longing, in a kind of wanting. There are no words for this, Tohru thinks. There is only sheet music. There is only song."

Brilliant!

It was very touching and sweet and I'm glad it ended the way it did... maybe, in another timeline, it would be like this. ;_;

As for whether it's in-character or not, until the very end where it took a direction different from the manga/anime, I could honestly say I could easily believe this private concert took place. I also pictured it in the anime's style and even heard their voices, it was sweet and beautiful and felt just like them. Thank you!

at the whisper of a violin

summary: momiji gives one last violin performance, just for the two of them, in which he bares his soul. a story in which tohru doesn’t understand, until she does. 

prompt: momiru for @eroshiyda ! i hope you enjoy <3 

pairings: momiji sohma/tohru honda

words: 1495

warnings: none

note: here is a spotify link to the violin piece, “none but the lonely heart” by tchaikovsky, that i listened to on a loop while writing this :) 

“Tohru!” 

Tohru turns away from the stove, catching just the sound of Momiji’s voice as he pauses at the front door to tug off his shoes. It takes only a moment before he comes into the kitchen, a bright smile on his face. 

Tohru grins at him. “Hello—” 

“Before I chicken out,” Momiji cuts in, “I promised that I would give you a private concert.” 

Keep reading

[gyeheoni]

One it gif battle !

One its !!! To celebrate the good news of X1 resuming their activities we'd like to officially unveil our X1 gifmakers gif battle ! each week we will be posting a gifset under the prompts below ! anyone is welcome to participate !

prompts:

-> 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟏: 𝐛𝐢𝐚𝐬 -> 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟐: 𝐛𝐢𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫 -> 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟑: 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 -> 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟒: 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 -> 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟓: 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐬 -> 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟔: 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐬 -> 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟕: 𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 -> 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟖: 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 -> 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟗: 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 -> 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟏𝟎: 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠

rules: 

beginning Jan. 1st, 2020, 12am kst

tag #oneitgifbattle so everyone can see your creations !

have fun !

caption example:  “one it gif battle!  ↳ week 1: bias - [bias’ name]” 

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@cutiewooseok ✧ @yohanx ✧ @cafeyeon ✧ @likealwaysmp3 ✧ @sondongpyos ✧ @eunsanng ✧ @suengwoo ✧ @x1sminhee ✧ @x1-s ✧ @songhyeongjun ✧ @han-seungwoo​ ✧ @kangmihnee​ ✧ @seungyound​ ✧ @yohanies  ✧ @seungvvo