#and i sleep with a night light at the brightest setting so i can see in my room at night

[useryoongis]

tw paranoia??? i’m not sure what to call it

[miumura]

DANGEROUS ──── TAESAN ⋆.

"JUST MAKING MEMORIES" is something Taesan sent to you over text before he bolted out of the door. He knew he might get into trouble for sneaking out, but none of that mattered—he needed to see you. Trouble could wait; reuniting with you couldn’t.

PAIRING best friend!taesan x gn!reader GENRE fluff ∿ accidental confession ∿ WARNINGS inspired from “Dangerous” by BOYNEXTDOOR ,, one curse word ,, that is all i believe !! WORD COUNT 1.7K+ ( 1745 )

NEW MESSAGE taesan’s part has been stuck in my head so i had to write him to this ^^ i def have this song and mv on loop - it’s such a fun one !! so you can bet i ran to write this ASAP 🫡 shows that i am soso excited for their comeback :] !!

♫ ──── I never cross the line, trust me 𓂃 ⭑

Taesan had to be extra quiet tonight—he couldn’t afford to get caught by his parents, especially at this hour. But, he prided himself on being skilled at sneaking out, having done it countless times before. This wasn’t his first rodeo, and tonight, he was determined it wouldn’t be the night he finally slipped up.

Moving swiftly but cautiously across the creaky wooden floor, he kept his gaze fixed between his parents' room and the exit. His heart raced when he found himself in front of their door, which he slightly cracked open to confirm they were asleep. Sure enough, the car keys rested right where he expected—on the nightstand beside his father.

Taesan hesitated for a split second before slipping in, his steps light as air. He reached for the keys, careful not to disturb the silent house or the sleeping figure. With a smooth motion, he grasped the keys without causing a single jingle. Without wasting a second, he darted back towards the entrance, his light footsteps barely audible, a small grin tugging at his lips.

So far, everything was going according to plan.

Maybe telling Taesan you were finally back from your two-week trip at 2 A.M. wasn’t the brightest idea. If you had known he’d spam you with texts filled with excitement and then decide to show up at your place right in the middle of your unpacking, you might’ve held off on sharing the news. But truth be told, you were just as eager to talk to him. After spending weeks messaging back and forth, you couldn’t resist letting him know you were home—especially with him counting down the days until your return like a personal calendar.

Even when you tried to convince him to wait just a few more hours to meet, Taesan was already set on seeing you right then and there. There was no talking him out of it.

He just couldn’t wait to see you again.

“Hey, I’m here!!!!” Your phone buzzed with a notification as you were halfway through putting away your clothes, causing you to chuckle.

You debated ignoring Taesan for a bit longer to tease him, but when his texts quickly escalated to threats of ringing your doorbell—fully aware that your parents were likely fast asleep—you had no choice but to give in.

Dropping the shirt in your hand, you rushed down the stairs, determined to stop him. When you opened the door, you were greeted by Taesan’s slight smirk, which soon blossomed into a wide grin. Before you could even say anything, he swept you into a tight hug, holding you close as you instantly melted into his embrace.

You hadn’t realized just how much you missed his hugs until now.

Finally breaking from his embrace, you took a moment to study the familiar features you had only seen through FaceTime. It hit you that this moment was real—you were finally back, standing in front of Taesan again. Your eyes soon trailed down to his outfit, and you couldn’t help but let out a series of small chuckles.

“Did you roll out of bed when I texted you?” you teased, pointing at his pants, which were covered in random, colorful designs.

He followed your gaze and stared at his pants—decorated with bizarre patterns you couldn’t even describe. Taesan let out a laugh, though his slightly flushed cheeks and the way he scratched the back of his neck betrayed his embarrassment.

“Hey, to be fair, you texted me at two in the morning.”

“You could’ve worn jeans or something,” you quipped.

“At least I put on a hoodie—besides, you're in pajamas too!” he pointed out, causing you to giggle as he finally noticed.

“Not as weird as yours,” you shrugged. “Anyway, it was nice seeing you—you should go back now.”

You gave him a slight push toward the direction of his house, but Taesan didn't budge, instead staying put with an odd grin that sent a chill down your spine.

“Not yet,” he said, pulling out car keys from his pocket and jingling them in front of you. Your eyes widened in disbelief as you glanced over his shoulder, spotting something you should’ve noticed earlier—his parents' car, parked right there. You whipped your head back to Taesan, who let out a laugh at your reaction.

“So, you’re telling me, not only did you sneak out, but you took their car too?!” you exclaimed.

“Technically, it’s supposed to be my car too, so… why can’t I?” he shrugged, still grinning like he hadn't just committed a minor crime (dramatic much?).

“You’re going to get into trouble, Taesan,” you warned, though you couldn’t help but smile at his boldness. This was classic Taesan—reckless, spontaneous, and a little too daring for his own good.

“Not if we don’t get caught,” he smirked.

“What do you mean we—” Before you could finish your sentence, Taesan grabbed your arm and pulled you toward the car. Without much choice, you found yourself sliding into the passenger seat, watching him confidently start up the engine. You shot him a side-eye as the car turned on loudly.

“You’re not going to drag me into your mess if you get into trouble… are you?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“That won’t happen, don’t worry,” he said with a grin, glancing over at you. His casual reassurance didn’t ease your nerves, but something about his energy made you believe him. Even though this seemed reckless and dangerous, there was something thrilling about it, something that made you forget to be cautious.

“Even if it does happen… this better be worth it,” you muttered, glancing at him as he pulled away from your house.

“Making demands now?” Taesan snickered, his hand reaching for the volume knob as he slowly turned up the music you both liked. You hummed along with the familiar melody as he drove, and soon you began to recognize where you were headed.

When you finally arrived at the familiar, secluded spot, a smile crept onto your face. It was the hangout place—the place. It wasn’t anything extraordinary, just an old rooftop in an abandoned part of town, but it held so many memories for you both. Hours spent talking under the stars, laughing about nothing, escaping reality together—it was your safe haven.

“I missed this place,” you quietly exclaimed, staring out of the window as nostalgia washed over you.

“I’m glad you do,” Taesan replied, pulling the car into a spot nearby and shutting off the engine. He turned to you with a soft smile. “It was boring without you here.”

“I would’ve expected so,” you teased with a grin, pushing the car door open and stepping outside. Taesan shook his head at your comment, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You both started walking along the rocky path, the crunching sound beneath your feet breaking the quiet, but in a way that felt calming. As you neared the old, cracked steps leading to the rooftop, Taesan reached for your hand, his familiar words slipping out as if by instinct, “Watch your steps.”

He always said it every time, a small gesture of care that never failed to warm you inside. You gave his hand a small squeeze in response, feeling a comfort that only Taesan could bring—a comfort that had remained constant even after weeks of distance.

It didn’t take long for you two to reach the rooftop, and you couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief when you saw that the mat you’d left last time was still there. With a soft sigh, you sat down, sinking into the familiar comfort of the spot. Taesan followed suit, settling down beside you.

You both gazed up at the night sky. Though it wasn’t lit up with as many stars as usual, the cool, crisp breeze seemed to make up for it.

You two chatted for what seemed like for decades, with the amount of endless topics you two managed to bring up. As much as you wished for this moment to last forever, your mind somehow went back to the thought of what time it could be.

“It’s probably so late right now,” you mumbled, still not bothering to check your phone for the time. “You really shouldn’t have stayed up.”

“Why not?”

“I told you I’d be back late,” you replied, turning to glance at him. “You shouldn’t have waited.”

“I still wanted to see you,” Taesan said without hesitation.

“Why?” you asked, your voice quieter now, more curious than anything.

“Because I like you.”

His words hung in the air for a few seconds, both of you processing what he had just said. Taesan’s eyes widened slightly as if the confession had slipped out by accident, and the shock that hit both of you was almost palpable. Neither of you spoke at first, the cool breeze suddenly feeling much more intense as you stared at him in surprise.

Neither of you could find the words to say next. Taesan turned his head slightly, eyes flicking to the ground as if it could offer him an escape from the awkwardness that had suddenly settled between you. His hands fidgeted with the edge of his hoodie, a nervous habit you’d seen before, though it had never felt so intense.

You stared at him, trying to make sense of what just happened. The cool breeze brushed against your skin, and yet, your body felt warmer. You wanted to say something—anything—but the words were lodged in your throat, stuck between surprise and the realization that this wasn’t just a passing comment.

His confession was still hanging in the air, echoing in the silence between you two.

Taesan shifted uncomfortably, his gaze still fixed on the ground. He finally took a deep breath, but even then, his words faltered. “Uh, I didn’t—” he started, then stopped, his face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and uncertainty.

You swallowed, trying to calm the sudden rush of emotions that had washed over you.

"You know... Taesan, I feel—" you began, but your words were suddenly interrupted by a loud buzzing from Taesan's pocket. He immediately reached for his phone, and both of you glanced down at the screen. The name "Dad" lit up brightly, sending a jolt of panic through the air.

Both your eyes widened in unison as reality hit. Taesan's face that was once filled with anticipation became paled, and you could feel the tension shift.

There was a brief, terrifying silence before he muttered,

"Oh fuck."

💬 : prepare for more bnd works ( hopefully ) i love them sm

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[dreamwatch]

Know When To Hold 'em

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #17 - Prompt: This One's For You | Word Count: 999 | Rating: T | CW: death of a parent, depression, grief, referenced drug abuse, alcoholism | POV: Steve | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Wayne Munson, Eddie needs a hug, protective Steve, hurt/comfort

I'm sorry. :(

The first time it happened totally out of the blue.

It was their first big show in Indy, their home show, and of course Wayne wanted to be there, as much out of curiosity as anything. He didn’t hear a thing; Steve gave him a set of ear plugs and it was like he’d been handed a pot of gold. “I could have done with these years ago.” But he saw everything and he talked about that show to anyone that would listen, and a few that wouldn’t.

Eddie was over the goddamn moon about it so he told the audience, “My Uncle Wayne’s here tonight, everyone say 'hi Uncle Wayne!'” and five thousand people just— did it. Because Eddie asked them to. Even through the ear plugs Wayne heard it. Steve’s not sure he’s ever seen the old man blush before.

So it became a thing completely by accident. If Wayne was there they played The Gambler as the last song of the encore; like the flag at Buckingham Palace telling everyone the Queen was home: Uncle Wayne was in the house. The fans latched onto it straight away, and it was one of only a couple of songs that Eddie would sing. Wayne didn’t see the band play often but it didn’t matter where they were, the moment that song started up the crowd went wild; the roar of “Hi Uncle Wayne!” rolling through the audience before everyone sang along. And Wayne there at the edge of the stage shaking his head, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Eddie was in Germany when Wayne died. 

‘The best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep’, sang The Gambler, and that’s exactly what he did. Wayne would have got a kick out of that.

Breaking the news to Eddie was the most painful thing Steve’s ever had to do.

Tonight is their first night back after a two month hiatus. It feels too soon, but there are contracts, missed shows, obligations, and there’s only so much their manager can do to keep the label, promoters and lawyers away. 

Eddie’s dead eyed and lethargic; he’s started drinking again, Steve discreetly hid his pain medication when he noticed the bottle emptying faster than it should have. He sleeps with a belly full of Ambien and spends his day wrapped in Zoloft. Neither help.

But the show must go on, right? 

Despite everything, the grief, the fog of depression, when he walks out onto the stage he’s a supernova, the brightest of lights in the deepest of darks. He’s fucking dazzling. 

The crowd at the Market Square Arena are on fire, they explode when the band run on stage but Steve doesn’t miss the extra noise when Eddie gets out there. Eddie loosens up as the gig goes on, and by the end, when they take a bow together, he looks like a different man to the shell thats been haunting their home. 

There will be a crash later. Steve is already prepared for it.

The band come off drenched with sweat. Steve can see the pinched expression on Eddie’s face, the exertion after all this time lying around like a ghost has taken its toll on a body that has seen better days. But he still smiles at Steve as he hands off the guitar to his tech, his Sweetheart, only brought out for the encores now. 

“Was it okay?” Eddie asks him, towelling the sweat from his face.

“You were amazing,” is all Steve can manage right there, but he’s buzzing inside and there’s more he wants to say. But that’s for later, when it’s just them.

The band are handing off instruments, roadies scurrying around, breakdown already underway. There’s a lot happening, and you know, Steve’s hearing isn’t that great these days but there’s nothing wrong with his eyesight. He sees the little commotion over Eddie’s shoulder, the way people halt, ears pricking up like labradors. Jeff turns to Steve with wide eyes and Matt has stopped in his tracks. And then he sees the exact moment Eddie picks up on it, the furrowed brow, the soft tilt of the head.

The crowd are singing Wayne’s song.

Everyone stops. Roadies stand there like marionettes with their strings cut.

And Eddie…

He looks devastated, his hand flying up to his mouth like he’s trying to bury a sob, stopping the grief from breaking containment.

Steve can see the band over Eddie’s shoulder, heads nodding before they’re grabbing guitars back from their techs. He knows what they’re going to do, but there’s no way Eddie is up to it, they have to know that. Jeff slings an arm over Eddie’s shoulder, pulls him in, knocking his forehead against Eddie’s. And then Matty does it, Matty who doesn’t have a sentimental bone in his body, but Gareth is long gone, already running back onto the stage, crowd cheering at the sight of him, before Matty and Jeff follow him out. And they pick up where the crowd are and they play. Eddie usually sings it, but Jeff takes it tonight. 

Steve grabs Eddie’s hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “C’mon,” he says, pulling Eddie toward the side of the stage.

Steve loved Wayne, so fucking much. And maybe with all the help and care Eddie needed afterward, still needs, maybe Steve didn’t get a chance to grieve properly. He feels the ache in his chest, before he notices the calloused fingers wiping his tears away.

“He loved you, Steve.” He can’t reply, just nods, and Eddie holds him like he should be holding Eddie. And then he’s gone, out on to the stage, back with his band. No guitar, just sharing a mic with Jeff and joining as much as the tears will allow. And then the music cuts, Matty and Gareth joining them at the mic, and it’s just voices, nineteen thousand and four. Corroded Coffin, arms slung across shoulders, singing Wayne’s song. 

Singing to Wayne.

Yeah... I went there.

So, I had this idea months ago and parked it because I didn't know what to do with it. And then this prompt came along and BOOM!

[thestormynobody]

A Sisters Wish

Note: This takes place after this fic. You can probably read it on its own but I personally recommend reading that one first. Thank you once again to Nube for beta reading for me <3

There was an old legend in Bambouche: You must pick up the prettiest shell you can find. Once you do that you whisper a desire into it several times. Some tellings say three, others five or even nine. Having done this you take the shell with you. Keeping it close and safe until nightfall. When the stars are at their brightest you would whisper your wish one more time into the shell then return it to the sea. 

It was said that once a long time ago a fisherman was lost at sea, thought to be dead by everyone. His partner made a wish in this way and  within three days he had returned home safely, though with no memory of where he had been the whole time.

Of course. No one really took this seriously.  After all, it was a little silly, wasn’t it? Just a tale told by the older folks to keep the kids entertained. So then, why was she rowing a boat out onto the water, a shell nestled into her pocket? In the initial days after Petronille was unfrozen she had scoured the town for any sign of Bonnie. She was glad they had managed to make it out ahead of the curse but, now she didn’t know where they were and that thought terrified her to her core.

 It took everything within her to not just set off out of town looking for them. She was no stranger to rash decisions but even she knew this was a terrible idea. Bambouche had been frozen for months. They could be anywhere at this point. She needed a general idea of where to start looking. She’d sent letters out to neighboring towns but she knew there had to be others looking for lost family members as well. Her letter was likely one among many and the waiting was driving her insane. 

So. Why not do this? Couldn’t hurt. Besides, being out on the water has always calmed her so, if anything, it is an excuse to find some time to center herself and come up with a new game plan. She pulls the shell from her pocket and whispers into it. 

“Please, let me know that Bonnie is safe and let them come home soon.” 

It’s. What. She. Wants.

With that, she dips her hand into the water and releases the shell, watching it sink out of view. Nothing happens. Not that she really expected anything to happen really. It wasn’t like Bonnie would just appear on the boat next to her… Though part of her wishes they would. She misses them so much and not knowing if they’re okay is about the worst feeling in the world. 

She lays down on the floor of her boat and looks up at the stars. She hasn’t really been sleeping well and knows tonight will be no exception. Might as well stargaze. She remembers the old fisherwoman who’d taken her under her wing when she’d first arrived alone and scared with a baby Bonnie. 

She hadn’t made herself the easiest to approach but the woman had done so anyway. Showing her how to properly catch and cook fish so that she and Bonnie would not go hungry. She’d known so much about the stars. Often talked about them when they spent late nights fishing together. You could navigate using the stars if you knew what to look for. She had said something else that had stuck with her too… Even if you couldn’t see them they were always there, watching over the people below. It was a connection all people shared.

The thought that no matter where Bonnie was, they were still under the same sky brings the smallest bit of comfort to her now. She’d see them again. No matter what.

Her thoughts come to a stop as a streak of light trails across the sky. A shooting star? Maybe this was some sort of sign? Not that she was…particularly religious in one way or another. But hey, she’ll take some divine intervention right now if it means helping her find her sibling. 

Huh.

That’s getting really close. 

TOO close. 

OH CRAB.

She bolts up right and starts rowing for dear life out of the trajectory of the light that is rapidly approaching. It still nearly flips her boat when it makes impact with the water. “Oh crab oh crab oh crab-”

Wait.

Did that shooting star look…person shaped?? She could still kind of see the shape as it sank quickly under the water. It does look person shaped!! Did a person just fall from the crabbing sky?! 

Without thinking she dives into the water after whatever-whoever this is. The water is dark but fortunately they are very bright. She swims after the quickly sinking light and manages to grab onto something solid. They’re surprisingly light actually. She hauls them out of the water and somewhat ungracefully gets them into the boat. 

So. That’s a person that just fell from the sky…..and their head is a star. Why not? She was frozen in time for months and that was already pretty weird. This might as well be happening. They don’t seem to be moving. Are they dead...? An impact from that height would be pretty devastating to most people but most people also don’t have stars for heads so who knows what the rules are here. Can she do CPR on something that doesn’t have a mouth???

She hesitantly reaches to see if she can find a pulse when suddenly the star’s eyes fly open, they sit bolt upright and grab her wrist. This catches her so off guard she suplexes them right back into the water. Oops.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

There is a star in her boat. They have their arms folded over their body and are looking out across the water. Probably cold. She was too, the water wasn’t exactly warm after all. They don’t seem…mad about her dunking them back into the water really. They'd been more disorientated than anything and as startled by her as she'd been by them grabbing her.

“Thank you.” They say at last after a long silence. 

“Don't mention it.” She is trying so very hard not to ask the obvious question. It’s probably rude to ask someone why they're a star so she settles on the other question at the forefront of her mind:

“How the crab did you end up falling from the sky??”

They stare at her for a moment. “Stars do that sometimes.”

“...sure, but they don't usually also talk.”

“Have you ever met another star?”

“...I suppose not.”

“Well there you go~! Hm. Though I do suppose there must be another reason I'm here. Did you perhaps make a wish?”

“How-?”

“Star.”

“...riiight.” She feels a mix of both hope and skepticism. 

“Your sibling is safe.”

!

“More than that, they're one of the saviors of Vauguarde. You should be proud~”

“Bonnie fought the king?!!” 

Why would anyone let a kid even attempt that?!  But… If they're okay and also kicked the king's butt then…yeah. She's crabbing proud. Then again…

“Why should I believe you?”

“Other than the fact I am a sentient star who dropped in to give you the news? Well. Hm. Let’s see-” They close their eyes for a long moment.  

Something whizzes past her head and they pluck it out of the air. “Ah, here we are.” 

They hold it out to her. It’s paper, folded into the shape of a crane. Paper Craft letter sending was nothing new but the shape is different than what she is used to. Also, they generally weren’t this good at pinpointing someone's location. 

She quickly unfolds it and reads it over using the light emitting from the star. The first half is in an unfamiliar handwriting. Neat. Formal. The writer states that her name is Odile and recounts the circumstances of how the saviors met Bonnie and why they'd allowed them to tag along on such a dangerous mission.

…And she got it. Odile was 100 percent correct that Bonnie would have followed them no matter what they said or did. They were stubborn like that. The letter explains the party’s plans to set out for Bambouche as soon as they are fit for travel.

She moves on to the second half of the letter and her heart skips a beat. She knows that handwriting.

Hey Nille! Everyone says you should be unfrozen by now. You better be!! There's so much I wanna tell you but Dille took up too much of the crabbing paper with “adult stuff”. She said we could send another letter soon though. You should write back so i know you're okay. Though i guess itd be hard to know where to send it when we're on the road. Ill ask where to have you send one next time i write. Did you know in Ka Bue they send their letters folded like birds instead of butterflies? It seems a lot more hard to fold it like that to me but Dile makes it look easy. Aw crab im running out of room to write. Dont go anywhere okay? We're coming to you. Write you again soon! This is Bonnie by the way.

Crammed in the corner because they'd written too large to give themselves the space to say everything they wanted to say was a tiny “Miss you.”

A tear darkens the paper. They're okay. She is so relieved. It seems her wish really did come true. She turns to the star, “Thank you…?”

There is an awkward pause, then they seem to realize she’s fishing for a name. “Loop.”

“Thank you Loop. This means a lot to me.”

“...don't mention it.”

The two sit in silence for a while.

“So… now what?” she asks.

“.....”

“Heh…haha-” they start laughing, much harder than she felt the question warranted.  It takes them a bit to regain their composure. 

 “You know. I didn’t think that far ahead.”

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[pastanest]

if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to the very lovely friends who have relentlessly sifted through tumblr archives to recover them, thank you all so much!! ♡

A/N: I wrote all this Draco content YEARS ago, PLEASE do not hold it against me lol

Draco x non-house-specific!reader

Puppy Love

Draco’s POV

Much like many of my nights at Hogwarts, I find myself unable to sleep, and have resorted to walking around the castle until I tire myself out. The night air is calling to me from beyond the castle walls, and try as I might to ignore the whispers in the wind, I cannot resist the chance to enjoy another starlit sky. Smiling to myself, my usual slow walking pace is replaced by hurried footsteps, each step adding another spark to the fire of excitement that is igniting in my chest. As soon as I set foot outside, my smile widens into a broad grin, and after wandering just far enough to find a spot which I can successfully hide myself from any teachers patrolling the grounds, I take a seat on the cold grass, my pyjama’s only just being enough to keep my body above a temperature that would be too cold for me to stand. Bringing my knees up, I hold them loosely with in the crease of my elbows, clasping my hands together in the space between my calfs, my entire body relaxing as I tilt my head back to observe the countless precious prisms of light held greedily by the night sky that taunts me from above. A small rustle coming from within a bush a few feet away from where Im sitting startles me, and I jump back slightly. From the other side of the small shrub, I hear a pained, high pitched howl that pulls at my heartstrings in the most vulnerable way. Slowly bringing myself to my feet, I glance over the tight bundle of leaves to see a small black dog, sitting up straight with it’s back to me. With it’s pricked up ears, it almost appears like a miniature wolf. Sensing my presence, the dog stiffens and turns to face me, a curious and frightened expression etched into it’s features as the brightest pair of silver eyes bore into my own. I lift my foot to take a step towards the dog, but it cowers away from me, so instead I take a step back, and sit back down again in my previous position. Sure enough, the small dog gingerly crawls through the bush and comes out the other side, to stand beside me. I hold my hand out to it, and the dog inspects it carefully, sniffing at my palm tentatively, before nuzzling against it. Another smile takes over my face as I gently scratch behind the dog’s right ear. The dog suddenly jumps up excitedly, and rolls onto it’s back, sticking it’s tongue out the side of it’s mouth.

I cant help but laugh “Well, arent you a pretty girl!”

She barks up at me in approval, causing me to chuckle again as I rub her stomach. Almost immediately, I feel my heart unlocking itself from it’s burdened chains for this small, lovable creature, and it’s striking silver eyes.

“Do you have a name, little lady?” I question her as I take note of the lack of a collar around her neck, but obviously not expecting her to give me an answer that I can possibly understand. Could she be a stray?

She barks at me again, and I feel my heart sing as it falls further in love with this animal. The idea of a dog being a man’s best friend has never made much sense to me, I’ve always been more of a cat person, but this dog is changing my whole perspective in a matter of minutes.

An idea pops into my head, and I smile down at her.

“How about Lady?” I ask, and immediately the adorable black ball of fur jumps to her feet, and begins chasing her tail as she yips excitedly.

Feeling my eyes begin to get heavy, I start rationalising the situation in my head. However, given my tiredness, it is likely that my decision to carry Lady back to my dorm and place her at the foot of my bed, with the intension of taking full responsibility for her, was perhaps not my finest hour.

For the first time in what feels like my entire life, I wake up pleasantly, without the lingering claws of sleep trying to drag me back into the abyss. Sitting up in bed, I rub my eyes to fully wake myself up, and kick my legs out from under my covers, placing my feet on the floor as I rub the back of my neck. Glancing around the room, I see all of my fellow Slytherin boys fast asleep, but when my gaze lands on the end of my bed, I have to do a double take, and my blood runs cold. She’s gone. Without any further thought, I jump from my bed and start crawling around on the floor, looking underneath every bed to try and find her, before I notice that the dorm room door is ajar, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

I spend my entire Saturday morning running around the castle, relentlessly searching for her. The sound of me shouting her name as I bound down the corridors has undoubtedly given most of the students headaches, but now my voice is restricted to practically whispering, given Im searching the school library.

“Lady? Lady, where are you!?!” I call out quietly as I speed walk between every aisle of books.

A small girl, who I recognise to be (Y/N), perks up from her place at a desk located at the far end of the aisle Im now searching, but I pay her little attention as I crouch down to look beneath the stack of shelves. Sensing a presence beside me, I glance up to find (Y/N) standing next to me, staring down at me quizzically.

“What’re you doing Draco? Not to be rude, but you’re coming across as a bit of a nutter.” (Y/N) enquires, an air of innocent curiosity about her.

“Im trying to find my dog - well, technically I suppose she isnt mine, but I found her last night and she was all alone, so I decided to take her in. I took her to my room and by the time I woke up, she was gone.” Despite barely knowing (Y/N), I find myself quite suddenly comfortable enough around her to explain my endeavours in full detail.

“She wasnt a very big dog, definitely young too, she almost looked like a very small wolf, but with these bright silver eyes. I called her Lady. Have you seen her?” My voice rings with a tone of helplessness as I stand to my feet, trying not to acknowledge my slight insecurity caused by just how much I tower over the girl in front of me.

Her eyes widen, with an oddly familiar fear present in them, and I notice her quickly avoiding my gaze as she shifts her weight from foot to foot, laughing and coughing nervously.

“What are you doing that for?” I question, a little more harsh than I intended to be.

“I-I, uh, well…oh dear, I dont suppose I can really keep this from you now, can I? We cant talk about it here, though, I dont need anyone else knowing about this. Follow me.” (Y/N) walks past me, and gestures for me to follow her, but I shake my head.

“Im not going anywhere until I find Lady.” I tell her, with confidence.

Sighing, (Y/N) comes back over to me, and stares up at me with a focussed expression on her face. Time seems to slow down, and I watch in awe as the natural colour in her eyes begins to swirl, until it is replaced by that same striking silver. My jaw hangs open in shock, and when (Y/N) blinks, her eyes are back to normal.

“Follow me.” She instructs again, and this time I do so without question.

(Y/N) leads me outside, smiling and waving awkwardly at her friends, who are all staring at her in absolute horror as they notice me following behind her. She only stops walking when we’ve reached the place I found Lady the previous night. The wind blows through her hair as she stands with her back to me, evidently trying to hide her face.

“I didnt mean for you to see me last night, nobody usually does. Yesterday wasnt a good day for me at all, and I decided to venture out here to get some time to myself, just to sit. Maybe cry a little, if I needed to. But you found me, and now we’re in this mess.”

I frown, confusion consuming me, and an echo of the shock left over from seeing her eyes change, still holding me hostage.

“What are you talking about?” I question, feeling utterly dumbfounded for the first time in my life.

With a heavy sigh, (Y/N) turns around to face me, and Im immediately entranced by her eyes, which have once again transformed into that familiar silver.

“Im a Metamorphmagus, Draco. I can alter my physical appearance, I’ve been able to since I was a baby, both of my parents passed it down to me. While some people like me can change their hair colour on command, or temporarily adopt a feature of an animal, or even completely change their physical appearance, my family can all change themselves into animals at will. While my mother usually sticks within the realms of cat-like creatures, my father prefers birds, and I…I prefer wolves, and dogs.”

My lips part to speak, but no words fall from them, and the information I’ve just received is left hanging in the air, until (Y/N) decides to continue it, her head hanging low.

“If kids here found out about me, I’d be treated like a circus animal. So I must ask that you keep this between us, please.”

This time, words leave me before I have the chance to even process them.

“If they even tried treating you differently because of who you are, I’d hex every single one. You’re amazing, (Y/N), so few people are metamorphmagus, and even fewer can fully turn themselves into animals, there’s been debate about that being possible at all, and you’re living proof of it being true! I dont know if this is statistically accurate, but to me, you are one in a million, without a doubt, and your secret will always be safe with me.”

I blink, and feel (Y/N)’s small body crashing against my own, her arms wrapping around my middle and her face hidden against my abdomen.

“Thank you, for everything you just said, and for being so kind to me last night.” She has to turn her head to prevent her words from being muffled by my jumper, but as soon as she has finished speaking, she hides her blushing face again.

I chuckle, unable to comprehend how adorable she is, or how I never noticed before. “There’s no need to thank me. Next time though, dont go running off like that, you had me worried sick!”

(Y/N) laughs into my jumper and lifts her head to grin cheesily at me. “Next time, sleep with one eye open!“

I laugh with her, and then we break from our hug so that we can begin walking back towards Hogwarts, but my arm is still hanging loosely around her shoulders, and hers is still tucked around my back. Glancing down at her when she isnt looking, I smirk mischievously.

"I am so calling you Lady from now on.”

[softguarnere]

Hi! Can you write something hurt/comfort with Eugene or Joe?

Staring At the Ceiling With You

Eugene Roe x reader

A/N: Hi anon! I have noticed recently that I have a lack of Eugene content, so hopefully this fic will help fill that void. Also I've been in kind of a Gene phase ever since listening to Shane Taylor's podcast episode 🤭 (As usual, this is based off the fictional depictions from the tv show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!) Fic title comes from "Lavender Haze" by Taylor Swift. Thank you so much for the request, and I hope you like this 💕🕊️

Warnings: Insomnia

Cold weather in the winter months started ushering in unwanted memories after the war. Now, though, the thoughts sometimes slip in with no excuse or explanation, no matter the temperature. Even after a long day at work, when he should be worn out and ready to collapse into bed, they find a way to cling to him like damp clothes – and they’re just as uncomfortable.

Outside, frogs sing in the warm summer night. Their chorus floats in through the cracked windows, covering up the sounds of his footsteps as he makes his way back to the bedroom, careful to avoid any floorboards that might creak. As of recently, he’s become very familiar with which ones like to groan, announcing their presence when the rest of the world is quiet.

Eugene is slow and deliberate with his movements when he lifts the quilt and slips into the bed. He could kick himself when you stir. He didn’t intend to wake you; just because he’s awake doesn’t mean that you should have to be.

You roll towards him, outstretching your arm until you find him. Then, you latch on. He can’t help but smile. To think that you were the brightest spot in the dark night that was the war, and that now you’ve come home with him . . . He still can’t believe it.

For just a moment, it seems like maybe he didn’t disturb you. He lets out a breath and allows his full weight to sink back into the bed. Then, you mumble, “You’re coming to bed late.”

“Désolé.” He presses a quick kiss to your temple. “I didn’t want my tossing and turning to keep you up.”

You shake your head, hair rustling against the pillows. The movement is slow with the fog of sleep that clings to you. “Wouldn’t have . . . Sleep better when you’re here.” In the dim light of the moon that sneaks into the room from the window, your eyes flutter open. You study him. “Why couldn’t you sleep?”

“We can talk about it tomorrow morning. Go back to sleep, (Y/N).” But once you’ve set your mind to something, it’s useless to ask you to let it go.

You sit up in the bed. Rubbing sleep from your eyes for a moment, you then stretch before settling back against the headboard. Gene pushes himself up, too, so that he can look at you head-on in the night.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” you guess.

Gene shakes his head. “Just can’t turn my mind off lately.”

Through the darkness, he can see the crease that appears between your eyebrows as you think. He wants to reach out, to smooth it away, to remove all the worry that rests there.

Finally, you break the silence. “I want to help you, Eugene. What would you like for me to do?”

Even after all the time that you’ve been together, your sweet words bring heat to his cheeks. You care about him. He knows that, obviously, but your readiness to help when you could be resting shows how compassionate you are.

What would he like for you to do? If it were up to him, you would both be asleep right now. You should be wrapped up in his arms, the both of you breathing deeply, oblivious to the world as the frogs sing and sweet dreams dance in your mind. That’s what he wants . . . He just can’t seem to get there.

“Hold on.” You slip from the bed and down the hallway. For a few moments, Eugene is alone, wondering if he should have followed you.

Creaking floorboards announce your presence as you return. He should really work on fixing those. Maybe tomorrow. Saturday. That would be a good day for it. Assuming that he gets some sleep before then and feels up to it.

“Here.” You press a warm cup into Gene’s hands before making your way back to your side of the bed and settling in again.

Eugene sniffs the cup’s contents before taking a sip. It’s warm milk and, if he’s not mistaken, a little bit of honey. Nice and soothing. “I haven’t had this since I was a kid.”

“I know.”

“Huh?”

“You told me that, once. Back in Holland. It was some offhand comment you made about how your grandma used to make you warm milk if you couldn’t sleep.”

He really can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “You remembered.”

“Always stuck with me.” You shrug, like it’s no big deal, but he can still see your smile. Of course you remembered. “Now – “ you pat the pillows, drawing attention back to the matter at hand. “ – When I can’t shut my mind off, being held by you always works wonders.”

“Oh yeah?” Part of him feels guilty – do you also have sleepless nights, and Gene just didn’t realize that you were also being affected? At the same time, though, a certain sense of pride settles into his chest at the admission that you like it when he holds you.

You lean into his side, wrapping your arms around him as you fit your head into the crook of his neck. “You want to try?”

“Oui.” He lets you guide him down, settling into the pillows as you both adjust your positions so that you can be comfortable. He rests his head on your chest, rising and falling with your even breathing, listening to the strong and steady beat of your heart. You run your fingers through his dark hair, and his eyelids begin to feel heavy.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” he whispers into the darkness. “For all of this.”

You hum in acknowledgment. “We’ll figure it out, Gene. Don’t worry.”

With your soothing presence and determination, he finds himself quickly slipping into sleep. He won’t worry. Not tonight, anyway.

[jaehyunsprincesspeach2]

A Night In

Pairing: Felix x gn!reader

Wc: 1.1k

Warnings: implied sadness, mentions of food, fluffy fluff

An: honestly, not my best work, but I like the idea, and I have been wanting to post this for a while now, regardless, I hope it makes someone smile!

Much love ~ ember

It’s been a long couple of weeks for you, as well as your boyfriend, Felix. He has been busy with practice and rehearsals for his shows, and you have been busy with work of your own. You and Felix have been together for a few months now, and each time he has to leave, it gets harder and harder for you. Tomorrow, he is leaving for Australia with the rest of Stray Kids, and you are dreading his departure. It’s not that he is your only source of happiness, but when he is around, everything that does make you happy is emphasized. Since he came into your life, everything has been brighter. When he leaves, it's as if he takes the sunshine with him, and you are left with days of dullness, simply going through the motions. The excitement of your life so far away drains most of your motivation. Even so, you understand that he does not live a typical life like you do. You understand that he can’t always be there, but you hold onto the fact that he always returns to you with the brightest smile, the biggest hug, and maybe even shedding a few tears of happiness.

Knowing that Felix and the guys are leaving tomorrow, you have felt off all day, something that Felix never fails to recognize. As you return home for the night, you walk through the front door of your apartment, slide your work bag off of your shoulder onto the floor, and plop down on the couch, without even bothering to turn the lights on. As you sit on the couch, you begin to drift off to sleep, until there is a knock on the front door. Confusion filling your head, considering Felix isn’t supposed to be done with practice till late, you reluctantly bring yourself to your feet to answer the door.

As you open the door, your eyes grow wide, seeing Felix on the other side.

“Hi darling!” You’re greeted with a gentle smile, and a hug that never fails to bring butterflies to your stomach. “Wanna tell me why you’re upset today?” He calmly asks.

“Because I know you’re leaving tomorrow. But how did you know?” You question, earning a slight chuckle from the man still holding onto you.

“Because I know you, and I know when you are feeling off… Why dont we go do something, just the two of us?” He says, immediately feeling you relax in his arms.

“I wasn’t really expecting you to be over till late, I was planning on staying in tonight.” You say sheepishly, not wanting to disappoint him.

“Then it's a good thing I stopped at the store for a few things before coming over.” Pulling a bag from behind his back, over prepared for every occasion or possibility that could possibly run through his head, so that he is ready to take care of you at any moment. In the bag, you see all of the ingredients needed to make brownies, his and your favorite.

“Brownies?” You ask, getting a smile in return. “I love it, but what about dinner?” You asked, feeling the hunger in your stomach.

“It’s already on the way, your favorite.” He smiles, as he kisses you on the nose. It’s as if he can read your mind without even seeing you. As if he knows exactly what you are thinking, before you do.

Letting him into your home, he heads straight to the kitchen, setting out the ingredients for the brownies, along with a small speaker. Turning on the playlist that he curated specifically for you, you join him in the kitchen, and begin your night of baking.

Everything was going rather smoothly, until you began mixing the batter. Felix wraps his arms around you from behind as you mix all of the ingredients together. Before you know it, Felix dips a finger in the batter, and wipes it on your nose. He takes a step back and giggles to himself, letting his guard down, allowing you to return the gesture, catching him off guard.

“Lixie, we're gonna waste all of the batter” You state giggling at the surprised expression on his face. After the batter is saved, and placed in the baking pan, you and him sit together on the kitchen floor, licking the remainder of the batter off of the spoons, enjoying the music from Felix’s playlist. After the batter is gone, the two of you sit on the floor together for a few more moments, before he stands up, offering you a hand, and pulling you close to him when you are on your feet.

Dancing together in the kitchen, he looks deeply into your eyes, bringing a slight blush to your cheeks, making him giggle at your cuteness. Swaying together in the kitchen until the brownies were done, to you, it was as if all the worries that you had dissipated, and all that was left is you, him, and pure bliss.

After the brownies had cooled down, the two of you found yourself enjoying the brownies together, still sitting on the kitchen floor, talking and laughing together about anything and everything. Things begin to die down for the night, and the two of you decide to head to bed, the one thing you dreaded, knowing that he would be leaving the next day.

“Sweetheart, you know nothing can keep me away from you for too long. I'll always come back to you. No matter what.” Felix says to you as if he was reading your mind, yet again. Words that are so simple, yet hold so much meaning in your heart

“I know Lixie, and you know that I’m yours forever.” Was all you could say, holding back the tears of happiness that he brings to you.

A night spent with Felix can take away any pain or stress that you hold, just like that night. You fell asleep with content, knowing that he would return to you. Knowing that he was yours and you are his. Knowing that your heart is full, and that he is the one you get to spend your days with. No matter the issue, as long as Felix is by your side, giving you simple happiness and nights like that night, there is nothing that you couldn't overcome. No distance can bring the two of you apart. A sense of bliss that only he can give you. The love that you always dreamed of. The love that you finally have.

[ramblingmoon]

Karin/Per'kele (birds go brrr)

How dare you say this on anon and not let me talk to you. Because I have so many questions and I need someone to bounce plot ideas of these two with.

It wasn’t even the first night when the winner was announced. The sun was setting in the west bathing the land in an orange glow.

Per’kele stood at the top of him tower. He smoked a cigarette and watched at the smoke disappeared into wind to join the evening sky. Normally he would never join the waking realm while the festival was still going on but this was an unusual case.

His dark eyes watched as the blonde stormed her way through the corpses that littered the base on the tower. Per'kele could feel her blood lust all the way up here. It sent a chill down his spine. What a wonderful feeling.

Grinding metal on metal as the elevator brought up the winner. She stood there gun already pointed towards his heart.

Per'kele to force himself not to gasp. Not only was her blood thirst rivaled his own but she was a beautiful as blood in the moonlight. Her hair blew in the wind, with the setting sun gave her blonde hair a red tent to it. A short skirt that almost touched her knees was flapping as the wind picked up, showing off more of her legs. He wanted to see more of her legs, see all the way up, but the wind and her stocking kept her modesty. Splatters of blood that wasn't hers glowed on her.

“Congratulations,” Per’kele said. He tossed his cigarette off the tower and started moving towards her. He even gave her a slow clap.

“Well we've never had such a fast winner. Not even 12 hours and 13 souls gone. I must say that I am impressed. Even I, couldn't get all that done so fast.”

“I have covered wars and I have shit I have to do.” She started moving away from him, circling him. The pistol still pointed to his exposed heart.

Per'kele was a little disappointed that he couldn't get closer to her but he joined her game as he circled her back. Each of their steps keeping the other side of Rher’s symbol etched onto the ground. What Per'kele wouldn't give to close the space between them but he mustn't be so thirsty. He didn't want to scare her away with being toward.

“I played your dumb game now, you and your master need to let me go.” She used her commanding voice on him. The cult leader felt his heart beating against his cut out torso. She wanted to kill him, how beautiful it would be to join her body count.

“Don't you want you prize?”

“The only prize I want to be let go but if you insist on a prize you can give me your head, asshole!”

Per’kele rolled his head back and roared with laughter. He was getting drunk after her. What a woman.

“I must say that I am tempted. Let you carry me around in your bag. To sit on your mantel, watching you sleep.”

“You creep, you are turned on by this? You’re sick! I only need your head to prove what happened here. Take your corpse to some scientist to figure out what hallucinogens you put out here!”

“Hallucination? Hallucinations!” Per’kele had to stop his walking. He was stun to say the least. All he could do was stand still. His painted on eyebrows raised.

“What exactly do you think is going on here?” He didn’t like where this was going but he had to know.

“Well clearly this must be Berman drug experiment!” Can’t blame a girl.

“The Berman and that Yellow King wishes.” Per’kele snarled, his eyes rolled. “You are quite a lovely apple on the tree but you aren’t the brightest.”

That earned him a shot.

She pulled the trigger till aiming for his heart. Per’kele felt light head. She had chosen him, little old him to act out her murderess intent to. What a beauty. Surely, she belongs in the Sulfur Cult with him.

But he couldn’t let her kill him, yet. That would come later. After all he was still entranced by her and give the official offer.

No, he held the still smoking bullet between his fingers. His nails where long, pointed to razor’s edge.

He moved the still hot bullet to his lips and gave it a lick. Exposing his fangs for teeth. They looked more piranha than anything human.

“As much as I would enjoy dying by your hand. But we haven’t finished our talk yet, lovely Karin Sauer.”

“How the fuck did you know my name?” Karin said. She tried to sound so tough but her voice shock. Even her whole body was shaking. Per’kele couldn’t help but notice how that reacted with her bosom.

He was getting an itch with her.

“I’m in your mind, my dear, and what type of host would I be if I didn’t know my contestants’ name?”

“So you really are a delusional in my mind or you’ve seen my broadcasts.” She was desperately holding onto what she thought was really. He really was going to have to break her of that.

“You really don’t want to believe what is right in front of your eyes.”

“Fuck you, magic isn’t real! None of this can be real!”

“Your arrogances is getting old.”

With that he spun around and letting his wings show. His chest has its skin removed muscles and bones showed. He was wearing a tutu that didn’t do a good job of covering the budge between his legs.

He charge towards her, speed picking up like a bird in flight. Karin shot a couple of times at him so he dodge some he let enter his body. Oh that beautiful pain that only she can give.

She back away, started to run away but she ran out of space as her heel almost went over he edge. This was the end for her. Damn, she wanted to do so much more. Oh like hell she was giving up and kept shooting at him till she no longer had bullets.

It didn't stop him.

He closed the distance between them. In well swell swoop he disarmed her and had her in his clutches. He had her leaning over the tower, facing him but if she moved her head back she could see the long way down. The bodies that where rotting down there only looked like specs from her.

But even with the threat of falling to her death she still tried to push away. Her hands pushed against his torso but she only found fleshy muscle that almost seem to move under her hands like mud. His blood covered her hands, arms, and stained her jacket and turtle neck.

“Allow me to explain what is going on.” With him so near she could smell him. She would have thought he'd stink but no. A smell of mint was coming from him with an under layer of tobacco.

“The old god Rher has long since turned away from humanity. What you see in the sky is nothing more than a floating rock. This whole festival is nothing more than remnant of his power. All of this caused by the memory of an old god, even the so called new gods couldn't grasp this power. Pathetic aren’t they.”

“Get to the point.” Karin wanted to punch him but she wanted the big scoop more.

“I’m getting there, kultaista verta,” he whispered against her ear. He could feel his heart racing with a lust he hadn’t felt since he was a weak human. The lust between his legs.

“Humanity is helpless to the whims of these elder beings. You are doom to be their slaves even as you die, your soul stuck inside of your rotting corpse. But what if I told you there was a out. A way to freedom. We follow this festival in search of those with the blood lust to join our savior in the Sulfur Pits…”

Per’kele droned on about the occult and his master, the Sulfur God but Karin found herself unable to listen. All she could do was stare blankly into the evening sky. Watching the girls turn from yellow, orange, red, and purple. She knew she had killed those people for her own selfish reasons, she didn’t want to die.

The hair tie that had kept her hair in a low ponytail was long since gone. Her blonde hair went with the wind and curled around his horns.

She knew what she had to do.

Karin kicked Per’kele bare legs, making him unstable. He tripped and they where both falling. She’s going to die but she might as well take the master mind out too.

Twisting in the air, she flipped him so he would touch the ground first. Her hair flew past her as his wings engulfed her. For moments away from death she was too close to his face, just an inch more they would be kissing.

All the while he couldn’t stop smiling at her.

Shit, had she made a mistake?

Too late for regrets as they both crashed into the ground. A loud cracking sound could be heard as each other their bones where broken. They bleed out, blood mixing together.

“See you in the sulfur pits, golden blood.” Those where Per’kele last words.

With what little strength she had left in her body. Karin pulled herself away from the cult leader.

With an out stretched hand she found the organ she would need to sacrifice in the corpse is all around her. It was Hocus pocus but she needed to survive.

After all she had wars to cover.

[yzeltia]

WOL/Raha Week Day 5 Time Apart

Rating: T for Teen Characters: Lyna, Crystal Exarch, Keith Summers, Krile Baldesion Notes: Takes place during the Stormblood era. Song used is Goodnight My Someone by Meredith Wilson

“Grandpa! Keep up,” Lyna called out, tugging on the Exarch’s hand as she pulled him into the ruins of The Church of the First Light.

“Lyna, my muscles are stiff. You forget I’m an old man,” he said, following her to the front arch of the church as she looked up in wonder toward the towering mountain before them.

Lyna laughed then pointed up to the stone towers peaking just up over the edge of a cliff. “It’s a castle! Just like in the story tales,” the girl pointed out excitedly, “Can we go see it!?”

The Exarch laughed, then shook his head. “I don’t think that would be very safe. It is an old castle and has long been set to ruin just as the church here,” he lied, worried his rambunctious granddaughter's adventurous spirit would kick in and very much did not want to have to attempt a rescue from the lingering spirits of elves that haunted the castle.

“Aww…I was hoping there would be a prince,” Lyna said, long ears going limp down her back as she started to slump.

“I do not think there’s been a prince in there for quite some time,” the Exarch said, patting his daughter’s head with his unaltered hand.

“Ah! But there was,” an older woman’s voice sounded.

Lyna and the Exarch turned, finding an older elven woman wandering toward them slowly with her fcane as she looked up to the castle.

“Hello there,” the Exarch greeted.

The woman bowed to the Exarch then smiled at Lyna. “Greetings, your Grace. Forgive me, but I overheard as I was wandering by on my walk. Do you wish to know the story of the Lost Shepherd and the Prince?”

Lyna looked up to her grandfather, the man giving her a small nod of approval that it was okay to interact with the stranger. “Yes please!”

“Very well then,” the woman said, finding a comfortable spot on the church wall to lean. “Well, as you probably know, this is the Forest of the Lost Shepard, named for the shepherd that went in search of one of his stray flock but was never seen again after. Well, that tale comes from the era of the First King of Laxan Loft, when skies still grew dark.”

“King? I thought this story was about a prince,” Lyna said, tilting her head.

“Well young miss, without a king there would be no prince! Though, as the story is told, the prince did not want to be a prince at all. He found his happiness with his subjects, often in disguise as a commoner so that he might walk among them unnoticed.. The prince made many friends and loved all his subjects dearly; however, there was one he found he loved more than all the others!”

“The shepard?” Lyna asked.

“What a smart little girl you are! Yes! He was stricken with love upon hearing the shepard, a handsome young Mystel, singing one evening to his flock. ‘Goodnight, my someone. Goodnight, my love. Sleep tight, my someone. Sleep tight, my love. Our star is shining, its brightest light. For goodnight, my love, for goodnight.’ Hearing the song all sheep came save for one who had found the enraptured prince and saw fit to chew on his laces. The shepard, concerned, went looking for his sheep and found the disguised prince trying to gently shoo the sheep away back to his flock. The prince, clearly unused to animals, amused the shepherd and after watching him struggle for a time he intervened to save him. Embarrassed, the prince fled.”

“He ran away? Aren’t prince’s supposed to be brave?” Lyna asked.

“Well, that would be very boring if all princes were alike, wouldn’t it,” the Exarch proposed to his granddaughter.

Lyna stared at the ground a moment, seeming to be lost in thought. “I suppose it would be.”

“Right, and it wasn’t that he wasn’t brave. It was that he had never felt that special feeling in his heart before. Despite that, he returned that night and when the shepherd sang, the sheep once more found him far more interesting. Again, he tried to shoo him away until the shepard came to get him himself. This time he stayed long enough to apologize for getting in the way before returning home.

“On the third night, the prince, determined to be of use, wandered out toward the shepard as he sang to his flock, singing after him, ‘Sweet dreams be yours, dear, if dreams there be. Sweet dreams to carry you close to me. I wish they may and I wish they might. Now goodnight, my someone, goodnight’. His fluffy friend this time followed him to join the flock. The shepard offered him his thanks with a gentle kiss. From every night on, they met, sang, then parted from one another’s company with a kiss.”

“Did the prince ever tell the shepherd who he was,” Lyna asked, bouncing a bit as she grew more invested in the story.

“Sadly, he did not get the chance. A war came, and as the prince, he had to lead his father’s army into battle. He did not return, lost heroically on the front lines so that he’d be shoulder to shoulder with his men. The shepard assumed his lost love was a soldier when he did not come the nights after the war broke out. On the night the prince fell, the mischievous sheep did not return when he sang his song, and so the shepard wandered into the forest, singing out for him…and for his unknown love. It is said that those who are lost can still hear him singing, waiting for his prince to join him.”

Lyna crossed her arms, scowling a little. “That’s not a very good prince story. It’s more like a ghost story,” she said before feeling a small tap on her shoulder. Looking at a small drip of water on her sleeve, she looked to find tears running down the Exarch’s cheeks. Frowning, she started to tug on his robes. “Grandpa…Grandpa it’s okay. It’s just a story.”

“S-Sorry,” the Exarch breathed out before wiping his face free of tears, “I’m not sure what came over me.”

“It was not my intention to upset you, your Grace,” the woman said, giving another shaky bow. “Your sweet granddaughter is correct in that it is more a ghost story. The shepherd and prince were very real…I am reminded of another old tale. Something about when the soul resonates with one’s past…but it has slipped my mind. Forgive me, I’ve taken enough of your time.”

“Pray miss, should you find yourself wanting, come to the Crystarium and I shall personally see that you are well cared for,” the Exarch said

“Yes! I would like to hear another story sometime,” Lyna echoed.

The old woman laughed then gave a small nod. “I shall endeavor to take you up on that offer then, and look forward to the next time we meet. Perhaps I will have a proper prince story for you then.”

With that, the old woman departed their company, leaving the two to start their way back into the fort. The Exarch couldn’t shake the pangs in his heart, wondering just where they came from. “Say, Lyna. Why was it important that we find a prince in that castle?”

Lyna hummed a bit. “To break your curse! If a handsome prince came along, he could kiss you and make you better,” she said, looking up at her grandfather earnestly.

The Exarch swallowed, flushing lightly before taking her hand. “Wouldn’t that be nice…”

The Source  - 

Keith sighed as he reached up onto yet another shelf, pawing around for items as Krile gave a sharp check mark off the list in her hand. “It’s wonderful to have you around. Needless to say until you came along the average height of those in the Annex was about four fulms,” she praised before watching as Keith pulled out a lyre.

“This seems a bit out of place,” Keith said, flipping the instrument about in his hands.

Krile’s eyes widened before dropping her attention to the ground. “It belonged to a dear friend.”

“Oh…,” Keith trailed, “Were they lost to Val too?”

Krile shook her head. “No. They did not pass, but they are also unable to return to us. It is rather difficult to explain. He was a bard, and so hungry to go on an adventure. I find myself missing him terribly. What I wouldn’t give to hear him excitedly tell me about something he’d read or sing a tune.”

Keith frowned, watching Krile remain slumped. Holding the lyre correctly, he strummed a few bars, finding it still in tune despite being forgotten. As he played, a melody came to him and on impulse he sang out, “True love can be whispered from heart to heart, when lovers are parted they say. But I must depend on a wish and a star, as long as my heart doesn't know who you are…Sweet dreams be yours, dear, if dreams there be. Sweet dreams to carry you close to me. I wish they may and I wish they might. Now goodnight, my someone, goodnight…”

Krile looked at Keith, stunned before giving him a small smile as she began to dig in her pocket. “What a lovely song. Thank you,” she said, handing him her handkerchief.

Keith blinked at the gesture before touching his face, finding himself crying. “Ah, whoops. Don’t know what that’s about,” he laughed before taking the handkerchief and dabbing his cheeks with it before handing it back.

Krile pocketed the cloth and shrugged, “Perhaps a moment of empathy for me. If you’d like, you may keep the lyre. At least until there’s an occasion to return it to its proper owner.”

“Ah. Really? Thanks. I’ll keep it safe,” he said before setting it down on a table where he could easily find it.

“Well, that takes care of this room. On to the next then,” Krile said, heading out of the room.

Keith followed, briefly pausing at the door before looking back to the lyre on the desk. He winced, heart giving a little ache. Shaking it off, he hurried on after Krile.

[s-brant]

Goodbye

The clock is ticking the day before the hit is scheduled to take place, and when tragedy strikes, not even Y/N can stop Harry from embarking on a murderous rampage. (or the final part of hitman!h)

17k (18+)

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, murder, death, strong language, and toxic relationship dynamics.

-

Y/N avoided him as much as she could for the rest of the night without setting off any alarms inside his head that may have told him she was pulling away.

What made it particularly difficult was the fact that he came home with the brightest smile on his face and crawled right into bed with her for the rest of the night. While she'd usually be elated to receive constant affection from him after weeks of trying to inch him close and closer to being comfortable around her, she couldn't sleep last night. Her eyes were taped open to stare through the windows of their bedroom, and she could scarcely breathe whenever the arms wrapped around her would shift to allow him to touch her stomach.

Whenever she felt his arm or bare hands brush up against her lower abdomen, she fought the urge to flinch away from the touch. All she could think of was the results of the test she took after they got home.

She asked him to stop by a convenience store under the guise of her wanting to grab a snack and bottle of soda for the ride home. The test was hidden under the passenger's seat, and she somehow managed to hide it in the bag with the chips and cherry soda without him seeing it by the time they reached the apartment. He was fixing himself a late-night snack while she ran off to the bathroom to pee on the stick and pray it wasn't going to show the result she thought it would.

But, of course, it did. That was what kept her up all night, staring out at the city with dread and anxiety taking turns beating her bloody until the sun began to rise and fill the room with a faint light.

Why did it have to happen now? Why did she have to find out the day before they were due to risk their lives for a chance at escaping Leo's clutches? It's as if the universe watched her have one of the happiest days of her life with Harry and decided she needed to be knocked back down a few pegs by the general shitty nature of life.

It isn't that she doesn't want a child with him. That's not the case at all. She wants everything that a relationship has to offer as long as it's him she's doing with it—marriage, children, a house in a rural area where said children, and perhaps a few dogs, can run free to play as long as they'd like—but she just got him to open up to her. If hearing that she loves him didn't push him back into his shell, she's sure that being told she's pregnant with his child could manage to do it.

She had to pretend to be asleep when he woke up and left the bed to shower or else she wouldn't have been able to look at him without blurting out the truth and ruining everything. Her plan was to continue fake-sleeping for as long as she could before it got too suspicious and she was forced to get out of bed, but the sound of someone pounding on the front door shatters her hopes of executing that.

In all the time she's spent here, they've never gotten any visitors, let alone first thing in the morning. As far as she knows, Harry hasn't told any of their coworkers where he lives, so the conclusion she jumps to of who could be behind the door isn't a pleasant one.

"Harry!" she shouts to be heard over the sound of the running water, tossing the sheets off of her as she jumps out of bed. "Someone's banging on the front door, what do I do?"

The shower turns off in less than a second after the words are spoken.

When he appears in the doorway to the en suite a moment later with a towel wrapped around his hips and water dripping from his hair onto the floor, his face is hardened into an expression that promises death. Her Harry is nowhere in sight this morning. In his place, she finds the monster everyone believes him to be, on alert and prepared to do what he does best should he find it necessary. His eyes move down her body until they land on the gun from her bedside table squeezed in her fist, her pointer finger flat against the barrel in case she needs to move it to the trigger soon.

"Did they say anything?" he asks, walking across the room to swipe his own pistol off of the dresser. "It isn't anyone y'recognize, is it?"

She shakes her head.

"No, whoever it is has said absolutely nothing, and I didn't even go to check the peephole to see who it is, I shouted for you the second I heard it."

Harry nods, then walks off through the door to the living room with his gun raised to the ceiling to keep it away from her or the downstairs neighbors should it fire. Without him having to tell her to, she remains hidden behind his back as they approach the door, her own gun clutched between both of her hands and raised toward the ceiling to mimic his actions. If she were to stand directly at his side, she knows he'd banish her to the bedroom, so she stays still with one hand flattened against the small of his back.

He leans in close to the locked door and peeks through the peephole as she watches, waiting with her hand tightening around the grip of the gun in preparation for whoever is lying in wait for them. After taking a look, however, his tense shoulders sag with relief.

"Garrett," he says. "Y'can let him in. I need to put on my gloves." A wet kiss is pressed to her cheek as a temporary goodbye. "Be right back."

Like sand blown away in the wind, Harry disappears before her eyes in a matter of seconds. The hand holding her gun no longer trembles with anxiety now that she knows who's been banging on the door in search of them. Unlike Leo, Garrett does not scare her. He is a powerful man capable of being the same type of evil as her boss, but she knows based on everything she's witnessed and heard that he isn't that kind of man. That's not to say she trusts him. Harry's advice to never trust anyone in this world was something she took to heart, but if she were to trust either of the men acting as her boss, she would choose Garrett over Leo in a heartbeat.

She takes a deep steadying breath as she turns the lock and tries to will the nausea that rose in her throat due to both the anxiety and the pregnancy to settle down. For the past few days, she has felt slightly more tired and unwell than usual, but she always chalked it up to PMS, stress, or lack of sleep. It hadn't dawned on her with everything else going on in their lives that it could've been related to pregnancy. After all, she thought they were being safe the whole time.

When the door swings open into the room, that anxious nausea comes barreling back from the panicked look on his face alone.

The first thing to leave his mouth is, "Where's Harry?"

Her heart begins to pick up pace and hammer into her ribs, leaving her chest tight and mouth salivating from the urge to succumb to her sickness. Absentmindedly, her hand falls to her abdomen and gives it a gentle caress as if to soothe herself.

"Um, he's just getting out of the shower. He knows you're here, though. He'll be out in like five seconds," she says.

Garrett breezes past her and strolls into the living room with the confidence of someone who's spent months living here, not less than fifteen seconds as a first-time visitor. Despite this apparent confidence, he is anything but calm. He wears his emotions on his sleeve, pacing back and forth in front of the black L-shaped couch where they've spent countless hours watching television and laughing together.

After thirty seconds have passed he turns in the direction of the bedroom and shouts, "Harry!"

She doesn't know whether to ask him what's happening or not. Truth be told, she doesn't know if she wants to know. Since last night, she has been battered by the realizations life has thrust onto her, and another blow like the one she received in the bathroom of the nursing home might be the one to knock her down for good. Discovering Harry's mom is alive, that she's pregnant, and whatever the fuck it is Garrett is here to tell them about in the span of twenty-four hours could make her vomit from the stress.

The bedroom door is pushed open to reveal her pissed-off boyfriend. His jaw is clenched tight as he walks out in a pair of jeans and button-down he threw on in hurry, and he stares the older man down like a predator stalking its prey.

"This is our home," Harry says and gets in Garrett's face, invading his personal space with a lack of respect that hits him like a smack across the face. "You may be hot shit at your job, but you're still just another man to me. Don't come barging in here, yelling at me and scaring m'girlfriend. If you ever come here like this again, I will kill you, I swear to God."

To his credit, Garrett doesn't cower from his wrath as much as other men have in the past. He never was that intimidated by him, although, part of him must admit deep down that he is afraid of him underneath the facade. He just scoffs and shakes his head, looking down at the floor with a disbelieving smile.

"You think I'm coming here because I feel like scaring her? Or bothering you?"

"Then what did y'come here for?"

His face transforms in seconds from a sarcastic smile to one of sheer terror, and Y/N feels the need to sit down on the couch or risk the sickness she feels standing on her feet. Harry notices her sudden movement in his periphery, but he doesn't comment on it or move from his place in front of Garrett. Though he doesn't think he'd do anything or try to hurt her, he'd rather air on the side of caution and remain between them to offer her protection.

Garrett gestures toward the remote sitting on the coffee table.

"Turn on the news. It's on every local station already."

He does as the man says. Out of the corner of his eye, he keeps watching him suspiciously and preparing himself for anything that may occur, but when he reaches down to pick up the remote, Garrett doesn't make a move to attack either of them. He simply sits down on the couch and buries his face in his hands, murmuring something about needing a drink.

The TV switches on to the show they were last watching together on one of the many streaming services to choose from, but it's quickly changed to cable in order to allow him to find the local news. It doesn't take long for him to find one of the many news channels that are covering the story. Little do they know, it's about to become a national story. The only reason it hasn't yet is that it happened an hour ago, and it took at least thirty minutes for there to be a response from the local media.

What she sees on screen almost makes her shoot up from her spot on the couch to stop Harry from doing anything or going anywhere.

A bottle blonde news lady stares right through the screen at them as she says, her voice playing over a video of a building reduced to rubble and ash in the middle of a nice neighborhood, "The Acadia Nursing Home in Gonzales has been the victim of what authorities are suspecting was an attack plotted by domestic terrorists. According to police, there are currently no suspects yet, and they are working hard at figuring out how, exactly, the group of men that broke in managed to place the explosives without being stopped by staff or security."

Holy. Shit.

That wasn't just any nursing home, it was the one she and Harry visited last night, and if a group of unidentifiable men broke in to place explosives, there's only one person she knows that could be behind something like this. But why? Why would he kill a building filled with innocent people for the sake of killing Harry's mom? He's always used her as leverage to get him to do his bidding, but he's never actually laid a finger on her. He promised not to do anything to her unless...

"He knows," Y/N says.

Her head whips to the side to find Garrett watching the horrific scene filmed from afar with a hand over his mouth.

She then speaks up, standing from the couch and holding out a hand in the direction of the TV, "How long do we have before that happens to this place?" Her eyes flood with tears, her hand drops to her stomach, and she starts to pace around the room. "Oh my God."

Garrett ignores her.

Instead, he sets his sights on the hitman staring silently at the screen with his hands clenching into fists at his sides, and, for the first time, he's forced to confront the terrifying thing that is witnessing Harry going silent with rage. If he's grounded to reality enough to yell and get in your face over whatever is upsetting him, it's likely that there won't any devastating consequences. But, it's when he shuts down and goes quiet that people should start to worry.

"How does he know?" she asks frantically.

Both men ignore her as she begins to hyperventilate, one hand on her chest and the other on her stomach to soothe herself the best she can amidst the chaos of their circumstances.

They're dead.

Unless Leo and his men are taken out by some miracle twist of fate, she, Garrett, and Harry's heads will be on spikes by the end of the night. Perhaps even earlier. The pace of her footsteps carrying her back and forth in front of the couch increases to a point where she's almost speed-walking to get the spiking rush of adrenaline from her system somehow. She knows that if she doesn't do something to dispel it somehow, it'll consume her alive.

There's an expectant pause, which she soon comes to realize is Garrett watching for Harry's next move in fear of what might happen, before the latter of the two shakes his head and scoffs. The most emotion he's shown since the sheer gravity of the news they've received hit him.

"I don't care how he knows," Harry says, not letting his stare down with the TV screen break, "M'gonna kill him."

That is all he offers either of them as a goodbye before he's rushing out of the front door with a purpose in his eyes she knows she cannot dissuade but promises herself to try to anyway. Just when she reaches the door, Garrett stops her.

She looks back at him with an incredulous look on her face, but he doesn't do anything other than look at her with sympathy pouring from his eyes. There's a soft jingling sound, then, he places a set of keys in her hand along with two passports. As far as she can tell from the feel of the key alone, they don't belong to any car or motorcycle she's ever known, and she can only assume the passports were the ones he had made for their escape tomorrow night. Seconds later, she gets her answer.

"I have a boat on the river right outside that warehouse you guys met me at, remember?" When she nods her head once, he says, "Go stop him from ruining his life, get on that boat, and run for the rest of your life."

Y/N looks over her shoulder at Harry's figure disappearing around the corner where she knows the elevators are, then stops. Just for one second.

She asks, "What about you?"

A sad smile crosses his face at this.

"You two are younger than me. You have actual lives ahead of you." He shrugs. "And, you're in love. If you aren't an idiot, you'll do anything you can to hold onto that."

When she continues standing there, dumbfounded at everything that has happened and what he's sacrificing for them, he pushes her through the open door to the apartment.

"Leave!"

In the end, she does exactly that.

Her legs burn from the strain of sprinting down each flight of stairs, dizzying herself from going 'round and 'round and 'round in an all-out run to beat him to the parking garage. Somehow, this is harder than it was for her to climb the stairs to her apartment after Leo had her beaten. At least she had Harry to help her back then, but, this time, he's gone. His mother was the sole thing holding him back from going on a suicide mission to murder Leo, and now that Elise was killed in revenge for their betrayal, there is nothing that can stop him. For years, Leo created this monster and kept it leashed, inches away from snapping its jaws at his ankles, but he'll spend the rest of his time in hell wishing he'd never met Harry after this. That caged monster he created has broken free, and he's coming for blood one last time.

Tears stream down her face and blur her vision as she rushes out through the front lobby in pursuit of where Harry has already gotten a lead at getting to the garage a building over. The sun this morning is unforgiving when shining directly overhead, and her lungs are already pleading with her to give up by the time she watches him turn into the open entrance to the first level.

"Harry!" she screams his name loud enough for it to sear her throat.

He doesn't even look over his shoulder.

The fury he feels for Leo has blinded him to everything else that exists, her included. But there's so much he doesn't know yet, and if he knew about the baby, would he listen to her rather than throw everything away to kill him when they could have a true shot at escaping? If she didn't find out last night, she'd happily go along with him and greet death like an old friend, but what she knows changes things. Bad timing aside, she can't go down without fighting for him and their child. What kind of mother would that make her?

He's in her sights the entire time. Up and up, she follows him and pushes her body to the brink of its physical ability to catch up to him, but it's never enough. In a contest of strength and endurance between them, he beats her by a landslide, and she sobs harder with every level they rise without her gaining any more than a few feet of ground on him. The sweat coating her palms almost causes her to drop the keys and passports, so she hugs them to her chest with one arm while pumping the other with every stride that pushes her onward.

"Stop!" she shouts as he reaches the open air of the top level where all of his vehicles are parked. "Stop running from me!"

Harry pretends not to hear her at all and keeps rushing toward the fastest modern cars he owns all lined up in a row against the farthest wall. In a split second, she makes the decision to change direction, stop following him, and run back to the Cobra parked a few yards back from where she stands. The key he gifted her for Christmas last night may be sitting in its box in their bedroom, but, luckily for her, she knows cars inside and out, especially this one, and she won't need a key.

The doors are locked, so she hurtles herself over the side of the car into the backseat, careful not to injure herself in any way, and scrambles to crawl into the front seat as quickly as possible.

Hot-wiring cars is easier than breathing for her. Growing up around a dad who raced the world's best vehicles and going on to make a living fixing them, she had to gain vast knowledge to avoid being left in the dust. Still, the next minute and a half is the longest of her short life. It's the fastest she has ever done this, though, she thinks, adrenaline may be playing a part in that, and right when Harry's Jaguar shoots past her into the lower level of the garage, the engine roars to life.

If he wants a race, then let him have one.

She already knows where he's headed without having to be inside that car with him—his destination is Leo's house. And she knows he isn't stupid. He must know that all of this was an attempt to lure him out there for the sake of killing him, but he doesn't care. Her body operates the Cobra on muscle memory alone from street to street due to the ocean of tears that prevent her from seeing straight.

With one foot slamming down on the gas, she weaves around the few cars navigating the highway and pulls up in the lane right beside where he races on toward the house he knows the directions to by heart. She makes sure to get in the right lane to keep a buffer between him and the exits. It doesn't take much for the Cobra to catch up with his vehicle considering it is one of the most legendary racing cars known to man. If she wanted to, she could leave him in the dust and flee before Leo or anyone else could ever find her, but she can't. For some godforsaken reason, she's in love with him, and, now, there's nothing she wouldn't do, no line she wouldn't cross, to keep him.

She turns her head to look at him and screams, "Turn around!" even though it's impossible for either of their voices to be heard over the battling engines that engage in a screaming match of their own.

It isn't until they near the exit that leads to Leo's neighborhood that she realizes that there's nothing she can do to stop him. If she doesn't move, he'll ram his car into hers just enough to spook her into backing off, and if she tries to scream at him again, he'll continue staring ahead as though he cannot see her out of the corner of his eye.

So, she makes the decision to beat him there.

In the rearview mirror, she can see him yelling at her as they turn onto the exit.

"It doesn't feel good, does it?" she yells despite knowing there's no way he could possibly hear it. "Just turn around!"

The distance between the Cobra and Jaguar grows by the second, and she cannot do anything but cry harder the closer she nears the house she never wanted to step foot in again after what happened there the last time. Soon enough, the suburban area shifts into one far more rural and peaceful. She must will her heart rate to slow itself down if she doesn't want it to burst out of her chest.

When she comes to a screeching halt in front of the entrance to Leo's place, she wastes no time in getting out of the car and walking around the back to retrieve one of the many guns he stores back there just in case. The small revolver is stuffed in the waistband of her pants, around the back where the shirt she stole from him hangs out and low to cover it, and, with that, she's off to run to catch up with the Jaguar parking behind her.

Y/N walks up with the gun poised to shoot and slams the door shut right when he moves to open it.

"Put your fucking seatbelt on," she barks the order at him and presses the gun to his head.

He doesn't even hesitate to scoot over into the passenger's seat to exit on the other side, slamming the door shut behind himself and walking up to the front gates of the property as if he owns the place. She follows after him with the run still raised, but they both know she doesn't have it in her. Killing Leo is something she could do, but even injuring him with a shot to the leg or shoulder would break her irreparably.

The speed with which he climbs the fence and drops down to the ground on the other side is far too swift for her to keep up, so he uses it to his advantage. He runs up the long driveway to the mansion in the distance as she struggles to make it to the top of the gate in her current state of mental and physical exhaustion. The pain of her feet hitting the ground, knees bent to absorb the impact, nearly causes her to go down, but she doesn't allow herself to yield. There's a slight limp in her step now as she hurries after him.

There's at least thirty feet of distance left between them, and the closer he comes to reaching the house, the harder it becomes for her to breathe. She almost considers shouting to him to stop, that she's pregnant and they could escape right now if they turn back, but with how close they are to Leo and whichever of his men he has inside protecting him, she doesn't want to risk it.

As soon as he opens the front door, she knows it's too late to save him.

There's the sound of gunshots firing from inside the house as she crawls up the porch to avoid being seen through any of the windows, but once she gets to the front door, she stands, one hand reaching back to take out her gun and the other on the knob, to find it locked.

She whispers, "Harry..."

More gunshots go off seconds after his name falls from her lips, and she flinches from the volume of the sound that never truly bothered her until now. Until the possibility of one of those shots being fired at the man she loves became a reality. There's no telling how many men Leo had in there in expectance of his presence. Surely, he knows his hitman's ability and wouldn't have been stupid enough to leave himself with under ten of his best shooters and hand-to-hand combat fighters.

Rather than remaining at her full height while traversing the porch that wraps around most of the house, she goes back to crawling on her hands and knees to avoid being seen or shot. The decision to follow him was spur of the moment, so it isn't as if they had the time to scope out the area and check if he had anyone outside to watch for Harry's inevitable arrival. It seems, however, that most of the men are inside after a minute or so of crawling around the side of the house in search of another entrance.

She tries every window found along the way, but every single one is locked. None of them budge, not even the final one, by the time she has reached the end of the porch, and after a decent thirty seconds without any bullets flying within the house, another shot causes her to jump in surprise.

But, when she turns her head in the direction of the sound, her eyes land upon something that causes the air held in her chest to release from relief. An open window.

I pity the poor fool who made that mistake, she thinks and hops over the porch railing to land in a meticulously landscaped flower bed.

Impressions of her bare footprints are left behind in the soft soil as she approaches the window and leans up on her toes to take a look past the white curtains that billow in the gentle breeze. Inside sits a half bathroom painted with a dark shade of purple to contrast the light hue of the sheer curtains. If she didn't know who owned the house, she might admire the design of the small bathroom. A candle sits, burned down to the end, on the open space atop the counter and fills the room with a warm vanilla scent that invites her in. She promised herself after they left the last time that she'd never set foot inside of this house again, but...

Her hands curl around the bottom edge of the window to heft herself up into it with the rest of the strength left from the sprinting and racing to get here, and she tries to make as little noise as she can when pushing her feet against the siding to aid her in climbing through. Thankfully, the bathroom door is already closed to create an added barrier between her and whoever is on the other side.

She is halfway through the window and putting her hands down on the closed toilet lip when the sound of another shot causes her body to jerk involuntarily on instinct. This alters the angle of her hips, arching her back, and she feels the gun stuffed in the back of her pants sliding down her lower back with no small amount of horror.

The world moves in slow motion as she watches it fall right in front of her face, squeezing her eyes shut as though that'd do anything to stop the sound of it clattering on the tiled floor from drawing every man in the vicinity to her. When it hits the ground, the sound of a shot going off rings in her ears. She half expects to see a bullet in the wall next to her when she opens her eyes to see, but it wasn't her gun. It was someone out there shooting another person down because she hears the body hit the floor a half second later.

The opportunity fate dropped into her lap is not wasted.

She pulls herself the rest of the way through the window and tries her best to land on both feet without alerting everyone inside of her presence, and, after a second of waiting with a breath hitched in the back of her throat, she takes a short second to gather herself. But it's just that: a second. She doesn't have the luxury of waiting until she's ready to go out there when it's Harry whose life is potentially on the line. After she takes a deep breath, she swipes the gun from its place on the floor and holds it up in her dominant hand while the other turns the doorknob.

The bathroom door opens to a narrow hallway. With every step taken, she tries to remember every word of the shooting lesson he gave at the gun range. Although, the difference between that day and this one is clear, and it's one she should've seen coming—her hands are trembling from nerves. That was the one thing Harry didn't think to warn her about. After ten years, his hands no longer tremble when he wields his weapon. He forgot.

Every turn she takes, her heart hammers harder against her chest with the anticipation of being shot down where she stands before she can tuck herself back behind the wall for cover, but it doesn't come. Not yet. It's difficult to remember the exact layout seeing that her last visit here was a month ago and ended in significant head trauma, but she has a vague recollection of where the main room was in relation to the front door, so when walking from room to room, she keeps that in mind in relation to the bathroom window she entered through.

Another gunshot goes off, and she can feel the sound rattling through her body this time, knowing that she can't be far from where the action is occurring now. Shouts and cries for help can be heard through the thin wall she walks alongside with her back against it. Her eyes shut when she gets to the end, and she forces herself to muster the courage to go out into the open room she was once beaten in.

As long as it's for him, for them, she can do it.

Y/N spins around to hold her gun out around the corner of the wall, with the lower half of her body shielded behind the wall, and what she sees almost stops her heart.

Bodies everywhere.

Two months ago, the horrific sight would've spun her into a breakdown no one could have pulled her out of, but, today, she takes it as a sign of hope. None of them are Harry. In fact, she starts to smile when she sees him standing over Leo with his hand balling the front of his shirt into a fist. That smile is soon wiped from her face, though, because Zayn is standing from the group, bleeding from the shoulder, with his gun raising from his side to point at the back of Harry's head.

Without thinking, she lines up the shot and takes it.

A loud bang! reverberates through the room, causing the only two living men in it to flinch in shock and turn their heads to find the source of it. They believed everyone else to be dead, courtesy of Harry's handiwork, and they first assume it's Zayn when they see him falling back to the floor. But, that new gunshot wound in his thigh says otherwise.

A quick look past him reveals her standing with the gun raised in the position it was in when it fired seconds ago. Her hair is stuck to her face with sweat, her chest heaving for air, and, if he weren't currently faced with the task of completing the first kill of his own choice, Harry would be smiling with pride. But he isn't. Right now, his face is void of emotion, and the man she's come to know is nowhere to be found short of the slight flicker of worry in his eyes at the sight of her.

"Get his gun," is all he says.

Zayn is stretching his arm out in search of his weapon, body jolting with the force of his coughing, but he doesn't find it. Not before she runs up and takes it into her free hand.

The gun she took from the Cobra remains pointed at him, the other at Leo, and she side-steps to be closer to where Harry holds his limp, beaten body up with one hand pulling at the front of his blood-soaked button down. And seeing him like this, battered, bruised, and blooded the way she was the last time the three of them were in a room together, brings a smug look to her face. If they hurry, they can get to the boat before Ryan catches wind of what they've done, and if they reach the boat...

"Now," Harry says, his jaw clenching as he leans in close to Leo's face, "I need to know who ratted us out. Was it one of Perez's men? Or one of ours? Tell me and I'll make it quick."

From behind his back, she says, "That's much more than he deserves."

But Leo doesn't do anything other than chuckle, wheezing with every breath he takes. His nose is crooked from the punches he took from Harry less than a moment before she appeared in the room, and his arm extends to point a finger past his captor.

"Him."

The two of them turn their heads faster than they knew their bodies could move to follow to the person Leo points at. Her throat runs dry at the realization, shaking her head and stumbling back a step as she finds Zayn looking up at her with an apologetic glint shining in his eyes. Blood pours from both of his wounds, and she knows it's only a matter of time before he bleeds out without a tourniquet, but she finds that she doesn't want to help him as she would've days ago.

She walks up to him with the gun aimed straight between his eyes and kicks him in the gut, ignoring the ache it causes in her bare foot in favor of causing him as much distress as he has caused them this morning.

"Tell me why," she demands, then kicks him again in the same spot when it takes him longer than a few seconds to comply. "Tell me!"

His hands are held in surrender, and when he meets her gaze, he tries to convey how sorry he feels every second their eyes remain locked onto each other.

"I wanted Alanis to get out. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but I didn't have another choice, he asked me if I knew anything and offered me a deal! She's in Milan right now, and she's safe. You have to understa—"

In a fraction of a second, blood sprays across the front of her clothes, and whatever life that was left in him as he bled out is leeched from his body with one shot from across the room where Harry stands. There is no mercy to be found in those familiar green eyes anymore. To her, he almost appears the same as he had the first night they met—hidden behind a mask of ruthless apathy. But, at the same time, it's not like she can disagree with his decision. He ruined everything they worked together to accomplish, and for what? In order to get Alanis out of the country when she and Harry were already planning on taking her with them wherever they went?

Zayn is dead.

When she turns her gaze to the other bodies littering the floor, she recognizes Niall, Oliver, David, and Liam too. Who the others are, she can't be sure due to how disfigured the gunfire to their skulls made them, but she doesn't have the chance to process it before their attention is directed back onto the man who commands it in every room he's existed in. It almost makes her laugh to see him in Harry's clutches, too weak to escape, after all this time spent daydreaming of what it'd feel like to wipe his sorry self off the face of the earth one day.

Y/N clutches both guns tightly in her hands and keeps them pointed at the ground now that there are no other people except for them alive in this room at present.

"You're gonna kill me now, son? After everything I've done for you?" Leo asks.

The pistol held in Harry's free hand presses hard into the front of his head as he spews the next words like they're poison in his mouth, "M'not your son."

His brows furrow.

"Aren't you? I made you, Harry. Everything you're capable of is because of me. Is killing me seriously how you're gonna thank me for that?"

Even weakened to his knees, Leo attempts to exert his power over them one last time with death staring him in the face. It doesn't surprise her that he isn't afraid of what's to come. He always came across as the type of man who assumed death was closer rather than farther and never failed to conduct himself accordingly. Faithless, he doesn't fear being sent to hell, purgatory, or whatever one decides to call it. He faces the eternal void with nothing but acceptance.

A smirk crosses his weathered face a second later.

"At least you two lovebirds are even now," he says and cuts her a pointed stare before looking back up at Harry. "You know, a parent for a parent. I think Y/N owes me a thank you."

The gloved finger hovering over the trigger pulls down to stop him before he can reveal anything else to her, but, to Harry's horror, the gun does not fire. After going from room to room slaughtering every man in sight, he has finally run out of ammunition. Dread curls in his stomach as he turns to look at her over his shoulder and drops the gun to the ground beside Leo's twitching legs.

"Give me the gun, Y/N," he says.

Not a request, but a command. One spoken with such urgency, she'd be rushing to fulfill his wishes if she weren't stuck on what Leo said a second ago.

Her brows furrow with confusion.

"What do you mean?" she asks, looking past Harry's shoulder as if he didn't command her to do something for him. "A parent for a parent. What does that mean?"

Harry starts, "It means nothing. Give me the—"

His words of reassurance are snuffed out by the sound of Leo's loud, wheezing laughter. After a couple of stomps to the chest, one of his lungs may or may not be collapsed from the brutal force taken from Harry's steel-toed boots. There wasn't enough time to do what he planned on when imagining the methods of torture he'd like to inflict on Leo over the past decade, but it was gratifying to beat him badly enough to render him useless. The age difference and difference in ability between them made it easy to take him down. One punch had him falling to the ground, and it surprised Harry a little. Whenever he imagined taking Leo on, he imagined him the way he did the monsters that plagued his nightmares as a child—an unrelenting behemoth of preternatural power and strength—but, in the end, he's only a man.

She doesn't allow her focus to stray from Leo's smiling face until she gets the answer she seeks, and no amount of guessing could prepare her for what he's about to unleash upon her poor, aching heart.

"I killed his mom. He killed your dad. Fair is fair, don't you think?"

There are no words to describe the feelings that his words release within her body.

No.

No, that couldn't be. There was an investigation around her father's death after it occurred, even though everyone knew the obvious cause, and it was ruled an accident. That is what the police said in their final report. An accident, not a murder. The FBI took over the investigation, seeing that he was an American citizen, and they vehemently denied every crackpot conspiracy theory spread online stating that her dad was—

Her train of thought gets stopped short. The FBI. Ryan, Leo...Harry...

"Oh my god," she mutters under her breath.

There was something amiss with his brakes that day. His brand-new brakes were what sparked the frenzy of public interest in the investigation and the subsequent lawsuit against the company that produced them. The investigation proved that they weren't tampered with, they said there weren't any signs of foul play, but if said investigation was conducted under Ryan's leadership, then they could've said anything they wanted.

That nausea from earlier surges back to life and forms a discomfort in the back of her throat that she knows won't cause her to vomit, but, instead, will sit there until this distress goes away. That is if it ever goes away.

She turns her attention to Harry, and he swears, if he had the ability to turn back time and tell Leo to kill him rather than send him to kill her dad just to avoid the way she's looking at him right now, he would.

The only word she can manage to force out of her mouth is, "Why?"

"Just let me explain, okay, just let me tell you the whole story and—"

His reluctant admission of guilt makes the sobs come out harder.

"Don't let him sweet talk you into forgiveness," Leo interrupts, smiling at her with crimson blood drying in the cracks in his teeth. "I made an ill-advised bet and, once I realized my mistake, I sent him over to fix the race. That's all. No different than any other job."

Tears caused equal parts by sorrow and betrayal run down her face and replace the tear tracks from earlier. Although holding herself together externally for the sake of finishing what she started, she wants nothing more than to crumble to the ground and let herself lay here until she rots. Or, at least, until Ryan finds her after hearing of a shootout at his brother's property in secluded suburbia.

If Leo hadn't sent Harry after her father, none of this would've had to happen. Her mother never would have committed suicide, Peter wouldn't have turned to drugs to cope with the grief of losing their parents, and she wouldn't have had to lose any of them. They could still be a happy family to this day had Leo and Harry not teamed up to destroy her life from the inside out. Suddenly, that sorrow transforms into something mad and wild, something a lot like rage, that begs her to put a bullet in both of their heads.

She raises both guns to aim them at each of them, screaming through the tears and the fury, "To fix a fucking race? That's it? That's what my dad died for? So you could make some more money to add to your millions?"

Harry says softly, the tears shining in his eyes, "Baby—"

A shot goes off.

His eyes are squeezed shut for a second or two in anticipation of the end, but it doesn't come. There's no searing pain shooting through his body or an immediate "lights out" into the perpetual night that'd greet him alongside a headshot, and when he opens his eyes, he sees the wall beside him with a hole in it.

A warning. Nothing less, nothing more.

"I'm not your baby," she spits, "You stole my life! Was it all just a game to you? To see how far I'd let you go all while you were getting off on the fact that you killed my entire family?" She lets out a wry laugh. "Were you ever going to tell me? Or were we just gonna keep playing happy family and bringing me to see your mom like you didn't steal mine from me?"

Tonight is the first night he has cried in front of anyone but her in the past ten years. It comes out in desperate cries, ones that rob him of his breath and leave him choking for air on every inhale that's stifled by the congestion in his nose. He cannot do anything but shake his head through the tears that threaten to suffocate him, and he feels as though everything he's fought so hard to build for them is slipping through his fingers in a matter of seconds. That trust, that intimacy, that genuine love—he can feel it being pulled from his reach.

"If y'knew how much I regret that"—he starts, then stops to gather the thoughts racing through his head at a mile a minute—"That job i told you about? The one that I still have nightmares about? It was that one. I didn't know about you, or Peter, or your mum." He shakes his head. "I never meant for any of this to happen, it just did. It was never a game, please—"

"Fuck you," she says softly, yet it carries the impact of a thousand screams.

And she hates him, yes, but she hates herself most of all. More than Leo, more than Ryan, more than Harry—she hates herself to the core of her being for still being in love with him despite everything he has done to destroy her life. For the sake of her family's memory, she wishes she could stop loving him, but she can't, and that's what makes it so excruciating. The constant tug of war better the side of her that knows he deserves to die for what he did versus the side of her that still wants to crawl into his arms and wail like a child for him to comfort.

And as she says it, she already knows it's a mistake, but the anger pushes the words from her mouth before she can ponder whether or not telling him is a bad idea, "You'll never see me or the baby ever again. And if you find us, I'll just keep hiding from you."

The tears wetting his face slow for a second as everything inside of him goes still and quiet for once in his life upon hearing what she said. Or, rather, what he thinks she said, because he can't tell whether or not he imagined it at this point.

"The baby..." he says the words slowly, hardly able to process them as they're said.

When he sees the panic spreading across her face, he knows it's real. He knows he didn't imagine it, and his gaze roams down to the stomach she touches with the side of her hand holding the gun that fired at the wall beside him.

The gun in that hand is dropped to the floor a half-second later, and, just like that, she's gone. All he gets is a fleeting glimpse of her disappearing into the hallway that leads to the main entrance of the house as he stands with Leo hanging from his grasp with shock ravaging his poor body. It isn't until he hears the older man coughing below him that he's capable of fully realizing that this isn't a dream or hallucination. It's real, and when she said she was going to hide their child from him no matter how many times he finds them, she meant it.

As Y/N runs down the porch steps and down the driveway, the sound of two gunshots firing off inside the house causes her to jump, and, against all logic, there's still a dominant part of her that fears it was Harry on the wrong end of the weapon. She curses herself for it the second the worry springs to mind, but a quick glance over her shoulder proves that worry to be a foolish thought regardless of the recent revelations about him. Leo was hardly able to keep his head up, let alone crawl across the floor and take the gun she left for Harry to kill him with.

"Wait!" he screams after her.

If she can get to the Cobra, then he'll never be able to catch her. That is the only thing keeping her from hyperventilating hard enough to cause her to pass out as she throws herself into each stride in a frantic bid to flee his presence. The problem here is, he is much faster than her. That's not to say she isn't in shape to run as far as she has today, but his physical strength and ability extends far beyond what hers could dream of being.

The passenger's side door to the car is within the reach of her fingertips, the cool material brushing them as she stretches her arm out for it, but she wasn't quick enough. Before she can wrap her fingers around the handle, the pair of strong arms she once called home scoop her up to hold her captive within them.

"Let me go!" she shouts, kicking and flailing her legs out in front of her against the car.

Her elbows land blows against the sides of his body the entire time as he hauls her away from the Cobra and toward the Jaguar he parked behind it, but he doesn't relent. There are stifled grunts and curses that escape him, but he doesn't allow her to weasel her way out of his clutches this time. The closer they come to the vehicle, the more exhausted she becomes from this morning's exertions, and by the time he presses her up against the side of the car, she's too tired to do anything other than cry.

He cups her face between his hands to force her to look at him, smudging a handprint of blood onto her cheek as she tries to pull her head from his grip to no avail.

"If y'want to hate me, then hate me. I won't stand here and act like y'don't have every right to feel that way, okay?" In his face, she can sense how genuine every word spoken between them is. "But they'll kill you the second they see you, so let me help. Let me get you out, and, I promise, you'll never see me again if that's what y'want."

It takes every ounce of self-control left in her body to not close her hand into a fist and punch him square in the jaw for having the audacity to speak to her like this after everything, pretending to care. But, she doesn't. There isn't enough energy left in her to do so, so she thinks instead. She stares into his eyes and recalls every memory of the time they've shared together trying to find the signs she'd missed while she was too busy falling in love with an illusion.

What he said to her last month, about how nobody in his world keeps you safe without wanting anything for themselves...She had been a lovelorn idiot for thinking he sought out kindness from her. He never wanted her kindness. No, he wanted her forgiveness. For every atrocity he committed against her and would continue to from then until the end.

Her jaw is clenched as she glares at him through her tears and says, "Garrett gave me two fake passports and the keys to his boat. He said it's docked on the river right next to the warehouse we met him at last week." Before he can reach behind her to open the car door, she leans up to invade his space and mutters, "As soon as we get on that boat and find a safe place to fly out of, you'll leave me alone. Got it?"

His face softens, and one of the hands cupping her face drops down to brush his knuckles against her lower abdomen only for her to jerk away.

"Got it," he says.

-

With her behind the wheel, they reached his building in record time to beat the authorities they already expected to be on their scent after thirty minutes passed from the start of the shootout at Leo's house. If Ryan were as smart as Garrett made him out to be, he would've been in constant communication with his brother, and the second that line of communication was broken, he'd come to find out what went south. At least, that's what Harry would've done, so he decided to act accordingly as though that was Ryan's plan.

Y/N walks ahead of him the whole way up to the penthouse apartment, ignoring the stare that burns into the back of her head as she walks through the open door to their home for the final time. Garrett is long gone by now, not fleeing the country or state, but rather enjoying his last day alive by getting good and shit-faced at an old tavern in the Quarter before Ryan catches up to him. They would be ordered to go after her and Harry first, though, so they're certain to make the process of packing up whatever things they can carry with them into their new lives as quickly as possible.

She stuffs a few comfortable pairs of sweatpants, t-shirts, underwear, and a hoodie into one of the spare backpacks she found at the bottom of the closet. Seeing that she needs to pack other things such as a Ziploc filled with stacks of one-hundred-dollar bills, her fake passport, and a few folded-up photographs she cannot bear to leave behind, she cannot take up too much space inside with an excess amount of clothes. Then, there's the factor of needing it to be lightweight enough for her to run with it on her back without it limiting her speed too much. With all of that taken into consideration, most of the belongings she moved into this apartment are left behind to collect dust until the landlord recognizes their absence when the next rent isn't paid.

Harry does the same with his clothes, taking them from the closet as he sneaks glances over his shoulder at her and prays she'll break the vow of silence she's been fulfilling since he forced her into the car. It's not as if he can blame her, though, can he? When he found out his mother was murdered today, he lost all sense of where and who he was until the murderous rage was settled by finally killing the man responsible. And she may not be prone to bloodshed the way he is, but, for her family, she could be pushed to extremes she never thought possible.

Out of the blue, he asks, unable to help himself, "How long have y'known?"

"Doesn't matter. Shut up and keep packing your shit," she says.

Although it stings to hear her speak to him like that, he can't bring himself to say anything back yet. Isn't this what he deserves? She was right in saying what she had back at Leo's place, he did steal her life and kill her family. He may not have physically committed the act of murdering her mother and Peter, but his actions led to their deaths, so there isn't anyone else to blame but him in the end.

But, when she swings the backpack onto one shoulder and walks out of the bedroom, he cannot help but follow her. He isn't sure if he could ever stop following her, even when she begs him to stay away, to never see her or their child after today, there's a small part of him that questions whether or not he'll allow himself to comply. To go from how close they were this morning to where they are now—worlds apart—in less than two hours is too swift of a change for him to fully accept.

As she reaches the front door, the sound of him speaking stops her rushed footsteps.

"That's my kid too," he says with a break cracking through his typically unwavering voice. "They'll ask about me, y'know? I know what it's like growing up without a dad, Y/N. Trust me, they'll never stop asking."

The tension is palpable in the air between them, so thick it could be sliced with one of the butter knives stowed away in the kitchen, and when she turns around to look at him, he knows that he has lost her.

"Trust you?" There's no laugh, no scoffing, and no sarcasm to create a comfortable buffer between her and the void of depression that carves through her heart. There's only a detached numbness that he has never seen her have before, and she says, "You think I don't want to trust you? It's not like it's a choice I'm making. You lost my trust the second Leo told me what you did. You lied to me the whole time, and now you expect me to give you a place in my life like you didn't do everything you could to ruin it? You are exactly the kind of person you claimed to be constantly protecting me from."

He says softly, nodding to himself, "I know, I know that—"

"If you know it, then why won't you just let me go?" Her voice raises to a shout as she chokes on her sobs in between every word, "Do you know how hard it is for me to know what you did and still be in love with you? I hate myself for it! It confuses the living shit out of me, and all you're doing is making that worse, so stop!" The tone of her voice turns soft when she next speaks. "If you have ever cared about me, even a little, then let me go."

As soon as the words leave her, she takes note of her breathing becoming deeper and more even, less panicked and quick, as though she needed to rid herself of those thoughts before they infected her broken mind. They are left with nothing to do except stare at one another and wonder where the beautiful thing that blossomed between them turned rotten. She finds herself simultaneously longing to exist in the ignorance of yesterday and being glad to know the truth about him, caught between loving and hating. But, truth be told, it makes sense. The strange connection between them began with love and hate, so why wouldn't it end with it?

Harry's head drops to face the floor as he nods, trying to force himself past every stage of grief straight through to acceptance for the sake of giving her what she wants. No, what she deserves. After everything he has done, she deserves to be heard by someone for once in her life—him most of all. But, it's excruciating. He almost wishes he could go back and never get inside her car for the sake of avoiding the unfamiliar feeling that washes over him at this moment. Before her, he mastered the art of not feeling, but, now, he feels everything, and it hurts. It hurts so badly.

Before anything else can be said, the distant sound of sirens directs their attention from each other to the far-off source of them, and he pulls his pistol from its holster without a second of hesitation or thought given to the action. With the keys to the Jaguar sitting in his pocket, there's no need to wait around to be killed like sitting ducks.

"Elevator," he says in a curt command, placing that mask back over his face to keep himself from giving away how deeply this has wounded him. He knows that if she sees, she might feel guilty for something that isn't her fault. "Now. We have to be quick."

She doesn't make the mistake of lingering behind for the sake of continuing their interrupted conversation. Despite her wish to never see him again after they leave the city tonight, when Harry says to go, she listens.

The ride down to the parking garage is the longest one they've ever taken. Seconds pass, and, as they do, the sound of the sirens that were further off encroach closer and closer on the 7x6 elevator shaft they are locked inside of until they reach the level of the hotel that can connect them to the garage. A pleasant ding reverberates through the room, the doors opening for them to step through, and they both already have the guns they took from the closet raised to defend themselves from any waiting cops or federal agents.

When they find that the level appears to be empty, they don't lower their guns, they run out into the open space and rush up the incline of the nearest turn to ascend to the next level of the garage. Though it appears like there aren't any people waiting to arrest or shoot at them, they don't bother climbing all the way up to the top level to reach the Jaguar. There is not enough time.

So, as they run up another level, she scans the lineup of cars for the most formidable racing vehicle that can be found. Luckily for her, Harry lives in an upscale building filled with residents who can afford the best of the best, so finding her car of choice isn't an impossible challenge as it would've been at her old place.

"This one," she says and turns sharply to the right to rush up to the side of the Ford Mustang parked by between two other cars.

Harry simply stands guard, keeping his body between her and anyone that may approach, as she lifts the hood to the car beside it in search of the spark plugs. Thank God she remembered to pack the multi-tool Peter gifted her for her sixteenth birthday years ago. If not for that, she wouldn't be able to take one of the spark plugs from the vehicle right now. He doesn't dare to ask her why she's stealing the plugs from a random car considering her newly developed rage for him. Instead, he simply watches as she takes one of the plugs in her gloved hands and slams the hood back down with the other.

She says, "Step back," and winds her arm back to throw the spark plug at the driver's side window with as much strength as she can muster.

The window shatters into the vehicle instantaneously, and Harry's brows shoot up his forehead in surprise as she yanks the door open and throws her backpack into the back seat. The shattered glass that fell onto the seat is wiped away with haste, clattering on the pavement along with the stolen spark plug she tosses aside for the car's owner to find.

"How the hell did that work?" he asks, walking around the other side of the car to wait while she makes quick work of hot-wiring it.

It isn't until the engine sparks to life a few moments later and they're both settled into place in their respective seats that she explains, "Not only are spark plugs dense as fuck, but they have aluminum oxide ceramic insulators. Basically? It carries a lot more force in a small point. Enough to break a windshield if you threw it hard."

When she presses her foot down on the gas, the car reverses with a speed that threatens to churn his stomach with sickness as she whips it around to drive down each level of the garage. Unlike most times he looks over at her when she drives, she isn't smiling. Her face is hardened, eyes glaring ahead, and she doesn't spare him a single look in the time it takes for her to exit the building he knows she could navigate with her eyes closed.

The second they get to the end of the street, blue and red flashing lights come into view each of the mirrors, accompanied by the grating noise of the sirens that have been approaching for at least five minutes now. But, she doesn't slam down on the pedal as he expects her to with the cops appearing behind them.

"We need to go," he says, looking over his shoulder through the back window. "Y/N—"

"Just wait," she snaps at him, turning the wheel to the left as though they have an eternity stretching out ahead of them for their journey to freedom rather than a half hour. At most.

If she hits the gas and speeds off down the adjacent road within their sights, they'll know it's them and come chasing after the Mustang without wasting their time searching inside the apartment building they were last seen driving to in Harry's car. She takes the turn with a leisure that contradicts any suspicions those driving behind them may have, pretending as though they're on their way to brunch, not fleeing for their lives.

When she is certain they are hidden from view behind the building placed on the corner of the road they turned onto, she stomps her foot on the gas without a second's hesitation. It sends Harry flying back in his seat, the back of his head thumping the headrest as the vehicle goes from twenty miles per hour to sixty in a mere five seconds. She switches on the radio with one hand on the wheel, turning the volume up to prevent him from trying to fill the silence with any awkward conversation, and rips around from street to street with the sound of whatever song the classic rock station the Mustang's owner left it on.

The second she sees the police lights turning onto the street in the distance behind them, likely having talked to a passerby or her favorite doorman to discover that they were already gone, a familiar guitar riff plays through the speakers.

Her cackling laughter flooding the interior space of the car brings his head spinning around from where it had been positioned to watch the cops try—and fail—to catch up behind them to see what's so funny to her.

"What?"

It's difficult to stop laughing to breathe, let alone explain to him why the song that came on the radio has sent her into a frenzy of giggles. She has to wait until it has worked its way out of her system in full before she can begin to form the words necessary to respond to him, and, when she does, she can't help but shake her head.

The wind blowing in through the broken window pushes the hair from her face, each strand dancing around the headrest she relaxes against as she takes the next turn and pulls on the hand brake to swing the back of the car around without losing too much speed. As always, she handles the jolting movement the car forces them through with a grace few could ever have. Meanwhile, Harry has to hold onto the door handle and center console for dear life to prevent himself from sliding around in his seat.

"This song was playing in the car the night we met," she says.

Still, she is refusing to look his way. Even when the nostalgia is present in her voice, she can't bring herself to look his way because she knows that if she does, she won't have the strength to leave him tonight or tomorrow morning. It's strange, she thinks. The mix of love and hate that flows inside of her for him, blurred into each other like two colors of smeared paint. She didn't know it was possible to want to kill someone and kiss them at the same time. Not until him. In all honesty, the fact that she still has the urge to kiss him at all makes her sick to her stomach.

For her family, she should hate him. She should want to tear him into pieces and toss whatever is left of his corpse into the ocean so nobody can visit his grave and remember him, and even though a part of her does want that, another doesn't. Another still lives in the stretch of time that existed yesterday before she knew she was pregnant, before everything began to fall apart. It may make her a traitor to her family, but she wishes she never knew. If she could erase the knowledge from her mind and live in ignorance with him for the rest of her life, she would. But, it's too late for that.

He stares at her longingly for a second, then opens his mouth to speak.

"I—"

Gunshots shattering the back window of the car causes them both to jump, ducking their heads down to the best of their ability with everything that's going on. She is forced to stay sitting up to see over the wheel, though, and the thought of them shooting at them while she is left undefended pushes his heart rate to a pace that approaches on dangerous. And when the next shot fired narrowly misses his headrest, she reaches across his body as the car takes a sharp right turn to pull the lever on the side of his seat and send it back flat against the backseat.

The speed of the car is pushed higher and higher on the straightaway of the street they now fly down toward the street she remembers the warehouse being on. It isn't too far of a drive. It took fifteen minutes at most when they were following the laws of the road and obeying the speed limit, so she reckons that they should arrive in under five with how swiftly they're moving.

But, what she hadn't accounted for, was the trip they must take through the French Quarter to make it through to Bywater where the private property at which Garrett's boat is parked. They are forced to come to a screeching halt at the sight of the large groupings of people and cars taking up the width of the street. Everything else—the cops, the recent discoveries made about her family, and Harry himself—had her too distracted to think clearly about the path she was taking.

"Fuck!" she screams, hitting the steering wheel with the heel of her hand. Her eyes turn to him for the first time since they have left the apartment, "Get out."

"What?"

She reaches behind and takes her backpack from the backseat of the car.

"Get out right now. We have to run."

As she is shoving the door open and getting out of the car, he doesn't know what to do other than follow her orders and remain in her shadow, breaking into a run behind her as she weaves in and out between people crossing the road with little on her mind other than survival. A man in the car behind their abandoned one shouts at them from leaving it in the middle of the road, but neither of them cares to respond.

The impact of their bodies smashing into other people's leave behind aches that they know will transform into gnarly bruises should they escape the day with their lives and live on another week, and she cries out at the feeling of her bare arm scraping against the brick wall to her left as a large man shoves her for trying to squeeze between him and his wife.

All it takes is a fist to the jaw for him to fall to the ground, and there Harry is, shaking his hand at his side and grabbing onto her arm with the other to yank her up to her feet. He drags her along behind him, forcing her to match his rapid pace through the crowd that is now parting to allow them through after witnessing him knock out the man who put his hands on her. It kills him that he can't do anything more than a single punch. Typically, he'd daydream about cutting off the hands of anyone who hurt her, but it isn't a priority at the moment.

He turns them into a narrow alleyway that leads to the next street over, but he guides her to go in front first just in case the cops catch up with them from behind and start to shoot. Halfway through, she stops.

"Keep going!" he shouts, looking back over his shoulder, but she doesn't budge.

"Wait," she turns and gestures toward the wall where a rusted metal ladder leads up to the roof, "Come on, let's go up. All the buildings are connected, we can just run up there until we get away from the crowds and get back down."

Without waiting for his agreement, she starts to climb up the ladder as quickly as she can. The rusted rungs groan beneath her weight the entire way up, so much so that she has a fleeting fear that one of them may break and send her crashing to the ground beneath at any second, but none of them do. Based on the sound of feet and hands tapping metal, Harry isn't far behind when she pulls herself up over the edge of the roof and stumbles down onto it, and when she looks over the edge, he's already reached the top.

She asks, breathless, "Ready?"

All he does is nod.

From building to building, they run as fast as their bodies will allow. Climbing up and down between the different heights of the roofs lining the crowded streets, she feels herself near to passing out from exhaustion beneath the direct path of the sun. Even in early December, running for minutes on end without a single cloud to provide coverage is a fast track to overexertion. By the time they reach the end of the street where the final building drops off into an intersection without connecting to the house situated on the street next to it, she falls to her knees.

Every breath is a struggle at this point. Her hand cradles her lower stomach for reasons she isn't fully sure why as she pants and allows herself to rest her face against the side of the small wall bordering the roof. She suspects it might have something to do with soothing herself. Or the baby. It isn't something she does on purpose to draw attention to the fact that she's carrying a child, it's an unconscious gesture she's started doing ever since last night. Everything they have endured in the past twenty-four hours hasn't been easy for her, let alone them, and it helps to calm her when she touches there. It helps remind her why she's still going, trying to beat the odds that are stacked against them as high as a skyscraper.

Harry's hands grab onto her shoulders, rubbing up and down her arms.

"What's wrong?" he asks. "Are you okay? Are y'gonna throw up?"

The most she can give him is a shake of the head while she busies herself with the task of stepping off the ledge that'd otherwise lead to her spiraling into a panic attack. One glimpse at her face and he knows what she's feeling. He saw it multiple times—first, the night they met, second, when she was drugged, and third, when they were hiding in the closet the night they met Garrett. Suddenly, all thoughts regarding her newfound hatred for him and the strict orders he's given himself since she found out to keep a distance are gone.

He crouches down beside her, taking a glance down at the street where a dozen armed officers continue on past the building they're camped out on top of, and keeps rubbing up and down her arms to comfort her.

"Deep breaths," Harry reminds her.

As if reminded of how she is supposed to hate him by the sound of him speaking to her, she shakes off his touch and sniffles, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes.

"Don't."

It's his only warning. Not because she'll do anything as drastic as kill or injure him, but because she needs him to be strong on her behalf. She needs him to be the one with restraint who upholds the new boundaries built between them over the course of this morning because she can't do it herself. When she's as distressed as she is right now, she knows how vulnerable she can be to any comfort provided by him, and she doesn't want to go falling right back into his arms.

And he doesn't want to rush her, but he knows it's only a matter of time before Ryan sends in helicopters, his federal agents, K-9 units—the whole nine yards. Her plan did work, that he'll give her, but it won't if they stay up here for much longer. As he scans the roof, he notices a doorway he can only assume leads downstairs into the house and makes up his mind.

His arms slip around her waist, ignoring her interrogating questions in favor of getting her hoisted up into his embrace with one arm slipped under her ass to keep her held up at his side.

She asks, "Where are we going? I can't run. I think I'll puke if I keep—"

"Downstairs. We have to go now if we want to make it to the warehouse before the Feds get there first," he explains as he rushes across the roof in the direction of the propped-open door that leads down to the building below. At the end of his sentence, she retracts her head from where it rested on his shoulder and looks at him through tired, helpless eyes. He forces a smile. "The sooner we get on that boat, the sooner I'm gone. Keep that in mind whenever y'feel like puking on me."

It's hard to keep her nausea at bay with how each of his steps down the stairs makes her body bounce lightly in his arms, but she manages the best she can. Through deep breaths and concentration, she slowly but surely brings her heart rate back down to a speed and intensity where it doesn't pulse in her forehead, as well as pushing the sickness back down until it no longer exists as an insistent urge in the back of her throat.

He runs fast from floor to floor of the house, breezing past the people dwelling inside that shriek in fear and shout questions demanding why he's here in favor of sprinting to the front door. They're lucky none of them have any weapons to pull on them, because once they reach the door and pull it open, a man is running down the stairs after them and screaming for them to get out.

The open air hits them in the form of a tepid breeze, and it feels good for her to be able to breathe again. No police officers are patrolling this street since they watched them turn onto the one directly to the right, so he takes it as his opportunity to turn onto the left. Her arms are wound tight around his neck and shoulders to prevent herself from slipping out of his grasp even though she knows he would never let her fall.

He carries her down the street for a minute before he spots it.

A motorcycle.

Harry lets her down gently onto her feet before approaching where the vehicle is stopped in traffic with a man and woman sitting on it, laughing and talking to one another in the comfort of the morning breeze, with his hand pulling her by the arm. Everyone on the surrounding sidewalks screams in terror when he pulls his gun from its holster and points it at the man driving.

"Get off."

As expected, the younger fellow scrambles to get off of the bike, nearly tripping his girlfriend/friend/whatever in the process as she tries to flee the armed criminal holding them at gunpoint. She actually ends up falling back onto the ground from how she tries and fails to run back to flee from him, crying out in pain at how the pavement scrapes her skin. Blood trickles down the side of her arm, but neither of the thieves seems to care as they get onto the bike.

He gets on first and keeps the gun aimed at the man, murmuring a soft, "Hop on, baby," over his shoulder at her while keeping the motorcycle upright by the feet pressing into the ground on either side.

With some of the energy she lost having come back to her body during the time he carried her, she tries to get on as fast as she can as to not ruin the plan he expertly hatched on the fly. Without needing to be asked, she takes the gun from his hand and keeps it pointed at the couple as he pulls back on the throttle. She keeps the gun in her hand as she wraps her arms around his waist to keep from falling off the back of the small bike, but her finger is off the trigger to ensure no accidents will occur while they ride.

It makes sense to her why Garrett planned for them to make their getaway via motorcycle for the hit that was due to take place tomorrow. It's easier to weave in and out of traffic, avoiding pedestrians that cross the road with a quick turn or the warning sound of the roaring engine keeping them at bay.

Her face falls forward to rest on his shoulder on the way there, eyes clenched shut to avoid any spikes in anxiety from watching him swerving around cars at a speed that could turn them into roadkill should they hit a deep pothole or get hit. With only a mile between the Quarter and the warehouse situated on the edge of the river, she takes solace in knowing that they'll get there in a matter of moments. Meanwhile, the police are still on foot in the middle of the crowded epicenter of the historical city, and they'll never catch up by the time they're riding away on Garrett's boat.

She doesn't allow her eyes to open until he says so. Even after feeling the bike slow to a stop, she keeps them fixed shut until she hears his voice.

"We're here."

When she blinks against the sun that shines over the murky waters of the Mississippi, she finds the area surrounding the warehouse barren. The last time they visited, cars were parked up and down the street from the number of men Garrett had working and living inside, but, now, it's just the motorcycle parked on the side of the road.

She is the first to get off while he turns the engine off and puts the kickstand down with one of his feet. His gun remains in her hand as she watches him swing his leg over the bike and realizes he must have left his backpack containing the fake passport, his clothes, and additional ammunition behind in the car they were forced to abandon.

"Wait," she says, bringing his attention away from the building ahead of them. "You left your backpack? How are you gonna get out of the country without them realizing it's you if you don't have the fake passport?"

The concern evident in her lilting voice stops him from walking past her around the side of the warehouse. He narrows his eyes in assessment of her for a second, looking her up and down like he's trying to invade her thoughts, then shrugs.

"I'll figure it out. Y'still got the keys?"

She fishes them out of her back pocket and holds them up as though they're the same coveted prize that the Cobra's keys once were to her.

"Let's get the fuck out of here."

The side of the towering building is weathered from years of tropical storms and hurricanes coming up the river to batter the seaport city. Katrina did away with the building that used to sit on the waterfront before this one. It was a dilapidated little tourist shop that sold trinkets and graphic tees with the city name printed on the front. Unfortunately, the owners passed in the storm, and their property was sold to a real estate company, then a manufacturing company, then, finally, the subsection of the FBI that opened a case against Leo without Ryan's knowledge took it over after its previous owner abandoned it.

Lewd graffiti passes in the background as she and Harry walk with haste toward the small speed boat tied to the crumbling wooden dock that appears roughly one more year from sinking into the currents of the water.

She almost tells him to take the dock one person at a time once they reach it out of fear that their combined weight will make it break and send them from a quick dip in the river, but it proves strong enough when they make it down to where the boat is bobbing against the structurally questionable wood. The sole remaining backpack between them with her clothes and passport hidden inside is tossed onto the deck with little preamble, and right before she can move to step onto the boat, he speaks.

"Y'know I'm sorry, right?" Harry asks, and when she turns to look at him, the eyes set upon her are soft with fondness and, most importantly, guilt. "About everything—your family, dragging you into all this shit, and"—There's a slight hitch in his breathing before he goes on—"letting you fall in love with me after everything I did."

For a fraction of a second, she almost considers accepting his apology. It's a tricky thing to fight the desires of the heart. It doesn't follow logic the way the mind does, and, quite frankly, she's allowed herself to do away with logic entirely since she met him. She allowed herself to fall blindly, and that, she supposes, is her fault. Not his. Had she been smarter, had she not given in to the temptation that was a man she knew was reprehensible to most from the beginning, it could've been avoided.

Even though she can feel the phantom hands of her mother, father, and Peter attempting to shake her by the shoulders to snap her out of the trance Harry puts her under, she says, "I'm sorry too."

His face scrunches with confusion.

"What do y'have to be sorry for?"

A soft smile comes to fruition on her face as she looks past him, back at the street where everything she's ever known will be left behind in a pile of ash and bittersweet memory, and gives him a shrug similar to the one he gave her earlier.

"For my part in it. I wasn't innocent, you know. I wanted you just as much as you wanted me. You didn't let me do anything. I'm not gonna be proud and pretend it wasn't my own choice just to blame it all on you," she admits, then allows her smile to break. "But, you're right, you were most of it, so..."

There's a small part of her that already knows that she'll spend the rest of her life without him trying to understand the careful balance of loathing and loving him that will always exist in her. Leaving him changes everything. She'll be forced to stand on her own two feet in the aftermath with no vicious man who'd burn the world down in her honor to keep her safe. It'll be lonely too. If she cannot find Alanis, she will be forced to start anew. No family, no friends...no him. So, for a few seconds, she entertains the idea of allowing him to follow her.

But, to stay would change everything too. They'd spend the rest of their lives trying to find their way back to the versions of themselves that existed before, and, though she knows he'd gladly waste his existence away trying to earn her forgiveness, it's too soon for her to let it go. To accept him back into her life would be a betrayal against herself, wouldn't it? What example would that be to their—

A searing pain shooting through Harry's shoulder draws a piercing scream from deep in his chest, and she goes still at the sight of the blood that seeps into his shirt as a result. He, however, is quick to pull her down the dock, pumped up with adrenaline that makes him block out the strain the bullet wound puts on his body, and makes a beeline for the back door to the warehouse that he knows, unlike the front, is not locked down with a padlock.

"Harry," she stammers, "Oh my God, oh my God, you—"

His hand covers her mouth as he tugs her into the building and slams the door shut behind them. As touched as he is by her concern after all that has occurred between them today, there isn't any time for hysterics. A glance at the desks stationed around the room gives him the idea to barricade the door.

"Quick, help me push some of these desks against the door!"

First, he locks the deadbolt to buy them as much time as possible, and only then does he stumble over to where she's pushing one of the heavy oak office desks in the direction of the door. The added strength of his unharmed arm and shoulder aids her in getting the job done faster. By the time the first pounding knock, then gunshot, blows against the metal door, the desk is standing longways against it to keep them protected for another moment longer.

One of the men shouts, "Go around to the front and break the lock!"

Her eyes are wide when he turns to find her beside him, and, due to the horror displayed within them, he doesn't dare to take a look at his own shoulder until they're in the clear. If they're ever in the clear. He doesn't want to scare her, but the odds of them making it out of here with the number of federal agents and policemen outside are slim to none.

Before he can say anything to soothe her nerves before the inevitable, she takes his good arm, wraps it around her shoulder, and says, "We have to move," as she sets a swift pace over to the stairs that climb up each story of the building. The blood loss isn't fatal, yet, but it does weaken him. It reduces his impressive physical strength and speed to half of its typical performance, and by the time they've made it up one flight of stairs, he's hobbling along with her with a blanched face.

"Y/N," he starts when she's begun pulling him up the next flight, "I need to tell you something."

She shakes her head and grunts through clenched teeth, picking up the pace as much as her worn body will allow with the added effort of bearing part of his weight.

"No, whatever you wanna tell me, you can say it later when we're on the boat, okay?"

He says, his voice hardly a push of air, "Baby—"

"You need to stop talking," she interrupts. "You're wasting your energy."

So, he stops. It can wait until they are barricaded in whichever room she chooses, but, she must know, it'll be the last room they ever enter. And, if the end is that near to him, he can't go without telling her something. Wherever it is they end up, he knows they aren't going to the same place, so he doesn't have eternity to wait to say it to her. He has a few minutes at best.

Up and up they go, further trapping themselves in the warehouse until she is dragging them up the narrow staircase that leads to the entrance to the roof. They bump into the walls with how cramped the space is, as well as how frantic and imprecise her steps are, but they soon reach the door and spill out into the empty rooftop with panting inhales for air after climbing seemingly endless flights of stairs.

But, then he remembers something. As he hears the authorities busting open the front door of the warehouse, he turns to reach for the door to ensure it doesn't close and lock them up here. Just as his fingertips brush the doorknob, it clicks shut.

"Fuck!" he screams, stumbling back from it with a hand on his face.

This is it.

After everything he did to protect her, to undo the sins of his past that set her on this destructive path in life, he's the one who will get her killed in the end. If he just kept his mouth shut down at the dock and waited to apologize until the boat ride was already underway...

"What do we do?" she asks frantically.

"Nothing! We can't do anything, they're all coming up the stairs!"

He scans the roof for any sign of something to take cover behind, but there's nothing. The same as the last time they were here, there is no protection to be found, and, should they be cornered, there are only two things they could do. Go down fighting...or...

Harry turns to look at her where she stands with her hair fluttering in the morning breeze, arms crossed protectively over her chest, and he finds that she's looking at him the way she used to. Before Leo told her his worst secret, before she decided she couldn't allow herself to be with him, and before what they had was decimated with one last killing blow from the man who ruined everything good in his life that he ever had. But, even though he took their love from him, Leo didn't take Y/N away. She is still living and breathing before him, and as long as she lives and breathes, so does their child.

He won't pretend he'd ever be in a position to be a good father anytime soon, but he does care. There was a time long ago when having a family was his biggest goal for his steadfastly approaching adulthood, and, just like every other buried part of him she brought back to the surface, he felt that passion come back to him as soon as she admitted she was pregnant.

There's a second or two of contemplation, then, he nods to himself. Just once.

The gloves are ripped off his hands in seconds, and though he hears her questioning what he's doing, he doesn't say a word as he shoves them deep into the pockets of her pants and proceeds to guide her to the other side of the roof with his bare hands in hers. The adrenaline has yet to wear off, so he doesn't feel too much. All he can feel is the heat spreading through his body from the affected shoulder like a wildfire. There's a touch of pain, but, for the most part, his brain protects him from the full extent of it.

When he brings her to the short wall separating them from the edge of the roof, keeping them from falling off, she asks, "What the fuck are you—"

His lips taste metallic from the blood that he coughed up a second ago, but that isn't of any concern to her when she realizes they're kissing. Well, at first, he is kissing her. His hands grasp the sides of her face with a force that could leave behind marks in the shape of his bare hands. Nobody has ever kissed her with such passion in her short life, not even him, not until this moment, and after a few seconds of shock, she kisses him back.

Despite the memory of her family that she turns her back on in favor of kissing the man who damned them all, she shuts her eyes and kisses him back with as much urgency as he gives her. Depending on how quickly the Feds and local cops called in for backup run up the stairs, they have anywhere between thirty seconds to a minute until they're pumped full of bullets, but he tries to savor it nonetheless. He tries to ingrain the memory of her soft lips, her scent, the feeling of her cheek squished between his hands, and everything he's come to worship about her into his mind for the last time.

When a gap between their mouths opens up from the mutual need for the two of them to breathe, he lets out a heavy sigh and shakes his head against hers.

"Fuck, I didn't do that enough, did I?"

If he could change anything other than the terrible choices made that have led them to this point, it would be to go back and make sure to kiss her more than he did the first time. Why had he waited so long? Why had he wasted so much time he could've spent with her this way?

She sobs as she whispers, "Come with me. Please, just, don't leave me. I don't care how long it takes, I wanna make it work with you. You're all I have, Harry."

"I know, baby, I know," he says, petting her hair from her face in a repetitive, soothing motion. "I'll find you, I promise. Just get on the boat, okay? Don't wait."

Another desperate kiss is shared before she can question him, his lips crashing into hers with a pressure that threatens to crack their teeth where they collide, and he allows the hands cupping her face to slip down to take hold of her waist. The touch is a tender caress. It's every word he's never said in the form of physical touch, and, soon after she feels his fingers dig into the soft flesh of her stomach, he pulls away to speak them into the world without averting his eyes from hers.

"I love you."

Just before the first agent wielding an assault weapon comes barreling through the door to the roof, Harry uses the remaining scraps of his dwindling strength to swing her up and toss her off the edge of the roof.

It happens so fast, she isn't capable of doing anything other than watching with wide, frightful eyes as he disappears from sight behind the building that grows in front of her. He gave her a significant push out from the edge of the roof to prevent her crashing onto the small sliver of ground before the river, but she isn't even thinking about where she'll land, let alone if she will survive the fall. All she thinks of is him as she kicks and flails in the wind that ripples through her clothes on the plummet down.

She thinks she screams out his name as she falls, eyes clamped shut against the wind as she calls out for him for the final time as if it'll do anything to save him from the inevitable. At the very least, she prays it'll give him some form of comfort when it happens. At least he'll know that he got what he always wanted—someone who stayed until the end.

And, when the first gunshot fires off far above to take the one thing she has left in her life from her, she hits the surface of the water.

-

A/N: THERE WILL BE AN EPILOGUE POSTED VERY SOON! OKAY, so, before everyone grabs their pitchforks just know this is always how I have planned to end this story. Harry has to die saving her to fulfill his arc and, essentially, undo what he did to ruin her life. It was always how it was going to be. That being said...I am so emotional writing this note right now. I began writing this in October of 2021 and took so many big breaks during the process that I worried I’d never see it finished, and now that we’re here, I can’t believe it. Whenever I finish a book, I lose a piece of myself that I put into it and I put so much into Getaway Car. It genuinely means so much to me how deeply some of you care about this story and these characters, so thank you! Please feel free to come yell at me for being evil and tell me your thoughts. Love you :) and expect the epilogue either tomorrow or the day after.

[haisuu]

Hey can you do head canons with Damon, Mark, Wolfgang, and Ulysses were their s/o is like a motive for killing

I’m not exactly sure I did it correctly, but here you go!

Killings, Motives, Love

Damon; Mark; Wolfgang; Ulysses x Reader (separate)

You/Your Pronouns, KM=Killing Motive.

Established Relationship

Side note: The motive in Damon’s section applies to each section.

Summary: You’re the brightest light in their life, what will they do when it’s put at risk? How far will they go? There’s only one way to find out.

———————————

Damon Maitsu With KM!Reader

When he hears the news that if you’re killed, five people may be released from this killing game, his first instinct is to protect you.

And while he does want everyone to escape, he values your life above everyone else’s.

He’s always staying in your room or by your side, worried someone would break in.

Constantly has his hand on your shoulder or around your waist.

And on the very few times he isn’t by your side. He’s always watching anyone who dares to walk to you. Rushing over to pull you away if he thinks your in danger.

Whenever you two hold hands, you can see that he’s clutching it harder than usual.

Sometimes, you do lightly tap his shoulder when he’s doing too much, and then he slowly takes his hand off you.

“I’m sorry, Y/n..but I care about you way too much to lose you.”

Mark Berskii With KM!Reader

Holds your hand so hard sometimes that it turns red-

If you request some time alone, he will reluctantly but respectfully give it to you.

Makes relaxing beats in order to calm either of you down.

If his cuddles weren’t tight before, they were definitely tight now.

You may have to tell him to loosen his grip!

Needs a ton of reassurance before letting you go on your own.

He still keeps an eye on you to make sure you’re safe though!

“You are my lover, and I can’t ever imagine losing you…so please, stay with me.”

Wolfgang Akire With KM!Reader

His mindset has been set on bringing justice to everything. But he can’t ever imagine a world without you in it.

When you two are alone, he triple checks if the doors are locked.

Can only leave you alone for two minutes before he’s running to you. (To make sure you’re safe, and so he can spend more time with you!)

Kisses you with more fervor, treating every kiss like it’s the last one he’ll experience with you.

Is willing to sacrifice himself in order to make sure you stay alive.

Occasionally, when you two are alone, you may find him silently crying over the fact that you two may not escape together.

“We’ll be fine..I hope. I’ll do my best to protect you…”

Ulysses Wilhelm With KM!Reader

He already has a terrible sleep schedule, he’ll be pulling all nighters consistently without your help!

It’s the one thing that he thinks about at night, only your cuddles are able to soothe his mind.

Never breaks up apart from you, ever! (Unless you’re in the bathroom, I’m which you get your privacy!)

He looks at you sometimes and just cries softly, knowing that the chances that you’ll be here forever are very slim..

Has recurring nightmares of leaving you for a few seconds only to come back and find your corpse lying on the ground.

“Y/n…don’t leave me..I beg you, if I have to go through hell and back in order to be with you I’ll go through it.”

I’m so sorry that this took so long! I’ve been very unmotivated and so this has taken so long..unfortunately other requests will probably take just as much time so please be patient!

All in all, I hope you have a good day, and take care of yourself!

[strangesthirdeye]

Chapter 8 : Wrong Timing!

Unspoken Love Masterlist /Chapter: 9

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next day was the brightest day with the sun shining from the window of your room making the light shine on your face. Anyone who sees that scene will definitely be tempted by how gorgeous you look with sunkissed hair shining on your H/c hair and your gentle and soft s/c face. On the other side of view, you feel your face hot and warm with the sunlight radiating painfully making you wake up from sleep and groan with furious plus sleepiness.

You then turn around in your sleeping position and try to shield your face with your hands. Hoping you can go back to sleep but unfortunately you can't. Once you wake up, you can't go back to sleep. That is normal in life. You groaned lazily and began to open your droopy eyes. Your eyes are trying to adjust the atmosphere in your room. You can feel a little pain in the retina of your eyes although it is not very painful but it hurts like hell.

You groaned and decided to sit up from the bed. Your wild hair like a lion is the first thing you do makes it presentable before standing up and walking to the bathroom to refresh yourself from all the smells.

Not long after showering, you came out of the bathroom with a set of dark red tunics.

Your (long/short) hair (tied/combed) neatly makes your appearance fresher as people say.

At that, you walked out of your room towards the dining hall which was not far from your room. Students are already training and exercising in the courtyard as some of them rush to the library with their hands full of books. Although this is a normal day at Kamar Taj but still what you saw yesterday is a question mark as to who is the man who was accepted yesterday.

Perhaps you will meet him during training or class later. Or Dhani will tell you about that man if she doesn't have a mission. These past few days have been busy days for Dhani as Kaecilius's case is still ongoing so you rarely see Dhani or John these few days leaving you alone or just spending time reading in the library with Wong and training with the Ancient One or Mordo.

As soon as you walked past the male dorm, at the same time the mysterious man from yesterday came out of his room with a set of gray tunics as soon as you disappeared around the male dorm.

He closed the door of his room and sighed heavily as he walked in the opposite direction of your walked which led to the Sanctuary room where the Ancient One will see him.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

☆SOMEWHERE ABANDONED INDUSTRIAL BUILDING - NIGHT☆

Kaecilius and his followers slipped through a narrow passages in the abandoned building slowly without making any noise as they silently broke into the creepy structure. Skeletons adorn the walls, skulls

stacked atop each other six.

As they managed to enter the creepy building, they were all starstruck by the strange carvings and decorations in the creepy abandoned building. At first glance it looks like a ritual sacrifice place. No wonder people abandoned this place. The dark place and only relying on the light of the moon made the atmosphere inside the place even more tense and hollow. Although, the followers of Kaecilius did not focus their attention on the atmosphere of the place but their eyes still looked at the contents of the abandoned building with amazed eyes.

But, one of his followers was shaking in fear and nervous about what they would do later.

The Zealot as Kaecilius referred, looked at Kaecilius nervously.

"What if this doesn't work?" he nervously said while fidgeting with his fingers.

Kaecilius looked at him coldly. "It will work."

The Zealot looked at him with distaste. "You seem so sure"

"My faith is strong." Kaecilius replied simply.

The Zealot just looked at him in disbelief. "This isn't about faith. It's about whether or not you've deciphered the Cagliostro rituals correctly. If you're wrong-"

"-If I am wrong, then he will ignore us and we will each die our own slow, natural deaths." Kaecilius cut him off with a bluff.

The Zealot shut his mouth but his eyes were still unsure of what Kaecilius said. The other Zealots who overheard the conversation just kept quiet as they didn't want to be treated like that because they were also hesitant about the ritual they would do later. Kaecilius seems determined with the ritual so they just silently follow him to the middle of the building.

They all gathered into a circle. Looking at the faces of their other friends but not daring to make eye contact with Kaecilius who was fishing out the ritual he tore up from the Book of Cagliostro in his pocket. He then looked up to the sky or rather the ceiling of the building.

"But we're not the ones knocking. He is. And he's waiting for someone like us to let him in." Kaecilius spoke slowly and clearly.

Kaecilius then placed the ritual on the altar and began to close his eyes and chant incantations in an ancient dialect. So were the other Zealots.

Their voices chanting the ancient mantra echoed in the abandoned building. Once you hear it it's like a song but every song has a meaning and this is not a song. The only ancient verse that we can understand is DORMAMMU.

Dormammu

Dormammu

Dormammu

They all said it over and over and over again. The atmosphere became tense. Temperatures drop and they feel a chill in their spines.

Kaecilius screamed in pain but he remained standing. He flinched and his forehead began to appear an ancient symbol that was bright red like fire. And that is the symbol of Dormammu.

But, that's not the only sign of Dormammu. There is also a blackish purple crack around his eyes like a galaxy or more like a dimension. Dark Dimension. At first glance it looks like makeup but it's not. It is a sign that they are loyal and dangerous allies of Dormammu who will destroy everything that stands in their way.

One by one the Zealots received the same symbol as Kaecilius as they screamed in pain from the burning sensation on their foreheads and around their eyes. But then, after they received the symbol. Their faces turned sinister and cold as if controlled by Dormammu. They look ready. Ready to destroy anything that stands in their way. Ready to killed anyone.

The Zealot from before looked more scared than excited as he chanted but nothing happened. No symbol on the forehead. No crack around his eyes. He then opened his eyes with horror in his eyes and looked at Kaecilius, terror-stricken.

"I was wrong..." Kaecilius tilted his head slightly and looked sharply at the cowardly zealot.

Kaecilius slid his hands together and began to summon a glass-like sword in his hand.

*...Your death won't be natural after all. Your death will come far sooner than we thought." he said flatly.

The Zealot looked at Kaecilius with fear and begging because he did not want to be retaliated or insulted by him. As he was about to plead, Kaecilius swiftly drove the glass-like sword into the cowardly zealot's heart until it no longer beat. All life died in his eyes as he dropped to the ground.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

✩ KATHMANDU - SANCTUARY -  MORNING✩

Stephen Strange, whose face was full of beards and his hair was unkempt, entered the room nervously. His eyes looked around the room which was now bright because the sun was rising and shining into the room he was in.

His face was uncertain with what he was going through now. In the middle of the room was The Ancient One, sitting behind a low table on the floor.

Stephen noticed her and approached her then sat in front of her nervously. Both hands were placed on his lap. As he began to focus his full attention on the Ancient One.

The Ancient One began to speak. "The language of the Mystic Arts is as old as civilization. Sorcerers of old called the use of this language spells. If that word offends your modern sensibilities, call it a program. The source code that shapes reality. We start with a word. With the word we focus our thoughts."

Ancient One stared at Stephen's eyes for a long time, then she performed a series of gestures with one hand: powerful, graceful, precise. Like martial arts. Like dance. Gentle yet fierce.

Stephen's eyes widened in awe. He can already feel the warmth from the magic in front of him.

"With thoughts, we focus the body." Ancient One added then made a different gesture but now her fingers write luminous lines in the air, sketching runes.

"...and we make our intentions real." She gestured again but this time it began to form a perfect circle with runes around it.

The rune hangs in space between them, hissing with power, illuminating their faces. Strange is stunned. She tapped the

rune with her finger and it fades away.

And then she writes a quick series of runes in the air again but this time it's different.

"We harness energy drawn from others

dimensions in the Multiverse.. " She thrusts a palm forward, hammering an Intricate of Mandala of Light into existence. A luminous wheel of calligraphy and mystical symbols. It throbbing and humming dangerously. Stephen can already feel the strong wind from the magic in front of him. Eyes still widened in amazement.

"...to cast spells, to conjure shields and weapons... " The spell takes hold, plunging them into a darkness lit only

by the mandala.

"...to make magic. " wind whipped through the Sanctuary, plucking at their clothing and hair. The hummed grows louder and louder. The Ancient One closed her fist. The mandala melts away. The Sanctuary returned to normal around them. Strange is awed, but his face begins to change.

"Even if my fingers could do that, I'd just be waving my hands. How do I get from here to there? " Stephen waved his hands to himself then waved to the Ancient One in front of him.

"How did you ever come to reattach severed nerves or put a human spine back together bone by bone? " Ancient One simply replied.

"Study and practice. Years of it." Stephen looked at his lap.

Ancient One nodded knowingly at Stephen with a faint smirk on her face. And from there Stephen started to realize just what he's gotten himself into.

"We start with a word. Any word, regardless of meaning. I assure you, lots of practice allows you to progress from there to here. I already assigned one of my soon to be Master and Mordo to train you and help you understand certain spells and martial arts. I hope the three of you can get along well, that's all." Ancient One said.

Stephen tilted his head to the side with confusion on his face.

A knock began to be heard. The Ancient One smirked and got up from her seat. Stephen remained seated stiffly. The door to the room was half opened by John. John looked inside.

"is it done?" John asked the Ancient One.

Ancient One just nodded and looked at Stephen and told him that the session was over.

Stephen got up and looked at John with uncertainty on his face. John looked at Stephen with a big smile.

"ahh, new sorcerer. I see. Follow me" John nodded to the side slightly and told Stephen to followed him.

Stephen just looked at John and then turned his gaze to Ancient One who was stirring the tea while looking at him. Ancient One gave Stephen a knowing look which Stephen understood that he needed to trust people here from now on.

Then, Stephen followed John from behind. John looked at Stephen who was half his height.

"The name John Smith. One of the students here and soon to be Master. Which Sanctums? Don't know. I am the one who will train you in terms of spells while Mordo in terms of Martial Arts so what you have to do is to be right on time" John told him.

Stephen nodded understanding what John said. "trust me, I'm a punctual person." he said confidently.

John narrowed his eyes at Stephen curiously then nodded in understanding. "good to know. Come on, we're going to the library. I have some materials to show you"

Stephen just nodded and followed John from behind. On their way to the Library leaving the Sanctuary room area, you who had just finished training with Mordo walked into the Sanctuary room after being informed by the Ancient One.

You walked in and sat at the low table on the floor cross-legged. The Ancient One looked at you while pouring tea (with a little honey) in front of you.

"so, what do we want to do today?" you asked her with both hands on your lap.

"oh, nothing. We're just relaxing today. Consider this your reward after 2 months of non-stop training" The Ancient One sipped her tea and placed the hot tea (with a little honey) in front of you.

You cocked your eyebrows at her strangely. "Okay?" you slowly grab the cup of tea.

The situation in the Sanctuary room was quiet as the two of you fell into a comfortable silence. Only the voices of some masters and students could be heard outside the room.

"did you usually do this to students who have been training for no more than 2 months, tho?" you asked her, slowly sipping hot tea (with a little honey) carefully.

"not really" The Ancient One simply said.

You nodded in understanding and slowly sipped hot tea (with a little honey). Out of nowhere, you don't know the function of her having a 'tea party' with you. Probably because she just likes you or just wants to have company.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"This is our library. Where all knowledge resides here. All the books on the shelves can be taken for studies or training, but the books tied to the chain must have the permission of the Ancient One to borrow." John walked to the center library.

Stephen looked around the library with interest. He has never entered a library as cozy as this. Lots of books is normal but the feeling and atmosphere here is quite calm. Although it was a little dim but Stephen could still see where the book on the shelf was.

John looked around the library narrowly. "Odd, Wong is usually here." John Murmured. "Well, never mind. Let me show you the right books for your studies" John urged him to follow him.

Stephen tailing John from behind. His eyes were still on the books with very interesting covers on every shelf there. John then took some books from the shelf and examined them for a while before handing the right books to Stephen's hands.

"Astronomia Nova, Codex Imperium, Key of Solomon and The Book of the Invisible Sun." John noted.

Stephen looked at the book in his hands strangely. "What language is this?" Stephen blurted.

"Sanskrit. I assume you know what Sanskrit is like. If you don't, just use Google Translate" John suggested as he signed the book loan form at the library counter.

Stephen was just silent. John who is ready to sign the book loan form, Stephen glances in thought then he nods confirmed.

"I think that's enough. If there's anything you want, you can meet me in the male dorm whenever you want. I'm always free unless I have to do a mission which sometimes depends if there's something out of control. My dorm is at the end of the corridor actually. " John informed Stephen with both hands on his waist.

"Your dorm is at the end of the corridor?" Stephen said.

John nodded. "yeah, why?"

"well.. my dorm is right next to you actually" Stephen replied.

"Ahh, that's good. Well, I don't think you need to look for me anywhere. Just knock on the door of my room and I'll help you. Odd, I didn't even hear you move in the room next to me. Probably I'm dead asleep" John smirked cheekly.

Stephen nodded awkwardly and examined the book in his hand. The ancient cover and the brown pages were the first thing that greeted his eyes.

"when can I return it?" Stephen asked while swinging a little stack of books in his hand.

"oh, don't worry about that. I've signed for 4 weeks so you have time to study those books" John replied. "come, time for me to take you to Mordo for 'orientation' he said" John added.

Stephen nodded and followed John out of the library. As soon as they were no longer in the library grounds, you entered the library with a stack of books in both hands.

"Wong! I've done it" you called him while looking around the Library trying to find a glimpse of the Asian man.

"Wong?... Woong?" you scrunched your face weirdly. Odd, Wong is usually at this counter. You put the stack of books you've read on the counter and walk slowly looking for a glimpse of Wong on each bookshelf.

"where is he, though" you said lowly.

You want to say this place is quiet but it really is quiet because it's a library. No use you sneer about that. Wong usually greets you with a blank face without a smile. You wonder if he ever laughs or smiles or if he has other emotions besides that. But then again, it's Wong we're talking about.

After a few minutes of looking for the man, you finally decided to leave the session of looking for the Asian man, since you didn't see him at all so you just let it go. Not that you are lazy to look for him, but he is not there. So you just go sign the book loan form and come back to do chores around the Kamar Taj. That's all.

Before you step to the library counter, the corner of your eye seems to catch a glimpse behind the study desk and the shelf at the end of the library. You turned your head and it was Wong who was solemnly arranging books in the middle of the bookshelf with earphones in his ears and was dancing a little to the beat of the song he was listening to.

You were stunned and hesitated to call him, but you had to remind him that you had returned the book you borrowed. If not, he will go to your room and claim on you even if you signed the book loan form before that.

You walked slowly towards him who has his back to you. But what makes you almost laugh is the way he sways his body to the beat of the song playing on his earphones. You hold your breath trying to get rid of the laughter. Once you were behind him,you can hear the faint song on his earphones. Beyonce? Interesting.

You poked his shoulder gently, hoping not to make him startled to see you. But it failed because Wong was really startled when he noticed there was another human besides him there.

"Miss L/n? what are you doing here?" Wong asked after pulling his earphones out of his ears.

"Just Y/n..please.. I just wanted to return the book I borrowed 4 days ago. Well, I put it on the counter but I feel like it won't be safe if I don't inform you first so that's why I'm looking for you. Here" you explained while nodding slightly.

Wong hummed and strode past you. He then walked to the counter and took the book you borrowed. Both his hands flipped through the covers of the available books carefully. Try to find any scratches or damages that have been present while you have borrowed it. After he was sure that all the books were in good condition, he nodded with approval.

"is there anything I can assist you with?" People offered.

"Well, I want the Astral Projection book actually. The Ancient One once mentioned about it and it's quite interesting.. Can I borrow it?" you glance at Wong with a determined face.

Wong smirked faintly then shook his head a little. "you're not ready for that yet"

"what? Why?" you raise your eyebrows.

"The Astral Projection is knowledge that requires a lot of focus and energy. If you do it wrong, your spirit will be stuck on the other side and your body will remain stiff which means you are dead." Wong explained seriously while narrowing his eyes observing you.

You stammered and blinked a few times. "So the person who died is actually the one who did the wrong Astral projection, right?" you joked, trying to light up depressing mode.

Wong's face didn't give any reaction which makes you silent. Oh, now Wong can see that you are a fool. After 2 months here, you thought you could get used to Wong's blank and serious reaction. Thought he could see you as a serious and friendly person, but now he seems to have changed his point of view about you.

You fidgeted your fingers and looked down trying to hide your embarrassment. "so can i-"

"no"

"ok" you nodded and walked out of the library without taking your eyes off the floor.

"Why did I make a dark joke there?" you whispered to yourself.

Now you feel stupid after that. If only Stephen was here, he would surely laugh at your stupid jokes. Even if it's bland, he will laugh too because for him it's entertaining. In what ways is it entertaining? You do not know. Now you can feel Stephen's laughter before is not real laughter. But on the other hand he laughs only because no one laughs and he laughs because of sympathy.

Anyway, happy life happy time you don't care about that as long as you find it entertaining even if they don't find it entertaining. At least you are happy.

"Right, better standby with Dhani, then." you remind yourself.

As you walked towards the courtyard where Dhani usually hangs out, Stephen who just finished training with Mordo noticed you were not far from where you were. But, he only saw your back which made him stop walking and observed your figure that disappearing. He frowned. At first he seemed to see you but he didn't. Maybe it's just his imagination. Maybe it's just people who have the same body as you.

Stephen shook his head and continued his journey to another location.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Amber, my sweet! You know I’m just in my Fall feels 🥺🍂🍁

So… in a happier times how would LO and alpha!steve be preparing for Fall?

And how would Honey and Curtis be preparing for Fall?

As you know, I am always in my fall feels. Like we need to cuddle up on the back deck in a oversized blanket and drink our morning coffee together and admire all the pretty leaves!

In happier times, Steve would be taking Little One exploring in their woods around the lake. His pretty little mate never got to be your wild self. And the Little Wolf is finding all the joy in the way the world is changing. Chasing after leaves, stalking the animals on the move, sleeping curled up in a tight ball next to her Alpha to stay warm. And you, you are finding the joy in letting Steve bundle the two of you up, his arms circled around you while your in his lap, watching the cool nights show you both the brightest stars. The nights of the harvest moon, the whole pack goes racing together, singing their song to the bright moon while the moon lights up the trails for them.

At home Steve is constantly bringing you pretty leaves he comes across while working, or a feather that fluttered off a migrating bird, one time he even preserved a spider web for you just in time for spooky season. When October rolls around, he is helping set up haunted trails and telling spooky stories around a bonfire while making smores.

Steve is sure to bring you into the town to stop at the local coffee shop and get you all the special baked seasonal goods so that you both can sample them, finding your favorites. His so far has been the apple cinnamon rolls and yours has been the pumpkin white chocolate chip and macadamia nut cookies.

Curtis, Autumn wasn't his favorite for a while. He doesn't like the cold so much and autumn is starting to get chilly. But once he saw your joy in it, he started to see the beauty in it all. Now he decorates his yard, the two of you and Sophia carving pumpkins to scatter all over the porch. Its always easy to tell which ones are Curtis's cause he makes beautiful intricate masterpieces with his carvings. Although when the best one is picked, its usually Sophia's crooked cat carving that gets prime spot on the porch.

On those nights you're coming home exhausted, trying to get into the swing of the start of school again, Curtis is sure to have dinner made and your favorite fall movies ready to play. What are some of your favorite fall movies and shows?

And you of course will be taken to the last of the farmers markets of the season and then the pumpkin patch. Gotta pick out all the pumpkins to fill up the back of Curtis's truck. He is happy to load each one you point out that you liked.

Then because it's around your anniversary, you two get to recreate those nights. According to Curtis, it was the night you both ran into each other at Paulie's and played pool all night. For you it was the night you two ditched the restaurant and drove out to the middle of nowhere to look at the stars while eating burgers and fries.

Now you two load up the back of the truck with blankets and pillows, just staying the whole night in that field under the stars. Thankfully even as chilly as it is, you two stay warm with each other.

Halloween night is full of fun and mischief. You two handing out candy and teasing one another with later that night. You still have those fake vampire fangs stashed away, everytime Curtis see's them, he gets a smirk on his face, and you know where his mind went.

Autumn for Curtis and Honey is full of fun.

Thank you for such a fun ask! Love ya babes

[justagalwhowrites]

Ace - A Tenny Royle Mystery

I posted a poll the other day to see if there might be some interest in reading at least part of an all-OC novel I've been working on for a WHILE. On that note, here's the first chapter of "Ace: A Tenny Royle Mystery." I appreciate any and all feedback!

Characters: All OCs

Warnings: Graphic description of a murder victim. Minors DNI

Length: 2.3k

Chapter 1: Looks Like You've Had A Night

It was 4:35 a.m. and I could smell blood. 

The moon still hung heavy in the sky, waning, I thought, and Reunion Tower glistened in the distance. At a glance, it was like we were on another planet, a dreamier one where more than one heavenly body bobbed around ours in orbit. But instead, I was firmly on Earth, Dallas’ city lights blotting out the stars in the night and the sickly, wet, metallic scent of death on the air. 

A tendril of long, brown hair slipped out of my hastily crafted bun, but I didn’t have a free hand to fix it, boxes of donuts and an industrial sized carafe of coffee with cups and all the trimmings balanced haphazardly in my arms as I made my way to the yellow tape and the glow of crime scene lights. I delicately adjusted the load, making sure the press badge clipped to my trench coat was visible, and tried to put on my brightest smile through the haze of death, a burgeoning hangover and lack of sleep. 

“Hey Grey,” I called to the officer standing at the crime scene tape, the lights atop the cruiser beside him flashing red and blue. “Looks like you’ve had a night.” 

“That’s an understatement,” he shook his head, watching as I set out the spread of snacks on the hood of the car. I started making him a cup of coffee. “You shouldn’t have done all this.” 

“Please,” I snorted. I added a cream and two sugars to the coffee. “How else am I supposed to pump you for information?” 

“Look, Royle,” he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, his brown eyes on my shoes. “I shouldn’t have called you…”

“I’m not going to rat you out,” I frowned, handing him the coffee. He took it reluctantly. My frown deepened. I could always rely on Grey to tip me off and be grateful for whatever food I delivered to either crime scenes or the police station. He’d never shied away from free coffee or giving me information in all the years I’d been on the crime beat. “Come on, you know I’ve got your back.” 

“It’s not that,” he swirled the coffee cup around in his hand, not drinking from it, just watching it move in the flashing light of the car. He sighed. “It’s just… Fuck, Royle, I’ve never seen anything like that. You don’t want that shit in your head.” 

“Don’t recall wanting any of the other shit either,” I shrugged. “Comes with the territory.” He still wouldn’t look me in the eye, or take a sip of the coffee. “C’mon, Grey. I’m a big girl, I can handle myself.” 

“Never said you couldn’t,” he replied. “But I’m serious. It’s bad. I hadn’t seen it when I called you. If I had…” 

“If you had you still should have called me,” I tried to smile reassuringly but I wasn’t sure it was working. I’d never seen Grey so shaken. I wasn’t sure what was waiting down the alley, just out of sight. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. “Even if you didn’t tip me off, it’s still my job to write about this stuff. I’d have found out anyway. You’re just keeping me in my boss’s good graces by cluing me in early. So, are you going to let me on?” 

He stopped avoiding looking at me and watched me for a moment before sighing. 

“Here,” he lifted the tape and I ducked below it, adjusting my messenger bag as I went. “But he’s going to be pissed.” 

I snorted again. 

“When is he not pissed?” 

“It’s going to be worse this time,” he replied, looking me up and down again. “Just… take care of yourself, OK?” 

“Sure,” I bit back the kind of joke I’d usually make with Grey, our typical easy banter seeming out of place on this early, late-October morning. He gave me a stiff nod and went back to watching the street I’d arrived on, guarding the crime scene. I watched him for a moment, the coffee still in his hand. He hadn’t had a sip. 

I frowned and steeled myself, fishing my reporter’s notebook with the pen in the spiral binding and the voice recorder from my bag as I made my way to the scene. The lights were bright, all the activity centralized in a buzz around something I couldn’t see and the coppery scent of blood grew stronger as I drew closer, whatever was waiting for me just inside the mouth of the alley, hiding and lying in wait. 

The scene was bustling but orderly, and I knew just where and how to slip in without causing trouble, years of working with this police force teaching me what they would tolerate and what crossed a line. I made my way to the alley, dodging crime scene technicians and officers, before I saw what had freaked out Grey. 

On the ground was the body of a woman — almost more of a girl, I wasn’t sure if she was even legal to drink — in a pool of blood. Her dead eyes stared at me, wide, the aura of terror still there, a ghost of a scream on her open mouth. Her throat was slit. Her long, dark hair was strewn on the ground around her, soaking in her blood and her dress had been cut open, exposing her stomach. I stared, opened mouthed, unable to look away. Carved into her, just above her belly button and up to the bottom of her chest was a spade, like a symbol from a deck of cards. It wasn’t superficial, I could see the ragged muscle even from where I stood. I could see how the blood had flowed from her. Her hands rested there, like she’d tried to hold her body together, to put her blood back in as she died. 

I felt the bile rise in my throat and bolted, running back the way I came until I was far enough away from the core of the crime scene, and threw up, falling to my knees as the liquor I’d downed just hours before came rushing back up. 

A hand appeared in the middle of my back as I coughed and gagged, rubbing me gently up and down. I didn’t need to look to see whose it was. 

“Should have known you’d turn up.” 

“Not the time, Archer,” I coughed before wiping my mouth. “Jesus fuck.” 

“I know,” he said quietly, squatting next to me, his hand still on my back. “I’ve had to send more than a few patrolmen home, you’re not the first person here tonight whose thrown up. It’s a bad one.”

It felt like I’d completely emptied my stomach and I felt safe to sit back on my heels, my abs sore from vomiting. I looked over to the Dallas Police Department’s lead homicide detective, his deep, brown eyes narrowed in concern, his hand still on me. 

“I keep telling you to stop poking around my crime scenes,” he half smiled at me. I glared at him. He turned serious again. “There’s no shame in just going home, Tenny.” 

“What would be the point?” I asked. “I’ve already seen it. I’m already here. I’m staying.” 

He sighed as he straightened, offering me his hand and shaking his head. I took it and got up, retrieving my mercifully vomit-free equipment from the ground as I did. He gave me a moment to compose myself before we fell back into our usual rapport, him behaving as I expected Greg Archer to when I started nosing around his cases. 

“One of these days I’m going to find out how you keep learning about this shit before anyone else,” he said. “Simmons isn’t even here to tip you off.” 

I snorted. 

“Do you really think Ryan is the only person in your department who talks to me?” I asked. “And do you honestly think he’d tip me off to anything like this, anyway?” 

“One of these days I’ll figure it out and you’ll be SOL,” he replied, slowly making his way back toward the crime scene. I followed. 

“And then you’ll just have to deal with a reporter you don’t like as much as me,” I shrugged. “So the joke will really be on you.” 

“You’re insufferable,” he shook his head. 

“I learned from the best,” I smirked. It was almost enough to make me forget about what was waiting for us around the next corner. He paused at the mouth of the alley again, looking down at me. 

“I’m serious, Royle,” he said, the teasing edge gone from his voice. “You can just go home. No shame in it. I’ll answer whatever questions you have later.” 

“No,” I shook my head. It didn’t feel right to leave, to abandon this girl. I felt this drive to know her in this way, bear witness to her suffering in a way that was human rather than cooly analytical. She hadn’t gotten to shy away from what was done to her, so neither would I. “I need to be here.” 

“Fine,” he nodded stiffly. “You know the rules. Don’t touch anything, don’t fuck anything up and stay out of the way of my guys.” 

He didn’t wait for a response before he turned on his heel and went to talk to another detective, a newer hire who looked a little green around the gills. I stood up straighter, as though properly aligning my ligaments and bones would make me stronger, and went down the alley. 

It was a little easier, this time, now that I knew what was waiting for me. I approached the body slowly, cautiously, making sure to walk only where it had been set as OK to walk, avoiding the people gathering evidence and investigating the scene. I got as close as allowable, outside of the pool of blood and away from numbers marking evidence placement but near enough that I could see paint on her fingernails and the sparkle of the sequins on her dress. There was a stamp on the back of her left hand, a little green smiley face. It was strange to see it there, grinning out at the world from all the carnage. Like it had somehow been insulated from the violence that lay just inches away, blind to it all. I noted the stamp. 

Her bra and panties were intact, so it was unlikely that she had been sexually assaulted, but I would need to confirm with Archer. I had seen enough bodies in my time to know what an antemortem and postmortem wound looked like. The cuts on her stomach had been made while her heart was beating, of that I was almost certain. Judging by the blood soaking the cement around her, the bleeding was what killed her. I hoped she’d lost consciousness quickly, that perhaps her cut throat — the one that had nearly severed her head from her body — had knocked her out early. 

From this angle, I could see that her face, too, had been hurt. There was a cut on her cheek, one that looked like it had been made by a ring worn during a punch. Her right wrist was at an odd angle, possibly broken. 

As much as I tried to get the full picture of the crime scene, my eyes kept drifting back to her stomach, the open wounds, the perverse shape made with jagged cuts. It takes force to do something like that. Dragging a blade through skin and sinew would be no easy feat, especially if your victim was writhing below your knife. Whoever had done this hated this woman. I found her eyes as I wondered why, but she held no answer for me. 

After a while, I decided I’d seen enough. Archer had already locked down the officers working the scene and no one would talk to me, so I made my way back to the edge of the crime scene and leaned against the unmarked car I suspected was Archer’s, parked just inside the tape. It didn’t take long for him to notice me there, waiting, and he made his way over to me. 

“I suppose you’d like to grill me,” he asked wryly. 

“Something like that,” I replied, looking him up and down. He was tall, tall enough that I had to look up at him even in the boots that added two inches to my 5’7” height, and he looked worn. This job, I knew, was hard on him. His slightly curly, black hair was flecked with gray even though he was only in his late 30s, and in the glow of city at night, his richly tan skin seemed pale somehow. Even his deep, brown eyes looked tired. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “You look like you need a break. Can I buy you breakfast?” 

He looked back to the body for a moment, watching as technicians worked, before looking back to me. 

“Sure,” he nodded. “You’re right, I do need to get the fuck away from here for a bit. I have some things I should settle before I step away…” 

“Take your time,” I waved him off. “I’ll just meet you at the usual spot? I’ll grab a booth.” 

He just nodded and I watched him walk back to the crime scene before I said my goodbyes to Grey, went back to my car, and drove into the night. 

[morttodea]

💫 a late night text.!

(The Cycle bearers) Rugbug DM to Cara Sol Fogmate(Sun): RB: Hey I know you're trying to sleep rn, so sorry for making your phone ping out of nowhere- RB: But the walkthrough the city made me think we should maybe do some roof-top running while the summer is still with us you know? RB: Maybe I can set up a cache for you to find and I'll tag along to tell ya if it's hot or cold~ ^<^ RB: Anyhow tell me what you think! Buona notte!~ --------- (Little teeny apartments) Bub0nicBlatt0dea DM to 🌻: BB: Sunny? I'm not sure if you're going to see this any time soon but it still feels nice to put something down. BB: I was out and about in jabberwock's forest and I found some mushrooms that's in season this time of year! BB: They are perfect if you need some light in your home or need a quick boost of energy.~ I know some apothecaries that might sell these in powder form or you can pick em yourself!

BB: Here's the stores and the location! [corrods to stores and foraging area] Don't get the ones that are red with pink dots and no gills, those aren't fun to eat- it'll give u the squirts! [IMG: A stout but wide mushroom that has a soft pink hue, the cap is speckled with red dots on the top. there are floating spores around it that seems to drift off from bright pink to dull red. And a pick of the gills to show, this is where the glow is the brightest, it's almost white. and the bad one in question which is the opposite of the first one!]

[leafiebeanie]

sooooo, in lieu of the kny x oishii milk collab that's happening now, seeing kyo posing with the familiar packaging sparked a milky memory from a few years back ( ´ ▿ ` )

leafie's story time under the cut 🤭🤭

i was visiting jpn for the first time near the end of winter and the early beginnings of spring 2018 (so around late jan to early feb), and i've heard good things about japanese milk right

so first thing i did after landing in japan and checking into the hotel, i went to buy some milk from the konbini—first one i went to was family mart.

i got the oishii brand milk (true to its name, it's super tasty and i miss it every time i want to drink milk)

and you'd think that i would drink it immediately after buying it bc i was so excited to try it—but i had the brightest idea of drinking it after i took a shower. yknow, like how i saw them do in some animes (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

so i popped the milk in the fridge and went to take a hot bath

now, i'm a very forgetful person, and if it's out of sight, it's literally out of my mind (⇀ ↼‶) truly gone like my mans who left to buy milk from the milkstore and never came back jkjk

after my shower, i decided to look up places to go the next day and started making some plans with my family. then i went to sleep bc the eight hour flight had me tuckered out—man, it was lights out as soon as my head hit the pillow xDDDDD

i had a great night of sleep, all while my milk sat forgotten in the fridge 😅😅

and so you might think, okay well, surely you drank it when you remembered it the next day after another hot shower, right?

no

we had to check out of the hotel the next morning bc the actual hotel we were gonna stay at was further from the airport and closer to town

my milk was left behind in the fridge, unopened and forgotten 🥲🥲 (sometimes i wonder if the hotel staff found my milk and drank it themselves, but i doubt they would—bc common sense tells you it's extremely dumb and reckless to be drinking something that someone else left behind even though it looks like it's never been opened, bc there's always a chance that it's been tampered with)

anyway, sentiments for my forgotten milk aside, of course i have brilliant memory and remembered it only after we had checked out of the hotel and were halfway on the train to the next hotel (눈_눈)

i cursed myself for letting my milk slip away from me—but no matter, i can always get more today, or so i thought

so, when my parents were busy checking us into the second hotel, i went off to get another oishii milk packet from another konbini—this time i went to lawsons

and this time, i was determined to remember to drink it, but i was also stubborn and still wanted to drink it after i took a hot bath

obviously, i could've just bought two so i could just drink one now, and then the other after my bath later, right?

no

leafie is dumb and stubborn (not a great combi, let's be honest), so please keep that in mind as you enjoy the rest of this silly memory xD

and it was around noon, i think? or early afternoon when we got our rooms—and it was the perfect time for exploring town, so i tossed the milk into the fridge and left to akiba

believe it or not, all the excitement i had for the milk was gone bc i was busy being even more excited (ง ื▿ ื)ว about getting to explore akiba and harajuku (but regrettably, i was travelling with family, so i could only glance at the entire troves of bl mangas and doujins longingly for a whole 1.5 seconds bc it would be suspicious if i stared too long (ノ_<。)ヾ(´▽` )

but i digress, anyway—the sun sets so early in japan, like woah, it got dark so soon and most of the restaurants were closed when we were finally to eat (and while i am a foodie at heart, i somehow don't get hungry at all while i'm travelling ( ´ ▿ ` )), so we just grabbed a quick bento from the konbini and passed out on our beds soon after we got back to the hotel

side note: the orange juice from family mart is so so so so so so fresh and good omg, i miss it almost as much as i miss the milk tbh

so day 2 passed just like that, with a day well spent and feet well walked, and wallet slightly lighter than when i left the hotel that day (my coin purse grew heavier though, as i collected the loose change from breaking 1000 yen bills)

then come day 3—i was going to be in japan for slightly over a week, 9 days; so you might think, oh c'mon leafie, surely that's plenty of days for you to drink your goddamn milk!

again, no

day 3 was harajuku day, and boy was it raining when we got there

wearing two fuzzy jackets and two shirts were, understandably, quite a lot of layers when you're gonna be walking around a lot, plus the humidity from the rain and my tendency to sweat buckets—you can imagine that i looked like a wet rat that had just crawled out from the sewers x'DDD

my bangs were plastered across my forehead, i looked like a mess, and i wasn't used to the weather (i live in a tropical country where its either sun or rain xD), sweaty inside but cold outside :(((

but then it snowed a little at night!! though it wasn't like big big snowfall where you had fluffy snow everywhere, it was my first snow!! and it was fun just watching little ❄️ snowflakes ❄️ drifting down from the skies under the dim streetlamp

i'm sure you can already guess—i was too engrossed with the snow to remember my milk, all alone in the fridge

but i went to bed happy that night ☺️☺️

and then day 4 was... well, we don't talk about day 4, my family had a little argument bc some wanted to go back to harajuku for more shopping and some wanted to see new places

in the end, we went to the aquariums to see the fishies! took a few pics with the uhhh, bug looking creature that lives at the bottom of the ocean

it's a bit unsettling, but it was cute nonetheless

i sort of wish that i bought the stuffed toy version from the gift store tbh—i got a seal instead

this is starting to be more about the trip than the story about me forgetting my milk, so let's reel it back in and skip to day 9, the final day of my trip

note that i STILL haven't drank my milk despite having had 8 other days to do so 🤦🤦🤦

the return flight was in the evening, but we had to check out of the hotel at noon, so basically we spent the rest of the day at haneda airport

i had just reached the airport when i realised that yet again!!! i had forgotten my milk, left it in the fridge of the hotel and then checked out _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):_

knowing that this was really my final chance to taste the milk, i ran to the konbini and bought the milk for the third time now, and this time! this time!!! i drank it straight away

andit was so good!!! so tasty, ive never had a milk so good before in my life—really made me regret not drinking it earlier—i could've had one for each day i was there!!!!! but nooooo, i just had to be stubborn and forgetful hahahahhahaha (눈_눈)

and that's the end of my little milky story

so guys, if you want to drink the milk, just do it! (b ᵔ▽ᵔ)b

don't be me and say that it has to be done in the perfect manner bc you will miss that opportunity xD or almost miss it, really