#the urge and spark to write come from the weirdest places

[wilderwestqueen]

My ex-housemates came back to do the washing up they’d left and to get more of the stuff that they have here, the girl-that-i-definitely-don’t-have-a-crush-on, and her fiance.  

I tell her that the sunburn was so bad that I couldn’t walk and she flips straight into concerned-mother-mode, and promises to come back with moisteriser + aloe vera. I laughed, I mean, I’m fine? My legs just don’t work. That’s fine. Then she goes downstairs, and I bum-shuffle down after her, like the lost little puppy I always am when she’s around.

Downstairs, she and her fiance start washing up, and I hobble onto the sofa. We start talking about our housemate ______, who is an ASSHOLE, and we’re only free to bitch about him when he’s not there, which we always do because he’s an ASSHOLE. He’d thrown a hissy-fit earlier and left a passive aggressive facebook message that someone had left a bottle open in the fridge and it had dripped all over his food, and we laughed, because he’d done that to us a thousand times over the year, only worse - like with the unwrapped raw meat he’d left in there last week.

My housemates start packing up. They wonder if they should take something or leave it.

“Take it,” I say, “Then _____ can’t use it.”  

They laugh, and keep packing. “We’re missing loads of cutlery,” one of them says.

“You know it’s in his room,” I say. “You should go into his room and take back all of his shit that he’s stolen.”

“You’re taking no prisoners today,” she says.

“I’ve been stuck in bed all day,” I say. “My legs don’t work. I’m full of SPITE. I wanna cause MISCHIEF. And I’m gonna hobble crab crawl into his room and take all of the shit that’s rightfully ours. And you’re coming with me.”

“Fine,” she says, folding up the tea towel and putting it down. “But only because your legs don’t work. You first.” 

I grin, and hobble crab crawl out into the hallway. It hurts like sin to put my full weight on my feet, but at this point, I don’t care, because I am Gregg from Night in the Woods and I’m ready to do some CRIMES. Or at least, I’m ready to fix some crimes.

“Are you sure he’s not here?” she says behind me. 

“I’m sure,” I say, but I listen at the door carefully. Nothing.

I bang my fist against it.

“What would you do if he answered?” my housemate’s fiance calls from the kitchen, amused.

“We would die,” I say. “We’ve been doing nothing but talk shit about him from the past ten minutes.”

“If he comes back, he’s going to kill you,” my housemate remarks, still crouched behind me.

I’m gripping onto the banister, crouched like a crab, ignoring the pain in my legs. “Be my lookout, then.”

I open his door, and for a moment I freak out, because all of his lights are on. But no, he’s not there. He’s just left all of his lights on, because he’s an ASSHOLE. 

His room is like a cesspit of dirt, marijuana and music paraphernalia. I’m struck, as I always am when I enter his room, that only an ASSHOLE would have a room like this. Of course, my room is just as messy, just without the marijuana and music paraphernalia (because I’m only half an ASSHOLE).

Littered all over the room, as always, there are a dozen cups, and plates and bowls that definitely don’t belong to him and are caked with suspiciously old food. 

“See anything?”

“Any of this yours?” I say.

We switch places. I go back and stand by the door, watching for cars. 

“None of this is mine,” she says, and then-- “WAIT.” 

Her shoulders square, and sudden fury passes across her face. Previously reluctant, she is now determined as she storms in and takes a glass up off the shelf, a tall pint glass with about a year’s worth of grime on it.

“This was a engagement gift,” she says, crossly. 

Someone passes by the door. It’s not him, but we slam his door shut and run back to the kitchen anyway. I fling myself back on the sofa, sighing as the pain in my legs fades.

“Are you sure you still want that?” My housemate’s fiance points at the glass.

“It was an engagement gift,” she says, even more cross than before. “He shouldn’t have taken it.”

“It’s a nice glass,” he concedes, and after a scrub to get rid of the year’s worth of ASSHOLE grime, it joins all of their other stuff. “Anyway, I like to think of messing with him like that. Like, he’ll know something’s gone missing, but he won’t know what. I like to think of his eye twiching as he tries to work out what’s missing.”

“He won’t know it’s gone,” she says.

“He will,” he says, something of a glint in his eye. “One of his dirt totem poles will be missing, and he’ll know something’s up. He knows when any little thing has gone missing in his room.”

“Oh shit.” I’m grinning now. “It’s like we’ve stolen the golden pieces of Cortez. We’re gonna get turned into skeletons.”

My housemate rolls her eyes.

“We should go in and move all of his stuff just an inch to the left,” the fiance says.

“Yes,” I crow, slamming my hands down onto the sofa. “Yes! Mischief!”

My housemate grins. “You’re being a little shit today.”

It’s the highest compliment she could give me.

“My legs don’t work,” I say again, this time with a smile. “I’ve been in bed all day. I want to do mischief!”

Eventually, they leave - “we have to go back before it’s too late. I don’t want to disturb the neighbours,” she says, because she’s a middle-aged 23 year old.  

She kisses me on the forehead, and I don’t care what grey-faced, anonymous reviewers on fanfic websites say or that her fiance was hanging about in the hallway, it felt romantic. 

“Be back tomorrow,” she says. “Love you.”

“Come on!” her fiance says from the hallway.

She hurries after him. “I missed her,” she says, quietly, but I hear it anyway.

In that moment, I don’t care that my legs are burning and I can’t walk on them. I’m smiling.

[fangirlxwritesx67]

May Be Home, Chapter 14 Word count this chapter: 1300 Catch up here: Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4.Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7.  Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10. Chapter 11. Chapter 12. Chapter 13. 

Characters: au rockstar!Dean Winchester x OFC Sasha. Song: Sounds of Someday, Radio Company Music

Tags: 18+, sex, smut, lots and lots of m/f sex in different ways (fingering, oral, penetrative) in different places (bed, table, car, shower), no condoms ever, enthusiastic consent, Daddy kink, language, lots of alcohol, sexy eating, etc

Sasha woke up slowly. Her heart had an unfamiliar lightness. Warm, strong arms were wrapped around her. She remembered that she was with Dean. Her eyes slowly fluttered open to see him grinning down at her. She smiled and reached up one hand to stroke his stubbled jaw, as he lowered his lips for a kiss.

“Having some good dreams there, baby girl?” He drawled. Sasha felt herself blush, even though she wasn't sure what he meant. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, you kept moaning my name with your pretty mouth, you know.” Sasha suddenly remembered she had been dreaming about Dean. 

“I had the weirdest dream. It was like this, but not. Rowena was calling my phone, telling me to come back, that I was the only girl who could satisfy Big Daddy Dean Winchester.” Dean laughed, then, that magical open-mouth laugh that shook his whole body. He looked down at Sasha. 

“Well,” he said, “Why don’t you come here, baby girl, and show me exactly how you satisfy Daddy.”

She launched herself into his arms. “Oh, yeah,” she sighed into his ear. “Fuck me good, Daddy.” Dean rolled her back onto the bed, rising above her on strong arms. “You wake up wanting me? I’ll do my best.” 

Sasha answered by shimmying under him. Dean thrust his hips a few times, sliding up between her thighs. She sighed and rolled her legs open. He didn’t need any more of an invitation. 

He ran one hand over and down her body. "Such a pretty little thing. And you're mine, all mine." 

Sasha hummed happily and pressed up against him. "All yours," she murmured. 

Dean sank into her greedily, in and out. Sasha rocked underneath him, urging him deeper. She swiveled her hips from side to side as he slowly buried himself in her warm depths. She bit her lip to choke back a moan. 

“God, baby,” he panted, dragging back out and then thrusting all the way in. “You’re so pretty, the way you look when you’re taking my cock.” 

"Daddy,” she whined.

Dean pounded into Sasha. There was no one who filled her like this, who fucked her so well. She was wide open under him, giving as much as she was taking. He set a hard pace, relentlessly pushing Sasha with his body. His knees straddled hers like they had been meant to fit together, holding her down even as he pushed her up higher and higher.

She was eager for him, short, mewling cries falling from her lips. 

“Damn, baby girl," he murmured. “I wish you could see how you look when you’re about to come, that pretty mouth of yours open and making all those filthy noises.” 

Sasha shook her head but she was helpless under his steady attention. Finally, she felt herself let go, clamping around him as she came.

Dean sucked in a deep inhale and then let it back out in a series of short hard breaths. The rhythm of his hips slowed as he dragged out one more time before he released inside Sasha. He couldn’t form words, just a throaty moan.  Afterward, they lay back on the bed. Dean’s hand nudged into Sasha’s and their fingers laced together.

“Hey, Sasha,” he spoke eventually, his tone low and easy. “I think it’s coffee time. There is a cafe just around the block from here that has the best cinnamon rolls." Sasha giggled. “Ok, yeah, keep talking dirty to me.”

Sasha had packed the red sweater dress from Jody’s boutique, and she layered it over tights. As she slipped on her favorite low boots, she caught Dean eyeing her appreciatively. She cocked one hip. “Like what you see?” Dean nodded and took her hand. “I do. But wait until you try these cinnamon rolls.” Sasha couldn’t help but laugh. 

At the cafe, Dean over-ordered, as usual. He got the cinnamon rolls, a scrambled egg skillet with avocado and mushrooms, a hashbrown casserole with peppers and onions and ham, a stack of pancakes, and a side of candied maple bacon. 

The cinnamon rolls were amazing, and so was everything else. Dean happily shared bite after bite with Sasha. She knew how important food was to him, and he was nothing if not generous. 

Finally, Sasha asked a question that had been nagging her. 

"Sam said you couldn't write any music. Don't you need to put out another album?"

Dean sighed and nuzzled into Sasha's shoulder. 

"Oh, I could write, sweetheart, but I could only write love songs, mostly about my broken heart."

Sasha giggled, a low indulgent sound. "Dean Winchester: the Heartbreak Tour?" she asked lightly.

Dean scoffed. "No. Now that I have you back, I'm sure I'll have a whole new inspiration for songwriting."

When they had finished far too much coffee and lingered for far too long, he pulled her to her feet. “Come on, sweetheart,” he said, “I have someplace to show you.” 

They walked for a couple of blocks and then turned a corner. The river ran before them, open and deep. Sunlight sparkled on the water.

"When I thought about you, Sasha, when I missed you so much," Dean gestured to the water. "I came here and watched the river run. It felt like the only place that I could breathe, the only place that I could write.”

He led her to a bench, sat down and pulled her in close. They were quickly wrapped in one another’s arms, kissing deeply.

But there was one more thing Sasha needed to know. “Dean,” she murmured. “Were you writing songs for me? Love songs?”

Dean answered her wordlessly at first, with the press of his full mouth on hers, his tongue warm and seeking, sucking on her bottom lip. He answered her pulling her into his strong embrace.

“Yeah, Sasha,” he finally spoke. “I wrote you love songs.” He sat back, cocking an eyebrow, waiting for her response.

“Dean,” she began, her heart in her throat. "There's always been something about you for me, about the way your songs make me feel."

He smiled and then placed a gentle finger on her lips. He enjoyed her praise but had so much more to say. 

"Let me." Dean looked down, and then back at Sasha. His green eyes were bright, his face wide open.

"The moment I laid eyes on you, I could see there was something special about you. You just have this spark. So sure of yourself, and exactly what I needed, all at the same time. You didn't seem interested in 'Dean Winchester, the star.' You saw me, just me.”

Dean was looking at Sasha with so much longing, her heart hurt. She swallowed past the lump in her throat before she could speak.

"There’s always been something about you. From the first moment I heard you sing, your voice has called to me. All I ever wanted was to know you, to be near you. Nothing in the world means so much to me as you. I love you, Dean."

Sasha pressed her fingers to her mouth, but it was too late. Her words hung in the air. 

Dean chuckled softly and shook his head. 

"I love you, too, Sasha. I didn’t know it until I thought I had lost you, but I do. And I’ll never let you go again.”

He pulled Sasha to him, wrapping her in his arms as he kissed her. She sighed happily against his mouth. This was where she felt safe and whole. With Dean, her heart had come home.

Sasha nuzzled closer, slipping her hands inside Dean's jacket. “Dean,” she murmured. “I’m cold.”

He cupped her hands in his. “Oh, baby, you’re freezing! Come on, I know what will warm you up.” 

... Chapter 15 - the end. Thanks to everyone who has stuck it out with these two adorable idiots. Especially my beta @thoughtslikeaminefield​. ....

SPN First Last and Always: @dawnie1988 @deanwanddamons @divadinag @flamencodiva @fookinghelljensensthighs @idreamofplaid @maddiepants@magssteenkamp @onethirstyunicorn   @the-chocolate-moose  @there-must-be-a-lock @tloveswriting

Dean Curious: @adoptdontshoppets @awesomesusiebstuff @deangirl7695 @deans-baby-momma  @mrsjenniferwinchester @stoneyggirl@supersassyprobablysad @wayward-gypsy

[lokis-lady-death]

Interview with a God Pt 11

Tom Hiddleston/Loki x reader

Prompt: I have always heard  people joke that Tom Hiddleston is actually Loki playing Tom playing Loki. So, let’s write about it XD

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7, Part 8 , Part 9, Part 10

Interview with a God Part 11

Your nerves were on edge during the entire meeting. You tried your damnedest to keep from thinking his name, knowing that if you summoned him right now he would cause some sort of scene.

You tried to only focus on Tom Hiddleston, the celebrity. Not Loki, the god of mischief.

But every time you looked up you saw Elliot watching you, chewing on his cheek while he lost himself in his own thoughts.

Without looking away, he cleared his voice to get everyone’s attention. “I would like to make one last suggestion before we close this down.”

“What?” Mrs. Lynn urged, “It’s perfect, everything’s lined up perfectly. What could you possibly want to change?”

“Not change. Add.” Elliot reached into his briefcase and removed the Star magazine that captured your infamous kiss with Tom Hiddleston on your date a few days ago.

You narrowed your eyes at Elliot, but kept your tone respectful as you clarrified, “You want to add another magazine’s content to my work, Mr. Stringer?”

“Just address the elephant in the room,” he sold the idea, painting it as a mixed love story. “It doesn’t have to be anything risque to get attention, but I think ignoring the obvious story of Tom Hiddleston having a relationship with a writer from our magazine is the wrong move. Obviously you can see the opportunity.”

“No one else was able to come up with a story on the two of them other than y/n is a writer for us,” Mrs. Lynn had to admit. Your jaw dropped.

“Are you actually considering this? We're not some gossip column!” you asked, feeling your chest tighten. You thought that Elliot was supposed to leave your story alone? Hadn’t Loki influenced him to keep the article intact?

Your eye caught the clock on the wall. Ten til noon. “Shit,” you gasped, “It’s almost lunch time, I have to go.”

“Lunch with Hiddleston again?” Elliot sneered. You cut your eyes at him, the two of you trying to understand the other’s motives. “Go on, I’d hate to see what he’d do if you were late.”

You bit your lip and grabbed your things. “I’ll be back after lunch, don’t make any decisions without me. Please.” Aggravated and defeated, you left.

Downstairs, you saw Tom standing beside his usual escalade,  but you were surprised to see a black Audi behind it. You could tell by Tom’s less than thrilled expression that something was amiss. You were about to ask him what was wrong when you heard, “Y/n!” from behind the Audi.

Chris Hemsworth came around to you with his iconic toothy grin and the concern on Tom’s face became apparent.

“Hi, Mr. Hemsworth, “ you said, doing your best to maintain a professional tone. “I see you caught up with Mr. Hiddleston.” You smiled at Tom, hoping he would relax but it did nothing.

Instead, he told you, “Chris will be… joining us for lunch.”

“Oh.” You tried to keep the smile up, stepping towards Tom. “Excellent. So where are we going?”

“I was thinking Asian. That place on Hillcrest? It’s only a few minutes down the road.” Chris said as he unexpectedly opened his passenger car door. “And I thought we could ride together.”

Tom cut a look at Chris that told you they hadn’t previously discussed this idea. You kept smiling, feeling a little on edge but still sure everything was alright. “Okay, it makes more sense to take one car…”

“No. You and I will ride together. Tom will take his car.”

You didn’t mean to, it was a reflex really, but you looked to Tom for confirmation. His jaw was clenched but he nodded. “I’ll meet you there, don’t worry.” He took your hand and pulled you to him, planting a kiss on your cheek. He quickly whispered, “I promise he means no harm.”

You met his eyes before turning back to Chris. “Alright,” you said, halfway trying to normalize the situation that you were sure went above your head. “Let’s get going, I’m ready to eat!” You slid into the passenger seat feeling your chest tighten.  

Chris met your enthusiasm, “Atta girl, let’s get out’a here.” He shut your door and passed one last glance to Tom. “Don’t worry, brother. She will be returned to you in the same condition in which I borrowed her.”

“This isn’t a joke,” Tom snapped. “Whatever you’re playing at…”

“I’m the guardian of the people of this realm,” Chris cut him off as he slipped on a pair of sunglasses. “I’m not playing. I’m guarding. We’ll see you in a minute.” And got into the driver’s seat.

You could see Tom’s aggravation as he got into his own car, but was brought back to your situation when Chris closed his door. “So, what do you think about cars?” Offering only a nervous laugh and shrug, you had to admit nothing. “I like cars,” he went on. “They’re simple. In the most general sense, every car runs the same. Works the same. Nothing complicated. But people,” he let out a short scoff. “People are complicated.” His eyes went over to you, sparking and making you turn away to stare at the road. “Tom, in particular, is complicated.”

There was an awkward silence before you agreed, “Yes, but I think that’s something to appreciate about him. Most people nowadays are so two dimensional, while Tom just… passes every plane in existence. It seems like I’m learning something new about him every day.”

“Hmmm... “ Chris seemed to be considering your words. “That’s actually what I wanted to speak to you about, Ms. y/n.” He sped up.

Passing a quick glance at Chris, you tried to hide the concern in your tone when you pointed out, “That was… Hillcrest Avenue.”

“We’re taking the scenic route,” he assured you with a  sideways grin. “Now, tell me what you know about Tom?”

“He’s an actor, on stage and on screen, he’s a philanthropist, he’s an activist….” But you knew by the look on Chris’s face that he was looking for more. Your heart began to pound, an uncomfortable feeling pulling at you. “He.... appreciates good art. Loves literature with a passion.” Still the same solomon look. Tom had not told you what to do in this situation. What was the right answer?

“What else?”

“I’m not sure what you what me to say?” you admitted.

Chris sped the car up a little more and you felt yourself grab hold of the seat beneath you. “I think you know exactly what I want you to say.”

“I don’t…” It felt like the car was going faster, flying through green light after green light. “Mr. Hemsworth, you need to slow down.”

“Are you telling me what to do?” Chris’s voice wasn’t threatening but it held that same hint of a warning that Tom’s did. The realization that you had never expected Tom to react the way he did to certain situations made you suddenly extremely aware that Chris being Thor meant just as much as Tom being Loki. That behind the fun loving family man and a-list actor was a god that demanded fear and respect.

The god of thunder.

“No,” you answered simply, choosing to close your eyes instead. Your heart was beating harder and harder in your chest, but you tried not to look scared.

“Let’s try this a different way,” Chris finally said, slamming his breaks at a stop sign before turning his body to look at you. “Y/n. Tell me exactly what you know about Loki.”

You would have cursed if you hadn’t already began word vomiting, “Tom Hiddleston is really Loki, he is really an Asgardian, a Norse god, he hides here as a person, I don’t really know why, but I know Loki was sent here by his father because he thinks he had something to do with his mother’s death, but I don’t really know anything else about that either. Oh, and he can do this thing called influence and hearing prayers, which is probably the weirdest power I have ever heard of…”

“Quiet, okay, you can stop, I think I’ve heard enough.” He thought for a moment, saying to himself, “He called Frigga mother, hmm?” You saw a hint of a smile on his face. “She would have liked that.”   

You gasped, feeling like the air had been sucked out of your very lungs. “What the fuck?” you yelled before you realized what you said. Your hand slapped over your mouth. What had you just told Chris?

He look at you out of the corner of his eye. “You’re alright, y/n. You’re not in any trouble. Though I can see that he never instructed you to keep that information to yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

Chris’s eyes cut at you again, before deciding to answer, “If he had told you not to tell anyone who he was, then you would most likely be in pain. Breaking the word of a god is not a wise thing to do.” Turning onto another road, he asked, “And what do you know about me?” You hesitated until he added, “Or I can just make you?”

Swallowing hard, your eyes finally going towards him to gage his reaction. “You’re Thor. Norse god of thunder.”

“What do you know about Asgard?”

“Nothing?”

“Y/n?” He pressed, sure you wouldn’t be foolish enough to try his patience twice.

“Nothing outside of your movies, I swear. I rarely speak to him as Loki and Tom isn’t exactly chatty about the whole situation.”

He let out a calm breath. “Good. I hope you don't misunderstand. I care deeply for Tom. I think very highly of him. But…” he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders in a way that you could tell he meant to he his answer. What he meant was he didn't trust Loki. “Now, Tom told me you were attacked.”

“Yes. I don’t know who it was. All I remember was…”

“Loki killing you?”

You hung your head, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “Yes.”

“One last thing then,” Chris assured as he turned onto Hillcrest. “Did Tom ask you before making you his oracle?”

“Oracle?”

Cursing under his breath, he asked instead, “Did Tom ask you to give yourself to him?”

Your brow furrowed and your curiosity squashed any fear you had. “Yes? Why?”

“It means you subsequently became his oracle.” You could see him roll his eyes as he let out a short scoff. “Do you even know what an oracle is?”

“No…? Well I mean, I know that they talk to gods, right? In old mythologies they were like priests and priestesses?”

“That’s sort of right.” The car came to a stop and Chris finally turned to face you. “An oracle is important to a god for a number of reasons. One is that they anchor them to this realm, meaning, if they were in another realm, they could track their oracle. Another is that they keep a god’s secrets and interests.” His eyes scanned you up and down while he flashed a half cocked smile. “And sometimes, very specific… intimate duties…” It felt like being struck by thunder when Chris’s hand came over your thigh, giving you an ever so slight squeeze. “Definitely the most common use of an oracle is for pleasure.”

“Come again?” you retorted as you felt the heat rise in your face.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Chris told you, his hand running ever so slightly up your skirt. “Surely you’ve heard myths about god’s taking up the beds of mortals? This isn’t new. Why, even having a harem is considered normal...”

Without even thinking, purly on reflex, you removed Chris’s hand from your lap. “I assure you, I wouldn’t have agreed to such a position with Loki. If he asked me to be his, it must have been a mistake because he never once mentioned anything about being his oracle. And he certainly doesn’t tell me any secrets.”

“Then let’s ask him now.” Just as he said that, you heard a knock on the glass. You squealed and saw Tom as he reached to open your door.

“I have been waiting for nearly ten minutes on you to drive three minutes down the road,” he snapped over you at Chris.

You and Chris both left the car, standing on the sidewalk with Tom who looked less than pleased. “You know she is on a schedule,” he told Chris, who offered little more than a shrug.

“I believe y/n actually has a question for you, brother.”

Loki’s lip twitched hearing the word as he looked from Chris to you. “I…”

“Go ahead,” Chris urged, crossing his arms and smiling. “Ask.”

“Am I your oracle?” you felt slip from your lips.

Tom’s face went white as his eyes widened. “He told you?”

Your eyes narrowed and you asked, “I’m your oracle? Just some part of a harem, then?” Before you could stop it, your hand came up and you slapped Tom across his face. Locking eyes with Chris, who inhaled sharply and covered his mouth- to hide a laugh or grimace you weren’t sure.

You slapped the god of mischief across the face.  

What had you done?

Tom took a deep breath before looking down at you. “Darling, what did you just say? Harem?” You didn’t answer, frozen in utter terror at yourself. He turned to Chris. “A harem, Hemsworth? You told her it meant harem? I should call Elsa and tell her you’re telling people she’s a part of your harem!”

“Oh, it was just a bit of fun,” Chris laughed, bringing his hand down on your shoulder to lightly shake you back into reality before walking ahead. “Come, I’m starving!”

“I’m confused,” you had to admit as Tom reached down to take your hand. “Then what exactly does it mean if I’m your oracle?”

Letting out a soft sigh, Tom let his thumb rub circles over the palm of your hand. “There’s a lot of different things it can mean,” he half-heartedly explained. His eyes looked up to yours, that flash of green always present under the surface to remind you who you were dealing with. “But I assure you, it’s not that you’re a part of a harem.”

It didn’t feel like a full answer but you didn’t press anymore. You had enough to think on.

*****

Mrs. Lynn had dismissed the meeting until after lunch time, realizing she herself had a lunch date with one of the magazine’s investors. She headed out, followed by the photographer. But Elliot stayed behind, looking out at the papers in front of him.

“Everything just keeps going,” he mumbled to himself, his hand fumbling through the Star magazine with your picture with Tom. “Everyone thinks he’s just another famous face… They don’t know that he could kill us all if he wanted...”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he heard at the doorway. A woman dressed in all black slipped into the council room, closing the door behind her.

Elliot’s hands came up to his head, shielding his ears. “No,” he growled. “No, Hella, please, go away... I have nothing left to tell you!”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you anymore, sweet one.” She moved beside him, running her fingers back over his hair, getting pulling to make him look up at her. “But I do need a date tomorrow night.”

Part 12 is UP!

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