#but it’s too dark out and I’m too far from the windo

[jewishbarbies]

finally in bed for the night and it’s raining phat drops rn

[ehlnofay]

They find the inn on the afternoon of the fourth day.

It’s Martin who spots it during one of the long silent stretches of walking through the forest. “Look!” he says, pointing at the flash of pale wood wall through the trees, and then, squinting, “I think it’s a traveller’s inn!”

Pax slides their thumb under the strap of their bow-bag and looks in the direction he’s pointing. It is an inn, though a small one; just one floor, it looks like, and not big enough for many rooms, but there’s a signpost just in front of it painted in bright colours and it looks welcoming enough. Better than sleeping on the ground for the fourth time – and it should have food. Pax’s failed attempt at butchery left them with little to eat and no means of getting more. But there should be enough at an inn to restock their packs for a few days at least.

If they have the money for it, anyway. Pax spent a lot of her coin on the way to Kvatch, same as she ate most of her food, because she expected to be able to replenish that resource when she arrived. And Martin of course has no cash and nothing worth bartering. But it’s probably no matter – she’s got her nice jewellery if they’re really in a pinch, and she’s sure she’d be able to grab some things without paying, anyway.

Martin’s clearly thinking similarly – about the food, not necessarily the stealing. “It would be nice to have a hot meal.” He adjusts the strap of his feather-light bag and adds, “And a bed.”

“We would’ve come across an inn sooner if we’d stayed on the road,” Pax points out.

Martin’s eyebrows scrunch together. “Going off the road was your idea, Pax.”

“Yeah, for your sake.” They’re at a side wall of the inn now, a small window hanging above their heads just a bit too high to see through. They round the corner to the front door, marked by the vividly decorated sign. (Wanderer’s Rest, it reads, in sloppy white lettering.) “’Sides, I didn’t say it was a bad thing, just a fact.”

Martin huffs – he does a lot of huffing and sighing and acting irritated (Pax seems to provoke that reaction in a lot of people) – and turns the doorknob.

The door doesn’t budge.

Martin squints. He raps hard on the wooden boards. Nothing.

Ah, shit.

Pax groans and drops his pack on the floor. There’s another little high-up window just over the doorframe, tauntingly out of reach; he pushes Martin out of the way, ignoring his indignant cry, and jumps up to grip the top of the lintel with his fingertips. He manages to bring his leg up so he’s got one foot on the doorknob, and then he stands – the little handle groaning under his weight – to peer through the window.

The room inside is dark and empty, because of course it is.

“Fuck,” Pax gripes, and jumps with a dusty thud on the ramshackle porch. She dusts off her hands on her breeches. “Empty. I knew there was an exodus from County Kvatch but I didn’t know it stretched this far.”

Martin’s holding his little bag to his dark-robed chest. “You think the owners must have fled.”

“If you’ve got a better explanation, I’m all ears,” Pax shoots back.

“For the love of Akatosh, I wasn’t arguing with you! Would you please stop picking fights all the time!” Pax looks away; Martin sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Let’s just keep going.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Pax says (before it occurs to them that this might also count as picking a fight.) They dig their sleeve of picks out of their shoe and set to feeling out the lock with the hook pick. It feels simple enough – cheap metal, manoeuvrable pins. Probably easy enough to rake.

Martin stands looming over her as she gets out the snake rake. Not turning to look at his face, she says, “If you get all whiny and preachy about this I’m going to knock you down.”

“You make a lot of assumptions about me,” Martin observes. Pax can’t deny it’s true. She jerks the pick in the lock.

It takes less than a minute for the lock to crack. Pax shoves the door open and hauls her pack through. Silently, Martin follows.

It’s dark inside – not enough windows to be lit up – and a bit dusty. The owners must have been gone a few days at least, maybe a week. But there’s a fireplace, littered with soot, and a bread-oven, and several chairs with cushions and little tables to sit at. At one end of the room, tucked under the high-up windows, there’s a row of pallet beds with straw pillows and wool blankets.

It’s quite nice, really. Small, but. Looks like half the inns Pax used to stay in down the Niben, only drier.

“What did you mean, you went off the road for my sake?” Martin asks. Pax drops their pack and bow-bag on the floor and moves into the area near the hearth. “I would have much preferred to keep to it. I told you as much.”

Pax opens a cabinet and finds a few pots and dishes. Not as much as there should be – whoever left here took a lot of stuff with them. “Harder to track. If we didn’t need to stop at Skingrad for supplies I would’ve had us cut straight through the Reserve.”

“I understand abundance of caution, but is that really necessary?”

Pax snorts. “Says the man the daedra levelled a city to get to.”

She grabs one of the smaller pots – it clanks against a saucepan handle as she pulls it out of the cupboard – and sets to looking for food. There isn’t a lot – seems a bunch of it must’ve been taken as well – and some of what she does find is mouldy, but after a few minutes she’s got a little pile on the counter of stuff that is probably fine to eat. A bag of oats, some turnips, a couple jars of sugar and salt (not sure which is which), a small handful of berries, and one orange that seems alright. She didn’t even look through half the cupboards – hopefully there’ll be plenty to take with them on the way to Skingrad.

“How’s this for a hot meal, Martin Priest?” they say, gesturing at the admittedly paltry fare collected on the tabletop.

Martin does not reply.

Pax turns to look at him. He’s staring blankly at the fireplace as though nothing in the world could possibly intrigue him more than this tiny inn’s cold grate. His face is sickly white.

“Martin?”

He looks at them then, face pinched, almost swaying on his feet. “I hadn’t, ah,” he murmurs, “I hadn’t quite thought of that.”

“Sit down,” Pax tells him. He doesn’t. She grabs a striker and stone from the mantel above the hearth. “Thought of what?”

“They were trying to get to me.” He’s got his bundle clutched tight to his chest like a child with a sewn toy. “I knew that, but I didn’t – I didn’t think –”

“Sit down,” Pax commands, and places a hand on his shoulder, pushing him toward the ground. He goes.

“If they were trying to get to me –”

His voice has gone very funny. “Breathe,” Pax says, but he doesn’t think Martin’s listening.

“ – if they were trying – Pax.”

Pax is so extremely ill-prepared for this.

“It can’t have been to get to me,” Martin’s saying, and he sounds frantic, frightened, like with every word he’s unspooling his intestines and chucking them up on the dusty wooden floor. “It can’t.”

They both know it was.

“You don’t know what it was like,” he says tearfully, because now he’s started he doesn’t seem able to stop. “I prayed all night – I prayed, but nothing came, just more, always banging on the doors, we blocked them off with all the furniture we could find and we could always hear them outside. I couldn’t get everyone to stay. They kept trying to run. You didn’t see it, all razed, the amount of dead –”

“I saw.”

“If the daedra were looking for me, if they did it all to find me –”

His voice breaks and now he’s proper sobbing, crouched by the empty hearth.

Pax does not know what to do in this situation. They stare at him, uncomfortable, for about half a minute as he weeps, face screwed up, nails scraping at the floorboards. Then they stand, shoving the striker and stone into their pocket, and head out the door.

Round the back of the inn, just like they were hoping, there’s a pile of firewood and twigs for kindling and a small pitcher pump with a bucket. The wood is only dewy near the bottom of the pile, and the pump works easily. Pax re-enters the room with a bundle of wood and bucket of water, and as Martin cries they build and light the fire. There’s a rod hanging over the hearth. Pax fills the pot with water and hangs it over the flames.

Martin’s still crying.

Pax passes him her water canteen.

It’s not until the water’s boiled and she’s added the oats that he quiets, taking a long drink from the canteen and then knuckling at his eyes.

“Sorry,” he mumbles tightly. “I didn’t mean to – to have such an outburst. I don’t think I really realised what it meant until now. That they were looking for me.”

Pax stirs the pot, not looking at him. “It’s fine. Happens.” She hears him shifting a bit next to her, his light bag being set on the ground.

“I just. I can’t bear it all being because of me.”

They do look up, then. “It’s not your fault,” they say. “The Emperor, he talked like you were the key to closing the Gates. He saw it coming. Jauffre reckons that the Dragonfires might be the thing. You’re not some kind of death knell, you’re the last bastion.”

Martin is staring at them. “Poetic,” he says, a little teasingly, though his eyes are growing damper again and his voice is choked up.

“I read a lot. Do you want sugar in your porridge?”

Martin, still a bit weepy, looks askance at the pot. “Do you know how to make porridge?”

“Course I know how to make porridge!” Pax snaps, offended. “How useless do you think I am?”

Martin laughs, and even though the sound is brittle and it goes on longer than feels necessary, something in Pax uncoils. They never know how to manage when people are upset. He says, “Sugar would be lovely, thank you.”

[arandompostarchive]

SALEM - Ch. 19

SAVED WORK

Summary: In all the centuries of your existence, you had never been dragged out of hiding by another god, put in a superhero team and forced to save the universe. But it seems your luck has run out.

_____________

***

“I’m not certain what I thought would be up here, but it certainly is not this,”  Thor said, his voice a contrast against the silence of the ship. Loki wanted to leave as soon as possible between the flying, the fighting, and the pissed-off Olympians he was not having fun in the slightest.

The military aesthetic of Moros’ ship was making him beyond uncomfortable. He was used to the cleanliness of the tower, and he could admit that his own rooms had a certain amount of polish to them. But the overwhelming stench of bleach was nauseating.

“It doesn’t much matter. We need to find my brother.” Loki nodded in agreement and turned away from the group to find directions through the ship.

The three of you had landed in a hanger, Loki could tell some of the ships had been taken or used, probably to fight the Avengers below. As much as the group disliked him, he could respect their abilities. And their loyalty to you, although the Captain could be much nicer.

“Here!” He heard your voice echo through the quiet hanger. He silently cringed, hoping no one had been alerted. Once he got over to you, you pointed at a map nailed to the wall. It was in a foreign language, but he translated quickly. “Main Room. That sounds like somewhere he’d be, right?” Loki only nodded and the three of you began moving toward the Main Room, a rather vague name in his opinion.

The halls were long and silent. You were concentrated on finding your brother and you ignored any guards you saw. That left Thor and Loki to deal with them. While the guards Thor fought were probably just unconscious, the guards he fought had a dagger or two sticking out of their side, something the team wouldn’t approve of at all.

Soon, you arrived at a larger, dark door. Once your group entered, Loki heard a deep voice. “Sister.”

“Brother.” He heard you respond.

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

The voice was rough and deep. His words were clearly heard and crisp despite the dark tone to his voice. Then, you began to walk forward. Your hand stayed on your sword, but you didn’t seem afraid as you stepped toward your brother.

“Y/n! No, stay back here he could—” Thor’s hand covered his mouth for a brief second before he let go, assuming Loki wouldn’t speak again.

“Let her. She knows Moros. We’ll stay close to her, keep a close eye on him and everything he does.” Loki nodded, accepting this.

Moros’ voice echoed off the sides of the ship. “Please, get more comfortable.” He saw your magic spread from your eyes. Eye? He was certain you couldn’t see yourself, much less know what you looked like, but your magic was much different without the patch.

Instead of the dark veins simply spreading from your eyes, they had spread throughout your scar, making it look like a black spider’s web was covering half your face. He found it oddly beautiful. Much better than you wearing that ugly white bandage over it.

He got a bit lost in your conversation. You were arguing calmly with your brother, something he couldn’t relate to. Any other time he’d give Thor some sarcastic remark, but for whatever reason, he just didn’t feel like it. He doubted he’d ever feel that way again.

You turned to both of them, mouthing the words ‘stay alert’. Thor seemed a bit confused, so he leaned over to convey the information.

“She said ‘stay alert’. I’ll watch the left side of the room, you watch the right. She has a point, Moros is being too easy going. Too calm. It could be nothing, but I’d rather be wrong and over-cautious than dead.” He said to Thor, doing his best to stay quiet.

“I suppose I am breaking your toys, aren’t I?” Moros said, gesturing out of the window. After meeting you, Loki had researched everything he could about Olympians. As much as he bragged about being a god, which he was, he wasn’t a god by the ‘traditional’ terms.

Asgardians had conquered the Nine Realms, instating peace over them, but they hadn’t created worlds. He had learned about your grandfather, Chaos. He created your mother and her siblings as well as the heavens themselves. Admittedly, you were a fascinating being. A real god, a grandchild of a being who formed the stars themselves. It made him wonder why you’d ever waste time with humans, much less waste time with him.

“You’re better than this, you know. You sit all day with humans. They’ll die before you blink. You’ve got, what? Maybe fifty more years with them? That’s nothing. And then those Asgardians.”

He perked up at that word, preparing himself for the insult to follow.

“Even they die, Sister. Give it 4,000 years. You’ll see. They aren’t gods. Not real gods. They haven’t shaped worlds. They didn’t create the sky, like our ancestors. They don’t control the tides or move the sun. They control wars or love like us. They don’t control magic, like you, Sister. You could defeat that sorcerer of yours. And that brute he calls a brother? He is no Zeus. They’re no gods, Sister. Not like you, not a witch capable of more destruction than I could imagine.”

Moros’ plan was confusing, to say the least. Try to kill you, trap you, then recruit you? He figured this was a last-ditch attempt to avoid a fight. That small fact gave him a bit more confidence. Maybe Moros thought he was outmatched.

Moros was saying something else to you. Loki was very aware that he should probably be paying attention to this, but for some reason he still let his mind wander.

“What did he mean?” Thor asked from beside him.

“What?” Loki asked, not understanding the question.

“He said ‘even they die’. Of course, he’s right, although our deaths are far in Midgard’s future. Did…” Thor seemed hesitant to explain whatever theory he had. “Did he mean that Olympians do not die?” He asked.

Loki hadn’t thought about that. He’d always assumed Olympians and Asgardians shared similar life spans. He always thought his life might be too long. That, maybe, by the time he died, however far off, he might be bored with the world.

For him, Asgard would move normally. Everyone had long lives, there would be nothing out of place if he lived for another 4,000 years. But for you? You’d lived on Earth for most of your life. You’d made friends there, and almost all of them were mortal. You’d have to see Tony and Peter die. He knew you really cared for them, and them for you. You’d even have to see him and Thor die if you could really live forever.

So, he asked the question, praying he was wrong.

“You won’t die?” He knew you could tell he was upset, but he hardly cared about that while he floated about New York City with an angry god in a giant warship. He had a little perspective on his situation.

He saw your slow nod, confirming his suspicions. He could feel his heart sink, mostly in sympathy. You really would get bored with the world. You’d have to watch everything shrink and wither around you. The plants, animals, your friends. He knew it would hurt. What hurt worse was knowing he’d be one of them.

“Not unless someone kills me. We’re much different than Asgardians, though I suppose that was obvious.�� He didn’t respond to you. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure what to say. Were you upset? Happy? Angry? Would him sharing his own emotions make you feel worse? Maybe you didn’t want to talk about it?

He shook the ideas from his head. There would be time later. If there was a later, the dark part of his mind whispered. He’d make sure there was a tomorrow. He had to.

“Look at them. You must enjoy it, the fighting? It’s who you are.” Moros continued talking, droning on about something Loki didn’t care about. He was much more worried over you. You found a way to attach yourself to most things, even if they didn’t want the attachment. Like Steve. He didn’t want anything to do with you for most of the past year, but even through that you did nothing but treat him as an equal team member. If that were Loki, someone would end up with a dagger in their side. Most likely Thor.

“At the very least, don’t stand in my way. Go home, back to Olympus. I’ll even let you take your friends. Zeus would never oppose a daughter of Nyx!” Moros’ odd, jovial tone broke through his thoughts. It took him a second to process the thought, his mind still slightly clouded. But you paused at Moros’ words. To take the team and leave Midgard. He couldn’t believe he saw the gears turning in your head. Like this was a difficult decision.

“She’s considering it. She’s actually considering it.” Loki said under his breath. The revelation was mostly to himself, though he was aware Thor could hear him just fine.

Loki knew that out of the whole team, he’d probably be the only one willing to leave. Each of them put the lives of others before their own, they’d never willingly leave their planet. And he knew you. You’d never take them away from Midgard if they hadn’t chosen to leave themselves.

Then he thought it all over. You loved the team, even the Captain. Y/n was buried here. You would leave this life behind, even if it was mostly fake.

“Y/n, I know you may not like the humans as much as I do,” Thor began. Loki almost rolled his eyes. You weren’t going to do it, there was no danger. “especially after everything they’ve done, but you aren’t thinking of saying yes, are you? There are billions of life forms here, not all of them are the same evil you’ve seen in your life. Please j—”

“Have you ever seen a sunset?”

“What?” Moros said. Loki asked the same question under his breath. He wasn’t sure what you were doing.

“A sunset. Have you ever seen a sunset here?”

Thor looked… concerned. “What is she doing?”

“I have no idea…” As curious as Loki was, you had asked them stay alert. There was no one else in the room. He could hear your voice and Moros’ echoing in the room. Almost everything had been cleared from the space, save for Moros’ chair in front of the window.

“There’s a beautiful sunset in all of their romantic movies, they sit and just watch them constantly. Really. They do nothing but sit and watch the sun fall. There’s all these gorgeous colors, purples and oranges and yellows and pinks.”

Loki smiled at your description. He could remember the day he met you. A lonely girl at the side of the lake, someone he could sense power rolling off of. That was back when you were mortal. A bright orange sun falling in the distance behind a dark forest. You were beautiful. He could see the light against your soft features. At first, you backed away from him, but he remembered how you slowly began to move closer once you knew who he was. He still hoped you hadn’t seen him move closer as well.

“What is she thinking?” Thor said, his face falling. “She’s going to kill us all.” Thor’s faith in you was crumbling quickly. He turned to Loki, hoping he’d provide any sort of answers for him.

“I’ll admit, I am not sure what she’s planning. But she knows him, we do not. Maybe she’s appealing to some buried part of him?” Loki did his best to reason with his brother, seeing you glance back at him and Thor. He wanted to reassure you in some way even though he thought that whatever you were doing was a terrible idea. “Just keep your wits about you. We should let her continue whatever she is doing, but stay prepared for a fight.” Loki hoped there wouldn’t be one, but he also wasn’t sure how you would be able to talk Moros out of it. Considering the giant army attacking anything in sight, Loki didn’t think Moros would give up easily.

“The kid isn’t responding, what’s going on up there?” Loki heard over the com in his ear. He could see you pull yours out of your ear, though he wasn’t certain why. Thor responded before Loki could.

“We’re alright,” Thor began. “Y/n is making an attempt to speak to her brother, though I suspect it will not have the effect she hopes.” Loki nodded, though Tony was unable to see him. Moros had sat back down in his chair, seeming bored with your attempt to talk to him.

He could hear a sigh over the com. “You’re sticking with her, right? Why isn’t she responding?”

Loki answered this time, “We’re here with her. She took her com out, I believe it is broken.” He could see your com on the ground, it seemed damaged, though he wasn’t certain how.

“Be careful. Tell her that too, I’d rather her not die today.” With that, the com cut out. Loki found it funny. Tony likely wouldn’t admit his fondness for you unless it was directly to your face. He could share the sentiment.

“I suppose it was worth an attempt, huh Sister?” Moros stood, dragging his sword with him as he stepped closer to you. You sighed.

“I suppose it was, Brother.”

Moros took the first swing, raising the sword to slam down onto you. You easily dodged, sliding to the side and swiping at Moros’ legs. Loki ran forward, moving to help you before he heard Thor groan beside him. There were several guards behind Thor, a blade had swiped against Thor’s side. From the amount of blood, he believed the sword to be one of the god-killing weapons. Though, by Olympian standards, the Asgardians weren’t gods. If their weapons could kill Olympians with some effort, and easily wound Asgardians, he wondered what it would do to humans.

Thor slew the guard behind him quickly, kicking the small sword that had cut him aside, away from incoming guards. Loki could see several running toward them, rendering him unable to help your fight with Moros, a fight you weren’t liking at all.

Moros was a skilled fighter, as is expected when you control destruction. Which isn’t to put down your fighting skills, you could certainly keep up. Your mother had fought to make you a minor war god because of your fighting ability, something Ares himself supported. You were able to fly with your abilities, though it took energy. You dodged Moros’ swings with flight, doing your best to swing back as much as you could.

You were able to nick the side of his leg as well as cut his neck, though he had managed to make a large cut across your stomach, thankfully it was one that would likely heal within minutes. You were thankful for the small mercies. The fight made you wonder who’s side your mother was on. She wasn’t afraid to pick favorites, especially when most of her children were murderers.

Moros’ broadsword swung down again, slamming into the ground beside you, the metal scratching against the iron of his sword as he pried it out. You took his delay as a chance to stab him through the stomach. His scream echoed across the room, drawing the attention of nearby soldiers. You recognized some of them from your unit on Kalan. Across the way, you saw another person fighting, Moros’ soldiers falling around them. You recognized Mios’ armor from across the room, or at least you recognized the colors of his rank. He smiled at you and nodded and you nodded back, thankful for his assistance. After all of this, you’d be certain to make sure he can do what he actually wants to: make the universe a better place.

In your moment of distraction, Moro slammed the flat side of his blade into your head. You felt yourself slam into a wall on the far side of the room. Everything was fuzzy. It was already hard to see with only one eye, and that certainly wasn’t helping. You did your best to shake off the blur and get back to Moros. You could see someone standing in front of you in a defensive position.

Once you had shaken off Moros’ attack, you could see Loki fighting in your place.

“The so-called god wants to fight? So be it.” Moros swung his sword towards Loki, this time using the blade instead of the flat side. Loki was able to dodge then circle Moros, drawing the attention away from you. You silently thanked him, hoping he’d somehow sense your appreciation.

Thor was holding his own well in the background, slaying and injuring soldiers until they stayed down. He saw another figure helping him from across the room and he offered a small nod, establishing the new person as his ally. Eventually, he had cleared his area of guards. Most of the men seemed to have gone to fight in the city against the rest of the team. The second his last soldier hit the ground, he ran over to the other figure, helping them to take out the rest of the guards around them and any stragglers that came in to attempt to fight them.

“I thank you for your assistance! Who are you exactly?” He asked. The person’s identity was a second thought behind their allyship. The mystery person seemed familiar to him though.

“I’m Mios. A friend of Salem from her time on Kalan. I assume you’re one of those Avengers?” Thor was slightly confused about why he referred to you as Salem, but he figured it was perfectly reasonable that you’d introduce yourself that way.

“That is correct. It is good to have another ally up here.” He realized where he knew Mios from, remembering the video he had seen earlier. “You sent Salem that video, yes?” Miles nodded in response. “Thank you, the warning was greatly appreciated.”

He stuck his hand out, grasping the other man’s hand in a firm shake. There was a silent agreement for both men to continue fighting together before they rushed toward Loki and Moros. Thor helped you stand up, making sure you were alright. You accepted his help without argument and jumped back into the fight.

Fighting alongside Loki felt… good. Granted, you would’ve enjoyed more if it wasn’t because your genocidal brother was trying to destroy the world. Thor and Mios did their best to help as well, though all of your fighting styles clashed. Thor and Mios let you and Loki take the lead, offering assistance whenever they could.

You were slowly managing to tire Moros out. You dodge most of his attacks. Loki threw his daggers when he could then retrieved them using magic and you got a few good stabs in.

You were well into your fight before he made an effort to talk to you again. “Sister, we could be allies, instead you fight me! Stand aside. Let me wreck this planet, you can watch my armies lay siege to their towns. I know you love a good battle.” Loki slid beneath him, catching his foot with a dagger. The much larger man fell back, narrowly avoiding Loki and using his hand to brace himself.

You let your sword slam down against him, lodging the weapon into his forearm. Loki tossed a dagger into the wound and you used your strength to slam down on the weapon, severing his arm. His hand and part of his forearm hit the ground, is thick, black blood covering the floor. He screamed. The long sword dropped from his other hand, clattering loudly against the floor.

“You only say that ‘cause you’re losing.” You stayed calm as Moros picked up the sword. He waited for his hand to heal and seemed moderately surprised when it didn’t. You could see more guards filter in, probably alerted from Moros’ scream. They scanned the room, seeing the other guards on the floor, the colors of their blood mixing into one thick liquid. There were one or two who wisely turned and fled from the room, earning some yells from their peers. Better to run a coward than die a hero. Thor and Mios almost seemed thankful for something to do.

Moros did his best to stay alert and keep the pain of losing his hand from showing on his face. It wasn’t working.

“If you surrender now, I’ll let you leave. I’ll get Mother to keep you on Olympus, away from any planets you might hurt. I won’t give you this chance again.” His expression tightened and he almost seemed to be considering your offer before he shook the idea away.

“You think I want to stay with the pompous gods up there with a babysitter? I will not take your pitiful bargain.” You sighed. He was going to regret not taking you up on that, though you knew your mother would appreciate not needing to get another god to babysit her children. She wouldn’t like Moros dying though. You’d have to find a good way to apologize later.

Loki thrust forth before your train of thought had been completed. You shook your head, coming back to your senses to help him. Loki’s dagger landed in Moros’ chest, right where his heart was. You were thankful Loki had a talent for throwing daggers. Moros was able to rip the dagger out from his chest. He seemed to marvel for a minute at the black blood covering the dagger. Thankfully, he was too distracted by the literal hole in his chest to care much about you sneaking up behind him.

“So… you stole my weapons. I shoul—” You didn’t let him finish. Instead, you shoved your longsword through his neck. He made a gurgling sound and you could see dark blood spilling out of his lips. You suddenly realized how hard you were breathing. Now that the adrenaline was wearing down, you felt dizzy and almost light-headed.

“Not bad, my love,” Loki said, standing next to you. You were beginning to accept the statement, though you focused more on how faint you felt.

“Y/n, you’re bleeding,” Loki said, a look of horror on his face. That would explain it.

You fell against Loki’s side, doing your best to support yourself. Loki laid you down, though you kept trying to stand. You looked back at the wall you had slammed into, there was a piece of metal sticking out, covered in the black color of your blood.

“Loki, I’ll heal. Look, it’s the wall, not Moros’ weapon.” You did your best to explain, though you tasted your blood in your mouth. It wasn’t metallic, like the description you had heard about mortals. Instead, it was a bitter, burnt taste. Like someone had lit leaves on fire and let you eat them. It made you want to spit it out, but you didn’t have the energy.

You tried to glance down at the wound, but Loki slowly moved your head away.

“You need to take a minute, I know you’ll be alright but you can’t just stand up and walk around right now. Let yourself heal more, we can stay here before we head back down. I’ll let the team know.” You really shook your head. You could see the remaining guards running from the room, hopefully to call off their attack on New York.

“Salem!” You heard Mios’ voice beside you as he rushed toward your side. “She’ll be okay, right? This isn’t enough to kill her is it?” He asked quietly. You could hear Thor in the background, probably updating the team on the situation.

Loki paused before he answered. “I… I don’t think so.” You silently wondered how bad the wound was. You could feel your blood on your hands and you looked at Loki.

“I’ll be fine, it’ll just take longer than usual.” You did your best to talk through the pain and the blood pooling in your mouth. Thor knelt at your side as well and began discussing what to do. The pain was slowly getting worse, making it harder and harder to talk. You could feel yourself healing though, the cold air on the inside of your body (where it definitely shouldn’t be), though you weren’t anywhere close to standing. You had a feeling you’d be sore for a while after this. You weren’t perfect when it came to healing. That was much more Apollo’s thing.

You glanced over to where you had left Moros on the ground. You could see his body on the other side of the room, though you swore he was moving.

“Can you heal her?”

“If I could heal her don’t you think I’d have done it by now!” You could hear Thor and Loki arguing above you. Mios was quiet, simply looking at you.

“Loki, I just meant ‘can you help?’.”

Loki sighed. “No, I can’t. Healing is far from my specialty. Anything I know came from Mother, and I never learned anything about this.”

The longer you looked at Moros, the further you saw him move. Your eyes widened in surprise as he gripped his chair, pulling himself closer to the small control panel at the front of the room.

You tried your best to warn everyone around you. What you tried to say was, ‘Moros is alive, someone stop him’, but with the blood still in your mouth it sounded more like an, unfortunately, series of gurgles.

“Let yourself heal, talking might make it worse, I’m not sure what injuries you have. I can see it improving already. We just need to wait.” You shook your head, trying to figure out another way to warn them. Loki went back to arguing with Thor.

“We could try bringing a shield ship up here to get her a medic, though I’ll admit, I don’t know how to navigate this thing.”

You tapped Loki’s lap and pointed, though he simply tried to hold your hand to calm you, more focused on his conversation with Thor. He wasn’t even looking at you.

“I think the best thing is just to wait. She’s healing, I can see it slowly closing, though I’m sure her organs need to repair themselves first. She’ll be alright. I’ll use magic to ease the pain, that’s all I can do.”

With Loki tightly holding onto your hand in an attempt to calm both you and himself, you used your other hand to tap Mios, who was the one person in the group who was actually looking at you. Once you got his attention he cocked his head, silently asking what you needed as not to interrupt the brothers in their effort to decide what to do. At this rate, by the time they made a decision, you’d be fully healed.

You used that hand to weakly point toward Moros, who was now at the controls trying to find something or other.

“You two!” Mios shouted, reminding you that he probably didn’t know either of their names. “Moros.” He said, stepped over you and drew his weapon. At least he wasn’t wasting time.

“Stay here,” Loki said. You tried to say ‘how would I even go anywhere like this?’ but it simply came out like gurgling that he took as agreement. Unfortunately for all of you, the ship lurched forward, pushing Thor, Mios, and Loki onto one of the metal walls next to the front window. You also slid forward. While the three men had been pushed against a wall, you landed on the back of Moros’ chair. The remaining weapons on the ground fell around you, and you weakly used your abilities to throw them to the side.

Several bodies fell, all landing on the windshield in front of you. Your abilities were helping you heal instead of hurting, so you let the dark veins around your eyes deepen in color, hoping it would help instead of hurt.

You saw someone’s rather large axe fly across the room, lodging itself into the window, making a crack across it. You hoped the window wouldn’t be too damaged by the bodies that had landed on it. Most of them landed on the metal walls next to it and you could hear Thor’s protests about being next to a dead man from across the room.

“At the very least, I can ensure there won’t be survivors,” Moros said weakly. The weapons you had used should’ve killed him by now. It seems you underestimated the power of adrenaline.

You managed to sit up and spit out the blood from your mouth from your spot on the back of Moros’ chair.

“Y/n stay where you are, please.” Loki was doing his best to avoid falling swords and clear the drops of blood from his face of the dead men around him. You shivered at the picture and tried to ignore the drops that were falling around you as well. Instead, giving your attention to Moros.

He was doing with the wiring of the control panel. You saw smoke coming from the panel as well as sparks.

“I’ll drop this thing out of the sky, with any luck, I can get it to explode.” Moros was ranting on again about something or other. You were far too busy gathering up the strength to do something about it.

You looked over toward Loki, who was still looking at you with a pleading expression hoping that you’d stay where you were until you could at least stand well.

You shook your head at him, hoping he’d understand your answer to his request for you to stay put. You’d admit you were slightly stalling, hoping your body would somehow miraculously heal before you decided to walk into another fight.

“Loki,” you hoped your voice would reach him. Luckily, he nodded, silently asking you to continue.

“I love you.” You jumped off the chair, not looking at his face. You heard him say something from behind you. As you fell you grabbed Moros’ neck, using as much force as possible to slam the two of you into the window below.

You felt the glass break below you. Admittedly, that wasn’t the plan.

But it would still work.

***

[technicallyarevenant]

I don’t know what’s worse: Drowning beneath the waves or dying of thirst

Chapter title: Warmth

Characters: Jason Todd, Mentioned Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson, Mentioned Bruce Wayne

Other tags: Flashbacks, PTSD, Suicidal thoughts

TW: Suicidal thoughts, past abuse/trauma, past death

Words: 2952

Part 2/?

Luckily, Jason hadn’t ripped his stitches after he’d left the cave, but they definitely still hurt, especially after walking so far. Honestly, Jason doesn’t think his chest could hurt more right now, he hasn’t taken any painkillers, although that’s mostly because he hadn’t stocked the safe house he made his way to for a while. The only thing he had was an old, probably expired, bag of frozen carrots, and it was doing little to help much of anything, and only making him feel more cold in the unheated apartment in Gotham winter. If Jason wasn’t so fucking tired, he’d probably go buy some kind of space heater from the nearby store, but Jason feels like if he moved from his current position on the couch, he would regret it almost immediately. So Jason just curled up more on the sagging couch, and pulled one of the only blankets he had over himself. If he fell asleep right now, maybe when he woke up in the morning it wouldn’t be quite as cold. He almost misses the searing pain he felt when the shock finally wore off, it at least made him feel warm.

------

Surprisingly, Jason did fall asleep, and he slept a lot longer than he usually did, probably because his body was trying to heal itself. It’s only slightly warmer than it was last night, but Jason thinks that at least now he can go pick a space heater up from the store. Or he could go to a different safehouse that actually had heating and pain killers. Killing two birds with one stone was sounding like the better option, because then he wouldn’t even need to buy anything. The only problem was, he didn’t have his bike, which means he would need to walk. Jason rubbed his hands together to try and heat them up while he thought about it for a second, the twinge in his side told him to do it. Jason thinks he might actually have something stronger than ibuprofen there too, something that Jason really, really wanted right now. Jason rolled his shoulders and left the current space he was occupying so he could make his way to the next space he would be occupying. (He brought the blanket too)

Jason’s pretty sure his lips have turned blue, and that his toes are frozen, but he’d made it to his home. Or, well, the closest thing he has to a home. It was his nicest bolthole and none of the bats had found it yet. It was one of the nicest places he’d lived, and was actually on a nicer side of Gotham. It had heating, electricity, warm water, and people who turned a blind eye to a man with multiple bullet wounds lumbering in through the back window. He actually liked the place and would like the bats to continue to not know about its location.

As soon as he walked in, he sighed in relief. The heat hadn’t been turned on yet, but there wasn’t any holes in the walls or any kind of weird drafts, so it was already warmer in here than it was outside. Jason set his stuff down by the door after closing and locking it, and immediately made his way over to the thermostat to turn the heat on. He also decided he would try taking a shower, hoping that it would be warmed up by the time he was done. Jason grabbed warmer clothes from the dresser in his bedroom, a pair of fluffy sweatpants, a sweater, a hoodie to go over the sweater, and socks. Jason liked to bundle up during the winter, after he’d gotten back to Gotham, he somehow always felt cold. Apparently dying and coming back to life made you feel cold all the time, even if you’d spent most of your life living in colder temperatures. It was now a habit of Jason’s to put on warmer clothes even if it wasn’t necessarily cold out.

Jason rolled his shoulders and sat down on his couch, keeping a hand on his side as he lowered himself slowly. He let out a quiet sigh of relief and leaned back into the cushions of the couch, and unlike the couch that he had slept on last night, it didn’t make a strange crunching sound when he moved. Jason’s side gave the occasional twinge, but it wasn’t as bad as it was last night, the warm air probably helping quite a bit. Jason lets his eyes fall shut for a moment, falling asleep without realizing.

------

Jason woke up with a start when he heard his window open and flinched when he reached for the gun he kept under his pillow, only to realize that he’d fallen asleep on his couch, and the closest gun to him was with the rest of his gear at the front door.

Jason stood as slowly and as quietly as he could- he had forgotten to turn the lights on when he came in because it was still daylight when Jason had made it to this safehouse, so it seemed both he and the intruder had a bit of an advantage.

Jason made a point of walking as quietly as possible to his front door, and had the sudden realization that Bruce had taken both of his guns and all that Jason currently had was a knife. Jason made a face in the darkness before grabbing the knife quickly, he turned around just as quickly as he grabbed the knife, only to come face to face with a domino mask.

Jason exhaled heavily, dropping his hand with the knife, “The hell do you want Dick?”

He couldn’t see through the white lenses, but Jason assumed that Dick probably rolled his eyes, “I came to check on you, B was a little worried that you ran away so quickly while you were still wounded.”

Jason snorted, “Right, because B cares so much.”

Dick stared at him for a few moments, “He does care, that’s why I’m here Jason.”

Jason laughed again, stopping only when Dick stayed silent, “What, you’re actually being serious?”

“Yes Jason, I’m actually being serious. I know it may come as a shock, but I’m not always cracking a joke every five seconds.”

Jason cleared his throat, raising a hand to rub at his side slightly, a slight pulse of pain going through the wound. “Whatever, even if B really did care, he didn’t come here himself so you don’t really have to tell B much, such as where I’m currently staying. Right?”

Dick stared for a few more seconds, “Do you really hate us that much Jason?”

Jason said nothing for a moment, balking slightly at the way Dick said it, “What, you think I hate you guys?” Jason’s laugh quick and had an undertone of disbelief, “Pretty sure it’s always been the opposite goldie.”

It was Dick’s turn to laugh, “No Jason, it’s never been us hating you. You’re the one who always avoids us when we try to talk to you.”

Jason threw his hands up, “Tell that to Bruce, he’s the one who beat me so hard my fucking helmet shattered and left me to die.”

Anything that Dick might have said to that died before the words the could reach the air, “I’m sorry what?”

Jason shook his head, a bitter smile forming on his lips, “What, he never told you? That doesn’t surprise me, considering he never tells anyone anything. Like he never came to you after I died the first time and you had to figure it out on your own. Like he never told you when I became Robin. He’s a flake who never does what anyone expects of him, even if you’re expecting him to flake. He’ll treat you like a son and the moment you do something he doesn’t like, he makes you an example to those who come after you so they know what not to do.”

Dick fidgeted, before he turned his back to Jason, “I have to go, I’ll be back.”

Jason scoffed, “Whatever Goldie, go ahead and leave, I don’t care.” Jason didn’t include the fact that he did care, actually, he cared a lot. There were many things that Jason should regret and didn’t, and things he shouldn’t regret but did anyways, and one of those was not trying to reconcile with his family when he came back from the dead.

Jason said nothing else as Dick left through the window, before he turned around, taking the knife still in his hand into his room, shoving it into his nightstand. He stomped over to his closet, opening the safe installed into the wall and grabbed one of the guns so he could stash it under his pillow. It took a few more minutes for Jason to realize the warmth dripping down his  face were tears. He wiped a hand down his face angrily, he shouldn’t be crying, this whole situation was stupid and just another reason for Jason to stay away from Bruce and his merry band of vigilantes.

Jason exhaled shakily before sitting down on his bed, he probably looked stupid yelling in front of Dick like that, still half asleep and in the most layers Dick had probably ever seen him wear. His socks had penguins on them. Jason sniffed quietly, whatever, he’d gotten Dick to leave like Jason wanted. Was that what Jason wanted? He’d gotten a feeling of disappointment when Dick left through the window, even if he hadn’t wanted to feel disappointed.

Whatever, it didn’t matter anyway, he was gone now and Jason could go back to sleep. Jason looked over at his clock, 1 am. Normally he’d be out patrolling right now, but he really didn’t feel like it tonight. The others could pick up the slack tonight without him. Jason rubbed his side slightly, if he took some painkillers the pain would be gone but he’d also be out of it for however long it takes the painkillers to wear off, and he doesn’t want to deal with Dick on painkillers if he comes back.

Jason didn’t take any painkillers. He’d be fine. He laid down after making sure all of his windows were locked and covered by curtains. He pulled a blanket over himself and closed his eyes. He didn’t fall asleep right away, but he did eventually.

-------------

Jason woke up to a beam of light shining directly in his eyes from the crack between his curtains. Jason groaned and rolled over, checking the time briefly before covering his head with a pillow. The sun was far too bright to just be shining into his eyes like that when he wakes up. He was warm and comfortable and he didn’t want to get up just yet.

Wait. Jason cracked an eye open and rolled back over to look at his window. Jason had pinned his curtains together, a force of habit he’d developed when he was younger to help keep the cold out. Jason’s hand creeped to the gun he’d put under his pillow last night before he stood up, looking around for any other kind of sign that someone had come in while he was sleeping. He got up and crept silently to the window, pushing the curtain aside gently to look outside to check if he could see anyone. When he saw that there was no one that looked more suspicious than usual, he walked to his bedroom door. He opened the door slowly, ensuring that it made no noise as he peeked through the crack he’d made. He didn’t see anyone, but now he thinks he can hear someone.

Jason holds the gun slightly higher before he opens the door enough to slip out while still making no noise. The noises sound like they’re coming from the kitchen, so Jason walks to the kitchen, glancing to the sides as he walks to make sure there’s no one else in the apartment.

Once he reaches the kitchen, he leans slightly to look around the side of the archway that leads into the kitchen. He sees… Dick. Jason lets the gun fall, and he flips the safety back on.

Dick must have heard something, because the next thing he knows, Dick is chattering excitedly at him. Jason just kind of stares, “What..are you doing here?”

Dick stops talking for a second, his smile faltering, “I told you I’d be back? What, did you forget already?”

Jason clears his throat, “No, I just didn’t expect you to actually come back.”

Dicks smile has turned into a frown now, “Well I did, I am back and I have made you, uh,” he looks down at the frying pan he’s holding, filled with….eggs? “I made you eggs.”

Jason looks a bit closer, “You sound hesitant, are you sure those are eggs?”

Dick looks down at the pan again, “Uh, I mean, I cracked some eggs and I put them in this pan. So, as far as I know, yeah, they’re eggs.”

Jason nods and takes the pan from Dick, “So most of the food in this place is kinda old, and I still need to go out and buy groceries. So these, while still eggs, are probably going to kill me if I eat them.”

Dick looks back at the carton of eggs that he probably pulled from Jason’s fridge, “Oh, that’s probably why they smelled so bad.”

Jason walks over and scrapes the eggs in the pan into the trash, “Sorry to burst your bubble goldie, but you really gotta learn to cook or you’re going to end up killing your future girlfriend.”

Dick snorted, “Yeah, whatever. There’s a reason Alfred pays so many visits to my apartment.”

“You know that’s not a good thing right?”

“Well, I get free cookies so I don’t really care.”

Jason rolls his eyes, “Sure birdbrain, whatever you say.”

Jason is turned around while he puts the pan into the sink, hopefully to get rid of the rotten egg smell so he can cook with it again, so he misses the hopeful look that Dick is giving him. What he doesn’t miss, however, is the giant hug that Dick pulls him into the moment he turns back around.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m hugging you, what does it look like?”

“Like you’re attacking me with your arms.”

Dick doesn’t say anything for a moment, but he keeps his arms wrapped around Jason, “I’m sorry that we ever made you believe we didn’t want you back with us.”

Jason tenses, “I don’t see why-”

“It matters? It matters because you ran away while still injured and scared the living christ out of Alfred. And it may come as a surprise, but,” He pulls back but still holds onto Jason’s shoulders, “Bruce was worried too.”

At that Jason scoffs, pushing Dick’s hands off, “Yeah, sure, whatever you say Dick, trying to make Bruce look better isn’t gonna do ya any favors.”

“I’m not trying to justify anything that Bruce has done, in fact I will join you in scorning him for everything that he has done against you, but he’s started to see what he was doing was wrong and-”

Jason shakes his head, “Well it sure sounds like you’re trying to justify his actions to me, but what do I know?”

“Jaybird if you’d just let me finish what I’m-”

“What you’re saying?” Jason ignores the look that Dick sends him, turning back around to start scrubbing at the pan in the sink, and does his best to continue ignoring him when Dick comes back up behind him.

“Jason Peter Todd, I am trying to talk, and you continuing to interrupt me when I am trying to do something that will help you is really starting to get on my nerves.”

“Well don’t let me stop you Goldie, continue trying to convince me that I should come back to the heavily armed and dangerous dysfunctional family that is the Wayne family.”

Dick grabs Jason’s shoulders once again and turns him around, looking him directly in the eyes, what were once a cerulean blue now an acid green meeting a softer blue. “Jason please, if you’d just come back to the manor for one day, maybe you could see that it’s not as bad as you think it is.”

Jason stares at him, he’s not sure what to say. He’s spent so long running and hiding, doing his best to not interact with his family to help keep his sanity intact, but as loathe as he is to admit it, he misses them. Misses knowing that someone always had his back when he went out. Had someone to keep him from being reckless enough to get himself killed. Kept him from wanting to get himself killed. Dick’s eyes are boring into his, and all Jason can do to keep himself from lashing out in fear of doing something wrong is look away.

“What, would that make you feel better Goldie?”

“Jason please look at me.”

Jason doesn’t want to, but he does anyways, breath hitching when he sees the tears in Dick’s eyes. Jason doesn’t know what to do, he’s never been good with emotion, considering all he ever does is keep it bottled up until it all comes spilling out, usually in the form of anger. But he takes a page out of Dick’s book and hopes he doesn’t end up regretting it when he reaches his own arms out to hug Dick. “Whatever, fine, I’ll go to the fucking manor if it means you stop looking at me like a kicked puppy.”

“That’s all I ask Jason.”

“Whatever.”

[midnightzephyr]

#4

like all weekends, my best friends and i would always go out and spend nights in a place located somewhere we all don’t know. a place that is distant from where we stayed in. somewhere vacant, with nothing but the ground and the sky, and the stars and the galaxy.

that one night was tiny bit different. apart from the guys brought girls along, and i wasn’t one of them. i was sort of lonely, even though i had the other guys with me. it just felt wrong somehow. it felt as if i should have brought my own girlfriend, a person whom i could snuggle and hug and pepper kisses all over without being judged.. but melancholically, i don’t even have a girlfriend. girls just didn’t want me more than just a friend. or maybe my standards are just too high.. i don’t know.

three of the guys had their girlfriends glued to their sides with arms wrapped around their waists, and the leader of the whole group brought his little sister. the thing that wasn’t magnificent was that the group of girls tagged along another one, another best friend to complete the whole squad of five. she wasn’t dating any of the single members, and it just so happens that i’ve always been in love with her.

basically the seven of us guys and the five girls, rode two vans driven by the ones we all trusted the most. i would have got into the truck we guys took on our way to meet the girls, but it ended up in a jumbled mess. the girlfriends sat with their boyfriends, and the leader’s little sister was elsewhere. i was startled when there were no seats left in that van, but i guess it was for the good.

i sighed and hung my head low as i trudged my way to the other vehicle, feeling worn out even before the trip even started. i kicked the air, honestly i didn’t even have a clue why i was so upset. it wasn’t the end of the world, i know.. but i just really didn’t feel like i was in the spirit to have fun. not at that time.

i reached the other van, it was placed merely ten feet from the other one, but it sure felt as if i walked ten miles. i grabbed the door and pulled it open, scanning around the vehicle for the best seat. i had multiple choices, there were a lot of empty seats in this van. i kept on glancing at the empty seats, i couldn’t make up my mind until..

“can’t you hurry up?“ james snorted and started the engine.

i wasn’t always the one who gets surprised the most, but his voice was so strangely loud i felt like my heart dropped. i got into the van and before i could even place my bum properly on a seat, he drove off in the speed of 100 km/h. who even drives that fast when you just started getting on the road?

i crashed onto an empty seat, but unlucky me, half of my body was pressed against someone. the upper half of my body pressured on the person beside me. she jumped in surprise, and i swore to myself i could have gotten my dick cut off if this girl was anyone’s girlfriend.

the movements in the van were inhumanly insane and i kept on hitting against the window, and to her. i couldn’t even sit up straight, not until the car slowed down on the highway to track down the other vehicle. that freak.. what was he thinking? did he want us all to die?

i finally got the chance to sit up and straighten myself. i brushed my hair off my forehead in annoyance and grunted in slight moodiness. i was mad, but crashing in the seat beside the window was a great thing. i held the sill before sliding the windoe open. the midnight breeze felt amazing, and the scent of the grass filled my nostrils. it was beautiful, the moon shone brightly and i’ve never thought it could be that ethereal. it was.. amazing. and it felt so close to me that i could just touch it, and feel it with the tips of my fingers.

but then i felt soft eyes pierce my head behind me. that’s when i realize that i should apologize to her, to the person i caused so much pain just because i couldn’t get a grip of myself.

i closed my eyes as i turned my head, praying to god she wasn’t anyone’s girlfriend or sister. but i prayed harder hoping that girl wasn’t her.. wasn’t the one that has a hobby of making my heart race. that would be so embarrassing.. ah i’m already blushing at the thought of her face.

i opened my eyes, and the first thing i saw were her irises. her dark eyes, reflecting the moonlight beautifully. i could see myself mirrored in her orbs, and no one can deny that she is the most beautiful creature god has ever created.

she was looking at the moon too, like what i was doing. it was rather stupid of me to think that she actually was looking at me, but when i stared in her eyes unintentionally, her pupils moved and focused on me. her head tilted slightly so it was aligned parallel with mine. our lips were far apart, but i was nervous as if she was close enough to kiss.

i attempted to apologize for the chaos, but my words choked me and i had trouble breathing for a split second. she got worried, her hands flew upwards and held me by the sides of my face. i didn’t know what she was trying to do, but all i knew is that the person i love is holding me tenderly, looking at me in the eyes with worrisome. i cannot not love her, she’s the greatest.

she asked me if i was okay, and i, unaware of what i was doing, remained still and stared at her. she repeated her voice, and finally i snapped back to reality. i nodded and gulped in the piling saliva in my throat before sitting myself back on the seat like any sane person would. this sure is going to be a long trip.

she giggled, and god i hope nobody had any superpowers that could read minds and hearts bcs i swore my heart skipped a beat. her laugh.. oh her gentle voice. i was so weak, and defeated. i was so in love i could honestly drown in a pool of her voice.

i stammered an apology. it was so hard to even say anything, ah i was a mess. i could feel it in my bones.

she pulled her hand and draped it on her thigh, intertwining with her other hand and squeezing them together. she replied saying it was okay. i knew it was not. at least i thought it was not. my heavyweight body pressed on her and crashed on her so suddenly, i was sure she was culture shocked by it.

i tried to maintain a relaxed posture and an empty mind, i tried my best to not tilt my head to my right and stare at her unknowingly. it was hard, and i was just so pressured by it but i knew i had to it in order for me to not seem like somekind of freakish stalker.

i stared outside the window, my eyes roamed across the empty road. the flowers were colourful even though it was dark. the moonlight reflected beautifully against the surface of the sea. the waves hit the shore rhythmically, and the smell of the cold midnight breeze was amazing. i couldn’t wait to get out of the van and lay on the sand. i missed nature, i missed being able to love and think about it freely. it had been a week, and it was torturous for me to be hooked up in the studios. but my stresses were getting lifted, my shoulders were coming to an ease and i can finally smile a distressed smile.

the sight was as beautiful as her. i still remember the first time i have ever encountered her beautiful smile. it was the greatest thing that has ever happened to me, it also felt as if all my sins were washed away. she was that beautiful. the instant my eyes landed on her, i was loss for words. i choked on my drink when she first started a conversation, it was embarrassing and she laughed at me. but i knew that she knew she was beautiful.

it all started on that one day. daniel wanted to go to a coffee shop that morning to have a fun talk with his little sister since she was busy with her college life and he was busy in the studio. at that time i woke up to pee, but the water was so insanely cold i couldn’t fall asleep because my goosebumps were so high up it nearly touched the sky. he invited me along, and i supposed why not. i needed something to warm me up, and coffee should do the trick.

i bought espresso for myself, and daniel bought his own drink with a bagel. we sat down on a table of four, sitting side by side because he wanted her sister to seat opposite him. i didn’t care, i mean i was just there for coffee anyways.

it took her a couple of minutes to arrive, and daniel stood up to squeeze her in a hug. i was staring outside the window, until she greeted me and told me to get up. i was lazy, she knew how i was anyways so i was rather annoyed that she wanted me to stand up. however my instincts tingled saying to just get up, so i did it anyways.

she grabbed me by the elbow and dragged it in front of someone. she wore a pinkish peach cardigan, with a white shirt and white jeans. daniel’s little sister said my name, and another name. and i didn’t notice she was introducing us to each other until she grabbed my hand. all i knew was that her eyes are pretty, and her smile is too.

she grabbed my hand rather gently, and shook it a couple of times. her skin was so soft, and i didn’t have a clue anyone’s skin could feel that feather-like. it was as if she touched the clouds, and the essence of it seeped through her tissues. although logically i’ve never held a cloud in my life, but i know they are soft. the gases combined made it look like cotton, gentle cotton. and i wouldn’t need to wish to touch the clouds, all i need was to wish i could hold her hands.

i sat down and scooted to the window, giving space for my great friend to sit. she sat in front of me, her hands were grasping each other against the table. she had a couple of bracelets on, and the scent of her captivated my smell buds. i could barely smell the scent of the espresso anymore even if i place the lip of the cup against my philtrum. the smell of roses and jasmines, god.. she drove me insane.

she started a conversation, and she asked me the things no one has ever asked. she wanted to know about what my opinion on flowers, and what were my favourites. i didn’t know what to say, since it was a rare question and particularly i didn’t have a huge admiration for flowers. i didn’t want to say the truth of my not liking it, since she seemed so in love with plants and i just couldn’t cope with seeing her smile fade. so i ended up saying i liked it, and flowers are my escape even though honestly that will never be true.

she grew eager to know about my favourite plant was. i was reluctant in answering, i was afraid that flower didn’t even exist. i told her my favourite was.. what is it called? uh.. it starts with a c, and ended with a sis.. the name was so scientific, i was sure i just blurted that name because i couldn’t think. but then she said the flower suits me. she said coreopsis held the meaning of always cheerful, and that’s what i am.

ah.. that’s the name. coreopsis. i guess she mentioned the non-scientific name, but i forgot. i think it’s called thickseed? yeah, something like that.

she told me her favourite ones were mostly white. i forgot their names, but they held sincere and pleasant meanings. truthfully i didn’t know what she meant about the meanings of these plants, or whether she goes to classes or writes a dictionary about it. she seemed to know it all, and as she spoke her knowledge, i fell in love deeper and deeper.

the only thing i remembered was that she said someday she wants someone to send her a bouquet of baby breaths, nothing much, just that. she told me it meant everlasting love, and she told that it would be beautiful to have someone as thoughtful as that in life.

day by day, we talked more. she knew me by heart and in the end she got to know that flowers weren’t my actual escape. but she wasn’t furious, she was rather delighted. she wanted to tell me more about plants, and the beauty behind the language of flowers, as long as i was willing to listen. it was her anyways, i couldn’t resist. of course i was willing to listen and pay attention. her voice was as sweet as honey, and i could get diabetes if honey could bring diseases.

i grew more in love with her, and somehow a couple of months, or years maybe, we parted. she went abroad, to continue studying language and graduating in england. she changed her number, she didn’t contact me anymore. i would have asked daniel’s sister, but i was afraid if it turns out that she was done with me. i was afraid she didn’t want me to know more about flowers, and literature. so i avoided. but until this day, this exact second, the moment she’s sitting beside me again.. i still loved her the same. perhaps even more than before. she was right there by my side in the tight area inside the van.

the loud noises from the others in the van muted down as they all drifted to sleep. i, wasn’t even a glimpse tired. my eyes were wide open and my brain was fully functioning. i was sure the only ones awake were me and james. she was lightly snoring beside me, and i didn’t even have to glance at her face to know she still looks drop dead gorgeous even with saliva drooling down her chin.

the vehicle came to a stop, and the other van parked right beside ours. i looked outside the window, and adam was there grinning and raising his eyebrows. that jerk couldn’t be even more stupid, i was already embarrassed having to sit beside my beautiful girl the whole ride, and here he was poking me over the edge of a cliff. my cheeks were burning, it felt as if i was a volcano that was about to blast.

everyone woke up just before we stopped, so it didn’t require me cooing her name and shaking her gently to make her eyelids flutter open.

we got down and took our bags. i didn’t know where mine was since i wasn’t the one loading them. i went to the boot of the van i rode, but there were only tents and hammocks. who even brought that? there weren’t even trees here.

eventually i got my hands on my bag and helped them carry the tents and food. the guys built the tents and campfire while the girls gathered the food. i don’t have a clue what time it was, but i knew it was late enough for the temperature to drop low. it was freezing, and she couldn’t handle the cold. i knew it, i always caught her shivering.

the girls cooked and served, and we ate in our sleeping bags because it was too cold. it was really cold.. i had two jackets on and i still shuddered as the temperature hit my bones. i glanced at her, her small hands were pale and she held her meal in shaking hands. i just wanted to pull her tight in a hug, but she was stones away from me. ugh.

i tried my very best not to stare at her and instead join the conversation they all were having. but i couldn’t help it. sure, i was a laughing dumbass through the night, but i constantly caught myself glancing at her to take a glimpse of her beauty. why am i like that honestly?

after finishing our food and cleaning up, everyone took place and laid down in their sleeping bags. we all watched the sky, staring at the constellations and making out possible shapes. like there was one that looked like a horse one of our friends pointed out, and i spotted a combination of stars that looked like lily’s small hands.

slowly, each and one of them fell asleep. i was the last one, even though i didn’t get any sleep in the van but again.. i wasn’t even a glimpse tired. i smiled to myself, i was glad i could finally lay under the blanket of stars again. it’s great, i really felt alive at that time.

i glanced to my left and saw caitlin curled up in a ball beside adam. they always did that unknowingly, and when the guys and i told them how they sleep together, they protest. if only i could take a picture and prove it to them.. but i was too lazy to get my phone. it was in our bags inside the tents and i was already comfortable in my sleeping bag. guess i just really couldn’t care to bother.

i tilted my head to my right, and i saw her. my girl. well okay.. the girl i wished i could call mine. she was hugging her knees, and was leaning in my way. i don’t know how i could not notice that.. how in the world could i not even notice her body being inches away from leaning against mine? i didn’t even know she was laying down beside me.. what the fuck was wrong with me?

her eyes were closed and her lips were apart. her nose was slightly red, and so did her cheeks. she was cold and freezing. she was asleep, i knew that she was already in deep depths of her dreams, so i didn’t hesitate to turn my body and face her.

i laid on my side, my right arm folded and tucked under my head while my left arm hung low on my waist. i admired her beauty, i was falling in love with her all over again. she was different, she was definitely not like any other girl. she looked fragile, and delicate, like a flower petal of her favourite.

something struck into me and for some reason my left arm rose and my fingers danced against her cold lips. the strains of hair covered her face weren’t a bother to me because every inch of her was beautiful. there was no such thing as beauty covering beauty right?

my thumb rubbed against her cheek, and my index finger traced down the bridge of her nose. i could just touch her like this until the next life comes. i can just run my fingers through her until they get numb because i would never get tired.

she shuddered in cold, and without me realizing, i scooted closer to her. i don’t know if my eyes played tricks or they were being real, but her lips curved in a small smile. it was as if she felt the warmth in my body, even though i was cold myself but at least i could share my last drips of heat in me with the girl i loved the most.

i got closer, and she leaned nearer. her cute figure came closer to me and almost instantly, my arm pulled her tightly in an embrace. her face tucked in the spance under my cheek, and i could feel her breathing against the skin of my neck. she laid herself cozily there, and her fingers grasped the patch of clothing near the left side of my chest. i was sure she could feel my heartbeat, and i was sure she was smiling at how nervous i was.

she puffed out a small smile, and it was as if she was trying to tell me to relax. i reconsidered the thought of her actually sleeping.. maybe she was awake the whole time and noticed the way i stared at her sleeping and touching every structure of her face. i was doomed.

after some minutes and i was sure that my heart rate was reaching a normal pace, i tried closing my eyes. but still, i couldn’t drift off to sleep. she was in my arms, snuggled tightly and i was holding her tenderly. her fingers grasped my shirt and my fingers were tracing shapes against her back. it was surreal, i just wanted to yell and scream and shout and tell everyone about this.

i smiled and opened my eyes. i stared at her instead since i couldn’t get a slice of sleep. i didn’t want to miss an opportunity to look at her like this again. this was just a once in a lifetime experience.. i can’t lose it.

her small voice cracked but her eyes were shut. i wasn’t aware if she was conscious or just sleep talking, but somehow i wished she was awake still. i wanted her words to be true. i wanted her to say it again and again and kill me again and again. i wanted to hug her closer and kiss her lips and feel her hands on me because that would be the only thing that need to complete my whole life.

as she spoke her words, my grip around her tightened. i leaned my cheek against the crown of her head and my muscles under my flesh moved as i smiled.

“under the skies and above the grounds, i will always be yours,” she whispered delicately.

—

[junmyeoneyesmile]

you can’t stop the flood pt 2

summary:

en·e·my

/ˈenəmē/

noun

    a person who is actively opposed or hostile to someone or something.

irene never thought one day she would live in the enemy’s side. but when a mission goes wrong and everything turns upside down, she wonders for what she was really fighting for.

(or, the one in which x-exo’s scientist irene falls in love with exo’s leader, junmyeon.)

                                           ~~

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

genre: obsession AU, EXO vs X-EXO, romance, slow burn, angst (with a happy ending?), fluff (maybe if you squint), smut (be patient, tho)

relationships: irene/junmyeon, past irene/sehůn, implied chanyeøl/wendy, side baekhyun/chanyeol, one sided taeyeon/baekhyun.

length: three shot

chapter word count: 9.583

author’s notes: quick note for this chapter, something I would like to explain. you’ll notice that exo members (and people at the elyxion) uses honorifics when talking – that’s because they’re always acting with their hearts, and well, they consider everyone as family. people at the exo’rdium and x-exo don’t feel the need to that, because everything is very logical and done with only work in their minds, so.

also, I used two poems in this part and I wanted to give the credit because they’re not mine. the “lavender poem” is by emery allen, and “always” is by lang leav.

that’s it for now, enjoy!

                                           ~~

It was hard for her, to get used to the bright fluorescent lights, the white walls and the clean smell that all the rooms had. She was used to dark places and old stuff.

“Why do you think they called all of us here?” Seungwan asked, sitting next to her.

Joohyun was also not used to the talkative girl who had arrived the same day as her. Even though Joohyun remained isolated, making the other girls not want to get close, Seungwan insisted on being next to her.

Joohyun didn’t answer, and an older woman entered the room. She was one of the doctors, Joohyun remembered. A red hat hid her eyes.

“You were gathered here because you all passed our initial exams. Now, you’ll be able to start your training to be a future help for the Exo’rdium.” the woman said, looking at a sheet of paper. “All of you will undergo tests that will determine your area of aptitude. Now, you’re part of the Exo’rdium and will start over with new identities.”

Future help.

Start over.

Joohyun didn’t think or care much about the future. She didn’t have anyone or anything. But those people were saying she could start over. That she had a future.

The woman got close to her.

“Bae Joohyun?” she asked, and when Joohyun looked at her, she gave her an identity. “Here. Your tests will be performed in room 3 of sector B. Welcome to Exo’rdium.”

Joohyun took the identity, staring at it.

“Hey, what’s yours?” she heard Seungwan ask. “Mine’s Wendy. Kind of cool, right?”

Joohyun put her card on top of the table, and looked at the girl next to her.

“I’m Irene.”

And after that, she never looked back again.

 ----------------------

 “…ever should’ve brought her here.”

“Don’t be like this, Channie. Junmyeon hyung said she was going to die if he left her there.”

For a second, Irene thought she was still dreaming. But the voices were too clear, and her body was starting to realize that her consciousness was coming back.

“Still. This can be a trap to us, Baek. Don’t you think it’s weird?”

Irene opened her eyes, even though it was hard. Her lids were heavy, begging her to just close her eyes again and go back to sleep, but Irene fought the feeling, blinking a few times.

“Hey, she’s waking up.”

The lights in the room weren’t bright, which made it easier for her to adjust. From there, things gradually came into focus.

There was an IV in her arm and her right leg was immobilized with a splint. Her dirty clothes were gone, changed into some clean, fresh ones, and she was in a room with old walls – with two men looking at her from a distance.

Irene tried to move, sit on the bed.

“Oh, don’t mind us.” the silver haired one said, and she stopped. “I’m Baekhyun. But you probably know this already.”

It was weird, seeing the original Baekhyun this close. Irene never thought she would’ve had the opportunity.

They were exactly the same, but the feeling this one passed was different – a lot more soft, kind. Baëkhyun could pretend he was soft, but there was always a wicked feeling behind him.

By Baekhyun’s side, the original Chanyeol was serious. His pink hair was hidden under his beret, and it looked like he was ready to attack her if Irene made the wrong move. She could’ve easily mistaken him for Chanyeøl, if it wasn’t for the dark eyes.

“Where am I?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

Baekhyun tilted his head.

“In the Elyxion, of course.”

The Elyxion.

Irene blinked, not really believing what she had heard.

She was in enemy territory.

“I finally found you two.” a different voice came from the door. “What are you guys doing here…”

The red haired man walked into the room, noticing Irene.

“She woke up, hyung.”

They continued to stare at each other. Irene's mind was still a mess, and she didn't remember much of what had happened while she was in pain, but she did remember him.

“Because I can’t leave someone to die like this.”

“Hyung, shouldn’t we take her to the investigation room?” Chanyeol asked. “She has to answer some questions…”

“It’s ok, Chanyeol.” Junmyeon interrupted. “I’ll talk to her.”

“But hyung…”

“Jongdae is looking for you two. Go there and talk to him.”

Chanyeol looked like he was ready to protest, but Baekhyun held his arm, and the two left the room. Junmyeon watched them leave, before turning to Irene again.

She sat on the bed with some difficulty.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

Irene ignored the question.

“You brought me to the Elyxion?”

Junmyeon didn’t answer immediately.

“There was no other place for me to take you.”

“Yes, there was! You could’ve left me at the border!”

“The situation is unstable for both sides. Jongdae’s clone has drones all over the perimeter, and I was alone. Do you think they would have responded well to this scene?”

Irene didn’t answer. Of course not, if Chën saw him alone with her, they would’ve been there in a matter of seconds.

Even though, it still didn’t make sense that this man had taken an enemy to their base. Wasn’t he their leader, too? It was most likely they wanted to keep her there to some kind of purpose. Maybe they knew she was a scientist at the Exo’rdium.

“When are you going to interrogate me?” she asked, feeling like she could get this over with quickly.

Junmyeon frowned lightly.

“I don’t think you fell under a wall on purpose.”

What was that supposed to mean?

“You can't be sure of that.” She said, trying to intimidate him. But it was obvious she was acting up too much.

“Get some rest. You clearly need it.”

Irene was taken aback by that, and he didn't wait for her to answer, leaving the room. Shocked, she continued to look at the door for a long time after he left.

----------------------

 It was unnerving to stay in that room with no idea what was going to happen, but in the end, Irene was used to waiting. She was a patient person.

In the middle of the day, a teenage girl came into the room, bringing her a tray of food. Irene wasn't sure if she should trust the food in this place, but she was hungry, and really, she had no other option. Unlike the food at the Exo’rdium - which was always well thought out about all nutrients and functionality - here, it seemed so much simpler: rice, soup and meat.

The taste of homemade food started to bring some past memories to her, and Irene didn’t eat everything.

Late in the afternoon, a doctor came to see her. She was blonde, wore round glasses and looked young, probably just a year older than Irene. The badge on her lab coat read “Kim Taeyeon”.

“Hello,” she said, looking at the clipboard she held. “How are you feeling?”

There were various answers to that question.

“Fine.” Irene said, in the end.

“Does your leg hurt?”

She shook her head.

“Alright. Then I’m going to take out this IV for now, it had some painkillers. If the pain comes back, you can tell me and I’ll bring you something.”

The blonde got closer, and Irene held out her arm so she could remove the IV.

“How long will I have to stay with this splint?” she asked, already thinking it to be uncomfortable.

“The situation was quite serious when Junmyeon brought you here.” explained Taeyeon. “I did my best, but... Well, our technology is not as advanced as yours.”

Yours.

Of course. They thought of her as a member of the X-EXO team, too.

“I believe you’ll need to be with it for at least a few days.” Taeyeon continued.

Irene sighed, knowing she would say that.

“I can’t be here…” she said, mostly to herself.

If Taeyeon heard that, she chose not to comment on it.

“There are some crutches here, in case you want to walk.” she told Irene. “But it’s better if you don’t force this leg, or it could get worse.”

Irene nodded, watching the doctor leave the room - and not really understanding how all of this could be happening to her.

----------------------

 The next day, nothing different happened.

Irene stayed on the bed, mostly because she couldn’t do anything besides sleeping and thinking about the situation she was.

Nobody went to the room, except for the girls that brought her meals and Taeyeon, that came to see how she was. Irene asked herself what they wanted, taking care of her like this.

Was she a hostage? She wondered what they would do if she left the room. The door wasn’t locked, and apparently no one was keeping watch. That thought remained in her mind, but Irene quickly pushed it away. She couldn't go very far in that state, and adding to that, she knew that the less she forced her leg, the faster she could recover.

So, she tried to bear with the boredom of those hours.

At some point in the night, after she had eaten dinner, it started to rain. Irene listened to the sound of raindrops on the window for a while, until she decided to get up to look.

She’d already gotten used to the crutches, having used them to go to the bathroom a few times, so it wasn't difficult to walk to the window. The view didn't say much about where she was - just the deserted landscape that was common in the city. She leaned against the wall, watching as the rain increased.

There was a knock on the door, and Irene turned to look.

Junmyeon was standing at the entrance, holding something.

“It gets pretty cold when it rains at night,” he started to explain. “so I brought this blanket.”

Irene said nothing, and he entered the room, leaving the blanket on the bed. He looked at her, and seemed almost hesitant - which was extremely unusual for her, who was used to Suhø’s confident posture.

“How are you?” he finally asked.

She still didn’t understand why he cared about that.

“I’m fine.” she paused, and looked at the bed. In truth, it had started to get cold. “Thank you for the blanket.”

Junmyeon nodded, and then came over so he could look out the window too - but he kept his distance from her.

“I heard you don’t eat all your meals.” he commented. “Don’t you like the food? We’re not putting anything inside it.”

Irene glanced at him.

“That’s not it.”

Junmyeon didn't press her, and once again, Irene wondered why he was acting like this.

“You can walk around if you want. You’re not a prisoner.”

Irene frowned.

“Are you sure of that?”

“You didn’t invade or territory. You were left to die-“

“I wasn’t left to die.”

They stared at each other for a few moments, until Irene looked away.

“Baëkhyun knew I was there. I just… I just don’t know what happened.”

“Well.” Junmyeon shrugged. “If that’s what you say.”

“Will you let me go?”

Junmyeon looked at her.

“I can’t do that. It’s beyond my hands right now.”

Irene shook her head.

“I don’t understand this.” she looked at him. “You won’t let me go, but at the same time says you’ll not interrogate me.”

He watched her with interest.

“You seem quite eager to be interrogated. Chanyeol would really like that.”

Irene frowned.

“I’m responsible for you.” Junmyeon continued. “I’m the one that has to gather information, but I was going to wait for you to recover a bit more before that.”

“Will you force me, if I don’t tell you anything?”

He shook his head.

“No.”

Irene looked at him, incredulous.

“Do you call this an interrogation?”

Junmyeon lifted the corner of his lips, and she was taken aback by the act.

“I'm not interrogating you right now.” he said. “We're just talking.”

That conversation was extremely disturbing to her.

“Can I ask you something?” Junmyeon kept looking at her, and Irene had to force herself not to look away. She didn’t answer, and he probably took that as an incentive to keep going. “Can I know your name?”

She blinked. Her name? It hadn't happened to her until now that he didn't know that.

She thought about lying. Scientists hardly ever left the Exo'rdium, and it was unlikely that they would fall into the hands of EXO - so there was no protocol for that situation.

But Junmyeon was looking at her, waiting for an answer, and Irene felt like she didn't want to lie about it.

“Irene. My name’s Irene.”

Junmyeon nodded.

“Irene.” he repeated. “It’s nice meeting you.”

And in that moment, she knew that yes, those days would be weirder than she imagined.

--------------------------

“Do you know physical therapy exercises?”

Irene looked at Taeyeon, who was at her side watching what she was doing. The doctor came to visit her earlier that day, and found her doing some leg exercises.

“Yes. It's the basics in one of our classes.”

Taeyeon adjusted her glasses.

“I'm sorry for asking you that, but I've been noticing in some of our conversations that you know a lot about medicine.” She hesitated, before continuing. “Were you a doctor there?”

Irene should’ve been alarmed by the question, but in reality she thought it was about time that someone cared about what she did in the enemy territory. Besides, there was no point in hiding it.

“Yes,” she said. “but in our case, we’re called scientists.”

“Because you take care of… The experiments.”

From the way she spoke, it was obvious she was curious about X-EXO.

“We’re responsible for their health. But I wasn’t there when the cloning process took place.” She made it clear. “So I don't know how the procedures happened, if that's what you want to know.”

Taeyeon shook her head.

“We’re not interested in making clones. Actually, this is the last thing we want to know.”

Irene sat on the bed, tired. She was trying to take a few steps without the crutches, but it was still difficult.

“Don't force yourself. It’s good to take a few steps during the day to train resistance, but too many can make the situation worse.”

Irene nodded, but the topic of the conversation they were having remained in her mind.

“Wouldn't it be a smart move to find out how your enemies were made, so you can fight them?” she asked.

Taeyeon looked at her.

“Is that what you do?”

“We don't need to do this anymore. They’ve been cloned, we have real copies to study.”

The doctor closed her lips in a thin line.

“They’re not the same, I'm sure you noticed this from the little time you spent with them.” She frowned. “These boys have suffered a lot being experimented on.”

To that, Irene couldn’t say anything. She remembered when she had arrived at the Exo'rdium, and no one was allowed to enter the building where the subjects were. But sometimes, when they had classes outside, she saw the flash of some young boys in the building next to hers.

It wasn't until Irene was in her late teens that students were allowed to live in the same space as the boys. They were training to be scientists, so they had to be in contact with the subjects.

Sometimes she forgot how they were made – and how other people were involved to make this happen.

-------------------------

It was raining again. It did nothing but rain on those days, and they were running out of buckets to put under the leaks in the ceiling.

“Mom, I want to go somewhere else!” Joohyun whined. “Why do we have to stay here?”

The woman looked at her, stroking her hair.

“Because here is our home, my darling.”

“I hate this house! Everything is wet, and I can’t sleep on my bed!”

The woman sat next to her, and smiled. Joohyun couldn’t understand that. She was upset, she wanted to leave. Why did they have to live like this?

“Joohyun, we’re very lucky to have a home. Some people in the city have nowhere to stay in this rain, and they suffer from the cold. Here, we’re safe.”

The little girl wiped her tears.

“But mom, everything will be wet here too.”

The woman shook her head.

“There’s always a place here where we can be protected.” she pulled Joohyun closer, hugging her. “If we stay close like this, we won't get wet, huh?”

Joohyun sniffed, snuggling into the embrace, nodding.

“All that matters is that we’re together, do you understand? Together.”

 xx

 “We love you, my darling. Now go. Go, Joohyun.”

Go.

She ran.

Her legs ached, her lungs were burning.

Everything was dark. When she opened her mouth, there was no air.

She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t see, she couldn’t-

Irene opened her eyes at once, breathless.

She sat on the bed, feeling dizzy.

She was used to the dreams, but they’d never been so real. She was shaking.

The room was dark, except for a faint light coming from the hall. It was probably still late at night.

Irene looked at the nightstand, seeing the empty water jar they had left to her earlier. Her mouth was dry, and she needed to drink something.

Getting up slowly, she took the crutches to walk. It was the first time Irene would leave that room - which made her a little nervous - but she had no other choice. Besides, Junmyeon said she could walk around, didn’t he?

The hall was long, but everything around it made it feel like a home, different from what looked like hospital halls in the Exo’rdium. Irene wandered, not really knowing where to go. If she saw someone there, she could’ve asked for information, but no one seemed to be awake at that hour.

It was obvious that she was on the ground floor of that building, and Irene wondered if the kitchen was on another floor. There were some stairs in sight, but it would be impossible for her to climb all of them in her condition.

Irene turned another hall, and then heard a sound. A large open door gave way to an outdoor space, and she approached it. Maybe whoever was there could help her...

She went outside, but then stopped.

A dark-haired man was practicing archery, shooting at a target, seeming focused. She would’ve interrupted him, if she didn’t know who he was.

Irene almost thought Sehůn really was there. Even his posture was the same, and she just couldn't move away.

The man made no mistake, all the arrows hitting bullseye. He seemed so concentrated, that Irene thought no distraction would make him go wrong. All his attention was on the target.

People at the Exo'rdium always tried to get Sehůn to use the bow prototype they had developed, but he always denied it. He insisted on saying that he would beat his original without the need of accessories.

But it was obvious how good Sehun was with it. He was so focused - which was probably why Irene didn't expect when he suddenly turned towards her, shooting an arrow.

It was so fast, Irene didn't even have time to scream. She sensed the arrow passing inches from her face, hitting the door beside her.

“Just because I’m not looking at you doesn’t mean I’m not seeing you.” Sehun said.

Irene couldn't move, her heart beating too fast. She only realized how much she was shaking when she was no longer able to hold her crutches, staggering to the side. She leaned against the wall to keep from falling.

“Were you spying on me?” Sehun asked, but the tone was obviously accusatory.

Irene shook her head fast.

“No. I was… I was trying to find the kitchen. I don’t know...”

Sehun moved, and she stopped. He got closer to her, and from that distance, Irene could see his face better.

Dark hair, dark eyes, face without a scar. It triggered a memory on her mind, from a time when Sehůn’s face was like that, too.

His expression was serious, and Irene thought about something people at the Exo’rdium used to say, about how they found Sehůn one of the most intimidating subjects, with that scar on his face. Irene never thought that, and now looking at the boy in front of her, she also couldn't find him intimidating. He just looked young and angry.

“What do you intend being here?” he asked her.

“Nothing.” Irene replied, because it was true.

Sehun frowned.

“Junmyeon hyung seems to think you have no bad intentions, but I still can't trust you.”

She couldn’t blame him.

“I wouldn’t do anything. I can’t do anything.” she paused. “You’re all taking care of me now. I really wasn’t spying on you, I just wanted to get some water. I… Junmyeon told me I could take a walk, if I wanted to.”

Sehun watched her, and he still looked suspicious, but he flexed the arm with the bow on his back.

“The cafeteria is at the end of the hall on the right.”

He then left, and Irene kept standing where she was for a long time, trying to calm her heart, which was still racing.

When she turned to leave, she realized the arrow was stuck right in the middle of the door.

------------------------------- 

Obviously, Irene couldn’t sleep when she went back to the room.

The adrenaline was still strong in her body, and she kept repeating the scene in her mind. If Sehun wanted, he could’ve killed her right there, without hesitation. She didn't think he would do that, though, but the thought was thrilling.

After much tossing and turning in bed, Irene managed to fall asleep when the first rays of sunlight were already coming through the window. She had no dreams, but when she woke up it seemed like she hadn't slept at all.

Irene blinked a few times before opening her eyes, and saw someone standing next to the bedside table. Junmyeon seemed startled when he saw her looking at him.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?”

Irene frowned, sitting on the bed slowly. She still felt tired.

“No…” she said, and then paused. “What are you doing here?”

Junmyeon scratched the back of his head with his free hand - in the other, he was holding a book.

“I came here to give you this.”

He held out the book, and she took it. It was old, the pages were turning yellow. There were flowers on the cover, and the title was peeling off.

“I didn't know what you liked, so... Well, it's a poetry book.” Irene looked at him. “You must be bored spending your days here with nothing to do, so I figured it would be nice to have something to spend time with.”

There he was again, being considerate. Irene didn’t know how to react, because really, that wasn’t a normal situation. That man had every reason to be indifferent to her, but against all odds, he came up to her room and brought her a book.

“Thank you.” she said, meaning it. “I… I’ll read it.”

Junmyeon nodded, but remained standing where he was. It seemed like he wanted to say something else, and Irene thought that maybe the book was an excuse for that.

“Hm, Sehun told me you spoke with him last night.”

Of course.

Irene turned on the defensive mode.

“I wasn’t spying on him…”

“I know.” He told her. “I know. Actually, I wanted to apologize for his behavior. But I think you understand.”

Irene left the book on the nightstand.

“Of course I do. I’m the enemy, am I not?”

Junmyeon seemed a little bothered by that question.

“You must’ve been startled because of him.”

She remembered the scene again, and almost flinched.

“Well, I wasn't expecting that. It's not like I'm used to being shot with an arrow in the middle of the night.”

“Sehunie has very good reflexes. He would’ve never hurt you, unless he wanted to.”

Irene raised a brow.

“Isn’t that the point?”

Junmyeon gave a half smile.

“I guess it is.”

That made Irene even more confused. Was he really playing with the situation they were in? This man was messing with her mind.

A knock on the door stopped her from continuing that trail of thought.

“Excuse me.” the girl that used to bring her breakfast said, entering the room.

“Well, I’ll leave you to eat your breakfast in peace.” Junmyeon said. “Feel free to leave the book there if you don’t like it.”

“I don't think I have many entertainment options here.” She said, and stopped for a second. “I'll definitely read it, thank you.”

Junmyeon smiled lightly before leaving, and Irene kept telling herself that the warm feeling that remained with her during the morning was because of the soup.

---------------------------

Unlike the others, that day really seemed more productive for Irene - as far as it was possible, of course.

Taeyeon came to visit her, to check on her recovery and help with the exercises. Irene even walked a little in the hall, even though she had to lean against the wall a few times.

She also took a few naps during the day, to recover from that bad night's sleep - and incredibly, she was hungry enough to eat all her meals in full.

But the main point of that day was the book.

Irene liked to read, but most of the books she had in her room at the Exo’rdium were about science, medicine, and some on mathematics. She couldn't remember the last time she took a book and read it just for the pleasure of reading.

So, through that day, she read. Irene didn’t expect that she would like a poetry book so much, but found herself rereading a few pages several times, just because the poem was interesting. She didn't want to stop reading it, and at the same time, she didn't want it to end.

At night, after eating dinner and taking a shower, Irene picked up the book again, to finish her reading. She wondered if Junmyeon would bring her another one, when she finished this one. The thought, somehow, excited her.

It was well into the night when Irene heard the commotion.

People were talking loudly, there was a mix of voices - some that she recognized. Through the open door she saw people rushing by, and she frowned, finding it strange. She got up, going to the door.

Two girls were running holding clothes that looked stained with blood.

“Hey, hey!” Irene called, and the girls stopped. She recognized them, they were the ones that brought her meals during the day. “What happened? Why is everyone running?”

The girls looked at each other, probably not sure whether to say anything.

“It’s just that…” one of them started.

“Don’t say anything to her!” the other interrupted.

“But I heard her talking with Taeyeon unnie! She’s a scientist!”

“Yes I am.” Irene interrupted. “What happened?”

The younger girl bit her bottom lip.

“There was another fight at the border. Junmyeon oppa...” she stopped, starting to cry, being comforted by the other girl.

“What?” Irene insisted

“He’s hurt.” the girl that wasn’t crying said. “They took him to the medical floor.”

An alarm went off in her mind, and Irene started to move before thinking about what she was doing.

She knew it was better not to get involved in this, that it was better to go back to her room and pretend she hadn't heard any of it. But Irene just couldn't do it. It was as if her body acted on his own.

Irene remembered that in a conversation with Taeyeon, the doctor told her the medical rooms were on the first floor. With the crutches, it was difficult to climb the stairs, but Irene didn't hesitate. She tried as hard as she could, and was sweating when she got to the floor.

There was a room at the beginning of the hall, and through the glass, Irene could see the EXO members inside, looking at a stretcher - where Junmyeon was lying, and Taeyeon was opening his vest.

She didn’t knock before coming in.

“What are you doing here?” Chanyeol asked, but Irene ignored him, trying to look at Junmyeon on the stretcher.

He was lying on his stomach, and when Taeyeon removed his vest, Irene saw that his back was completely burned. He groaned.

She tried to get closer, but Sehun stopped her.

“What are you doing?”

“Just let me...” she tried to move again, and this time Chanyeol pushed her away from the stretcher.

The move made her lose balance and the hold on the crutches, falling on the floor.

“Get out of here!” Screamed Chanyeol.

“I can help him!” Irene said, almost desperately.

“You’re kidding, right? Your X-EXO did this to him!”

“That’s exactly why I can help him!” She didn’t back down. “He was burned by Chanyeøl, wasn’t, he?” Some of the boys looked at each other, and Irene kept talking. “I developed a serum that helps the process of healing. I can help him!”

There was a moment of consideration between the boys.

“How can we know you’re not lying?” Jongdae asked.

“She is lying!” Chanyeol interrupted.

“I'm not lying! You must have seen Sehůn today, haven't you? Wasn’t he fine? It's because I applied the serum the day that you burned him!”

The room was silent.

“Hyung.” Jongin started. “He was fine. We all saw him… Maybe she can help.”

Chanyeol growled, moving away. No one else said anything, and Jongin came closer to Irene, helping her to her feet and handing her the crutches.

“Can you really help him?” he asked, and Irene nodded, getting closer to the bed.

Junmyeon's back was raw, probably worse than Sehůn’s that day. He seemed unconscious, but was a little agitated.

“They gave him one of the pills.” Taeyeon explained. “But I... I've never seen anything like this. Can you really...”

“Yes.” Irene answered. “Do you have a lab in here?”

Taeyeon nodded. The two didn’t wait and left the boys in the room, going to the lab.

Irene didn't have to make much effort, she knew the formula by heart. She had spent months working on it, and Chanyeøl had enough fun burning his colleagues in the tests. The formula had been done for a purpose - but Irene never imagined she would use it for the opposite reason.

Taeyeon helped in what she could, bringing everything Irene needed. There was only one ingredient that the two had to ask Jongin to get - which was fast enough - and in half an hour they were leaving the lab with the serum ready.

Chanyeol and Baekhyun had left the room when they returned. Sehun was on the side of the bed holding Junmyeon's hand, and Jongin and Jongdae were standing further apart, watching.

Irene went to the side of the bed, and Taeyeon kept her distance, trusting what she was going to do. She opened the bottle with the serum, and slowly poured it on the man's back.

Junmyeon screamed, fidgeting on the stretcher.

“What have you done to him?” Sehun asked, nervous

“Even if he's half asleep, it still hurts.” Irene said. “But it's normal. Tomorrow, he will be much better, and in two days there will be no scars on his back.”

“Should we cover the wounds?” Taeyeon asked

“Let the serum work for a few minutes, and then you can treat it like a normal burn.”

Taeyeon nodded and walked away to get what she needed. Jongin got close to the stretcher, looking with sad eyes at the unconscious man.

“Is he really going to be okay?”

Irene looked at him.

“Yes. I can assure you that.”

Jongin nodded, his expression full of concern.

Irene looked at Junmyeon, who had calmed down. She was always a logical person, she knew that the serum would work, there was no doubt.

But in that moment, that knowledge couldn’t stop the tightness in her heart.

-------------------------- 

The next three days seemed to drag on.

Even if Irene wanted to, she didn't go back to the medical floor. She knew that the boys would be there all the time, and the last thing they would want was to see her there. She respected that.

Taeyeon came to visit her normally, to see how her leg was doing, and told her about Junmyeon's recovery. He was getting better every day, and knowing that at that moment was enough for Irene.

Jongin also showed up, one afternoon. He talked to her for a while, told her how Junmyeon was doing.

“It's incredible, noona.” he said, referring to the effect of the serum. “The marks are almost gone. And I know it's not easy, because I still have some scars on my arms from when Chanyeøl burned me that day.”

Irene told him she could make a little more of the serum for him, and the boy smiled, excited. Jongin had started calling her “noona this, noona that” and she didn’t find it in her heart to stop him. Something about him being so young and innocent was growing on her.

He also said that she could go to the medical floor if she wanted to. Irene refused it, but thanked him for coming to see her.

In that way, she tried to deal with her days. Irene continued to think about the incident, and always wondered what would’ve happened to Junmyeon if she hadn't been there. It was clear that the Exo’rdium had more technology, but were the people in the Elyxion really that vulnerable? Why did they continue to fight, if there were so many risks?

She couldn’t understand that, just as she couldn’t understand several things in this place.

In the rest of her time, Irene continued to read the book. Even when she finished it, she kept rereading it. There was something about that book that left her in peace. Especially that one poem, which was stuck in her mind since she had read it.

                                                                                   Bring me warm rain

                                                                                              and lavender

                                                                                                      and you

                                                                              I want you most of all.

She kept staring at the page. Irene had never thought about that, of how the lavender flower was so small and discrete - but you only needed one to make the whole place smell like it.

That made her think of him.

There was a knock on the door, and Irene turned her head – just to see Junmyeon standing at the entrance of her room.

“Can I come in?”

She couldn’t find the voice to answer him. She wasn't supposed to be that surprised, but Irene really wasn't expecting him to show up there. Her heart was beating too fast.

Junmyeon didn’t wait for her to answer, entering the room. He wasn’t wearing the combat clothes he used to, but something similar to hers - sweatpants and a cotton shirt. His hair was damp, as if he just came out of the shower.

“You’re still reading this?” he asked, looking at the book on her lap. “I can’t tell if you liked it or are just reading it slowly because it’s so bad.”

Irene put herself together.

“What are you doing here?” she finally said. “You should be resting.”

Junmyeon looked at her.

“I think you know better than everybody that I’m fine.” she didn't answer that, and his expression softened. “Do you want to take a walk?”

She should’ve said no - she should’ve - but Irene couldn't find the words to deny it. Especially when he asked her that way. So she nodded, and got out of bed.

Irene imagined that the Elyxion compound was large, but she had no idea how much, until Junmyeon took her out of the room. Close to the training area she saw Sehun the other night, there was another common outdoor area, with a huge garden. There were several people around, walking, talking, playing. With each step she took, Irene was even more surprised.

“It’s nice, right?” he asked, noticing her expression.

“It’s beautiful.” she said, looking around. “How do you maintain it?” That was a very honest question. With the city destroyed by war, places like this were hard to find.

“There are some people responsible for looking after the garden specifically. Everybody likes this place, so we try our best.”

Irene nodded. They continued walking and looking around - Junmyeon slowing down to keep up with her pace with the crutches.

“Thank you.” he said, suddenly, and Irene looked at him. “Jongin told me what you did.”

She looked away, feeling a bit nervous.

“It’s ok.”

“No, it's not.” He touched her arm lightly, to make her stop. “It seems impossible that my back is almost completely healed after the state it was. I'm sure you saved my life.”

Irene shook her head.

“You did the same for me.”

They looked at each other.

Irene wasn't sure what was going on. She wasn't even sure if that was supposed to happen, whatever it was. But maybe she was thinking too much. He’d saved her, and she did the same.

Two children ran between them, and Junmyeon gave her a smile, scratching the back of his neck.

“Should we keep going?”

Irene nodded, a hint of a smile on her face.

As they continued to walk, she saw, not far from them, Baekhyun and Chanyeol sitting on a bench. The silver-haired boy was saying something and the other was laughing, almost falling off the bench.

“He's always overreacting.” Junmyeon commented, looking in the same direction as her.

“I never thought he was capable of laughing like this.”

Junmyeon smiled.

“Chanyeol isn’t a serious person in any way. He just gets pretty defensive when you’re around.”

Irene looked at Junmyeon.

“He can literally burn me to ashes.”

The red-haired man continued to look at his friends.

“Chanyeol suffered a lot, probably more than all of us. He hates anyone who is connected to the Red Force.”

Like Junmyeon, Irene looked at the scene. Baekhyun was smiling at Chanyeol, and he had a soft expression on his face, brushing the hair out of the other’s eyes. They were holding hands.

“Baekhyun’s a good relief for all of us, but he has always been Chanyeol's strength. They like each other very much.”

She could see that. It was obvious in the way they looked at each other. Irene never knew much about love, the feeling being foreign to her - but she was sure that was it.

“I've been thinking,” Junmyeon continued, and Irene looked at him. “maybe you could come and have your meals in the cafeteria.”

Irene blinked. That was random.

Going to the cafeteria? The thought was actually nice - getting out of the room, doing other things. But at the same time, that was part of their routine, and she wondered if it would look like an intrusion.

“I…” she hesitated. “I don’t know…”

“You’ll be welcome, don’t think otherwise.” Junmyeon assured her. “Everybody’s grateful for what you did. Chanyeol too, even though he would never say that.”

Irene had to laugh at that, and when she looked to the side, Junmyeon was already looking at her. She felt her cheeks heat up and looked away - the two of them continuing to walk.

------------------------- 

Irene looked at herself in the bathroom mirror for the third time that morning.

That was ridiculous. Why was she so worried about going to the cafeteria? She would just eat and then leave, there was nothing more to it. It wasn’t like they would throw her away… Or would they?

Irene shook her head, pushing those thoughts away. The girl who usually brought her breakfast was late, and she wondered if Junmyeon had told her to be late, to give Irene a chance to go to the cafeteria.

“Don’t overthink it”.

She picked up her crutches, and before she could change her mind, Irene left the room.

People at the Elyxion seemed to be getting used to Irene's presence there, not caring too much when they saw her walking down the halls. She couldn't say she didn't like it - doing things without looking like she was being watched was nice.

Despite that, her going to the cafeteria wasn’t a common sight, and all eyes turned to her as soon as she walked in. In the middle of the room, the EXO members were sitting at a table, bodies turned in her direction. Junmyeon looked pleased, but she didn't wait to see what he was going to do, moving quickly to get a tray.

There was just one problem. She didn't think it would be so difficult to do that while she leaned on her crutches.

“Hey, noona.” Jongin appeared on her side, startling her. Did he teleport over there? “Can I help you with that?”

She didn't really say yes, but he was already picking up a tray for her. Irene blinked, a little taken aback as she answered him when he asked her what she wanted to eat.

When they were done, Jongin started to move to the EXO table, but Irene stopped him.

“I’ll sit over there.” she told him, pointing at an empty table a little far away.

It looked like he wanted to protest, but Jongin just nodded, carrying the tray to the table. When Irene sat down, she saw Junmyeon leaving his spot and approaching them.

“You came.”

It was just a fact, but his expression was so bright that she couldn't think for a second.

“Hm, yes. I don't think it’s going to hurt.”

Junmyeon sat in front of her.

“Of course it won’t. I said you would be welcome.”

Irene glanced at the EXO table, who didn't look so excited with her presence.

“Don’t mind them.” Jongin said. “They’re just jealous.”

Irene turned to him. “Jealous”?

Junmyeon cleared his throat, and the younger said nothing more.

“So,” Junmyeon changed the subject. “Taeyeon said she would examine you today to see if you can remove the splint.”

Irene sighed.

“Yes. I can't take any more walking with these crutches. I can't wait to get rid of them.”

“But are you sure you're okay? Don't you feel any pain?”

“Just a little. But I think it will be fine if I continue the exercises. Anyway, we will only know when we remove the splint and analyze the situation.”

Junmyeon nodded.

“Noona,” Jongin started. “if you’re ok, will you be able to make that serum for me?”

Irene smiled lightly.

“I’ll speak to Taeyeon about it.”

Junmyeon looked confused.

“What are you talking about?”

“Irene noona said she would make me some anti-burn serum, to get rid of the marks left on my arms.”

The red-haired man frowned.

“You shouldn't be bothering her.”

“Come on, hyung. Your back is completely healed.”

Junmyeon said nothing, and Irene looked at him. As a doctor, she would’ve liked to see the healing process, to see how he was doing - but in that situation, she couldn't just ask him to take off his shirt and show his back.

“It's all right.” She assured him. “It's not too difficult, I can do a little more.”

Junmyeon smiled slightly and Irene looked away, paying attention to her food.

------------------------ 

In the early afternoon, Irene went to Taeyeon's office. It was a little earlier than they had scheduled, but she was so eager to remove that splint that she couldn't wait in her room.

The office door was open, but when she got closer, Irene saw that someone was already inside. Baekhyun was sitting on a stretcher, and Taeyeon was taking care of what appeared to be a cut on his arm.

The boy kept talking nonstop, but even when she concentrated on what she was doing, Taeyeon paid attention to his every word. She smiled a few times, the smiles discreet, looking at his face when the boy wasn’t paying attention.

Maybe Irene was seeing too much of some things because her mind was so free these days – or maybe it could be because of that poetry book – but she was sure at that moment that Taeyeon liked Baekhyun.

Taeyeon finished what she was doing and Baekhyun moved his arm, flinching a little, probably because it hurt.

“Don’t move too much or you will open the stitches.”

“Alright, sorry.” Baekhyun touched his arm. “Thank you, noona. You saved me again.”

He smiled at her, and Taeyeon shook her head, looking down. Her cheeks were a soft pink, and she adjusted the glasses on her face.

“It’s alright.”

Someone passed Irene by the door, entering the room quickly - interrupting the scene. Chanyeol stopped beside the stretcher, looking at Baekhyun with concern.

“What happened, Baek? They told me you were here.”

“It’s nothing.” Baekhyun reassured him. “I was just training with Sehunie.”

“Did he hit you with an arrow on purpose?”

“Well...” Baekhyun bit his lower lip. “I did tease him that he wouldn't be able to hit me when I was running.”

Chanyeol sighed, shaking his head.

“But I’m fine now, Taeyeon noona took care of me.”

“Just make sure he doesn’t move his arm too much.” she told Chanyeol.

“I will definitely make sure of that.” Chanyeol said, and Baekhyun got off the stretcher.

“Thanks again, noona.” he said to Taeyeon, before following Chanyeol out of the room.

The two stopped when they saw Irene at the door, but Chanyeol just continued on his way without saying anything, while Baekhyun smiled and said a "hello" before leaving. Only then Taeyeon noticed she was there.

“Oh. Irene, I'm sorry to keep you waiting...” she said, and then hesitated. “Have you been here for a long time...?”

Irene thought about saying the truth, but that would mean she would’ve seen the previous scene, with Baekhyun - and she was sure Taeyeon wouldn't want to talk about it.

“No.” she shook her head. “I just got here.”

“Alright…” she paused. “So, let’s see if you can take off this splint?”

Irene nodded.

She had a feeling that her leg would no longer be swollen, and when Taeyeon removed the splint, they could see she was right. It was clear the Elyxion didn’t have as much technology as the Exo’rdium, but their techniques were also good. Irene could feel that her leg was much better.

They still did some tests, pressing her leg and walking, and although it still hurt a little, it was tolerable. Irene could walk normally, just limping a little, but without the help of crutches.

“You know you need to continue exercising daily to be completely well.” Taeyeon told her. “Also, I don't think you're going to do that, but don't push yourself too hard, and don't run around or anything.”

Irene nodded, not believing that running could really be an option now.

“I won’t. Thank you, Taeyeon.”

When she left the room, Irene felt the best she had ever been all those days.

Being restricted was terrible, and now walking through the halls was much easier and much more satisfying. Irene suddenly thought of Junmyeon - she wanted to tell him, show him. It was such a strong thought that she didn't stop herself from looking for him in the compound.

Unfortunately, he was nowhere in sight - and Irene didn't want to ask anyone, because she knew it would sound strange. In the end, she just walked through the garden, feeling the late afternoon chilly breeze, and thinking about the last time she walked there with Junmyeon.

She was so lost in thought that she almost didn’t see Jongdae, playing chess on a table not far from where she was. Irene stopped, the familiar scene startling her for a moment.

Of all the boys, she would say that Jongdae was the most different.

Where Chën had a perfect posture, with perfectly fitted clothes and slick styled hair, Jongdae just seemed more carefree - practical and simple, with curly hair covering his forehead in a messy way.

He suddenly looked to the side - at her - and Irene didn't know whether to stay there or leave.

“Do you want to play?” he asked, surprising her.

That scene, too, looked like a deja-vú. Despite that, she nodded.

She sat across from him, watching the boy put the pieces back together. Chën never did that, he liked that she played from where he left off.

“Do you know how to play?”

Irene nodded.

“Yes.”

“Then you can start.”

Irene wasn't sure why he wanted her company. It was clear that he was more open to her presence than Chanyeol or Sehun, but he never seemed to express that - until now.

She moved a piece.

Jongdae looked at the board for some time before moving one, too.

The two played a few rounds in silence, until he seemed surprised by a move Irene made.

“Nice play. I didn't think you guys would have time for trivial hobbies like this one.”

Irene watched him play.

“It's a logical game, it helps with mind control. We all had some lessons on that.”

Jongdae was silent for a moment.

“Does he play too?”

Irene didn't expect him to ask about Chën, but then, nothing was being predictable here.

“Yes.” she said. “It’s one of his favorite things to do.”

Jongdae raised the corner of his lips.

“Besides stalking people with his cameras?”

He had made a move that Irene wasn't sure how to overcome. She thought about it and moved a piece without answering the question.

“Why does he never show up in combat?” Jongdae asked, and Irene looked at him. He was frowning, and she knew that matter bothered him enough for him to ask her.

“Chën is very smart. He prefers to use his mind in strategy than his body in combat.”

Jongdae was still frowning.

“He doesn't use his thunder?”

“Yes, but only if he needs to. I believe that Chën wants to win with something that...” She paused “Well, that’s not someone else's.”

Jongdae seemed unbothered by that.

“Good time to have these principles.” he murmured, before moving a piece. “Check Mate.”

Irene looked at the board, seeing how fast he had changed the game - and wondered what would happen if him and Chën faced each other.

-------------------------- 

The night came, and Irene still hadn’t seen Junmyeon.

She hoped she would have met him in the cafeteria at dinner time, but he wasn’t there. EXO's table was also not full - only Baekhyun, Jongdae and Sehun were there. Irene sat down with Taeyeon and a few other people from the medical center, but wasn’t hungry to eat all of her dinner.

Later in her room, Irene thought about trying to sleep early, but she didn't feel tired at all, and decided to take a hot shower and try to relax. As she was leaving the bathroom, there was a knock on the door - and her heart skipped a beat.

Her whole body was telling her – was wishing – that it was going to be him, but Irene tried not to put her hopes up when she went to open the door – and saw Junmyeon standing there.

“Hi. I wasn’t sure if you would be sleeping... You weren’t, right?”

Irene shook her head. She didn't know why she was so pleased to see him there, and they continued to look at each other - but Junmyeon was awkward, holding a plate with what looked like cake in his hands.

“Do you want to come in?” she asked, and he nodded.

Junmyeon entered the room, Irene closing the door behind them, and it was the first time that the two were alone like this. The realization hit her, and there was a moment of tension in the room.

“This is a cake from the cafeteria.” He explained, breaking the silence. “It's my favorite, so I stole a piece, but... I don't know if you'd like...”

Irene watched him.

“I ate a lot at dinner, today.” she told him.

“Ah.” Junmyeon blinked. “Ah, it's okay. I just... Well...” He frowned, looking down, and seemed to notice her leg. “You removed the splint.”

Irene followed his gaze, moving her leg.

“Yes, this afternoon.”

“Are you okay? Doesn’t it hurt?” She shook her head “That's good.”

There was another moment of silence in the room, and Irene didn't really want to say that - but it seemed that she was unable to contain her curiosity those days, especially when it came to Junmyeon.

“I haven't seen you in the building all day.” She commented, without really asking.

“I had to attend some meetings today.” he told her “They went outside the compound, so... It was a little far away.”

Irene knew that the Red Force was the one who determined everything in the Exo'rdium and controlled X-EXO - but it was a mystery to everyone who was behind EXO. She felt like if she asked him, Junmyeon would tell her, but Irene was actually surprised to realize she didn't want to talk about it with him at that moment.

She walked around the room, past him to the nightstand, where the poetry book was.

“I think I should give this back to you.”

Junmyeon looked at the book, and shook his head.

“You can keep it. I have plenty of books in my room.”

Irene didn’t know why, but that didn’t sound strange.

“Do you really like poetry?”

Junmyeon gave her a half smile.

“It's kind of ironic in the times we live in, isn't it?”

She looked at him, feeling something deep about it.

“Not really.” she said, meaning it.

Junmyeon seemed taken aback by that, and the mood in the room changed.

“Can I ask you which one is your favorite, if you have one?”

Irene hesitated, but sat on the bed and opened the book, looking for the page. She noticed when Junmyeon sat next to her, leaving the plate with the cake on the nightstand.

She found the lavender poem, and showed it to him. Junmyeon looked at the page with a light smile, and Irene was unable to look away from him.

“I like this one a lot, too.”

“Do you have a favorite?”

Junmyeon eyed her, and started flipping through the book again until he stopped on a page. Irene saw the title, "Always".

“Do you mind if I read it out loud?” Junmyeon asked.

She shook her head.

“No.”

Junmyeon seemed to concentrate, and Irene watched every detail in his expression as he read.

“You were you, and I was I; we were two, before our time. I was yours before I knew, and you have always been mine too.”

It was such a small poem, a quick reading - but the depth it had, the depth she felt from Junmyeon was so intense, it was almost too much for Irene.

“That was my parent’s favorite.” Junmyeon said, before finally looking back at her.

Irene knew she should’ve moved, that she should’ve said something, but it was impossible. His voice still reverberated in her ears, and now that he was looking at her, everything around seemed out of focus.

She didn't notice her body leaning towards him - or maybe it was him who was approaching her? Irene didn't know. But they were close, and she could see every detail of his face.

Junmyeon had a small scar on his lower lip. It was so small that it couldn't be noticed unless you were close, like this. His eyes were almost hidden behind the red hair, and Irene’s fingers were itching to get it out of the way.

“Irene...”

Hearing the soft tone of his voice made her realize what was about to happen, all the warnings in her mind going off.

Were they about to kiss?

Irene moved away, getting up from the bed. Her mind was still fuzzy, but she had to get a grip of herself.

What was going on?

“Irene?”

She looked at Junmyeon. He looked confused, still sitting on the bed.

“I think I need to sleep.” She said, suddenly. “I... Thanks for the cake. But I'm tired, I... I need to sleep.”

Junmyeon kept quiet for a few moments, but then stood up, without pressuring her. He also knew what would have happened, so why wasn't he questioning her? This confused Irene even more.

“Alright.” He said, leaving the book on the bed. “You can send it back to the cafeteria if you don't want to.” He continued, referring to the cake.

And after looking at her one more time, Junmyeon left the room.

Irene sat on the bed again, feeling weak.

What was happening to her? She wasn’t like that.

Even when she was involved with Sehůn, Irene knew it wasn’t right. She knew that being with a subject wasn’t good for her job. But Junmyeon? That was even worse.

He was EXO.

He was the enemy. She used to do her best everyday to develop things that would help to destroy him.

And now, against all odds, she had almost kissed him.

And she wanted to.

That’s what scared her the most.  

[ill-skillsgard]

Smoke & Money, Part 3 - Bill Skarsgård

Title: Smoke & Money

Warning: 100% NSFW, some drug use, swearing, sex/fetish/kink type situations

Description: A young sex worker gets tangled in the dangerous web of a wealthy entrepreneur whose tastes push her past all of her known limits.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

There was this guy that I met and he was interested in me. I could tell immediately. He had a fast car and an expensive suit on. He was a little on the shorter side with a buzz cut to hide his receding hairline and a chin-strap to make up for it. By the looks of him, he may have been of Italian descent. Not that I cared all that much when he opened his wallet and showed me a stack of hundreds. He wanted to go out for a night with me as his date. At first, he offered me five hundred but I told him to double it for the night if I was acting as a date. He wanted the full escort services. It had been a long time since I had gone clubbing and even longer since I had escorted. Some guys wanted to strut around like peacocks and not just get their dicks sucked in a parked car. So whatever, I thought, I'll go to a fancy club with this guy and have my drinks paid for and come away with another grand in my pocket, at the very least. Usually, these types wanted to stay up all night hauling rails of cocaine and trying to balance it out by choking down male performance enhancers that you could buy at sex shops. Again, whatever. As long as I got paid. I wasn't personally a fan of getting all wigged out on drugs normally but I did like a drink here and there and I could be a fun time, even without narcotics. I also liked to get dolled up so the whole club scenario felt like a breath of fresh air to me.

As I stood in front of my mirror doing my make up I couldn't help but think about Mr. Skarsgard. I hated that I referred to him like that but I still didn't know his first name and by the way he had growled at me the last time, I was afraid to ever speak out of line with him. He looked so young but he carried himself so proudly that it was hard to pinpoint his age. The plague of questions still swirled in my gut once in a while. If he was so rich and so handsome, why was he paying women to be his little service maids? The man was an enigma to me, so dark and quiet, like the beginning of a storm, when the world seems to stand perfectly still inside a din of impending chaos. What was to come? I could not be sure. All I could do was watch the skies.

The club we went to was obnoxiously upscale in decor but noticeably Spring Break in clientèle. Even though the men were suited and the women all wore stilettos, they were all yelling and dancing and drinking and many pairs of eyes were blown-out dilated. I accompanied my John to different corners and levels of the clubs, drink in hand, swagger in my step and alertness that I did not give way to so that he could find his buddies and most certainly show me off. The dress I wore was a backless, low-cut silky shawl of a drape that only really covered my ass and pussy because it tapered down into a pencil skirt. I too wore stilettos.I had on this little number, impossibly high-heeled shoes and a gold sequined clutch that contained my phone, my ID, and my money. I drank with him and laughed with him and stole glances with his more attractive friend. It was a standard night at the club. Blow was snorted off of inch-long acrylic nails, martini glasses speckled any table surface and the music pumped so loud that it was impossible to have a real conversation. To be honest I was kind of having fun at the club even if my client was a greasy little guido with too much Hugo Boss cologne on. "Hey sweetheart," he yelled into my ear. "Take this and go use those tits to order everyone a shot." "Yeah, sure. How many?" I asked him. "Like ten. Who needs a shot!?" I had been seated at a table with a few guys who all fit the same profile as my client and a few girls. I wasn't sure who was a girlfriend and who was an escort but I didn't really care. He had just put two hundred dollars in the palm of my hand. He must have been really messed up and having too good of a time to care about the money spent. I don't think anybody in the establishment cared how much money they were spending. They were all kids with rich parents. Boy how I loved kids with rich parents. Through all of the writhing bodies and slamming bass, I made my way to a bar and posted up on it for a moment to collect my thoughts. I opened my clutch and put the hundred dollar bills inside for safe-keeping. Most of the night I had been neglecting my cell phone so I figured it a good time to check it. As soon as the screen came on I saw there had been a missed call from a few minutes prior. "Shit..." I said to myself. Oh well, unknown number. The bartender was on the complete opposite end of the bar and I knew it would be a while before she worked her way down to me. After all, straight women bartenders tended to favor serving the men first for better tips. That was alright with me though because I knew that hustle far too well. So I waited for my turn like a proper patron. Then my cell phone started vibrating in my hand. There was no way I could take the call amidst all of the noise but it was the same number that I had just missed. My heart skipped a beat or two.

I shoved my clutch underneath my arm and made for the bathroom, the only semi-quiet place that I could think of to take a call.  Luckily for me, the only people occupying the stalls were chicks peeing and doing cocaine together. I took the last stall, shut the door and locked it behind me, cell phone in hand.

There was no way I could wait for the number to call again so I decided to call it back which was something I usually didn't do.

It rang and rang and rang for what felt like forever until finally, somebody picked up. "Hello?" I asked when nobody said a thing. "Yeah." "Hi... Who is this? I have a missed call from this number." "Two missed calls." The voice said. I chuckled nervously, "Oh, yeah. Um, so just returning the call." "I appreciate it." "Sorry, who is this?" "Bill... Skarsgard." "Oh." "I'm sending a car for you." My mouth hung open as I scrabbled for something to say. "No, I... I can't. Not tonight." "J... Don't make me tell you twice." "I'm not..." I paused to grind my teeth. "I'm not at home." "Where are you?" With a sigh, I relented, "The Revive Downtown." "He'll be there soon." "Uh... Okay." I hung up the phone and let out a long breath. Shit. Dropping my phone back into my clutch, I left the bathroom in search of my client whose name I forgot. I had to wiggle my way through troops of people dancing before I reached the table that I'd just left. "Where the drinks at?" He asked. I grabbed his hand and gave him back the two hundred dollars. He looked down at the money with confusion written on his shiny face. "I have to go." "What?" He yelled, unable to hear me above all of the electronic discord. He got the hint when I stood to leave. "Sorry, I have to go!" "Wait what the fuck? You can't leave." He stood up as well, much to the surprise of his friends. I held up the free hand that wasn't clutching my bag tightly to my body. "It's an emergency, I'm so sorry!" "No, no, no! I want my money back, bitch!" "I'm sorry! That's not going to happen! Sorry... I have to go!" With that, I turned to walk away quickly towards the exit. My ditched client had other plans and once I was outside I could finally hear properly. There were people all over the street, cars driving by, pulling up and honking and then someone grabbed my arm tightly. "Hey! Don't you fucking walk away from me." I had been followed outside by my client who was obviously pissed. The exclamation was enough to grab the attention of anyone who was standing in line as well as the bouncer who turned his attention toward us but didn't move from his post. "Give me my money back you fucking whore." I flinched away from him, throwing my arms up in front of my face as my first reaction. What I anticipated was for him to come at me, but that was interrupted immediately. "Step the fuck back right now buddy. You don't want to try it." My savior said rather calmly. It was Mr. Skarsgård's driver who had gotten in between us. The guido stepped away, fists clenched, his buddies had come out too and also didn't know how to react. "Your fucking whore stole my money!" The driver took a step closer, towering over the angry client with a trained poise. There was no way he would attempt to throw down with the driver who had a foot on him and none of his friends seemed up to the challenge either. "You better watch your mouth, kid," the driver warned. "You," he then pointed at me. "Get in the car... now." I didn't wait for him to open the door for me and simply flung it open myself, threw my clutch into the back and got in. There was hardly anymore exchange before the driver shook his jacket and came back to the car. It was strange that I felt safe inside the BMW but I did and that's all I really cared about. My friends had told me I should have a bodyguard for situations like these but I had put it off for the simple fact that I couldn't afford to pay a guy to stave off asshole clients. Also, I hadn't done anything to get myself into violent situations either. This was all sorts of unlike me. I had never bounced on a client before. What I was doing for Skarsgård went against almost everything I had learned. It was just common courtesy to not walk out on a client, especially if you had been paid beforehand. This was going to get me into a lot of trouble. The driver got into the car and quickly pulled away from the scene. I watched his tense face relax gradually the further we drove from the club. After a minute or two of driving, he looked in the rearview mirror, matching my stare. "I'm sorry you had to do that," I said to him. "You don't have any protection?" Ashamed, I shook my head no. "You should, doing what you do." Glancing out the window at the passing streets I sighed, "I know." That was the only exchange we had for the rest of the way there. Each minute that passed I got more and more nervous. My imagination ran wild thinking of all of the possible scenarios that I was potentially putting myself into. I started shivering, perhaps because I was wearing almost nothing or maybe from fear of what I was walking into.

In my ridiculously high heels, I clopped up the steps behind the driver who had left the car running just to let me inside the house. I thought it was appropriate of him and I longed to thank him more for stepping in to defend me but I didn't think he wanted to hear any more of it. Instead, I walked right into the foyer. The lights were on this time and it took me a moment to adjust. A bright light was thrown into all corners of the massive hall by the crystal chandelier that hung down like a glittering, silver jellyfish. The paintings were illuminated enough to make out the finer details. But before I could wander in further a voice cleared at the top of the stairs. "Well... A little under-dressed?" I looked up and saw him leaning against the banister, one leg bent and one straight. His white button-up was open and I could see his deep collarbone. Although he looked a little more disheveled than I was used to, he still had his shirt tucked into his straight-fitting black trousers and shiny brown oxford shoes on. He looked to be a mile away by how tall he stood at the top staring down at me with what I thought could have been a mixture of disdain and surprise. "I was out dancing," I called up to him. He nodded his head and never took his stare off of me even if I shied away from the constant eye contact. "Get upstairs. Now." After his unyielding order, he turned and left down the East Wing hall. The echo of his footfalls beckoned me up the stairs. Before I started I grimaced at having to ascend so many stairs in such ridiculous shoes. However determined I was, I couldn't help but let myself take a short breather after clearing all of them one by meticulous one so as to not stumble on the thick carpet. He hadn't gone into his room, he was waiting right at the door. I tried to compose myself and walked towards him with confidence and not like my knees were about to give in. I wondered if he could tell how terrible I was at walking in stilettos. "Go." His voice was like blunt force trauma to my ears. I entered the room which had come alive by the light of candles and the lamp beside the bed.

Bill closed the door behind us with an antique thud and circled me like a predator, never taking his eyes off of me. I felt naked even though I wasn't. His eyes burned so vehemently but his mouth was relaxed and he could almost undress me with the intensity of that stare. Finally, I could see his face, really see it under the glow of the candles and lamps. He was this hybrid of a boy, innocence was woven into every cell of his pale skin and undeniable confidence of a well-dressed, well-paid man, as sinister as he was striking. He had it all in that moment; money, power, and beauty. Something told me he could get away with anything even without the money and the power. Those good looks alone could make a girl do a lot.

That's precisely how he made me feel as he walked towards me, taking his hands from his trouser pockets to grasp my chin, forcing me to stare back at him. "What you did tonight was wrong and I'm very disappointed." He said. "I'm sorry." "Well... you have the rest of the night to atone for making me angry, isn't that right?" "Yes, sir." His eyes were wide and searching, flicking back and forth as he bore into my own eyes. "I thought we had an understanding?" "We do, sir." Bill stepped back and let his eyes fall down my body, taking in every inch of me. Judging me or simply observing, it was hard to tell. This man was hard to read. "Apparently I didn't make myself clear enough." I swallowed. He continued. "You are mine and only mine. You belong to me. You are my fucking property and I do not share." "You don't have to, sir"" "Oh is that right? Then who are you all dressed up for, hm?" "Nobody." "You mean to tell me this little ensemble wasn't meant for anyone? I find that hard to believe. I don't pay you to traipse around the city looking like a ten-dollar hooker for other people." There were so many things I wanted to say but I chose to remain silent as he continued to circle me. "Go to the bed rail." He pointed towards the prodigious canopy bed that was hampered with pillows. I walked past him and stopped at the foot of the bed. He did not watch me but rather went to the other side of the room and dragged a plush wing-back chair to the center of the carpet. With a look of complete absorption on his face, he approached me from behind as though I were just another object in his room. "Bend over." He murmured. I did as I was told and bent over the wooden rail at the foot of his enormous bed. I wasn't sure what to do with my arms so I splayed my hands out on the soft duvet and waited for what was to come next. His hand touched my lower back and pushed down. "Further," he said. Lower I went, arching my back and the more I did so the more my dress pulled up in the back. He could most certainly see my ass as I could feel cool air touching my skin. That big hand ran down the base of my spine and over my exposed skin. Slowly he inserted a finger underneath the scant little strap of my thong, pulling it up. The sensation of the material pulling taut against my most sensitive parts was enough to make me weak in the knees, or perhaps it was my shoes. Nevertheless, it didn't feel unwelcome, simply disgracious in a way that made me feel dirty. "You never make me wait. I do not wait for you. You wait for me." "Yes." "Yes, what?" "Yes, sir." Without letting go of my underwear he used his other hand to push me down further over the rail so that I was completely on display for him. My fear was that he would penetrate me but in those deliciously sickening moments, I didn't have the courage to bring up my rules. I simply did not allow clients to fuck me without a condom. Even the cleanest of men were no exception. My heart began to race thinking of every possibility that could go down. What would I do if he tried? Did I have it in me to freak out, push him away and end it all? Would I allow him to enter me? My head felt so foggy that I honestly couldn't tell how to react. All I knew was that his long fingers were tickling my skin and I could feel the heat of arousal stirring inside of me. Then he wound up and spanked me so hard a shockwave of sting interrupted my entire thought process. I gasped and looked back at him but he was calm, collected and close to me with his hands on my backside once more, rubbing the skin where he had just laid a fiery handprint. "Don't you ever keep me waiting again, understand?" I sucked in my bottom lip and nodded. "You are mine. You are my fucking property," he repeated himself. "Do not test me." "Yes, sir." "You fuck up and misbehave and now..." He leaned over my body bringing his lips close to my ear, hand never leaving my ass cheek. "Now you need punishment." That was the only warning he gave before spanking me again in the same spot. It stung so bad but I gritted my teeth and handled it not unflinchingly but as best as I could to keep from squealing. The prickling heat made me wince in pain. As if to alleviate the suffering he switched to the other cheek and gave me a whack for balance. Not once did he let go of my thong. He pulled it up, rubbed his hand over where the tiny triangle of fabric covered me and smacked me again. This time I couldn't help but let a sound slip from my mouth. "Oh yes, I know it hurts but this is what happens when you defy me. Isn't that right?" I nodded vigorously in hopes my submission would earn me some sympathy. It did not, and he wound up, cranking me really good on the right so hard that my legs faltered. If he wasn't there to keep me standing I would have buckled to the floor. Sweat broke on my forehead and my muscles clenched tightly. The funny part of it all was that I wasn't even tied up. I could have easily turned around and left. I could have refused this punishment. Hell, I could have refused him back at the club and I would have been well on my way to being drunk on top shelf liquor but instead, I was here, bent over a hand-carved wooden rail getting my ass handed to me by this rich, authoritarian man who I knew nothing about. 

The only solace my burning skin took was when he leaned over and spit on my bare ass cheeks and smeared it around with his thumbs. I sighed and I'm sure he noticed my relief by the way my spine relaxed. The sustenance was short-lived though. He lowered himself on one knee, proposing to my backside with both hands squeezing, spreading me open and then giving me a few swift belts using his hands as a paddle. By then my dress had risen far over my hips and I had never been more exposed to him before than I was at that moment. His punishment started to awaken a small, provocative tingle that didn't take long to sprout into something that coveted the rain of his foul play upon me. I soon forgot how my ankles were starting to ache, having been propped up on five inches of poniard for hours. The loud claps of his hand against my rear were enough to mask my tiny, shivering moans. He threaded his fingers through my hair and pulled my head back, allowing me to straighten. His other hand came up my neck and gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him, puppeteering my head to bring his lips to the crest of my cheekbone. His breath was hot, sweetened with bourbon and the scent of the cigarettes he smoked. When he pushed his hips into me I could feel how hard he had gotten and I gasped. What was he planning on doing to me? I knew that if I was subjected to anymore spanking it would cross the threshold into nothing but pain with a tearful lack of any pleasure. I didn't want it again but I did want something from him. What I wanted was so unreal and unwise. "Say you're mine." He hissed at me before licking my cheek all the to my gaping mouth. "Say it." What felt like a venomous snake wrapping around me tightly was really the erection he had pressed against my side. If he hadn't have been fully clothed I would have felt a lot more threatened but there was still this perception of a loaded gun. At the moment I truly felt the words leave my mouth. "I'm yours, I'm yours." "That's right, you are." He squeezed my cheeks between his fingers. "Now... Show me your tongue." I opened my mouth modestly and he gave me a quick nip of a kiss, all tongue-on-tongue contact. He drew back only to spit into my mouth and repeat himself. His nasty little game of sucking face made me long for more intimate contact. If he'd have used that loaded gun on me, I would have dropped to my knees in front of him. Without a second thought, he pushed me back over the wooden rail and left me there which was a better alternative to another round of spanking. But I was curious about where he was going until I heard the dull whine of the chair accepting his weight and the jingle of a belt coming undone. I dared a look behind me to see what he was doing. "Turn back around, now." I snapped back into place facing the expanse of bed before me. The candles cast flickering shadows across the black sea of opulent silk and behind me a man was beginning to jack off, watching my damp and reddened ass from a chair that cost more than most people's whole bedroom sets. I wanted to look back but I didn't, lest I cause him any more reason to lash out at me. Somehow I did feel bad for having denied him for anyone else and as I listened to the sound of him stroking his cock behind me, I wanted even more to please him. His breathing was audible and the jingling of his belt only got louder as he went. His breathing was fragmented into nearly inaudible grunts to sounds of him panting. Fuck, I wanted to watch. It wasn't long until a silence of about two minutes fell before he stood up and walked towards me slowly. Each footstep made my blood pump faster. This time, instead of a smack on my ass I felt a stickiness being spread all over my rosy skin. He smeared me with his cum, rubbing it into my flesh like lotion, over my panties and down the backs of my thighs. He made a real show of it, even going as far as to rub his hand over my clothed pussy just once. "Stay right there." He ordered. He and I both knew that I would not go against his word but once he did up his pants and left the room I chanced a looked around. The chair behind me seemed like a mundane object and not where he had just been sitting, staring at me, running his hand over his cock until he came. I wasn't cemented to the bed rail. I wasn't about to get fucked raw. Everything about this was different to me. It was hard to peg every man but this guy went against anything I had expected. He was nothing like the rest of them. He was unpredictable and that was what scared me about him. Was this play or was this humorless in his eyes? I looked over at the brass plate and bristled at the wad of cash that had been there seemingly all along. Would he take it as a slight if I left it there? Of course, he would, I thought. It wouldn't be there if I wasn't supposed to take it. Minutes passed before I heard him coming up the corridor. I had pulled down the skirt of my dress over the drying mess he had left on me and picked up my clutch once more. When he came back to the door he had a lit cigarette between two fingers. "There will be a cab waiting outside to take you home." I nodded at him, unable to open my mouth to actually say anything. He took a long haul off the end of his cigarette, leaning and swaying against the door. "Did you learn your lesson tonight?" "Yes, sir," I replied, feeling meek. "Good girl."After that, he left me to show myself out.

[prettylittlecostumers]

Moody Monday: Top 5 Upcoming (and just released) Sci-Fi and Fantasy Books On My Radar.

 One does not simply read too many books. I simply don’t function without one (or ten) good books on my nightstand. The day I’m able to replace all my furniture for piles of books I’ll have reached a lifetime goal.

Above: Me, with my books. Mine. My own. Hoarding much? (Meme source: quickmeme.com)

No, seriously, reading opens a window into such wonderful places for me. It’s like flying.  And depending on how long it’s been since you guys first bumped into my ramblings, you have probably guessed by now that Fantasy (along with history) is my thing.

So I’m alwys watching for new releases, and so far, these are the upcoming (or just released) sci-fi and fantasy books that I wanna get my hands on. There were many releases that are part of longer series, but those would get the post very confusing and I wanted to keep things simple. So, for this list I focused on solo novels or first chapters only. Here we go:

Top 5 Sci-Fi and Fantasy novels I wanna read right now:

5 - The Poppy War by R. F. Kuang

From Amazon: “When Rin aced the Keju—the Empire-wide test to find the most talented youth to learn at the Academies—it was a shock to everyone: to the test officials, who couldn’t believe a war orphan from Rooster Province could pass without cheating; to Rin’s guardians, who believed they’d finally be able to marry her off and further their criminal enterprise; and to Rin herself, who realized she was finally free of the servitude and despair that had made up her daily existence. That she got into Sinegard—the most elite military school in Nikan—was even more surprising.But surprises aren’t always good.Because being a dark-skinned peasant girl from the south is not an easy thing at Sinegard. Targeted from the outset by rival classmates for her color, poverty, and gender, Rin discovers she possesses a lethal, unearthly power—an aptitude for the nearly-mythical art of shamanism. Exploring the depths of her gift with the help of a seemingly insane teacher and psychoactive substances, Rin learns that gods long thought dead are very much alive—and that mastering control over those powers could mean more than just surviving school.”

R.F.Kuang’s Chinese fantasy epic sounds very interesting. My kind of Fantasy is the one that has history in the mix, and her approach to the Opium Wars and Turn of the Century China mixes nowadays dilemmas - like bullying - with shamanism and traditional Chinese culture that is still largely unexplored in western literature. I can’t wait to dive into this one!

4 - Semiosis by Sue Burke

From Amazon: “Colonists from Earth wanted the perfect home, but they’ll have to survive on the one they found. They don’t realize another life form watches...and waits... Only mutual communication can forge an alliance with the planet's sentient species and prove that humans are more than tools.“

Again, Amazon’s description falls short of what I’ve heard. I’m fascinated with languages and linguistics. I’m a Tolkien fan right? What drives me to this “Lost in Space” type of story is exactly the part that language has to play in it. But I can’t say more until I actually read it...

3 - The Feed by Nick Clark Windo.

From Nerd Much?:  “What would happen if every thought, emotion, and idea were instantaneously shared through a massive international network? What would a global society built upon this look like? And what would happen if this network vanished?That is exactly what happens in Nick Clark Windo’s close-to-home sci-fi, The Feed. Kate and Tom had kept their use of the Feed to a minimum while it existed — but when their six-year-old daughter vanishes in a world suddenly disconnected, they must use whatever means and resources they can to find her. The world is filled with disease and danger overnight, and people change when their lives are changed in such a fundamental way. Don’t miss out on this terrifying, near-future sci-fi tale of family, humanity, and massive change.”

Well, this is just my cup of tea. I think considering Cambridge Analytica, and all the Facebook data collecting fiasco (which gave the world the most dangerously spoiled manchild to ever sit in such a high position of power, among many other Alt-right “gifts” around the globe), “The Feed might just be the most relevant book released in 2018. That’s it for my preview. I’ll tell you more when I read it.

2 - The Only Harmless Great Thing by Brooke Bolander.

From Amazon: “The Only Harmless Great Thing is a heart-wrenching alternative history by Brooke Bolander that imagines an intersection between the Radium Girls and noble, sentient elephants.In the early years of the 20th century, a group of female factory workers in Newark, New Jersey slowly died of radiation poisoning. Around the same time, an Indian elephant was deliberately put to death by electricity in Coney Island. These are the facts.Now these two tragedies are intertwined in a dark alternate history of rage, radioactivity, and injustice crying out to be righted. Prepare yourself for a wrenching journey that crosses eras, chronicling histories of cruelty both grand and petty in search of meaning and justice”.

From what I’ve heard so far, Amazon’s description doesn’t do this masterpiece justice. Bolander mixed Alt-history (the Radium Girls) with fantasy (The elephant culture) to weave a powerful female narrative. I know I’ll suffer, I’ll cry, I’ll be furious, and I can’t wait. It’s our knowledge, our struggle, our thirst for change after all.

1 - The Fall of Gondolin by Christopher Tolkien (Ed.)

I’ve been waiting and hoping for this one since “The Children of Húrin” came out! The Fall of Gondolin is one of the most compelling narratives within “The Silmarillion“. Morgoth and Ulmo, the Lord of Waters, stand against each other through Tuor, Ulmo’s chosen messenger, and king Turgon’s pride. The tragic downfall of Turgon’s dream-like hidden city deserved this closer look and I will be suffering ‘till my copy arrives! August 30th can’t come soon enough! Here’s a lil something to help pass the time ‘till then... Blind Guardian’s own retelling of the Fall of Gondolin aka “Mirror Mirror”.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Extraction (12/16)

Summary: Intelligence Agent Belle French has been given her most challenging assignment yet – one that will provide her agency with absolutely vital information on a practically untouchable arms dealer.

In addition to all the usual dangers any assignment carries, Belle also faces the edifying task of convincing Rum Gold to return to help the agency one last time. Agent Gold left the world of international espionage years ago, after an assignment went terribly wrong and ended in his imprisonment and torture, and he vowed never to return, but the agency cannot complete their mission without him…

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Read the previous chapters here on AO3.

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Twelve

It was still dark outside when Belle work to the sound of her phone beeping steadily on the nightstand beside her. She grabbed the device and saw by its light that it had just gone half past six.

The persistent beeping was accompanied by a flashing, but there was no other indication of someone trying to call her or a new message. Belle gulped; she knew what this meant. It was a flash message from the residency. Whilst flashes between residencies and headquarters were encrypted messages and contained some idea of the problem and the reason for the urgency, flashes sent to agents out in the field were by necessity brief and clipped to avoid interception, telling the agent to set up a secure line to the residency or get there in person as soon as possible. The one thing that stopped her panicking completely was that they were not in any kind of immediate danger. If they were, then someone would have called them, because by the point when they were in danger, using secure lines and encryption was completely redundant.

“What’s happened?” Gold asked beside her. The beeping had obviously woken him as well and she could see the worry in his face through the gloom. Belle turned off the phone before scrambling out of bed to get her laptop.

“We’ve had a flash from the residency, something’s happened.” She put in her earpiece and Gold did the same, switching on the bedside lamp to give them the minimum amount of light they needed to work. He grabbed his cane, limping over to the sofa.

“Mal, what’s happened?” Belle asked as soon as the call connected.

“We think we’ve been compromised,” Mal said. “We have to abort and do a crash extraction as soon as possible, it’s not safe for you or Regina to stay here any longer. Killian, the asset we were using as a messenger pigeon between us and Regina, has failed to check in and we’ve got serious reason to believe that Zelena and Cora are working together.”

Gold swore. “How much did Killian know, are you safe at the residency?”

“Yes, we should be all right. I’m Killian’s handler and most of the work related to Regina’s extraction was done by dropbox rather than in person. All the same, we need to get you two and Regina to a safehouse as soon as possible, I want all three of you out of the country within twenty-four hours, then we can go about performing damage limitation.”

“What grade asset is Killian?” Belle asked.

“Single-A. He doesn’t provide really valuable intel but his position means he’s close to Cora and Regina and we can use him in the way we have done. He doesn’t have much on us so we’re fairly protected; the most dangerous information he has is all related to Regina’s extraction. If he was doubling for Cora all along or if she’s just found him out and is about to set Zelena to work on him, then the only things he can really give her are related to you.”

“Where do you think his loyalties lie?” Gold sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Well up until five o’clock this morning I would have said with us; his family were all killed in the war of independence and most of them killed by things that Mills Corp had manufactured. Now I’m not so sure. Either way, we have to now assume that everything he knows, Cora now knows. Surveillance shows that Zelena arrived at the Mills estate earlier this morning. I’ve got Rory and a bunch of other assets monitoring all our dropboxes and signal points for anything untoward. All we can do is pray that Regina keeps her head and doesn’t lead them straight to you.”

“There’s always the slim hope that Killian will turn up paralytic drunk under a bridge somewhere,” Leroy muttered in the background, and Belle could almost hear Mal rolling her eyes.

“Belle’s got all the safehouse details, you need to leave as soon as possible and get over there. Emma’s on her way, she’ll meet you there. We’ll take care of getting Regina to you.”

“Copy. We’ll get to the safehouse and await further instruction.”

“Copy. Oh, and Belle, Rum?” There was a pause. “Good luck.”

The line dropped and Belle switched her laptop off, looking at the black screen for a few long moments before bursting into action, knowing that every moment spent reeling from what had just happened was another moment spent sitting waiting for the potential dangers to find them. The knowledge that Zelena was working with Cora sent a chill down her spine; it was looking even less likely that her appearance in the hotel restaurant the previous afternoon had been a coincidence. Killian had been the one to communicate the details of the meeting to Regina, and now it was probable that he had communicated them to Cora as well. At least Belle could take heart from the fact that there were things that Regina knew that Killian didn’t, and their entire operation had not been blown. Once that initial meeting had been set up and they were in direct contact with Regina, they had not needed to pass any further information on via Killian.

All the same, they could never be too careful.

They got dressed and packed up the room quickly, sweeping it thoroughly to make sure that no trace remained. There was no longer time for second guessing or musings, like the previous evening had been taken up with. It was less than twelve hours ago that Belle and Gold had sat on the sofa discussing Regina’s parentage and Bae’s loss. It felt like a lifetime ago; so much had happened overnight.

They didn’t check out, just dropping the keys in at reception, and the very tired-looking receptionist gave them no mind as they left the building with their luggage despite being booked in to the hotel for another couple of days. It wasn’t exactly unheard of for people to keep rooms available whilst travelling elsewhere for a night or two, especially people in Avalon on delicate business with Mills Corp. If you were liked, you’d likely be invited to stay at the estate out of town for a day, to get the deal signed and sealed and allow Cora to intimidate with her wealth and sheer power, letting you know just what you were getting into bed with when you signed on the dotted line.

The dawn was beginning to break as they walked along the almost empty streets to get to the safehouse. Those few people that they did pass had their heads down, paying them no mind as they hurried along to get to their destinations in the freezing cold morning, but Belle and Gold were both alert, keeping an eye out for anything remotely malicious, anyone tailing them. On the one hand, the main threat that they faced – Cora – was civilian. On the other hand, Cora knew a hell of a lot about how the intelligence service worked, and she had more than enough manpower at her fingertips to be able to keep them under surveillance. On yet another hand, Cora also had more than enough friends in high places within the corrupt government to be able to pull a few strings and get Avalon’s own secret service on her side.

So far, so good. They reached the street which the safehouse lay on and stood in the shadowy doorway of the building opposite, scoping the situation. No-one had followed them down the narrow road. The house itself was dark, and Belle didn’t know whether or not to take that as a good sign. Still, the locations of safehouses were always given out on a need to know basis, and this was something that Killian didn’t need to know.

“What’s the safety signal?” Gold asked, nodding towards the house.

“Window fan,” Belle said, indicating the old-fashioned extractor fan on second floor of the house, set into the frosted glass of a bathroom window. “Open good, closed bad.”

The fan was open, and after waiting another couple of minutes to ensure that they were alone, Belle and Gold crossed over the road and knocked sharply on the door.

Emma opened it and ushered them inside. Once the door was bolted firmly behind them, she threw her arms around Belle in an uncharacteristic display of affection.

“I’m so glad you’re ok,” she said. “The residency’s on red alert and it’s been like a war bunker in there all night. But you’re both here and you’re both ok.”

She led them through into the back of the house, where a young man was sitting watching a muted television. As Belle entered she realised that it was not showing any kind of program but a steady stream of CCTV images.

“Belle, Gold, this is Graham, he operates the safehouse.”

“Pleased to meet you.” The man shook hands with them both before going back to his CCTV footage, there were various binoculars and scopes scattered on the floor around him. “I tell everyone I’m a keen bird watcher,” he added dryly as Belle opened her mouth to comment on the amount of equipment he had amassed. “The street’s still clear, I’ll keep an eye out for Regina and Daniel. And anyone else who might come along.”

“All we can do for the moment is wait and pray,” Emma said. “This is the most hidden place that the residency has. Rory’s in charge of making sure that Regina gets here. I brought as much stuff as I thought we’d need. Thank God that the people who run these twenty-four hour pharmacies are so dead on their feet when six o’clock rolls around that they don’t pay any attention to your purchases. Still, we need to check in with the residency.”

They went upstairs, Emma explaining that Graham lived in the basement of the house and only came up here to take care of all their equipment. A small, windowless boxroom had been converted into a radio room, the communications equipment humming away steadily, and Belle immediately sat down to open a link to the residency.

“You’ve arrived?” Mal said.

“Yes, we’re safe and sound, just waiting for Regina.”

“Good. You’re safe with Graham, he’s a wilderness survival expert and he can make anything out of anything.”

This assessment of the young man’s skills made Belle laugh. “I’m sure that will come in handy, Mal, but is he a good asset?”

“Triple-A. The best we’ve got. Well. I hope.” There was an obvious bitterness in Mal’s voice as she spoke. “I’ve been proved wrong before.”

“We’ve all made worse character judgements, Mal,” Gold said. “Look at me and Cora for God’s sake. Misreading Killian doesn’t mean that you can’t trust anyone that you’ve ever recruited. And you never know, we can hope that he was just terribly unlucky and fell into a trap, and that whilst he might have been blown and that still means the assignment is pretty much fucked, it was not intentional on his part.”

“And there’s still hope of him having passed out under a bridge!” Leroy called in the background.

“Leroy!” Mal snapped. “I suppose you’re right, and I’d trust Graham with my life. Since you’re there, do you want to hear about what Rory dug up on Zelena? It took some doing, the poor girl’s even more wired than we are. I had to send her out of the residency before she started bouncing off the walls. I’m worried she might have caffeine poisoning. How much coffee do you have to drink before it’s lethal?”

“I think it’s something like a hundred cups within four hours,” Belle said. “But go on and tell us about Zelena.”

“Well, if I start at the beginning by saying she was at school with Cora, I don’t really know if you need to know anything else. She was born Zelena West, her family were die-hard separatists; Cora’s always been seen as more moderate but we know that Mills Corp were bankrolling a lot of the rebel war effort. She went into the military as soon as she left school; her parents and three older sisters had all fought on the separatist side and she was just continuing the family tradition. She changed her name when she decided to go into government, too much blood on her hands, I suppose.”

Gold gave a snort of laughter. “Indeed.”

“Most of the readily available information about her comes from her time in government since she became respectable, but her connection to Cora goes back years once you really start digging into it.” Mal gave a sad sigh. “It’s more than just business bribery, this is definitely a personal connection. You know, the more I think about it, what with her arriving at the hotel at just the moment she did, the more I think that our plans have been known to Cora from the start, and that Killian’s been feeding her the same information he’s been feeding Regina.”

“Then she’s got a plan,” Gold said grimly. “The information that Regina has been giving us has been as good as diamonds and there’s no way that she would let her get away with handing over that intel unless she had a plan to prevent Regina delivering the final payload – herself and all the knowledge she has. Is there any way that we can vouch for Regina’s safety? How do we know Cora hasn’t just taken her out, or had her taken out?”

“Regina’s staying at her mother’s penthouse in town for the week, we’ve got it under observation and there’s been no suspicious activity. Cora’s at the estate outside the city. Regina’s still in tact.”

“For now,” Gold muttered. “Mind you, Cora would probably want to angle for some kind of set up and that takes more time to plan. She might be biding her time. According to the information Killian had, Regina wouldn’t be leaving until closer to the end of the week, so we might have got the drop on her.”

“Well, here’s hoping that we have.”

They ended the call and the two agents left the room, going back down to where Emma and Graham were monitoring the street outside.

“It’s still early days,” Graham said. “I probably wouldn’t expect her for another three hours or so. I’d make yourselves comfortable if I were you.” He paused and stood up from his position in front of the TV. “I’ll make tea.”

He moved through the house to the basement flat and Emma sank down onto the arm of the chair he had just vacated, keeping half an eye on the cameras.

“When you see all these James Bond films and read about all these daring spy adventures, they never really prepare you for the fact that only about two per cent of all intelligence work is the gung-ho chasing down bad guys with guns bit. Fifty per cent is paperwork and the other forty-eight per cent is sitting around waiting for something to happen.”

“Yes, and usually when the thing you’ve been waiting for does happen after three hours of constant vigilance, it only takes about two minutes,” Belle agreed.

“Or it only takes about two minutes to go wrong and then you’re spending the rest of your career trying to fill in the resulting paperwork from that,” Gold pointed out.

“You’re really not bolstering my confidence at us being able to pull this off you know, Gold,” Emma said dryly. “I hate crash extractions. There’s so much that can go wrong. I feel like we’re flying by the seat of our pants and holding this entire thing together with sticky back plastic and hair dye.”

“People have been successfully extracted with less,” Gold said. “Although those times usually involved faking death.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “You know, as fascinating as some of the tales of the agency during your time would be to hear, I think I’m going to pass on that. Hold the fort for a moment?” She left the room and Belle took up monitoring duty. Gold leaned on the wall beside her, peering carefully through the gap between the blind and the window now that the sun had risen.

“Belle,” he began presently. “I didn’t want to say anything whilst Emma was in the room, but now that you know the full story, and the true reason for my being here, I need you to promise something.”

“Of course,” Belle said. “I was the one who dragged you into this mess, Rum. I’m right here alongside you every step of the way.”

“I know.” Gold gave a small smile. “Don’t feel guilty for being the one to bring me in. Think of it more as just a very roundabout way of giving me something to live for again.”

“If we get out of this alive,” Belle muttered. Even though on the face of it their plans, however rapidly altered, were progressing as they should, the fact that Mal had called in a crash extraction and told them that they were compromised was making her very fearful of whether they would ever get back home at all. “But go ahead. What do you need me to promise?”

“If something happens to me, I want you to keep an eye on Regina for me, please.”

“Of course, Rum, you know I will.”

“I just want her to be kept safe from Blue,” Gold said. “We both know what she’s like; and I don’t want her to break Regina just when she’s got the opportunity for a new life. Make sure she doesn’t go on the asset books and that we don’t cut her off without a word. I know it might be difficult; it’s easier for me because at the end of this, I’m no longer bound by contract and I can go back to my life. I can make protecting her my full time job if I need to.”

“Rum, I promise I will look after Regina for you. I can see how much she means to you, both as a person and as a means of redemption for yourself. But just as I shouldn’t feel guilty for having gotten you into this, you shouldn’t feel guilty for having failed Regina for the first twenty years of her life. You didn’t have a choice in the matter, but you do now and you chose to help her when she called out for it. That means a lot to her; she said it herself yesterday in the chapel.”

Belle left her seat and went over to Gold as Emma and Graham brought the tea things in. The first thing that struck her was how tired he looked, like the years of hardship were etched into the lines on his face. The second thing that struck her was just how much she wanted to kiss him in that moment. Hell, in four hours they could all be dead or rotting in the Mines, and the wild, impulsive part of her wanted to just go for it, like in that desperate moment just before the end in all the action films, where the hero goes off to fight the bad guys but comes back for one last kiss for good luck, just in case they never made it back.

“Tea?” Emma said, bringing Belle out of her little reverie. She nodded and the two of them left the window, going over and picking up mismatched mugs decorated with pictures of wolves. The house settled into an uncomfortable, tense silence. The residency would only contact them if something had gone wrong, so for now they had to assume that no news was good news. Belle took to pacing the landing in order to work off her nervous energy, to the point where Emma had made her take her shoes off because the tapping of her heels was driving everybody else around the bend.

Graham was on camera duty when two figures appeared on the screen at the end of the street. As they came closer, they were recognisable as Regina and Daniel. The agents watched as they checked their surroundings, looking for tails just as Belle and Gold had done, and then knocked on the door. Graham waited a couple of minutes for safety’s sake before going to let them in.

Gold took a deep breath. “Showtime.”

[fiftyshadesofdimmadome]

Book 1; Chapter 19

Soft lips brush across my temple, leaving sweet tender kisses in their wake, and part of me wants to turn and respond, but mostly I want to stay asleep. I moan and burrow into my pillow.

“Anastasia, wake up.” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome’s voice is soft, cajoling.

“No,” I moan.

“We have to leave in half an hour for dinner at my parents.” He’s amused.

I open my eyes reluctantly. It’s dusk outside. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome is leaning over, gazing at me intently.

“Come on sleepy-head. Get up.” He stoops down and kisses me again.

“I’ve bought you a drink. I’ll be downstairs. Don’t go back to sleep, or you’ll be in trouble,” he threatens, but his tone is mild. He kisses me briefly and exits, leaving me blinking sleep from my eyes in the cool, stark room.

I’m refreshed but suddenly nervous. Holy cow, I am meeting his folks! He’s just worked me over with a riding crop and tied me up using a cable tie which I sold him, for heaven’s sake and I’m going to meet his parents. It will be Kate’s first time meeting them too at least she’ll be there for support. I roll my shoulders. They’re stiff. His demands for a personal trainer don’t seem so outlandish now, in fact, they’re mandatory if I am to have any hope of keeping up with him.

I climb slowly out of bed and note that my dress is hanging outside the wardrobe and my bra is on the chair. Where are my panties? I check beneath the chair. Nothing. Then I remember he squirreled them away in the pocket of his jeans. I flush at the memory, after he, I can’t even bring myself to think about it, he was so barbarous. I frown. Why hasn’t he given me back my panties?

I steal into the bathroom, bewildered by my lack of underwear. While drying myself after my enjoyable but far too brief shower, I realize he’s done this on purpose. He wants me to be embarrassed and ask for my panties back, and he’ll either say yes or no. My inner goddess grins at me. Hell... two can play that particular game. Resolving there and then not to ask him for them and not give him that satisfaction, I shall go meet his parents sans culottes. Anastasia Steele! My subconscious chides me, but I don’t want to listen to her I almost hug myself with glee because I know this will drive him crazy.

Back in the bedroom, I put on my bra, slip into my dress, and climb into my shoes. I remove the braid and hastily brush out my hair, I then glance down at the drink he’s left.

It’s pale pink. What’s this? Cranberry and sparkling water. Hmm... it tastes delicious and quenches my thirst.

Dashing back into the bathroom, I check myself in the mirror: eyes bright, cheeks slightly flushed, slightly smug look because of my panty plan, and I head downstairs. Fif teen minutes. Not bad, Ana.

Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome is standing by the panoramic window, wearing the grey flannel pants that I love, the ones that hang in that unbelievably sexy way off his hips, and of course, a white linen shirt. Doesn’t he have any other colors? Frank Sinatra sings softly over the surround sound speakers.

Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome turns and smiles as I enter. He looks at me expectantly.

“Hi,” I say softly, and my sphinx-like smile meets his.

“Hi,” he says. “How are you feeling?” His eyes are alight with amusement.

“Good, thanks. You?”

“I feel mighty fine, Miss Steele.”

He is so waiting for me to say something.

“Frank. I never figured you for a Sinatra fan.”

He raises his eyebrows at me, his look speculative.

“Eclectic taste, Miss Steele,” he murmurs, and he paces toward me like a panther until he’s standing in front of me, his gaze so intense it takes my breath away.

Frank starts crooning... an old song, one of Ray’s favorites. ‘Witchcraft.’ Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome leisurely traces his fingertips down my cheek, and I feel it all the way down there.

“Dance with me,” he murmurs, his voice husky.

Taking the remote out of his pocket, he turns up the volume and holds his hand out to me, his gray gaze full of promise and longing and humor. He is totally beguiling, and I’m bewitched. I place my hand in his. He grins lazily down at me and pulls me into his embrace, his arm curling around my waist, and he starts to sway.

I put my free hand on his shoulder and grin up at him, caught in his infectious, playful mood. And he starts to move. Boy can he dance. We cover the floor, from the window to the kitchen and back again, whirling and turning in time to the music. And he makes it so effortless for me to follow.

We glide around the dining table, over to the piano, and backwards and forwards in front of the glass wall, Seattle twinkling outside, a dark and magical mural to our dance, and I can’t help my carefree laugh. He grins down at me as the song comes to a close.

“There’s no nicer witch than you,” he murmurs, then kisses me sweetly. “Well, that’s bought some color to your cheeks, Miss Steele. Thank you for the dance. Shall we go and meet my parents?”

“You’re welcome, and yes, I can’t wait to meet them,” I answer breathlessly.

“Do you have everything you need?”

“Oh, yes,” I respond sweetly.

“Are you sure?”

I nod as nonchalantly as I can manage under his intense, amused scrutiny. His face splits into a huge grin, and he shakes his head.

“Okay. If that’s the way you want to play it, Miss Steele.”

He grabs my hand, collects his jacket which is hanging on one of the barstools, and leads me through the foyer to the elevator. Oh, the many faces of Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome. Will I ever be able to understand this mercurial man?

I peek up at him in the elevator. He’s enjoying a private joke, a trace of a smile flirting with his beautiful mouth. I fear that it may be at my expense. What was I thinking? I’m going to see his parents, and I’m not wearing any underwear. My subconscious gives me an unhelpful I told you so expression. In the relative safety of his apartment, it seemed like a fun, teasing idea. Now, I’m almost outside with No Panties! He peers down at me, and it’s there, the charge building between us. The amused look disappears from his face and his expression clouds, his eyes dark... oh my.

The elevator doors open on the ground floor. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome shakes his head slightly as if to clear his thoughts and gestures for me to exit before him in a most gentlemanly manner. Who’s he kidding? He’s no gentleman. He has my panties.

Taylor draws up in the large Audi. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome opens the rear door for me, and I climb in side as elegantly as I can, considering my state of wanton undress. I’m grateful that Kate’s plum dress is so clingy and hangs to the top of my knees.

We speed up the 1-5, both of us quiet, no doubt inhibited by Taylor’s steady presence in the front. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome’s mood is almost tangible and seems to shift, the humor dissipating slowly as we head north. He’s brooding, staring out of the window, and I can feel him slipping away from me. What is he thinking? I can’t ask him. What can I say in front of Taylor?

“Where did you learn to dance?” I ask tentatively. He turns to gaze at me, his eyes unreadable beneath the intermittent light of the passing street lamps.

“Do you really want to know?” he replies softly.

My heart sinks, and now I don’t because I can guess.

“Yes,” I murmur, reluctantly.

“Mrs. Robinson was fond of dancing.”

Oh, my worst suspicions confirmed. She has taught him well, and the thought de presses me there’s nothing I can teach him. I have no special skills.

“She must have been a good teacher.”

“She was,” he says softly.

My scalp prickles. Did she have the best of him? Before he became so closed? Or did she bring him out of himself? He has such a fun, playful side. I smile involuntarily as I recall being in his arms as he spun me around his living room, so unexpected, and he has my panties, somewhere.

And then there’s the Red Room of Pain. I rub my wrists reflexively thin strips of plastic will do that to a girl. She taught him all that too or ruined him, depending on one’s point of view. Or perhaps he would have found his way there anyway in spite of Mrs. R.

I realize, in that moment, that I hate her. I hope that I never meet her because I will not be responsible for my actions if I do. I can’t remember ever feeling this passionately about anyone, especially someone I’ve never met. Gazing unseeing out of the window, I nurse my irrational anger and jealousy.

My mind drifts back to the afternoon. Given what I understand of his preferences, I think he’s been easy on me. Would I do it again? I can’t even pretend to put up an argu ment against that. Of course I would, if he asked me as long as he didn’t hurt me and if it’s the only way to be with him.

That’s the bottom line. I want to be with him. My inner goddess sighs with relief. I reach the conclusion that she rarely uses her brain to think but another vital part of her anatomy, and at the moment, it’s a rather exposed part.

“Don’t,” he murmurs.

I frown and turn to look at him.

“Don’t what?” I haven’t touched him.

“Over-think things, Anastasia.” Reaching out, he grasps my hand, draws it up to his lips, and kisses my knuckles gently. “I had a wonderful afternoon. Thank you.”

And he’s back with me again. I blink up at him and smile shyly. He’s so confusing. I ask a question that’s been bugging me.

“Why did you use a cable tie?”

He grins at me.

“It’s quick, it’s easy, and it’s something different for you to feel and experience. I know they’re quite brutal, and I do like that in a restraining device.” He smiles at me mildly.

“Very effective at keeping you in your place.”

I flush and glance nervously at Taylor, who remains impassive, eyes on road. What am I supposed to say to that? Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome shrugs innocently.

“All part of my world, Anastasia.” He squeezes my hand and lets go, staring out of the window again.

His world indeed, and I want to belong in it, but on his terms? I just don’t know. He hasn’t mentioned that damned contract. My inner musings do nothing to cheer me. I stare out of the window and the landscape has changed. We’re crossing one of the bridges, sur rounded by inky darkness. The somber night reflects my introspective mood, closing in, suffocating.

I glance briefly at Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, and he’s staring at me.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asks.

I sigh and frown.

“That bad, huh?”

“I wish I knew what you were thinking.”

He smirks at me.

“Ditto, baby,” he says softly as Taylor speeds into the night toward Bellevue.

It is just before eight when the Audi draws into the driveway of a colonial-style mansion.

It’s breathtaking, even down to the roses around the door. Picture-book perfect.

“Are you ready for this?” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome asks as Taylor pulls up outside the impressive front

door.

I nod, and he gives my hand another reassuring squeeze.

“First for me too,” he whispers, then smiles wickedly. “Bet you wish you were wear ing your underwear right now,” he teases.

I flush. I’d forgotten my missing panties. Fortunately, Taylor has climbed out of the car and is opening my door so he can’t hear our exchange. I scowl at Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome who grins broadly as I turn and climb out of the car.

Dr. Grace Trevelyan-Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome is on the doorstep waiting for us. She looks elegantly so phisticated in a pale blue silk dress; behind her stands Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, I presume, tall, blond, and as handsome in his own way as Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome.

“Anastasia, you’ve met my mother, Grace. This is my dad, Carrick.”

“Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, what a pleasure to meet you.” I smile and shake his outstretched hand.

“The pleasure is all mine, Anastasia.”

“Please call me, Ana.”

His blue eyes are soft and gentle.

“Ana, how lovely to see you again.” Grace wraps me in a warm hug. “Come in, my dear.”

“Is she here?” I hear a screech from within the house. I glance nervously at Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome.

“That would be Mia, my little sister,” he says almost irritably, but not quite.

There’s an undercurrent of affection in his words, the way his voice grows softer and his eyes crinkle as he mentions her name. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome obviously adores her. It’s a revelation. And she comes barreling down the hall, raven haired, tall, and curvaceous. She’s about my age.

“Anastasia! I’ve heard so much about you.” She hugs me hard.

Holy Cow. I can’t help but smile at her boundless enthusiasm.

“Ana, please,” I murmur as she drags me into the large vestibule. It’s all dark wood floors and antique rugs with a sweeping staircase to the second floor.

“He’s never brought a girl home before,” says Mia, dark eyes bright with excitement.

I glimpse Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome rolling his eyes, and I raise an eyebrow at him. He narrows his eyes at me.

“Mia, calm down,” Grace admonishes softly. “Hello, darling,” she says as she kisses Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome on both cheeks. He smiles down at her warmly, and then shakes hands with his father.

We all turn and head into the living room. Mia has not let go of my hand. The room is spacious, tastefully furnished in creams, browns, and pale blue, comfortable, understated, and very stylish. Kate and Elliot are cuddled together on a couch, clutching champagne flutes. Kate bounces up to embrace me, and Mia finally releases my hand.

“Hi, Ana!” She beams. “Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome.” She nods curtly to him.

“Kate.” He is equally formal with her.

I frown at their exchange. Elliot grasps me in an all-embracing hug. What is this, hug Ana week? This dazzling display of affection I’m just not used to it. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome stands at my side, wrapping his arm around me. Placing his hand on my hip, he spreads out his fingers and pulls me close. Everyone is staring at us. It’s unnerving.

“Drinks?” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome seems to recover himself. “Prosecco?”

“Please,” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome and I speak in unison.

Oh... this is beyond weird. Mia claps her hands.

“You’re even saying the same things. I’ll get them.” She scoots out of the room.

I flush scarlet, and seeing Kate sitting with Elliot, it occurs to me suddenly that the only reason Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome invited me is because Kate is here. Elliot probably freely and happily asked Kate to meet his parents. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome was trapped knowing that I would have found out via Kate. I frown at the thought. He’s been forced into the invitation. The realization is bleak and depressing. My subconscious nods sagely, a you’ve-finally-worked-it-out stupid look on her face.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Grace says as she follows Mia out of the room.

Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome frowns as he gazes at me.

“Sit,” he commands, pointing to the plush couch, and I do as I’m told, carefully cross ing my legs. He sits down beside me but doesn’t touch me.

“We were just talking about vacations, Ana,” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome says kindly. “Elliot has decided to follow Kate and her family to Barbados for a week.”

I glance at Kate, and she grins, her eyes bright and wide. She’s delighted. Katherine Kavanagh, show some dignity!

“Are you taking a break now you’ve finished your degree?” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome asks.

“I’m thinking about going to Georgia for a few days,” I reply.

Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome gapes at me, blinking a couple of times, his expression unreadable. Oh shit.

I haven’t mentioned this to him.

“Georgia?” he murmurs.

“My mother lives there, and I haven’t seen her for a while.”

“When were you thinking of going?” His voice is low.

“Tomorrow, late evening.”

Mia saunters back into the living room and hands us champagne flutes filled with pale pink Prosecco.

“Your good health!” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome raises his glass. An appropriate toast from a doctor’s husband, it makes me smile.

“For how long?” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome asks, his voice deceptively soft.

Holy crap... he’s angry.

“I don’t know yet. It will depend how my interviews go tomorrow.”

His jaw clenches, and Kate gets that interfering look on her face. She smiles over sweetly.

“Ana deserves a break,” she says pointedly at Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome. Why is she so antagonistic towards him? What is her problem?

“You have interviews?” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome asks.

“Yes, for internships at two publishers, tomorrow.”

“I wish you the best of luck.”

“Dinner is on the table,” Grace announces.

We all stand. Kate and Elliot follow Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome and Mia out of the room. I go to follow, but Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome clutches my elbow, bringing me to an abrupt halt.

“When were you going to tell me you were leaving?” he asks urgently. His tone is soft, but he’s masking his anger.

“I’m not leaving, I’m going to see my mother, and I was only thinking about it.”

“What about our arrangement?”

“We don’t have an arrangement yet.”

He narrows his eyes, and then seems to remember himself. Releasing my hand, he takes my elbow and leads me out of the room.

“This conversation is not over,” he whispers threateningly as we enter the dining room.

Oh, crapola. Don’t get your panties in such a twist. . . and give me back mine. I glare at him.

The dining room reminds me of our private dinner at the Heathman. A crystal chan delier hangs over the dark wood table and there’s a massive, ornately carved mirror on the wall. The table is laid and covered with a crisp white linen tablecloth, a bowl of pale pink peonies as the center piece. It’s stunning.

We take our places. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome is at the head of the table, while I sit at his right hand, and Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome is seated beside me. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome reaches for the opened bottle of red wine and offers some to Kate. Mia takes her seat beside Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, and grabbing his hand, squeezes it tightly. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome smiles warmly at her.

“Where did you meet, Ana?” Mia asks him.

“She interviewed me for the WSU student magazine.”

“Which Kate edits,” I add, hoping to steer the conversation away from me.

Mia beams at Kate, seated opposite next to Elliot, and they start talking about the stu dent magazine.

“Wine, Ana?” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome asks.

“Please.” I smile at him. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome rises to fill the rest of the glasses.

I peek up at Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, and he turns to look at me, his head cocked to one side.

“What?” he asks.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” I whisper.

“I’m not mad at you.”

I stare at him. He sighs.

“Yes, I am mad at you.” He closes his eyes briefly.

“Palm-twitchingly mad?” I ask nervously.

“What are you two whispering about?” Kate interjects.

I flush, and Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome glares at her in a butt-out-of-this-Kavanagh kind of way even Kate wilts under his stare.

“Just about my trip to Georgia,” I say sweetly, hoping to diffuse their mutual hostility.

Kate smiles, a wicked gleam in her eye.

“How was Jose when you went to the bar with him on Friday?”

Holy fuck, Kate. I widen my eyes at her. What is she doing? She widens her eyes back at me, and I realize she’s trying to make Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome jealous. How little she knows. I thought I’d got away with this.

“He was fine,” I murmur.

Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome leans over.

“Palm-twitchingly mad,” he whispers. “Especially now.” His tone is quiet and deadly.

Oh no. I squirm.

Grace reappears carrying two plates, followed by a pretty young woman with blonde pigtails, dressed smartly in pale blue, carrying a tray of plates. Her eyes immediately find Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome in the room. She blushes and gazes at him from under her lonq mascara’d lashes. What!

Somewhere in the house the phone starts ringing.

“Excuse me,” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome rises again and exits.

“Thank you, Gretchen,” Grace says gently, frowning as Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome exits. “Just leave the tray on the console.” Gretchen nods, and with another furtive glance at Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, she leaves.

So the Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadomes have staff, and the staff are eyeing up my would-be Dominant. Can this evening get any worse? I scowl at my hands in my lap.

Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome returns.

“Call for you, darling. It’s the hospital,” he says to Grace.

“Please start, everyone.” Grace smiles as she hands me a plate and leaves.

It smells delicious chorizo and scallops with roasted red peppers and shallots, sprin kled with flat leafed parsley. And in spite of the fact that my stomach is churning from Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome’s veiled threats, the surreptitious glances from pretty little Miss Pigtails, and the debacle of my missing underwear, I am starving. I flush as I realize it’s the physical effort of this afternoon that’s given me such an appetite.

Moments later Grace returns, her brow furrowed. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome cocks his head to one side... like Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome.

“Everything okay?”

“Another measles case,” Grace sighs.

“Oh no.”

“Yes, a child. The fourth case this month. If only people would get their kids vacci nated.” She shakes her head sadly, and then smiles. “I’m so glad our children never went through that. They never caught anything worse than chicken pox, thank goodness. Poor Elliot,” she says as she sits down, smiling indulgently at her son. Elliot frowns mid chew and squirms uncomfortably. “Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome and Mia were lucky. They got it so mildly, only a spot to share between them.”

Mia giggles, and Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome rolls his eyes.

“So, did you catch the Mariners game, Dad?” Elliot’s clearly keen to move the con versation on.

The hors d’oeuvres are delicious, and I concentrate on eating while Elliot, Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, and Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome talk baseball. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome seems relaxed and calm talking to his family. My mind is working furiously. Damn Kate, what game is she playing? Will he punish me? I

quail at the thought. I haven’t signed that contract yet. Perhaps I won’t. Perhaps I’ll stay in Georgia where he can’t reach me.

“How are you settling into your new apartment dear?” Grace asks politely.

I’m grateful for her question, distracting me from my discordant thoughts, and I tell her about our move.

As we finish our starters, Gretchen appears, and not for the first time, I wish I felt able to put my hands freely on Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome just to let her know he may be fifty shades of fucked up, but he’s mine. She proceeds to clear the table, brushing rather too closely to Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome for my liking. Fortunately, he seems oblivious to her, but my inner goddess is smoldering and not in a good way.

Kate and Mia are waxing lyrical about Paris.

“Have you been to Paris, Ana?” Mia asks innocently, distracting me from my jealous reverie.

“No, but I’d love to go.” I know I’m the only one at the table who has never left main land USA.

“We honeymooned in Paris.” Grace smiles at Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome who grins back at her.

It’s almost embarrassing to witness. They obviously love each other deeply, and I wonder for a brief moment what it must be like to grow up with both one’s parents in situ.

“It’s a beautiful city,” Mia agrees. “In spite of the Parisians. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, you should take Ana to Paris,” Mia states firmly.

“I think Anastasia would prefer London,” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome says softly.

Oh. . . he remembered. He places his hand on my knee his fingers traveling up my thigh. My whole body tightens in response. No... not here, not now. I flush and shift, try ing to pull away from him. His hand clamps down on my thigh, stilling me. I reach for my wine, in desperation.

Little Miss European Pigtails returns, all coy glances and swaying hips, with our en tree, a Beef Wellington, I think. Fortunately, she gives us our plates and then leaves, al though she lingers handing Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome his. He looks quizzically at me as I watch her close the dining room door.

“So what was wrong with the Parisians?” Elliot asks his sister. “Didn’t they take to your winsome ways?”

“Ugh, no they didn’t. And Monsieur Floubert, the ogre I was working for, he was such a domineering tyrant.”

I splutter into my wine.

“Anastasia, are you okay?” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome asks solicitously, taking his hand off my thigh.

Humor has returned to his voice. Oh thank heavens. When I nod, he pats my back gently, and only removes his hand when he knows I’ve recovered.

The beef is delicious and served with roasted sweet potatoes, carrots, parsnips, and green beans. It is even more palatable since Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome manages to retain his good-humor for the rest of the meal. I suspect that it’s because I’m eating so heartily. The conversation flows freely among the Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadomes, warm and caring, gently teasing each other. Over our des sert of lemon syllabub, Mia regales us with her exploits in Paris, lapsing at one point into fluent French. We all stare at her, and she stares back puzzled, until Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome tells her in

equally fluent French what she’s done, whereupon she bursts into a fit of giggles. She has a very infectious laugh and soon we’re all in stitches.

Elliot holds forth about his latest building project, a new eco-friendly community to the north of Seattle. I glance up at Kate, and she’s hanging on every word Elliot says, her eyes glowing with lust or love. I haven’t quite worked out which yet. He grins down at her, and it’s as if an unspoken promise passes between them. Laters, baby, he’s saying, and it’s hot, freaking hot. I flush just watching them.

I sigh and peek up at Fifty Shades. He’s so beautiful, I could stare at him forever. He has light stubble over his chin, and my fingers itch to scratch it and feel it against my face, against my breasts... between my thighs. I blush at the direction of my thoughts. He peers down at me and raises his hand to pull at my chin.

“Don’t bite your lip,” he murmurs huskily. “I want to do that.”

Grace and Mia clear our dessert glasses and head to the kitchen, while Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, Kate, and Elliot discuss the merits of solar panels in Washington State. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, feigning inter est in their conversation, puts his hand once more on my knee, and his fingers travel up my thigh. My breathing hitches, and I press my thighs together in a bid to halt his progress. I can see him smirk.

“Shall I give you a tour of the grounds?” he asks me quite openly.

I know I’m meant to say yes, but I don’t trust him. Before I can answer however, he’s on his feet and holding his hand out to me. I place my hand in his, and I feel all the muscles clench deep in my belly, responding to his dark, hungry gray gaze.

“Excuse me,” I say to Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome and follow Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome out of the dining room.

He leads me through the hallway and into the kitchen where Mia and Grace are stack ing the dishwasher. European Pigtails is nowhere to be seen.

“I’m going to show Anastasia the backyard,” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome says innocently to his mother. She waves us out with a smile as Mia heads back to the dining room.

We step out onto a grey flagstone patio area lit by recessed lights in the flagstones. There are shrubs in grey stone tubs and a chic metal table and chairs set up in one corner. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome walks past those, up some steps, and onto a vast lawn that leads down to the bay... oh my it’s beautiful. Seattle twinkles on the horizon, and the cool, bright, May moon etches a sparkling silver path across the water toward a jetty where two boats are moored. Beside the jetty stands a boathouse. It is so picturesque, so peaceful. I stand and gape for a moment.

Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome pulls me behind him, and my heels sink into the soft grass.

“Stop, please.” I am stumbling in his wake.

He stops and gazes at me, his expression unfathomable.

“My heels. I need to take my shoes off.”

“Don’t bother,” he says, and he bends down and scoops me over his shoulder. I squeal loudly with shocked surprise, and he gives me a ringing slap on my behind.

“Keep your voice down,” he growls.

Oh no... this is not good, my subconscious is quaking at the knees. He’s mad about something could be Jose, Georgia, no panties, biting my lip. Jeez, he’s easy to rile.

“Where are we going?” I breathe.

“Boathouse,” he snaps.

I hang on to his hips as I’m tipped upside-down, and he strides purposefully in the moonlight across the lawn.

“Why?” I sound breathless, bouncing on this shoulder.

“I need to be alone with you.”

“What for?”

“Because I’m going to spank and then fuck you.”

“Why?” I whimper softly.

“You know why,” he hisses.

“I thought you were an in-the-moment guy?” I plead breathlessly.

“Anastasia, I’m in the moment, trust me.”

Holy fuck.

[bestialsadist]

Tha One Who Cried Wolf - Pt. 1-2

Part 1:

Yanked out mah sleep, I shoot mah head up an’ turn ‘round tryin’ ta’ see whea I’m at. Get mah bearin’s. I’on’t ‘memba passin’ out on tha couch last night. Mah wif’ ain’t nex’ ta’ me so I figga she went ta’ bed an’ ain’t e’vn try’ta’ wake me up. Dis’ere rude ass awakenin’s from mah cell rattlin’ off tha table like uh demon dun hopped inside tha shi’ an’ I a’most break tha damn thang tryna grab it ta’ stop it. Grumblin’ wit’ squinty eyes an’ blurred vision, I pump in mah password an’ see “C. DNA” pop up on mah screen.

“Ugh…Fuck.” Mah voice groggy an’ filled wit’ exhaushun.

TEXT: We need 2 talk.

TEXT: Fuck off. It’s 2am.

TEXT: I’m not joking, babe. We need 2 talk. Now.

TEXT: Fuck. OFF.

“Babe?”

Is dis fuckin’ slut crazy?

Cassie Malroux’s uh lil’ blonde piece uh ass I was playin’ wit’ on tha side uh few months back bu’ I tossed ha out wit’ tha trash. Ain’t sho’ why she come callin’ me na. We ain’t end on gud terms. Chea gottuh lil’ too big fa’ ha own fuckin’ britches. Na I a’mit, she was scratchin’ uh lil’ itch fa’ me. Catchin’ mah tendency ta’ roam e’vry na an’ den. She was takin’ mah mind off shi’ I cain’t seem ta’ shake. Somthin’ I needed. Bu’ chea mo’ tro’ble den she worth.

Firs’, it was lil’ shit. Ha callin’ me when she kno’ I’m wit’ mah fam’ly. Ha makin’ lil’ co’ments afta we fuck ‘bout sendin’ pictuas ta’ mah wif’ an’ postin’ shi’ on ha Snap. Ha talkin’ shi’ ‘bout me not claimin’ ha. Ha talkin’ ‘bout luh like I was tha o’ly one listenin’ whil’ we had tha whol’ yah jus’ uh fuck talk. Den chea’d laugh it all off an’ act lik’ she jus’ playin’ ‘round. I tol’ ha on mo’ den one occashun, don’t fuck wit’ ma fam’ly.

Chea ain’t get tha message, an’ she rea’ly lost ha gahdamn mind.

Messin’ ‘round wit’ ha fa’ too long gave ha tha wrong idea ‘bout wha’ dis’ere was. Uh fuck hea an’ nea. Uh ‘scape. Uh distracshun from alla twisted shi’ swirlin’ ‘round mah head I aint tryna deal wit’. Bu’ I came ta’ mah senses uh coupla months ago an’ ended tha shi’ when tha stupid slut tried ta’ catch me at tha grocery sto’ wit’ mah fuckin’ daughta. I cain’t e’vn say tried rea’ly ‘cos she -did- catch mah ass. Cornah’d me by tha fuckin’ meats an’ grabbed -mine.-

I a’most killed tha white trash bitch right thea an’ den.

Nika was down tha c’real an’ snack aisle wit’ tha basket so she ain’t see nothin’, bu’ if she had, dis bitch wuldn’t be seein’ shi’ else fa’ tha rest uf ha life. In one swift move, I grabbed ha throat an’ shoved ha through tha hangin’ plastic flaps dat lead ta’ tha back uf tha sto’ whea da sto’ stock at. I ain’t seen nobody ‘round when I slammed ha stupid ass ‘gainst tha crates uf milk, so I tightened mah grip on ha throat an’ growled through gritted teeth.

“Tha fuck yah doin’ hea?!”

Scratchin’, swingin’, an’ fightin’ fa’ ha life, I land uh vicious smack ‘cross ha face ta’ make ha focus an’ ansa me. Make ha learn ha le’son. Chea dun crossed uh line. One dat ain’t so e’sy ta’ come back from when it come ta’ me. Beggin’ fa’ air wit’ tears streamin’ down ha face, I’on’t let ha go ‘til I seen tha blood rushin’ from ha skin, makin’ ha pastey like death was knockin’ on ha do’. Chea ain’t no match fa’ me, bu’ she uh fighta an’ I getta lil’ thrill outta ha thankin’ ha scratchin’ was ‘bout ta’ sway me from makin’ mah fuckin’ point. Wit’ blood vessels blown an’ skin turnin’ uh ligh’ shade uh blue like ha eyes, I shove ha ta’ tha ground an’ watched ha choke, tryin’ ta’ grasp fa’ air.

Nose flared, brows knitted, an’ mah baritone still inna uh growl, “I ain’t ‘bout’ta fuckin’ repeat mah’self, bitch.”

Coughin’ an’ carryin’ on, she try’ta’ ansa me, “I…I… jus’…wan…wanted to… see you…’Tiste…”

I’on’t need ta’ hea no’mo. Ha thankin’ she culd come fin’ me an’ corna me ‘cos “she wanna see me” was grounds ta’ feed tha bitch ta’ tha gatas. Bu’, I’on’t. Tha tramp o’viously gotta deathwish an’ I ain’t ha fuckin’ Genie. I step closa. Chea jumped, pushin’ up ‘gainst tha crates uf milk. She’on’t care if she culdn’t get no furtha a’way, she jus’ tryin’ta’ get as far ‘way from me as she can right na. Terror in ha eyes ‘xactly wha’ I wanted ta’ see when I kneeled down in front uf ha. Takin’ uh deep breath, I inhale ha fear like mah opioids tha lil’ white housewif’s pop befo’ dey mornin’ coffee. Ta’ uh predata, tha scent’s like mama’s sweet potata pie. Leanin’ closa an’ starin’ at ha, I wan’ed ha ta’ see tha whites uf mah eyes. Feel tha heat uf mah anag. Hear tha roar in mah voice dat all make it clea, ‘dis ha last straw.

“Yah hea me an’ hea me well, bitch. Yah no longa ‘xist ta’ me. Don’t call me. Don’t try’ta’ see me. Don’t come mah fuckin’ way. If yah do, I swea I’ll be tha last face yah eva see.”

Three o’ fo’ months lata an’ dis’ slut’s textin’ me at 2AM. O’viously she’on’t thank fat meat’s greasy.

TEXT: I’m pregnant. Urs. Come now or my next txt is 2 ur wife.

Mah mind go blank as I read an’ reread an’ reread dis’ere text. “I’m pregnant.” Fa’ uh split s’cond I swalla mah tongue. Any man wuld, e’vn if he kno’ it ain’t no way he knocked ha up. I’on’t know what pissed me off mo’, ha claimin’ she gotta baby o’ ha threatenin’ ta’ text mah wif’.

I thank bof uh gud re’son ta’ fuck ha slut ass up. I guess I ain’t reply quick enuf ‘cos she text a‘gin.

TEXT: Think I’m playing?

I sit up an’ pull on mah black boots befo’ I text ha back.

TEXT: omw TEXT: Can’t wait 2 cu…

Part 2:

I’m fumin’. Re’dy ta’ tear ha head from ha shuldas an’ eat ha mah’self.

Tryin’ not ta’ wake no’body in tha house, I grab mah keys, cell, jacket, an’ uh untra’ceable glock befo’ I hop in mah dark truck ta’ head ova thea. Not mah Harley, bu’ mah -otha- truck. Windo’s down, tha breeze from mah speedin’ keepin’ tha heat risin’ unda mah skin cool bu’ it ain’t keepin’ me calm. Not dat I thought it wuld. Grindin’ mah teeth, I slam uh fist ‘gainst tha steerin’ wheel.

“Crazy fuckin’ bitch!”

Darkened eyes dartin’ from mah rearview ta’ the road ahead, I cain’t get ta’ ha house fast enuf. I knew chea was uh lil’ off tha rails an’ part uf dat’s wha’ turned me on ‘bout ha. Ha feistiness. Uh slick mouf. Bu’ I ain’t ‘xpect ha ta’ play games wit’ mah fam’ly. Threaten ta’ fuck wit’ mah wif’. I ain’t ‘xpect ha ta’ be -dat- fuckin’ off ha shi’.

“Yah shulda fuckin’ killed tha bitch when she pulled da shi’ wit’ Nika. Yah shulda bit ha fuckin’ head off.”

Mah wolf’s howlin’ deep inside, tellin’ me how much uf uh fuckin’ idjit I am fa’ not goin’ wit’ instincts. I kno’ tha walkin’ tramp stamp ain’t got mah baby in’ha belly. Bu’ chea threatenin’ ta’ call mah wif’ ain’t some shit I can jus’ ignore. Ain’t some shi’ I -wuld- ignore. Mah jaw clenches. “Can’t wait 2 c u.” Ha smug ass grin flashin’ in mah head like uh bull’s eye. She’on’t kno’ mah wif’d kill ha ass befo’ I e’vn got ahol’ uf ha. Shi’, she’d kill me too. It wuldn’t end how she thank. Bu’ dat ain’t tha point. Anybody who kno’ me, hate me o’ not. Yah’on’t fuck wit’ Z. Yah breaths be numba’d afta dat.

Mah eyes flashin’ gold in tha rearview, I take uh deep breath ta’ calm down an’ park uh lil’ ways from ha house. She ain’t got uh’lot uf neighbors, bu’ I ain’t rea’ly wanna be seen ‘round hea ta’night. Wit’ uh black hoody jacket, T-shirt, jeans, an’ boots, no’body’d kno’ who I am o’ see any identifyin’ markas uf me. ‘Cept mah height an’ build bu’ dat ain’t enuf fa’ an arrest, less dey can place me hea. Bu’ I slotch uh lil’ whil’ I walk anyway , jus’ ta’ make mah size jus’ uh lil’ unclea. Befo’ I e’vn get ta’ ha side do’, chea open tha do’ like she been waitin’ by tha windo ‘till she heard me comin’. Wearin’ nuthin’ bu’ uh lil’ black bra an’ panties an’ uh big, blue-eyed smile, she damn’nea hops at me, hopin’ I’ma catch ha stupid ass.

“Babe, I’m so happy you came!”

I step aside starin’ at ha like she uh like she lost ha mind, watchin’ ha stumble tryin’ta’ catch ha footin’. Not an ouce uf ha excitement gets givin’ back ta’ ha. Me bein’ pissed off clea in mah tone, “Is yah fuckin’ nuts?! Get yah ass in tha gahdamn house! I ain’t come alla ‘way ova hea ta’ fuck wit’yah.”

Dis’ shi’ cain’t be real. She cain’t hav’ dis many fuckin’ screws loose?

“But, I missed you!”

Shi’, chea rea’ly got dis’ many screws loose.

Givin’ ha tha look uf death, I point fa’ward an’ push ha back ta’ ha damn do’.

“I’on’t gih uh fuck if yah missed parole, Cassie. Get in tha gahdamn house an’ put’cha fuckin’ clothes on, na!”

Draggin’ ha feet an’ smackin’ ha lips, she do as I say an’ I close an’ lock tha do’s behin’ us. Pullin’ off mah hoody an’ dark beanie, I watch ha cop uh attitude, stumpin’ an’ smackin’ ha lips.

“C’mon, ‘Tiste. Don’t be like that. I missed you. Didn’t you miss me?”

Standin’ a’most lost fa’ words.

“I’m hea ‘bout dis’ere baby shit! Dat’s tha o’ly re’son I’m hea, Cassie. Stop playin’ games.”

I ain’t rea’ly care ‘bout ha ansa. I kno’ she ain’t carryin’ mah cub. One, I’on’t raw-dawg no’body bu’ mah wif’. Two, I wulda smelled ha carryin’ tha s’cond she opened tha fuckin’ do’ an’ hopped mah way. She ain’t no’mo pregnant den tha fuckin’ man on tha moon an’ I wanna see how far she gon’ take dis’ere BS.

“You must be in a bad mood. Wifey still not paying you no mind?”

It take e’vrythang in me na ta’ knock ha lights out, righ’chea. Numba One rule she keep breakin’ like it’s ha job, keep mah wif’ out ha mouf. Sneerin’ ha way, barin’ teeth an’ narrowin’ mah eyes, she get tha pr’mise written on mah face an’ shut ha mouf, at least fa’ uh s’cond, an’ ta’ ha bedroom.

E’vn tho I ain’t been hea in months, ha lil’ house ‘xactly tha same. Keys hangin’ by tha do’ an’ cell on tha glass coffee table. Uh half em’ty bottle uf ha liquid crack, Peach Cisco—tha drank uf tha winos—sittin’ on tha table too. TV stuck on one uf dem “Real HipHop Hos uf Still Lookin’ fa uh Suga Daddy” sho’s o’ wha’eva dey called. Tha scent uf Orange chicken an’ scrimp fried rice lingerin’ in tha air lika house spray. Tha same ‘ol take-out she a’ways orda. Dis’ lil’ shotgun house ain’t changed an’ neitha has she.

I folla ha inta’ ha bedroom an’ watch ha grab some sweat shorts an’ uh wif’beata ta’ pull on. Leanin’ ‘gainst ha bedroom do’way, I look ha up an’ down, wonderin’ wha’ tha fuck I was thankin’ all dat time fuckin’ ‘round wit’ ha crazy ass. Chea gotta mouf lika Hoova an’ uh throat deep as tha Gulf. -Dat’s wha’.- I ain’t so young, bu’ I’m sho’ dumb an’ fulla “I dun fucked alla way up” cum. Hissin’ ‘cos dis’ fuck’up migh’ cost me, I ball mah fist in mah pockets damn nea bark at ha slo’ ass, “Yah kin talk whil’ yah git dressed, Cassie. I kno’ how well yah mouf work whil’ yah doin’ otha thangs. Get ta’ fuckin’ talkin’.”

She smack ha lips a’gin whil’ she pull out some shorts an’ uh T-shirt. Don’t slap ha.

Cassie turn mah way, “Tiste, why you being like this? Don’t’cha miss me?”

I’on’t gih ha uh s’cond ta’ wonda. “No. Ansa mah fuckin’ queshun.”

Ha blue eyes glaze an’ ha bottom lip sink in ha mouf. I can tell dat hurt ha. I also’on’t gih uh shi’.

“I took a test…A few.” Ha voice low wit’ lil’ hints uh crackin’ as she finish. “It was positive. And before you ask, no I ain’t been with nobody since you. It’s yours.”

I a’most choke on mah own spit from dat bold ass lie. “Right… Whea it’s at? I wanna see it.”

She shake ha head, lookin’ up at me. “You mean the test? I don’t have it. I threw it out.”

I tilt mah head. “Bitch, go find it.”

She looks worried an’ stunned all at tha same time. I ain’t gon’ stop callin’ ha bluff ‘till she tell tha truth.

“I can’t. Trash came a’ready.”

She firin’ tha excuses like she uh CEO an’ we downsizin’. I push mah’self off tha do’way. “Trash came a’ready?”

She nods quick, “Yeah, trust me. I’d show you if I could, baby. Believe me. We’re gonna have a beautiful, baby boy. At least I hope it’s a boy, so I can name him after you and everything.”

Dis’ story catches me off guard an’ I blank-stare at chea. Tha look in ha eyes is serious. “Are yah fuckin’ high? Yah been samplin’ mah shi’ o’ somthin’ ‘cos yah sound crazy ass hell, Cassie? Name ‘im afta me?” I cain’t hol’ in tha laugh dat barrels from mah chest. “Bitch, I wuldn’t let yah hav’ mah babies. Yah fa’got I gotta wif’ an’ yah ain’t it. O’an’ I gotta mini me a’ready, too late fa’ too. An’on’t fuckin’ call me baby, babe, o’ any uf tha otha shi’. Yah kno’ mah name. Use it.” Still laughin’ loud, I shake mah head makin’ mah way ta’ ha bathroom.

“Dis bitch dun lost ha evalivin’ mind if she thank I’d let ha hav’ mah baby. HA! Stone loco.” Lookin’ in ha lady storage cab’net, whea she keep all uh female stuff, I push shi’ ‘round whil’ I look fa’ wha’ I kno’ is thea.

“I hope you don’t mean what I think you mean? I’on’t believe in abortion, Tiste. I’m Catholic. And you can’t make me, you fucking monster!”

I see chea use mah name an’ ain’t speak ‘bout mah fam’ly. Bu’ I hea ha comin’ closa an’ I laugh harda. “HAHA!” Lookin’ up from mah squatted position as I dig in ha bottom cab’net. “Yah thank tha clinic tha o’ly way I’d get rid uf dat lil’ fucka? I ain’t ‘bove throwin’ yah ass down uh flight uh stairs an’ leavin’ yah ta’ bleed ta’ death.” I gih uh sarcastic smile, bu’ I mean e’vry gahdamn word.

She smack ha lips, lookin’ down at me, “Why would you say something like that? You know, sometimes you really scare me. Like you’d really hurt me. And what are you looking for?”

I snicka at “sometimes,” like she fa’got ‘bout me a’most stranglin’ ha ta’ death. Ignorin’ ha BS, uh grin cross mah face when I fina’ly find wha’ I’m lookin’ fa’. Ha spare pregnancy test.

“Hea. Pee on tha shi’. Prove it.” Shell-shocked, she stand thea starin’ like she jus’ seen uh ghost. “Wha’s wrong, chea? Fa’got yah had uh stash? O’ didn’t kno’ I knew ‘bout it?”

Starin’ deadpan at ha, I wait ta’ see wha’ ‘xcuse she got fa’ dis one. Don’t need ta’ pee? Wata in tha kitchen, mothafucka.

“Why’re you doing this?!” Tha crocodile tears wet ha face an’ I’on’t flinch. Ha feelin’s mean nuthin’ ta’ me. “Tiste…stop!”

“‘Cos I wan’yah ta’ tell tha fuckin’ truth, Cassie. Yah ass ain’t no’mo pregnant den I am.”

Standin’ up an’ cockin’ mah head ta’ tha side ta’ wait fa’ wha’eva come out ha mouf nex’. Mah humor’s replaced by irritashun. ‘Fess tha fuck up. Dat’s all she gotta do.

Befo’ I kno’ it, Cassie’s throwin’ uh tempa-tantrum. Throwin’ tha test on tha flo’ an’ stompin’ outchea ta’ ha room whil’ she still cryin’ an’ carryin’ on.

“Fine! I lied! I ain’t taking that shit because I’m not fuckin’ pregnant! I just wanted you to come over and see me! I fucking missed you! I’m sorry, Tiste! I didn’t mean to lie! Or bring your family into it! I just missed you so damn much! Can’t you understand that?! I love you!”

Crossin’ mah arms ova mah chest an’ listenin’ ta’ ha whinin’, I’m mo’ an’ mo’ atta loss uf wha’ tha fuck I saw in ha.

“Hm. Am I ‘posed ta’ feel sorry fa’ yah? Yah thank I’ma drop ta’ mah an’ realize I’m ‘posed ta’ be wit’ yah o’ somthin’? Lemme get dis’ straight.” I count off on mah fangas, starin’ at ha comin’ back mah way. Mah voice thickenin’ wit’ each offence. “Yah lied… Tried ta’ trap me. -An’- yah threatin’ ta’ call mah wif’ wit’ it all. Wha’ tha fuck yah thank gon’ happen, chea? Hm? I’ma profess mah luh fa’ yah?! Yah gon’ crazy.”

She steps up ta’ me, face red an’ wet. Eyes bloodshot. Make-up smeared. Ha nex’ mov’on’t surprise me. She coos anotha apology, ha lil’ girl voice meant ta’ make me gih ha wha’ she want. Rubbin’ mah biceps an’ tryin’ ta’ get me ta’ uncross mah arms, I narrow mah eyes an’ mov’ out ha grasp. Why she thank dis’ shi’ ‘bout ta’ work afta I dun tol’ ha not ta’ contact me is un-fuckin’-real.

Ha tears start rollin’ a’gin. “Wha’ I gotta do, Tiste?! Huh?! Wha’ I gotta do?! I said I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Believe me, I’m sorry! I’ll never do it again! I don’t even have your wife’s number! I swear. I’m sorry!”

Smackin’ mah lips an’ rollin’ mah eyes when she drop ta’ ha knees in front uf me. Hands roamin’ tha front uf mah pants, lookin’ fa’ any sign dat she winnin’ me ova. I grip ha hands an’ push ‘em off me.

“Yah sorry? Hm. Yah kno’ wha’ I get it. Yah lon’ly. Yah missed me. Wa’n’t thankin’ ‘bout wha’ yah was doin’.” She nods, wipin’ ha tears ‘way . “So, if yah really sorry, Cas, go write me uh lil’ ‘I’m sorry’ note. I’ll fa’give yah if yah do. I pr’mise.”

Blinkin’ lika idjit, she stare up at me wit’ doe eyes. “Really? An ‘I’m sorry’ note? That’s all you want?”

I nod, playin’ tha role I kno’ she’ll fall fa’ ‘cos she one uf dem dumb broads dat thank e’vrythnag yah say mean somthin’ otha den wha’ yah actua’ly sayin’ ta’ ha.

“Dat’s all I wan’, chea. I’m jus’ uh lil’ pissed yah wuld lie ta’ me. Bu’ if yah gih me uh lil’ ‘I’m sorry’ note, I’ll believe yah mean it.” I rub ha puffy cheek wit’ tha back uf mah hand. “It’ll be lika lil’ keepsake. Like yah givin’ me uh piece uf yah heart ‘cos yah rea’ly ain’t mean ta’ do me like dat. Right chea?”

I gih ha mah puppy eyes ta’ seal tha deal.

She chews ha lip bu’ buys it hook, line, an’ sinka. “You know I can’t resist that face.” Pullin’ ha’self ta’ ha feet, she go ova ta’ ha drawer by ha bed an’ pull out ha notepad an’ pen. “What you want it to say?”

“Jus’ say yah sorry, chea. An’ don’t put mah name ‘cos I’ma keep it in mah wallet bu’ if somebody see it, we’on’t wanna get caught up, right?”

She offa uh puffy lipped smile an’ nod as she start writin’. I head back in ha bathroom whil’ she doin’ dat. Tha rage on tha way hea wa’n’t useless. I a’ready had uh plan fa’ ha. Usin’ ha towel, I turn on ha hot wata an’ run ha uh bubble bath wit’ tha bottle uh vanilla on tha corna uh ha tub. Comin’ back inta’ ha bedroom, she gotta big ass smile on ha face an’ I kno’ it’s ‘cos she hea’s tha wata runnin’. Uh bath mean she ‘bout ta’ get fucked ‘cos I neva hav’ ha wit’out makin’ ha take uh bath firs’.

She sat ha notepad on tha bedside dressa drawer an’ start pullin’ off ha wifbeata. I graze mah hand ‘long ha bare stomach ta’ getta look at ha note an’ keep ha distra’ted. “I’m so, so sorry. Please, forgive me. - C ☹”

Shor’ an’ sweet.

“Perfect, chea.” I gih ha uh playful smack on tha ass. “Go’on, go git in tha tub fa’ me.”

She squeaks an’ wipes ha eyes wit’ uh big smile still on ha face, “You coming with me for once?”

“I’ma come in thea inna s’cond. Lemme get uh bea firs’.”

She nods, buyin’ e’vrythang I’m sellin’.

“Ok! Hurry, the water’s perfect! You know just what I like, ‘Tiste…”

Cassie’s none tha wisa. One thang ‘bout me, I’on’t break mah pr’mise. -Eva.- Headin’ back in tha front room, I pull out mah latex gloves an’ pull ‘em on. Nex’ I pull out mah 45 an’ attach uh silenca befo’ headin’ ta’ ha kitchen ta’ grab ha sharpest knife wit’ mah gloved hands. Slidin’ tha gun in mah denim pocket an’ slipin’ ha knife in mah leatha sheath attached ta’ mah belt, so it’s hidden behin’ mah 7in Bowie knife, I grab ha cell an’ slip it in mah otha pocket fo’ I head back in thea.

I catch ha in thea, eyes closed, an’ enjoyin’ ta’ bath. “Whea yah laptop, chea?”

She open ha eyes, confused. “I don’t have one. Remember, I asked you to get me one?” “Oh, dat’s right. I fa’got. No otha tech stuff? iPad o’ somthin’? Christmas is ‘round tha corna.”

Grinnin’ wide, she shake ha head lika lil’ kid. “Nope. You saying you getting me one of those?”

Mah questions jus’ ta’ see if she got any otha shi’ layin’ ‘round dat migh’ hav’ some ev’dence uh me bein’ in ha life ‘cos I’d take dat too.

“If yah be gud fa’ me. Yah gon’ be gud fa’ me?” Noddin’ an’ lettin’ ha hands slide up an’ down ha body, smearin’ tha bubbles ‘long ha skin.

“I can be good for you. If that’s what you want.” Ha voice get mo’ an’ mo’ seductive as she talk, hands fondlin’ ha bare tits. “I’ll be whatever you want. Do whatever you want. You know that. I just want to make you happy.”

I put ha tha top on tha toilet down an’ take uh seat by ha tub. Somthin’ ‘bout dis’ moment make me shift. Mah heart beat uh lil’ fasta. Mah dick twitch jus’ uh lil’. I lick mah lips an’ lean close ta’ ha as I pull ha knife from mah side.

“I o’ly wan’cha ta’ do one thang fo’ me, yah? Kill yah’self.”

Starin’ wide-eyed at me, I kin tell she ain’t sho’ wha’ I mean. So, I set ha knife on tha edge uf tha tub an’ point ta’ it.

“Pick up tha knife, open up yah thighs, an’ kill yah’self.”

Tha air stifles. Ha heart start crashin’ ‘gainst ha ribcage. Fear ain’t o’ly stampin’ ha face, it’s fillin’ tha air. I kin tell she ‘bout ta’ scream bu’ I’on’t gih ha tha chance. Pullin’ out mah 45 an’ pointin’ it dead at tha centa uf ha head, I catch ha jus’ as uh cry come out ha mouf.

“Uh-uh. Na if yah scream, I’ma hafta splatta dat pre’ty lil’ face uf yah’s all ova dis’ere bathroom. Bu’ den it’ll get all messy an’ I ain’t in tha mood fa’ dat, yah. So, be uh big gurl an’ open up uh a’tery. Yah’ll go fast.”

Tears come runnin’ down ha face a’gin. Lips quiverin’. Head an’ body shakin’.  

“Don…Don’t…make…me… do this, Tiste…Pl…plea..please…”

Tappin’ mah silenca ‘gainst ha mouf, I shake mah head wit’ uh sinista grin.

“I won’t repeat mah’self, chea. I pr’mised yah I’d be tha last face yah see if yah ain’t lis’sen. Yah -ain’t- lis’sen. Bu’ go’on, try me if yah won’t’ta’. I got no bones ‘bout blowin’ yah fuckin’ head off.”

Chea, tremblin’ an’ whimperin’ as she grab tha knife. Na, I kno’ dis’ uh risk ‘cos she kin cut me if she rea’ly wanted ta’. Bu’ dis’ uh foo’s dream. Many thank dey’d be dat one ta’ figh’. Ta’ go down swingin’. Ta’ take ‘em down wit’cha. Bu’ mos’? Jus’ die. Mah gun right b’tween ha eyes makin’ mah sincerity real fa’ ha too. I point mah gun ta’ ha uppa thigh an’ ha whol’ body jump. Terrified.

“Righ’chea. Deep.”

Relu’tantly an’ wit’ shaky hands, chea slice open right thigh an’ cry out from tha pain. Tha red mist fill tha hot wata quick as she doubles ta’ tha side, mouf wide bu’ barely any sound comin’ out. She press ha fac ‘gainst tha cold bath tiles, snot an’ tears smearin’ ha flushed flesh—she ac’tually get up tha nerve ta’ cry out loud fa’ help. Real quick, I shove mah silenca in ha mouf, release tha safety, an’ pull back tha chamba ta’ sho’ ha it’s loaded.

“Open casket o’ closed. Yah choice, chea.”

Chokin’ an’ cryin’ ‘round mah metal, she shake ha head, eyes lowerin’ an’ beggin’ me not ta’ pull tha trigga. I ain’t looked ‘way from ha face. Ha eyes. I wanna see tha s’cond ha life ends. Ha heart pumpin’ fast. Tryin’ta’ make up fa’ tha blood she losin’. Chea lookin’ uh lil’ drowsey. I pull mah gun from ha mouf when I hea ha pulse slo’.

“I’m sorry…”

Tha two words ain’t no louda den uh whispa. Chea ain’t got tha enagy ta’ do much mo’. Tha an’mal in me can smell death comin’. It’s knockin’ on ha do’. Ha breathin’s shallo an’ slo’. Tha steam comin’ off tha wata make tha scent uf ha blood uh heady mixture wit’ ha sufferin’. Wit’out hesitashun, I shake mah head wit’ uh deadpan expresshun.

“Too late fa’ dat, chea.”

Uh few mo’ tears roll down ha face fo’ ha body slump ta’ tha side. Lips parted bu’ no air comin’ out. Tha pumpin’ uf ha heart come ta’ uh stop. It o’ly take uh few minutes ta’ bleed ta’ death when uh maja a’tery open. If chea eyes wa’n’t starin’ right at me, I’d thank she migh’ jus’ be passed out from tha blood lost bu’ ain’t no Cassie ‘dea. Tha light in ha blue eyes gon’ out. Two fangas ta’ tha side uf ha neck, I check ha pulse an’ make sho’ wha’ I smell is right.

Chucklin’ an’ gettin’ up, I grab ha test off tha flo’ an’ put it back in ha cab’net.  

“Pr’blem solved.”

____

[©Post to @BestialSadist: 12-19-17]