#if anything she's relieved because 'finally that annoying buzzing in my ear is gone'

[nightingaletrash]

if Silas and Khalia were siblings, they probably wouldn’t get along at all because Silas is the #1 Corliss stan and Khalia only bothers to disguise her disdain for Corliss because its practical to do so, and while Silas wants to help secure Corliss’ place at the top of the food chain, Khalia is actively working to find Prince Arundel and remove her from the board altogether. Silas would have front row seats to Corliss’ ascension only for Khalia to walk in with Arundel and oops now he’s trying to kill them both because HOW DARE YOU

[hxseok-honee]

blossom || part 20

blossom [part 20] || "Closure..."

[‘cause all i need is to see you blossom out, blossom out, blossom out]

previous || masterlist || next

a/n : welcome to another 'is this a hobi chapter or is this a yoongi chapter' chapter!!!

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When Y/n leaves Gryffindor common room, her bottom lip is quivering. She’s not sure why, and she’s definitely not sure what to do about it. So she just walks. She doesn’t make the active choice to head in a certain direction, but before she knows it she’s heading downstairs toward the kitchens — she only realizes that she’d been walking to Hoseok when she turns the corner toward Hufflepuff common room and finds him there, sitting in the corridor, exactly where he said he’d be.

He looks up when he hears her shoes on the cement, his face lighting up when he sees that it’s her.

“Y/n! I was wondering if you were gonna come find me. That’s actually the reason I told you where I was-- wait, what’s wrong?” The excited rambling dies in his throat when he looks up at her properly and sees her face -- the loss in her eyes, the way she’s pursing her lips to stop them from shaking. She looks so unbelievably sad, but it clearly hasn’t registered in her own mind that she is, because she’s looking at him in confusion now.

“What do you mean?” Assessing the situation in the split-second way only someone as observant as him could, Hoseok pats the ground beside him, deciding not to be so up-front about his concerns. She settles onto the cold ground, scooting in close to press her side against his, seeking warmth. He says nothing about it, but he’s grateful -- it gets cold in the corridors in winter, and he likes the feelings she gives him when she’s close more than he’d care to admit.

“Did something happen today?” He asks while he’s looping a flower through the twine and taping it down, the same one he’d been working on when she’d arrived. When she doesn’t respond right away, he glances over at her, taking in the faraway look in her eyes -- and then he leaves her be. She’ll tell him when she’s ready.

“I talked to Jungkook tonight… we just finished talking, actually.” Hoseok isn’t sure why he’s tensing -- whether it’s because he’s worried about how she’s doing or whether Jungkook had said something to upset her. Or maybe it’s because of the little irrational voice in the back of his head telling him that somehow, Jungkook had convinced her to get back together with him. The idea of that makes him vaguely nauseous, but he does his best not to show it when he responds.

“Oh… How did it go?” He can see her nodding slowly out of the corner of his eye, meaning that it went well.

“He apologized. Said he would leave me alone and do his best to work on himself before trying to be my friend again… I guess he really wants to do things the right way this time… So that’s good…” Hoseok doesn’t say anything, staring at the ground in front of them as he waits for something else from her, any indication of how she’s feeling because all she’s done so far is give an objective retelling of the conversation. But she doesn’t speak again, so he turns to her slowly, suddenly apprehensive.

“Are you okay?” Blinking rapidly until she’s able to focus on Hoseok again, she nods, turning to him with a small smile.

“I’m okay, Hobi… relieved… sad… but okay.” He feels glad that she trusts him enough to tell him that she’s upset, but he’s not sure how to help. So he sets the unfinished flower crown on the floor in front of him, reaching over and pulling her hand into his lap so he can interlock his fingers with hers. He doesn’t say anything -- he’s not sure why she’s sad, but he knows there has to be a really good reason for her to not be overwhelmed by the happiness of finally having gotten the closure she needed--

“Closure…” He whispers to himself, realizing with a small shake of his head that he’d taken too long to put it together. Y/n looks up at him from where she’s just rested her head on his shoulder, wondering where his thoughts have gone. He squeezes her hand, meeting her eyes with a small smile. “It’s the closure… isn’t it?”

Y/n frowns, unsure what he’s getting at. And then she thinks about it -- the amount of time she’d spent being annoyed with Jungkook for not letting her have exactly that. The summer spent crying over him and then deciding that she needed to be over him by the time school started again, never giving herself a chance to reach her own form of acceptance. Closure’s exactly what she’d needed this whole time, and months later, she’s got it at last. But for some reason, knowing that she and Jungkook are finally done -- knowing that now they needed to work on their friendship more than anything — it brings her a sense of incredible loss, like finally tossing the key to the door she’d locked up so long ago and moving on from it for good.

She eventually nods, laying her head against Hoseok’s shoulder again. She doesn’t want to say more, still trying to work through her own emotions, but she knows he won’t mind -- he’s always known what she needs without her saying it aloud. But she wants to make sure he knows that she’s fully aware of him, that he’s not just the boy she runs to when she’s an emotional wreck. Because it’s starting to worry her, and she would hate for him to think that about their relationship.

Hoseok seems like a really good guy. I hope he makes you happy.

The memory of Jungkook’s text shakes her, and her stomach’s alight with nerves when she realizes that, yeah, Hoseok does make her happy. Even when he thinks he’s not doing anything at all, he’s making her happier than she’d felt in a long time. He makes her happy even when she doesn’t realize that happy’s the one thing she’s been longing for.

“Thank you, Hobi. I don’t know what I’d do without you…” Hoseok stills when she whispers it, never lifting her head from his shoulder. He almost feels like he imagined it. But she’s pulling away from him now, craning her neck so she can find his eyes. He turns to her, too, eyes wide and a breathless laugh of disbelief leaving him.

“But I didn’t do anything…” She smiles then, having known he’d say that.

“You’re perfect as you are. Right next to me like this.” It makes her nervous, saying something like that to his face, but she means it. Because Jung Hoseok never believes he’s enough, even if he hides it well. And she needs him to know that he’s not just enough -- he’s perfect. To her, he’s perfect.

Apparently, saying it so blatantly like that has sent a shock through him, because his eyes are blown wide and his mouth is hanging slightly open. She thinks maybe she’s gone too far, but she can also see that his ears are turning red the longer he looks at her, his cheeks coloring in the same way soon after.

“I-- no one’s ever…” He trails off, nowhere near done with his thought but unable to get the rest of the words out. No one’s ever thought of me as important. The way Y/n’s looking at him, he knows that she’s aware of where his thoughts had gone, that she can see him even when he’s hiding. It’s scary, being vulnerable to someone the way he is right now. But he can’t say he would have it any other way, not if it’s her that’s seeing right through him.

“Y/n… I think… I think I--” I think I have feelings for you. It should have been so easy to say -- he almost has all the words out, he just has to finish saying them. But he can’t. Because he’d already told her the kiss had meant nothing. He’d already told her they could keep going as they are now. That nothing had to change. Because he hadn’t wanted to take advantage of their friendship, not when things between her and her ex were so precarious. He’d been too happy beside her like he is now, and he hadn’t been willing to risk it. But now he wishes he had. And he has no idea, but she wishes he had, too.

Before he can gather the courage to start again -- to say it again, clearly this time -- her phone is buzzing, Yoongi’s face and contact lighting up the screen when she pulls it out of her pocket. Hoseok swallows whatever awkward confession he’d been about to make, watching as Y/n frowns at her phone.

She’d texted him over an hour ago, and when he hadn’t responded right away, she’d just assumed he was in the midst of his usual nighttime business -- there’s no way he could already be done. It’s not even 11pm yet. Lifting the phone to her ear, she answers with confusion.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?” Yoongi’s voice is calm, and she can tell he’s aiming to keep it that way, but his breathlessness is coming through the speaker against his will.

“Uh… by Hufflepuff -- why?” She hears him sigh, a huff of irritation that’s somehow also him trying to catch his breath.

“Fuck, I came all the way to Gryffindor Tower for nothing? So many fucking stairs--” He cuts off again, and she can hear his feet hitting the ground in quick succession, so she knows he’s running. He keeps talking, but it’s mostly to himself. “Fucking magical moving staircase, never where I need it when I need it most-- your text was really vague. You good?” Y/n blinks, not having expected to be addressed so suddenly.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m fine--”

“Liar.” Y/n scoffs, not appreciating his tone.

“Then why ask if you already know, hm?” He chuckles deeply, knowing he’s pissed her off.

“I always like to check if you’ll be honest with me when I ask. You never are.”

“Then stop asking!” Hoseok looks to her then, eyebrows hiding behind his fringe as he watches her expression turn to empty rage. She’s annoyed, but it doesn’t seem like it’ll last. In fact, it’s already gone, because at the end of the corridor, Yoongi’s rounding the corner, phone pressed against his ear as he locates her, sitting there on the ground with Hoseok. When she sees him, her face becomes one of surprise, and she’s lowering her phone when he does, sliding the device into his pocket as he approaches them.

He’s only half-dressed, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his sneakers completely untied, the shoelaces dragging across the floor while he walks. How did he not trip on his way here, Hoseok wonders, because that is really an impressive feat in a school as big as Hogwarts. But there are a few things that catch his eye while Yoongi flops down on the ground in front of them and levels Y/n with a hard stare when he finally settles into his spot.

“Why are you guys out here on the cold ass floor?”

“Hobi’s doing flower crowns.”

“That didn’t even come close to answering my question.”

Hoseok doesn’t react to the conversation he’s clearly now a part of, too distracted as his eyes roam the shirtless boy’s form curiously. Because there on Yoongi’s left ribcage is Y/n’s name — not the full thing, just her given name, scribbled in black ink across the expanse of his ribs. Right under his heart. Simple and to the point, much like everything uncomplicated about Min Yoongi, Hoseok’s coming to realize. It’s interesting to him that Yoongi has Y/n’s name tattooed on his body, mostly because he’s wondering how many of Yoongi’s ‘late night visitors’ would have had a problem with it -- just how many times Yoongi’s had to make it clear that he doesn’t care what they think.

The other thing to catch Hoseok’s eye is the necklace that Yoongi wears, a thin silver chain with a simple charm, a black star that sits comfortably between his collarbones. It’s something that otherwise would never have gotten Hoseok’s attention, but he’s seen it before. In fact, he knows that if he’d just turn his head, he’d see its double peeking out from beneath Y/n’s sweater. He thinks that if their bond is this tight, he wouldn’t be surprised to find that Y/n has Yoongi’s name tattooed somewhere on her body, too. It’s a curious thing, their relationship, but he’d said it that day in the forest with her, and he’d meant it. He’s grateful for Yoongi, because he would never have met this version of Y/n without him.

“--checking me out right now, I just know it.”

“He’s not checking you out, dumbass.” Hoseok blinks, coming back to reality at the sound of Y/n’s voice, clear as day. When he looks up from Yoongi’s chest, he finds the boy smirking at him, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

“If you’re interested, I am very free tomorrow night.” Hoseok makes a noise of surprise, eyes wide, before he realizes that he’d just been looking Yoongi up and down for at least a full minute. Immediately he’s flushing red because Yoongi’s just propositioned him over a misunderstanding, and the Slytherin is now chuckling at how flustered he is, shaking his head with a sigh.

“Actually, I’m not so sure Y/n would be okay with that -- sorry, Flower Boy. Maybe in another life, when Best Friend Rule 32 doesn’t exist.” Hoseok has no idea what any of the words Yoongi’s just said means, so he’s shaking his head and looking to Y/n for help. She smiles, laying a hand on his shoulder in understanding.

“You’ll have to forgive him -- he reached his sexual awakening way too young in life and now his internal wiring’s a little wonky.” She says it with sarcastic pity, and Yoongi only rolls his eyes before standing.

“Well, I’d love to sit here all night freezing my balls off, but that sounds like something I would definitely not love to do. You gonna be alright here, man? You’re welcome to use Slytherin common room for your flowering if you want.” Hoseok had guessed when Yoongi arrived that he’d come to pick up Y/n, but he hadn’t been expecting the Slytherin to do much more than bid him goodnight. Although warmed by the kindness that Yoongi probably doesn’t even think twice about, he shakes his head with a smile anyway.

“I’m good! I’m just gonna finish this crown and then go to bed — hopefully the party’s dying down a little.” He gestures toward the door to his common room innocently, like he can’t hear the music still blaring loudly even from here. Yoongi raises an eyebrow but nods, reaching out and lifting Y/n to her feet when she takes his hand. He doesn’t let her go, only leading her slowly down the corridor as she turns back to Hoseok.

“Let me know if you get too cold! And make sure you get inside soon, it’s late and you might get sick, and—“

“Oh my God, let the boy live his life, Y/n — you’re not his mom!” Hoseok chuckles when they round the corner, the sounds of their bickering fading into the night.

--

“Weren’t you busy? You’re impossible to get to after the sun goes down, especially when we first get back to school and you have ‘lost time to make up for’ or whatever your crazy logic is.” Yoongi shakes his head with a snicker, pulling her into his bedroom and shutting the door behind them. Jin’s not back yet, and Y/n turns to Yoongi in confusion. He only shrugs.

“Probably with Jimin.” He says nothing more, gesturing to his bed while he slips his shoes off. She does the same, climbing onto the mattress and scooting over to give him room. He’s not telling her something, so she pries because that’s what they do — nothing goes unsaid between them.

“So if you weren’t sleeping with someone…” Yoongi sighs as he turns the light off, making his way to her in the dark.

“I was with Jimin, but we weren’t fucking. My phone died — that’s why I didn’t see your text until I was getting ready for bed, waiting for it to charge.” That explains his state of undress, but it doesn’t explain literally anything else.

“What happened with Jimin? Did you get into a fight or something?” She hears Yoongi snort beside her, and he wiggles an arm under her head so he can be more comfortable.

“Actually, yeah.” Y/n sits up right away, and Yoongi sighs, thinking about how much time he’d just wasted getting his arm under her neck.

“What happened?!” Reaching out, he takes hold of her upper arm, pulling her back down onto the bed.

“Calm down, dork. Nothing’s gonna happen to our group.” She had actually been worried about Yoongi himself, but now that he mentions it, she’s starting to stress about the group dynamic again. Of course something would happen as soon as she and Jungkook resolve their issues.

“He said he didn’t want me coming around just to fuck anymore — that he wasn’t going to be ‘one of many’, whatever that means…” She can see him now that she’s so close to his face, so she catches the way he rolls his eyes in frustration and holds back another sigh. He’s obviously worked up over this, regardless of how he acts.

“But you haven’t been sleeping with anyone else since the first time you slept with Jimin… right?” He’d never actually told her that, and she hadn’t wanted to say anything, but she’d picked up on his behavior since getting back to school — he’d started avoiding making eye contact with people he sleeps with regularly, ignoring texts from numbers he hasn’t saved. It’s all very unlike the Yoongi she knows, so it must be because he’s changing. And it’s confirmed so easily, when he looks into her eyes for a long moment, finally giving an almost imperceptible nod, one that she only picks up on because he’s breaking eye contact, embarrassed.

“Yeah… it’s just Jimin…” She tries so hard to hide her smile, but she fails — this is the first time Yoongi’s ever slept with only one person consistently, if sleeping with Jimin twice could be considered ‘consistent’. She can’t help that she’s a little proud of him.

When he sees the edges of her lips turning up, he rolls his eyes, grabbing her shoulder and pushing her away from him until she’s facing the other direction.

“Enough about me. What happened with Jungkook? Did he apologize or do I have to put him in the Hospital Wing?” She turns back around to face him, smiling when he rolls his eyes again, a habit when they’re together.

“He apologized. Said he would work on himself. That he doesn’t want to lose me or the group.” She keeps it short, gives him the cliffnotes because she knows he’ll fill in the gaps himself. And he does, nodding slowly as he looks her over.

“Relieved because you’re free of his demonic badgering — sad because you actually have to cut the cord with him this time?” She purses her lips, finding it interesting that both Hoseok and Yoongi had reached the same conclusion but had delivered their findings in comically different ways. Nodding, she reaches out to play with his piercings while she thinks, fiddling with the rings on his ear just as she has nearly every day since he’d gotten the double helix.

“I’m just happy that things are finally looking up… but yeah, it hurts a little to let go for good. But I’m okay, I promise.” He nods, the piercings slipping from her fingers. She drops her hand to his shoulder with a small sigh, waiting for his response.

“I know you’re okay — you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.” Suddenly overcome with emotion, Y/n finds herself frowning deeply, her bottom lip starting to quiver just as it had when she’d left Gryffindor. Yoongi sees it, changing the conversation before the waterworks can start.

“Okay, so we talked about Jungkook. Now let’s talk about Hoseok.” Y/n rolls her eyes, shoving at his shoulder this time and forcing him to turn onto his other side.

“Goodnight, Yoongi.”

“I’m just saying, if you’re not going to cuff that man, let me know. Because he really was giving me ‘the eyes’ earlier, if you catch my drift—“

“Goodnight, Yoongi.”

[a-libra-writes]

The Gang Reacts to You Dressing Fancy for a Job

“Is it okay to ask for the RDR2 gang (or just Javier if it’s too much!) seeing their crush all prettied and dressed up for a job (like the riverboat or Bronte’s garden party)? Would they work up the courage to ask them out? your writing sustains me”

YAAALLLLL THIS LONG AS FUCK BC THIS! IS! MY! RASPBERRY! JAM!

In this imagine, you’ll be impressing: Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch van Der Linde, Hosea Matthews, Sadie Adler, Micah Bell, Charles Smith, Bill Williamson, Javier Escuella, Sean MacGuire, Lenny Summers, Kieran Duffy, Tilly Jackson, Mary-Beth Gaskill, Karen Jones, Flaco Hernandez

ARTHUR MORGAN

Oh no. When you were volunteered for the job, he had a feeling you’d look charming in one of those big hooped gowns, but … this is like his heart getting hit by a train. The feelings are a little overwhelming, so while the girls add their finishing touches, Arthur tries to stand to the side and not stare. He wants to compliment you, because you look absolutely stunning, but words are completely failing him. Arthur manages to get a compliment out, but you’re totally occupied with how much you love or hate this get-up. Arthur doesn’t even care about what he was forced to wear; he could be in a paper sack and he wouldn’t notice. During the party, he’s distracted by how you seem to float around the room, easily joking with the guests as though you were one of them. Hosea has to knock sense into Arthur more than once, but how can he pay attention when there’s a literal angel in front of him?

When the gunfight breaks out, Arthur is at your side right away, pulling you into his protective embrace and trying to steer you out of the house. It doesn’t matter if you’re a good shot or not, that dress and corset are cumbersome as hell and he’s gonna stubbornly send you home. Arthur wants to be the one taking you back, but he has to stay and fight. He hands you off to Sean, warning him to be careful and get you back to camp in one piece. His tone is actually pretty scary when he says this. Arthur is beyond relieved when he finally gets back. You’re out of the dress, but you’re clearly safe and comfortable, not a scratch on you. He doesn’t care about his own injuries, but he’s pleased when you fuss over them.

JOHN  MARSTON

No way John is gonna dress up like some goddamn banker, but he was totally ready to tease you about having to squeeze into a corset and frilly dress. The problem is, you’re gorgeous in it. He doesn’t know shit about women’s clothes or fashion, but something about the color and style just suits you so perfectly, like it was made only for you. He wants to give a sassy comment, but he just … can’t. John goes for a genuine compliment, but his cheeks and ears are tomato red as he mutters “ya look real nice”. If you hate the clothes, it’s a little easier for him to joke around with you, but if you love them and you’re twirling around, as happy as a kid and looking like an actual lady from one of those fancy paintings? He can only take so much sweetness before he has to duck his head and distract himself with something.

When the gunfight breaks out at the party, John is right by your side before you can blink. You don’t know how he moved so fast, but soon his arm is around your waist and getting you back to his horse. John isn’t the most graceful about this, and the dress is meant for dancing, not riding… so it ends up ripping as you two make your escape. Once you’re in a safe place and you can get out of the damn thing, John’s attention goes straight to the tears in the dress, specifically the one that’s showing the stockings and garterbelt you had to wear. The lingerie looks fantastic - it definitely awakens something in him.

DUTCH VAN DER LINDE

First off, he is not sneaky. Not at all. You know exactly why you were asked to play a role in this little con, and it was so Dutch could see you all dressed up. Now, either you’re totally annoyed by this because screw frills and lace, or you’re delighted because you can dress up like some fancy lady and rob rich folks. Also, it’s pretty funny how he pretends not to be interested in the sort of dress and jewelry you and the girls are deciding on. You know he’s trying very hard not to make a suggestion, and just to be a little mean, you made sure he was within earshot when you mentioned the matter of corsets and fancy undergarments to the girls.

Once at the party, Dutch plays at being some rich banker and you’re his young foreign wife. It’s absurdly easy to pull off, even with your terrible accent, and after each conversation you both are trying not to laugh. He’s definitely liking being able to have an arm around your waist and being able to lean in and whisper to you, but he won’t push his boundaries, especially if you’re already uncomfortable being all dressed up and powdered. While you two are dancing, he’ll whisper in that deep voice, praising you for how perfect you’ve been, or reassuring you that it’ll be over soon. When the shooting started, Dutch pulled you to a safe place you could lie low in, but if you bothered him enough he’d hand you a gun and let you join the shootout. 

Back at camp, Dutch’s flirting hasn’t dulled in the slightest. He’ll sit close to you as everyone else celebrates, mentioning how wonderful you were and if you need help slipping out of anything. If you let him, he’ll help unlace those fancy boots, even massage your poor ankles and calves since you aren’t used to wearing tall shoes. Isn’t that thoughtful?

HOSEA MATTHEWS

Nearly all of this con was his idea, and you’re glad to help run it. Hosea is playing the part of some eccentric philanthropist and you’re a grand-niece or some relative. The two of you talk so smooth and fast, easily working off each other, that the hosts of the party don’t stand a chance. Hosea wants to avoid any sort of violence, but knowing the gang, who knows what will happen, so he wants you to stay close to him. During lulls in conversation, when you and Hosea are just observing the crowd and deciding who to speak with next, he’ll lean in and whisper something to you. It makes goosebumps break out on your skin, you can feel how warm he is and sometimes he’ll run a hand up your back as he compliments you on what a natural you are, or reassures you that it’ll be over soon. He’ll truly feel bad if you hate having to dress up and pretend like this; so he’s grateful you agreed to come along and help. If you’re thriving off the party and the trickery, he’ll give you knowing grins and winks that make him seem fifteen years younger. There’s a surprising amount of mischief in him. 

When the inevitable fight breaks out (he totally called it), Hosea swiftly gets you to a safe part of the house he noticed earlier. From there you two snatch several stashes of jewels and cash and stealthily make your way out. Hosea had to be convinced to steal as much as you both did; he was terribly worried about you, since the dress would be difficult to run in. When you’re back at camp, Hosea isn’t shy about telling you what a great job you did, and how proud he is. He’ll give a kiss to your cheek and he’s very smooth about offering to remove anything that’s giving you trouble. 

SADIE ADLER

Thank god she’s not the one in the fucking gown, that’s all she has to say. Well, that, and the jokes and snark she throws your way while you’re getting ready. If you hate the dress just as much, too bad, you were roped into the plan and Sadie is having lots of playful teasing at your expense. If you adore it and start modeling it for her, she won’t admit how cute you’re being… but she will consider wearing a tuxedo and being some “hoity toity” man just to make sure you’re safe. She doesn’t trust the “gentleman” at this party at all, and the closer you both get to the manor, the more antsy she becomes. All her previous humor is gone as she urges you to find her right away if trouble happens. Sadie is absolutely going to bring your favorite gun along and was trying to figure out a way to strap a revolver to your leg until Hosea pulled you away. You promise you’ll be alright, but she doesn’t look reassured. 

The expected fight breaks out, and like you promised, you beeline for Sadie. She’s already on you - how the hell did she get into the manor so fast? - and she’s tossed your gun in your hands. Soon enough you both are blasting your way out of the manor. She gets impatient when you fall for the second time and rips the dress herself so you can run easier. It was your horse she brought around to escape, and Sadie hoisted you up, sat herself in the back and kept shooting while you rode to safety. It was… a hectic and messy escape, but neither of you had a scratch. Once you’re at the camp, she doesn’t feel bad for ripping the dress, even if you liked it. It was necessary, and besides, you can’t keep the frilly thing! Okay, she’ll apologize if you pout. If you hated it she’s more than happy to help you burn it. 

MICAH BELL

How the hell is he supposed to respond to this? It would be one thing if you caked on make-up like a tart and strapped yourself into some circus tent-looking contraption, he could work with that. His brain just stops functioning for a few seconds when the girls finally unveil the work they did on you. If you hated the dress and it wasn’t something you’d wear unless a gun was pointed to your head, then Micah certainly had choice words to say, teasing and mocking the difference between this and your regular attire… except they were much weaker insults than he usually had. You were too distracted and uncomfortable to even care. If you adored all of it, practically buzzing with excitement as you turned and twirled for everyone, he might even try an attempt at a compliment, although it’d come out all jumbled and flustered. He decides to stay away and just watch you from a distance, both enjoying the view and trying to figure out this stupid knot in his stomach.

At least you two are apart during the party, so he doesn’t have to look at you enjoying yourself and swaying around in that dress. When the fight starts, he can finally have something else to put his mind to … until he sees you get caught in the crossfire. Micah would throw you a gun he pulled off someone, barking at you to follow him. Dutch told him to get you to safety, which he initially bristled at, but then he dutifully put you up on Baylock. He told you to keep shooting while he rode off - and he still got plenty of shots in himself. Once you were back at camp, he wouldn't apologize for dirtying the dress. It had to be done, and now the job is done, so you can get out of it…. and he would absolutely offer to cut it off with his knife. The whole thing, corset and all. He's gonna fantasize about it well after the fact, too.

CHARLES SMITH

If you love getting a chance to dress up and wear jewels, Charles can tell, and he finds your joy just adorable. If you dislike the idea of having to dress up for a stupid party, even if it’s a robbery, he’s very encouraging and reassures you as many times as you need. This kind of con isn’t really his scene, but he knows you’ll do well and he promises to look after you during the whole thing. He’ll even have you ride along with him on Taima if that'll settle your nerves. Once you arrive, Charles helps you down like a gentleman. If you’re still uneasy, he asks you to wait a moment and then comes back with a rose he picked from the garden. He places it neatly in your tied back hair. “Perfect. Don’t worry, you’ll do great, and when things go south, I’ll be there. Promise.”

Once the fight breaks out, Charles is true to his word and helps you escape in the chaos. You have no idea where he came from, but you didn’t refuse the help, or the gun he offered you - at some point he’d packed your favorite one - and you’re pulled up on Taima as gunshots go off all around you. Charles put you on the front of his horse to protect you better, even if it’s harder to shoot from there. It sort of makes you feel like a princess being swept away. When you two return to the camp, he tidies the rose in your hair and offers to help remove the restrictive dress or massage your legs if they hurt … casually, of course. Probably.

BILL WILLIAMSON

When the girls finally unveiled their handiwork, he thought his heart was stopping. You were so pretty - well, you normally were, but now more than ever. You looked like one of those porcelain dolls they put in music boxes. Bill didn’t even want to touch you or stand too close, worried he’d dirty you somehow. He couldn’t believe you wanted him to play the role of the bodyguard that would follow you around the party.... Though he played the part well, his silence combined with his big build made him seem intimidating. If you were clearly miserable in the dress and with the company, he wasn’t sure what to say to make you feel better, so he stayed quiet. If you were loving the dress and just thriving in the party, fooling everyone into thinking you were some high-class belle … Well, he was too distracted watching you, still not able to say much.

Eventually he had to split off from you to join the men, which he didn’t appreciate, but he made a point to bring your gun along with his. When the expected gunfight broke out, Bill beelined for you, practically tossing a man that was too close and handed over your gun. He didn’t expect you to be so grateful, it made him blush in spite of the gunshots going off all around you two.

The fight was more dangerous than expected, so Bill hoisted you up on Brown Jack without warning and raced off. Your dress ended up getting ripped from his haste, and if you really liked it, he feels bad for screwing it up. It’s easy to turn around his mood by complimenting what a good “bodyguard” he was. Just don’t flirt too much, he’s already had a mess of feelings today.

JAVIER ESCUELLA

He was trying to hide his excitement when he found out you were going to be dressing up and joining the others on this con. You’re already an angel, now he’s going to see you dressed in a beautiful gown and decorated with jewels? It fit so perfectly, too, like it was made for you. Javier wouldn’t hide his approval of the outfit, even giving you some suggestions on more comfortable shoes or a better hat. Mary-Beth thought it was adorable and left him to help you out - that made it much harder for him to hide how pleased he was with your outfit. If you truly hated it, he’d understand and would try to reassure you that not only did it look wonderful, you were going to pull the job off perfectly. His warm hands would sit on your shoulders as he said this, hoping you trusted in him. If you’re the sort who loves dressing up and conning, he shares your happiness and will even dance with you a little before you have to leave, relishing in your giggles. 

While the party went off well, with you playing your part perfectly, chaos inevitably broke out. You have no idea where Javier came from, but you were damn grateful that he’d seen you and pulled you into a safe corner. Together you both snuck into the manor, stole as much jewelry as you could carry and easily slipped out the back, gunshots still echoing through the place. Javier grinned as he draped all the stolen necklaces and bracelets on you, asking you to keep them safe for now. You clasped your arms tightly around his torso when you rode away with him, resting your head against his back whenever you got tired.

SEAN MACGUIRE

He all but jumps out of his seat with delight when he spots you. Mary-Beth is still fussing with your hair, but the corset under your dress has already done all sorts of magic, and the dress itself hugged you like you were meant to wear it. Of course he can’t resist from fawning all over you. He wants to pick you up and twirl you like a princess, but Miss Gaskill scolds him for dirtying the dress and he gets dragged away by the men. For once Sean was wishing he was away from the action and complained enough that they let him accompany you on the carriage - that is, as the driver. Sean didn’t even notice if you were extremely uncomfortable, he was too busy gabbing about the party and saying what a natural you’d be. When you finally have to leave, he takes your hand and gives you a warm smile. “You’ll do great. I know it.” He didn’t realize how comforting it was.

Once trouble began, you were impressed how quickly Sean scrambled to your side, and with your gun no less. Before you could question how he did it, he was gleefully shooting and directing you away from the fight. As much as Sean wanted to stay and end it, he was far more concerned with your safety, you noticed. He swung you up on his horse with little grace, and even if your dress was ruined with blood and mud and your hat went flying off, you laughed as you wrapped your arms around his torso and listened to the wild man whoop and shoot through the escape. Sean would absolutely be the type to help you off the horse and insist on carrying you around camp, bragging about his “rescue” the whole time.

LENNY SUMMERS

God damn it, he already thought you were cute! Now you’re gorgeous and he’s way too bashful to say anything about it for a while. He’s thankful for the girls fussing over you and the boys dragging him off to discuss the plan, because being around you is too distracting and makes his thoughts short-circuit a bit. He’s normally fine with talking to you! And it’s just a dress, so what’s different? If you really loved the outfit, you’d be a natural in it, and Lenny would find your enthusiasm and confidence very attractive. If you clearly hated it, he’d want to comfort you somehow, but would worry about coming off wrong. It’s a shame you didn’t like the outfit, because you looked fantastic in it. Before he had to leave with the boys, he’d pay you a compliment. “You’re gonna do real well, miss. Um, you … you really fit the role.”

He has a good sense of when things will go south, and when Lenny felt the tension in the air, he made a point to find you in the crowd. Ones the bullets started flying, he found you before you even made sense of the situation. Lenny would rather get you to safety right away, but if you want a gun, he ain’t denying you. All his previous nervousness would be gone as you both would shoot up the place, then find a horse to escape on. Lenny wouldn’t feel that shyness again until you both got back to camp, when he had to help you off the horse. He’ll immediately start joking about your dirty dress and praising your gun skills to keep his beating heart in line. Lenny feels much better when you’re back in your old clothes.

KIERAN DUFFY

He was embarrassed enough watching the girls parade you around, pleased with their work, and they had every right to be - you looked even more beautiful than the women in the magazines. It’s like you walked right out of them. He felt bad if you were forced into the role, knowing you probably hated the whole get-up, but if you absolutely enjoyed it, he was enchanted by how you seemed to beam with happiness. He’d only seen you like that a few other times, and he was pleased to commit it to memory. When you’re getting ready to leave, he can’t help but give you words of encouragement. He can’t imagine you’ll do anything but shine at the party. 

Kieran was tasked with staying behind at the camp, as he expected, but at least he was trusted to hold a gun and stay on watch duty. His thoughts often drifted to you, wondering if you were doing well and if you were sick of the party or having the time of your life. When he heard powerful hoofbeats, he snapped at attention, readying the gun and calling out... only to recognize your horse and your silhouette. Your dress was a torn mess, but it was still restrictive, so Kieran wasted little time in helping you down. “Miss, are you alright? You aren’t - is that your blood or someone else’s? Alright, good. C’mon, sit down here.” 

You told him about what happened at the party, how things got out of control and you had to flee in a hurry. The boys were likely splitting up to shake the law off them. Kieran was so relieved you were alright, his heart was hammering but outwardly he was calm as he helped tie your sprained ankle and get you some water. He wasn’t his nervous self at all, tending to you and asking questions with confidence ... until you pointed out you needed help getting out of the corset and dress.

TILLY JACKSON

Tilly was initially in charge of “acquiring” the jewelry and accessories you’d wear, but she ended up shooing the other girls away when they kept suggesting ridiculous hair and make-up ideas. She didn’t care what lady’s magazine Karen read, Tilly wasn’t about to turn you into a side-show act. She was always helping you with this or that, you both relied on each other. She always knew how to reassure you, taking your face in her hands as she spoke softly. “Listen, it’s nothin’ you ain’t done before, just wearin’ somethin’ fancy now. And those boys will do their job right and keep you safe, I’ll make damn sure of that.”

If you hate this sort of thing - dressing up and conning others - Tilly would’ve tried to help you get a different role, but ultimately, you had to do it. She’d give you a softer version of her usual tough love. If you loved it, Tilly would be the one teasing you to get your head out of the clouds. Either way, when you were distracted, she’d threaten the hell out of the boys to keep you safe. Even Arthur would get an earful; if you so much as came back with a scratch, she’d have their hides. If you came back a muddy, bloody mess because you couldn’t resist joining in the gunfights, Tilly would have your hide, too. If you came back mostly clean because you avoided the fight, she’d just laugh and tease you for being so “fussy” - but she was relieved you came straight to camp. The dress and jewels are all sold afterward, but Tilly keeps some bits of fabric to sew you both something. 

MARY-BETH GASKILL

You have a feeling she’s enjoying this ... a lot. While the both of you were cool as you acquired the dress and jewels to go with it, as soon as you were back at camp, Mary-Beth was giggling and going on about how to do your hair. Soon enough you were dragged off to a tent for privacy and she dressed you up, cooing over your figure in the dress and how nice you looked. She didn’t even notice how flustered you were getting - of course if you enjoyed dressing up, you could share in her enthusiasm and get her advice on how to style it. If you hated it ... Mary-Beth reassured you it looked wonderful, “just like a princess!” Well, that didn’t help, but her obvious swooning was pretty cute. Mary-Beth ended up coming along with the job, dressed up herself and playing the part of your “companion”, since all high-society ladies were about that. You’re pretty sure companions weren’t supposed to be as red-faced or affectionate as she was around their ladies, but you weren’t complaining.

At the party you two were naturals, and what little screw-ups were quickly covered up. If Mary-Beth didn’t know something, you did, and vice-versa. You two were actually quite a team, and you noticed Hosea winking at you in approval from across the room. When trouble was starting, you pulled Mary-Beth aside and you both hastily dug through the manor’s drawers and silver cabinets while the gunshots went off outside. If you needed to defend her, you would, but luckily it didn’t come to that. You were able to steal a horse from their stable and go riding off, Mary-Beth holding tightly and urging you to go faster. You both couldn’t resist keeping two matching bracelets from the robbery.

KAREN JONES

Karen may not be interested in passing as one of those hoity toity girls, but she’s absolutely gonna help dress you up as one. She’s laughing the whole time, throwing out suggestions and distracting the hell out of Tilly and Mary-Beth as they work. Karen was the one who found the dress, and you’re surprised at how well it flatters you and how the color suits you so well. “Didn’t I say I know how to pick ‘em? Now tighten up those laces! Society ladies don’t have fun!” Karen is quite pushy regardless if you want to do the job or not - if you don’t, she’ll all but drag you to the carriage the boys brought and force you in. It’s a hell of a chance to get a lot of money, and she doesn’t want you missing it. If you love it, that’s all the better! She teases you plenty either way while you’re trying to dress, and gives you a big kiss before you have to set out, not caring who sees. You were long gone by the time she turned on the boys and all but threatened them to bring you back safely.

The party was lonely without Karen, you wished she had been part of the plan so you both could talk together instead of mingling with these insufferable people. Sure, she may have been a little too loud and unladylike... but it would’ve been far more fun. You escaped on cue, making a point to steal a gorgeous stallion as you left the manor behind, listening to gunshots ring out through the night. The boys (and Sadie) were doing their part, so it was time to go home. You had not expected Karen to come riding on your horse with a gun. “Damn it, you were takin’ too long! I got worried...”

She tried to hide how worried she actually was on the way back. She helped you out of the infernal buttons, lacing and corset, and gladly snuggled your aching body. By the time the boys returned to camp, you both had fallen asleep in your tent.

FLACO HERNANDEZ

You’d mentioned the plan in passing to Flaco, and he was so worried for your safety he came all the way down from that forsaken mountain to make sure it went off well. He didn’t hide that he disliked you working with “that little gang” when you could just stay with him, but that was for another time. While everyone ran around preparing for the con, he watched with great amusement as you were primped and stuffed into a corset and ballgown, whistling at you and making plenty of jokes. You weren’t going to live this down, ever. Once your outfit and hair was mostly finished, Flaco patted his lap and you sat obediently until it was time to go. Even if you hated the dress, Flaco thinks you look beautiful and will tell you so, kissing your cheek and muttering all sorts of sweet things to distract your nerves. He really doesn’t care about showing you off, if anything, he’s amused by your friends trying to look away. 

It was hard not to think of him as the party progressed. You played the role well enough, but soon you were itching to get back to camp. Who knew how long he would stay around before going back to that cold place? The expected gunfight broke you out of your thoughts, and as you made your escape ... you suddenly felt a pair of familiar, fuzzy arms wrapping around you. “I’ve got you now, princesa. Why don’t you come back with Flaco?”

He was able to get you back, but not to your gang’s camp. Flaco had set up his own spot, making a point to bring your horse and your things... the only way the gang knew you were alright is he left word with Miss Grimshaw (after she gave him a thorough ‘questioning’ about his relationship with you).  You better believe he’d help you out of that fancy ensemble, but if you really loved it he’d urge you to dance and spin around for him. It’s a rare day when he sees you wearing something other than four layers, after all. 

[athenadione]

‘you are mine (and I am yours)’

In which you can find out the hard way that demons don't like sharing. @vi-la-vi

AthenaDione and I did a thing! Everyone loves jealous Damian, but hear us out....jealous Raven? Hope you enjoy! -Vi

I’m so incredibly honored to participate in this collab. Vi practically paved the way for me to give you all the delicious demon Raven smut that ensues and did a superb job writing the majority of this piece, as always. If you enjoy and feel so inclined, you can leave a kudos HERE on A03. Vi— thank you for allowing me to be a part of your writing process. You’re such a talented writer and I’m happy to have found you :) -AD

She couldn’t stop staring at him. Not just because it had been years since she last saw him, but because ever since she met him, Anna Vandergilt had thought of little else. 

Damian Wayne. 

They’d met at a benefit when both were sixteen years old, and it had been love at first sight. The elusive heir finally returned to Gotham after five years abroad, doing god knows what. She’d collected every bit of information she could about him, academic transcripts, tabloids, medical and legal records. Vandergilt influence ran deep and she had no compunction about using it to fuel her obsession. Securing an internship at Wayne Enterprises as Tim Drake’s assistant was just the latest step.

And now he’s here, and I won’t let him get away again. 

Damian had to remember her, the spark when their eyes met, the unbreakable connection they’d made. He didn’t acknowledge it when they were introduced, but that was fine. He was an intense, secretive man and likely just didn’t want to make a scene. 

Green eyes flashed to hers and narrowed, catching her staring. She willed herself to keep it together, sitting up straighter and crossing her legs in an attempt to draw his attention to the slit in her pencil skirt. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and leggy, she knew how to make men stare.

Or so she thought. Damian had turned his attention back to Tim’s presentation, arms crossed and expression impatient. So serious. She planned ways she might be able to get him alone, with no one and nothing to distract him from her. After today, I’ll have more than just fantasies. She’d been looking for an opening to approach him all day and was sure she couldn’t wait much longer.

They broke for lunch, but just as she moved towards him she was intercepted by Tim. 

“Hey Anna, can you run up to my office and grab my blue flash drive? I forgot to bring it down earlier.”

Get it yourself! she wanted to snap. An assistant position was well beneath her pedigree, and she hated taking instructions from common-born Tim Drake. Swallowing her irritation, she smiled and nodded. 

When she finally returned, Damian had already gone, apparently having had a lunch appointment with someone else. Anna sighed. I’ll speak to him after work, I’m sure he wouldn’t say no to dinner and drinks. No man had ever refused her.

She spied him later as she was returning to the conference room, speaking to a dark-haired woman she didn’t know outside of his office. She took a moment to admire him in his suit, noting curiously that the girl with him was only casually dressed in black jeans and an off-shoulder top with a band logo. Unprofessional much? He’s probably scolding her about the dress code.

Just as the thought solidified, she leaned up and pressed a kiss to the underside of Damian’s jaw, tugging his tie playfully as she did so.  

It was as though a bucket of freezing water had been dumped over her head. Anna stood stock-still, mouth falling open in horror. Who the fuck...how dare…?

The woman whispered something in his ear, kissing his jaw again as Damian rolled his eyes and smirked. She continued to stare, waiting for him to shove her away, glare, do something. She heard someone approach from behind. 

“Ugh, those two,” Tim groaned. 

“Who is that?” Her voice was tight and strained, and the man next to her gave her a curious glance. 

“That’s Rachel, Damian’s girlfriend.”

“Oh,” she said, at a loss for anything else. 

It’s not fair. I planned...I’ve been waiting…

She shook her head, determination moving in. A minor setback. He just needs to know there’s something better on the market. Vandergilts were practically royalty, after all. Her beauty and breeding were no doubt superior. She bit back her anger as Damian dropped a kiss on the other woman’s forehead before walking away.

Just a minor setback, she mentally repeated.

-

Tim’s assistant had a serious staring problem, and Damian was relieved when he was finally able to retire to his office. Annoying. The older man had joked earlier that Damian’s constant absence in Gotham and avoidance of the public eye elevated him to mythical status among some of his father’s employees. He longed for this week to end, eager to be back in Jump and away from the Wayne gawkers. 

His phone buzzed, distracting him from the revenue charts in front of him. 

“Stephanie is insane.”

Damian smiled, eyes darting to his watch to see how much longer he’d be stuck in this office. As necessary as it was that he be here for the audit, he felt bad abandoning Raven to his siblings. Next time they came to Gotham he’d make sure it was purely recreational and personally show her the sights.

“A half hour more, then I will come rescue you.”

Then two days more, and they would be home. 

A knock on the door called his attention. “Mr. Wayne? Could I borrow you for a moment. I need a second pair of eyes on this file.”

He looked up, raising an eyebrow at the worshipful expression on her face. The scent of expensive perfume assailed him and Damian fought the urge to wrinkle his nose. She looked at him hopefully, blinking rapidly.

“Ask Drake.”

She shifted, reaching up to toy with her platinum blonde hair. “Oh...he just has so much on his plate. I wanted to avoid bothering him,” she replied, voice high and lilting. 

Strange woman. Damian wondered where his older brother had found this one. He hadn’t really been paying attention when they were introduced, Vander-something or other.

He sighed. “Fine.”

“Oh, thank you,” she breathed.

She circled around the desk to stand next to him, laying the file in front of him and bending low. A fall of blonde hair brushed his shoulder and Damian shifted slightly to put some distance between them. He spent so little time in normal society it was easy to forget how bad most people were with personal space. 

“What exactly did you need help with?”

“This.”

Without warning, she sat on his lap and pressed her lips forcefully against his, throwing one arm around his neck for good measure. Damian completely froze, protests firing rapidly through his mind. She tugged on the waistband of his pants and it was enough to break his paralysis. He shoved her off of him violently and she caught herself on the desk, shifting it several inches back.

“What are you doing?!”

The alarm on her face lasted only a second before being replaced with a coy smile. “Don’t be shy, I know you remember me. It’s been years, but you’re all I’ve thought about, Damian. I swear.”

“I - don’t…” Damian felt uncharacteristically frazzled. “I have - no. I’m not interested,” he finally managed.

“Please, Damian.” She tried to take a step forward and he instinctively backed away. He hated the way she said his name, he realized distantly.

“I have a girlfriend,” he said, hard edge in his voice. One who would kill you and probably me if she was here right now. Raven did not share.

The woman sniffed. “Her. Don’t be ridiculous, you’re a Wayne. She can’t possibly-”

“Enough.”

He glared fiercely, daring her to try and continue. Tears swam in her blue eyes and Damian felt a touch of relief that he finally managed to get through.

“I...hmph, fine. Keep her on the side if you must. My father had a mistress. Just keep her out of my sight.”

She’s insane. What the fuck kind of vetting process do you have, Drake?

He closed his eyes and exhaled before meeting her watery gaze once again. 

“Listen very carefully. I. Am. Not. Interested. I want you out of this building in the next five minutes or I’ll call security.”

“I - but - we…” She straightened, eyes glassy with disbelief as she tried to compose herself. “I see.”

Damian kept his glare on as she left the room, feeling a headache build behind his eyes. He grabbed his phone again, feeling a pang of guilt when he saw Raven's name, and called his brother.

"I fired your assistant. You're welcome."

"What? Damian, you can't just show up and start firing people!"

"I'll...explain later." Vaguely, and with as few details as I can manage.

The hint of discomfort in his voice must have given him away. "Seriously? No wonder she was staring at you all day.”

"Drop it."

"Alright, alright. Her dad's going to be pissed though, he pushed Bruce for months to take her on here. Sounds like you got your very first stalker."

Well that was a disturbing thought. Damian shook it off. "Just tell him it didn't work out." He didn't want any rumors getting back to Raven if he could help it. 

-

Lying to an empath is easier said than done.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

"I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She snorted disbelievingly, eyes glued on the book in her hand. “Why do you feel so guilty?”

“It was a long day. I felt bad for you.” Half-truths were the only semi-effective way he’d found of getting around her lie detector. Normally Damian would smother inconvenient questions with lips, hands, and other parts of him that Raven was always deliciously responsive to, but touching her would have felt wrong right now. She deserved to know the truth before she decided how near she wanted him.

She rolled onto her side then, burrowing down against her pillow and studying him curiously. “You don’t have to spend every second with me, Damian. I’m pretty self-sufficient, in case you haven’t noticed.”

He shrugged, laying back and closing his eyes. “I’ll just be glad to get out of here. People in Gotham are a different breed.”

Raven hummed. “Fine, don’t tell me what’s actually bothering you.” 

With that, she leaned over to kiss him goodnight. Damian flinched at the contact before responding in kind, and pretended he didn’t see the confused look in her eyes. 

“I love you,” he said, focusing the emotion to make sure she felt it as well. 

She closed her eyes, slightly mollified. “I love you, too.”

I'll tell her when we get home, he promised himself. As much as he hated keeping secrets, he knew she was going to be upset and preferred a controlled setting. Damian remembered an incident shortly after they began dating when the ticket-taker at the theater had slipped him her phone number. Raven said nothing at first, but the night ended in a supply closet instead of a screening room.

"I don't share," she whispered dangerously, legs tightening around his hips to draw him in deeper. Red flickered across her purple irises. “You’re mine.”

He smirked at the memory. We never did get to see that movie.

Definitely safer for all involved to wait until they'd left Gotham.

-

Anna stared at her discreetly from the park bench. He’s loyal, that’s all. And I wouldn’t have him any other way.

She grudgingly admitted to herself that the other woman was pretty, if unconventional. Pale purple eyes and dark purple hair - hadn’t anyone told her the punk rock look was out of date? She had nothing on the blonde’s classical beauty.

A hefty bribe to the Wayne's chauffeur had given her knowledge of the woman's - Rachel's - movements throughout the day. She was ordinarily accompanied by Tim's banshee of a girlfriend and one of Bruce's orphans, but had separated from them earlier in the day to visit Gotham’s Arts District. Anna waited until she saw her enter the nearly empty arboretum before making her move. If Damian couldn’t be persuaded to break things off, this one could. An affair with the office hottie - tale as old as time.

“Pardon me?” She adopted a nervous affect as she approached, eyes downcast. “You’re Rachel, right?”

The other woman tore her gaze from the plaque in front of her, violet eyes locking on baby blue. “Do I know you?”

“Anna. I work - worked at Wayne Enterprises. I’m really sorry to do this, but...there’s something you need to know.”

She regarded her silently and the blonde fought the urge to fidget. There's something off about her. What were you thinking, Damian? Finally, Rachel nodded once, crossing her arms. Anna smiled internally and fiddled anxiously with her hands, doing her best to look miserable.

“I was Tim’s assistant until Damian fired me yesterday,” she began, voice weepy. “Tim’s the one who told me about you, I swear I didn’t know before.”

Rachel’s eyes narrowed, something dark and inscrutable flashing in and out of her gaze. “...Excuse me?”

Anna took the low anger in her voice as an encouraging sign and continued. She dropped her eyes again and let out a harsh sob. “I’m not the kind of person who fools around with other women’s boyfriends, and-"

A massive burst of black and red interrupted her thoughtfully planned speech, demolishing the stone plaque next to them and knocking her to the ground. She screamed, covering her head  with her arms. A bomb? What’s happening?

Before she could get her bearings, something hauled her up by the throat, slamming her painfully against a tree. She blinked against the white spots in her vision and the dust in the air, squinting to see what held her. 

Four slitted golden eyes met her own, radiating fury so thick she could almost taste it. I’m seeing things. I hit my head and I’m seeing things. The devil tightened its hold on her neck and stepped closer, heat pouring off its red skin. Terrified beyond anything she’d ever felt, Anna felt her bladder let go. 

“Did you fuck Damian?” it - she - asked in a deadly calm voice.

“Wh-what?” she croaked. No way...what the fuck is she?!

“Answer, mortal.”

She sobbed in her grasp, all her carefully crafted lies flying away in the wake of her terror. “No! I just kissed him!”

The claws (claws?!) around her neck tightened and she felt warm trickles of blood start to seep down into her collar. 

“That - that’s all! That’s all I did! I’m sorry!” she cried, “I’m so sorry! It won’t happen again!”

“I know.”

Shadows wrapped around the two of them and she screamed.

-

Stupid, stupid woman, Damian thought furiously, raising his eyes from the weeping figure on the floor. He’d put it together fairly quickly after walking in the door, and was currently kicking himself for not considering this possibility. She’s clearly deranged, I shouldn’t be surprised she approached Raven.

The woman in question sat in a nearby armchair, looking every bit the queen of hell she was. Her demonic appearance and the regal way she carried herself in this form lent their mundane bedroom at Wayne Manor the feel of some macabre court.

“Something to confess?” his demoness asked lowly. 

“I was going to tell you when we returned home. This is the exact situation I was trying to avoid.” Sparks of black and red magic at her fingertips told him that was the wrong thing to say. 

“You think a couple hundred miles would have saved her from me when I found out? I would cross entire universes.”

The woman before her seemed to curl in further on herself, as if trying to become a smaller target. Prayers fell from her lips, whispered and unintelligible.

 “She’s not worth it. I would have made you see that.”

“That’s not your decision to make. You are mine, this was a challenge to me. A proper demon would have brought just the head.”

A loud wail met her words and golden eyes flicked downwards, oozing contempt. Damian felt a thrill race down his spine. He'd never seen her this angry - possessive. The idea that he was the catalyst, that his composed, serene Raven was burning so brightly over a stolen kiss made his blood tingle. 

Apparently feeling the weight of the demon’s stare, she covered her head with her hands and tried to choke back her cries. A prey-like instinct to hide taking root. 

He swallowed before speaking, mindful of the thin ice he was on. “I know you’re upset, but you can’t kill her.”

An amused sound escaped her, and Damian wasn’t entirely sure how to interpret it. “Beloved?”

She finally met his eyes again, clearly unhappy with the situation. “Fine. But if I ever see or sense this creature near you again, I will tear her apart slowly. Testor ego eam.”

With that, she waved a hand and the other woman vanished in a rush of black. He didn’t bother to ask where, not wanting to push his luck with Raven right now. Hysterical as the other woman was, no one would believe anything she had to say anyways. 

The demoness crossed her arms, studying him silently. She seemed to have no intention of changing back to her human form. Oh. 

“I suppose I’m in trouble as well?”

“Lies deserve punishment. And you need to be reminded who you belong to.”

“You, habibti. Always.”

Her smile offered nothing but trouble and his heart started to pick up. "That’s a start."

“Oh?” he asked her, not moving from the spot where he stood. It seemed that court was still in session, and her final judgement on his own transgressions had not yet passed. 

She picked at a claw unhurriedly, hooded eyes flicking over his figure. Not one to back down, he met her appraising stare inch for inch.

“Did you know that demons mate for life?” she asked without warning. 

“No, beloved,” he breathed. The information was new but it hardly mattered. He had already decided that he was going to spend the rest of his life with her long before they ended up together. He just wondered why she felt it necessary to mention now. 

“It’s a sacred bond. Actually sacred, unlike human marriages. Challenging it is the worst insult one demon can deal to another.” Her eyes narrowed, and her claws seemed to sharpen before his eyes.

“She wasn’t a-”

“No one will threaten our bond. Do you understand, mate?”

Dear gods. 

He resisted the urge to lick his lips, instead pressing them firmly together. “You should know that you will never be at risk of losing me, beloved.” 

“I know. I also know you will never lie to me again.” The demoness waved a clawed hand before resting it underneath her chin. She was waiting for him. He swallowed again.

“What can I do to make amends?” 

Her grin widened, boarding on malevolent, as if she finally found the answer she was looking for. Lifting effortlessly from her chair, she began to stride across the room to him with measured steps. 

“I have a few ideas.” She purred. 

“Oh?” he asked again, displeased at how out of breath he sounded. 

Golden eyes held his own, and she didn’t speak again until she was just an arm's length away from him. 

Then she pointed at her feet. “Kneel.�� 

He felt his jaw go slack. She wants me to do what? 

She cocked her head at his hesitation. “You will not kneel for your demoness?” She clicked her tongue in distaste. “Don’t you want to remedy your indiscretions?”

He set his jaw, barely suppressing a wince.  When she put it that way, there was no reason not to kneel before her, even if the thought of doing so went against every instinct in his body. He did, after all, lie to her, and if this was what she wanted from him then who was he to deny her?

Besides, there would be an opportunity for her to return the favor. I’ll make sure of it. 

Revealing nothing, he stared at her impassively and slowly dropped to one knee, biting back a scowl as her smirk grew. 

Then, he watched as a slender leg poked out from the slit of the dress she was wearing, and a strappy, black heel. He gave her a simmering look, then took it in his hands without a word, and pressed a kiss to her ankle, trailing up the side of her calf. 

“That’s very nice, mate.” She murmured, resting a clawed hand onto this shoulder. “What else are you willing to do for me?” 

A light smirk replaced his features. She was asking him to seduce her. To fuck her. That was something he would be more than willing to oblige. 

He promptly stood to his feet and grabbed her wrist, pulling him into his chest. To his amused delight, she went pliant in his arms— nearly purring as he captured her lips with his. He kissed her thoroughly, drowning out the memory of the other gods-awful kiss that’d been forced upon him. 

Then a clawed hand traveled his cheek lightly, moving its way to the back of his head. She suddenly grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged downwards, tearing his lips from hers. He hissed when sharpened teeth latched themselves on his neck, nipping at the exposed flesh there before soothing it with her tongue. 

Then she began to walk forward, forcing him to step with her— until the back of his knees touched the mattress of their bed. 

“Meus es tu.” She said lowly, and she pushed at his chest, sending him backwards.

It turned into a battle for assertion. One that he admitted he thoroughly enjoyed— and intended on winning. 

He took her with him, grabbing her waist to position her underneath. His smile was smug when he peered down into four golden slits, obviously dissatisfied at the turn of events. 

Ignoring her bared teeth, he nudged open her legs with one knee before settling between them, then rolled against her in one swift movement, taking pleasure in the way she threw her head back with a growl. 

He continued his ministrations, trailing hot kisses down her neck, just as she did to his moments before. One hand reached up to graze her breast as his kisses went farther down the middle of her chest, while his other hand roamed over the swell of her hips. 

Raven in turn, was growing more frustrated with every second he kept her distracted with his teasing, light touches. 

“Enough.” It was a command.

By the time he managed to blink he found himself on his back and she was straddling his waist. 

Her hands encased with her dark magic. “Alliges duplicia.”

His arms lit up with her magic and they were forced above his head. When he tried to bring them back down he was met with resistance. What the hell? When he looked up his eyes widened with realization. She bound my fucking hands to the headboard. 

“Raven.” He snarled in warning, tugging on his bonds. The demoness was unperturbed by his outburst. 

“You will submit to me, mate.” A dangerous red swirled in those golden irises, and he clenched his jaw in response, then bit back a groan when she brushed against his length. 

“Let me go.” He glared. 

“I will not. This is your punishment. You will stay like this until you beg for me.”

“Tch.” 

He detested how painfully hard he was. His erection strained against his trousers, and he couldn’t contain his next groan when she palmed him. 

It didn’t matter how much he wished she’d slip her hand underneath his belt. He would not beg. 

She began to strip slowly, until she was completely bare before him, and then she peeled off his pants carefully— and then his shirt. His full erection was on display for her, and he released a strangled noise in the back of his throat when she settled her heated core against him.

She chuckled darkly when he twitched underneath her. “Say please.” 

“No.” he gritted out, breath hitching when her mouth latched onto one of his nipples, nipping roughly. Her tongue flicked it right after, mixing the pain she had caused with pleasure. 

“No?” Her claws wrapped around his throat, squeezing in warning. “You are in no position to deny me, mate.” 

He just glowered.

“Fine.” She relented, retracting her claws. “You will break eventually.” 

Her fingers lifted to her full breasts, reddened from her true form, and her fingers began to tease one darkened nipple into a tight peak. The bonds went taut when he pulled at them roughly in an attempt to reach out to her. She noticed this and smirked as she teased her other nipple, then rocked against him. They groaned together.

He watched as she then slipped one hand down to her core and began to tease herself, parting her folds before slipping a finger inside while grazing against his cock. 

She moaned, mouth parting slightly and he growled again in protest. That should be his fingers inside of her. 

“If you insist on not obeying me, then I will use you for my own pleasure.” She sunk down onto his cock and his head hit the wall with his groan. Fuck, she felt so damned good and the pace she was setting set him on a steady course towards an impending orgasm, regardless of how much he despised not being in control. 

“Beloved.” He growled when she brought him to the brink all too soon, then slowed back down while teasing her clit with her own fingers. Quick, circling motions that revealed her own need to him— that she was nearing her own orgasm. 

He caught her hitched breath. She was losing resolve, caught in her own wave of pleasure. 

“Release me.” He tugged on his bonds again and bucked his hips into her for good measure. “I want to be the one to fuck you when you come.” 

She gasped and clenched around him, drawing him even deeper. “I will come soon. If you want to fuck me, you must beg now.” 

He cursed. Goddamn her. 

“Please, habibti. I am yours.” 

With a victorious smirk, she waved a hand. That smirk was short-lived however, because as soon as the bonds disappeared he lunged for his little demoness, twisting them both before pulling out of her to roll her onto her stomach. 

“You are mine too, Beloved. I will also make sure of that,” he snarled into her ear, teasing his cock at her entrance. His hands held her pressed against the bed. 

The demoness laughed, then inhaled sharply when he pushed into her with one swift movement. They were both right at the edge, only a few more thrusts was all it would take to throw them both over.

“I can feel how close you are,” He reached a hand underneath her to press his thumb directly against her clit, “Come with me, now.” 

She cried out— a sound that was more animalistic than human, and she fluttered around him. He fell shortly after, nearly seeing stars. He continued to thrust languidly, drawing out their orgasms. Vaguely, he watched as Raven’s skin turned from red to flushed ivory. One pair of eyes turned to peer up at him instead of two, and the color of her irises receded to lavender. 

For a moment he watched her transform, breathless. 

She smiled up at him as her breathing returned to normal and he returned it before dropping his face to her neck. “I’m going to have to make you jealous more often,” Damian murmured into her skin. 

Raven snorted, lifting a hand to run through his sweat-soaked hair. “Unwise. Not only will I definitely kill the next one, it will hurt the entire time she is dying.”

“Green is a good color on you, habibti.”

She said nothing, but he could feel her contentment in the gentle run of her fingers across his hair and skin. As post-orgasmic clarity continued to take hold a question popped into his mind and he leaned up to regard her.

“When were you planning on telling me we were essentially demon-married?”

She flushed. “Eventually. Are you...did you not want…?”

He silenced her with a kiss, letting his actions and strength of his emotions answer her question. As though he could ever give this up, or stomach the idea of either of them being with someone else. 

After all, Damian didn’t share either.

[we-dragons]

I'm from a different dimension actually Chapter 7 Damian x reader

"Ira! I need my emergency kit!" Molly is pulling at my hair with a brush, I grimace at my reflection, she had put pearls and violet gems in my hair. Seeing as it already wasn't long bearly pushing past my ears, even though there aren't many of them in there it ways down in some places. I had already allowed her to put me in a ball gown, which I'm sure costs much more than my apartment building. It reminds me of peacock feathers, purples, greens, blues fill the cloth they blend seamlessly dark purple at the top and ending with blue at the bottom. I look at the matching marbled shoes and guilt climbs through me.

"Molly I don't need makeup, I'm already in a peacock dress, and there are gems in my hair. Besides the mascara is enough I don't want to spend an hour rubbing anything else off." Molly gasps, a hand gripping at her heart.

"Why-how could you say such a thing!" Ira hands Molly her phone, she screams. "We're going to be late! Ira put the bag back!" I'm yanked from my chair and raced down the hall within minutes I'm thrown into a limo with Molly's parents. Molly jumps in starting to yell at the driver shocking her parents who kept telling her to calm down. It doesn't take long to get to Wayne Manor, the courtyard is crowded filled with flashing lights from cameras reporters, and newscasts. They surrounded every inch with an exception of a semi-circle right at the front of the building where the car pulled up. Once more I'm pulled roughly out of the vehicle by molly, I nearly trip going up the stairs.

"Molly dear, we need to go in together!" My friend's mother pants from behind her husband seems to be in a similar position as me. Like mother like daughter.

I pull my arm away from Molly gently and smooth out my peacock dress, I sigh internally finding relief that I had personally told Molly to make the dress so it covered without it being tight. If I didn't then I would be pulling up the fabric like Molly who went not so modest. Not only had she blinged out she full-on black and high heels that pushed out her height. She looked good, and she made her parents match. When her mother finally catches up she puts a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

What happens after the incident leaves me at a table sitting behind a card with my name on it. Molly was seated somewhere else because I had used my own invitation instead of being a plus one. My eyes cast over the room soaking in again the decor of the newly decorated main floor. My energy seems to drain while I watch the people chat dance and laugh. No one was seated at my table and I was slightly relieved but I still felt odd. I had gone to parties with my mom in the past, ones that were held in her honor about her findings. I feel myself relishing in those memories I had looking back at the times she would pull a silly face at me while I was bored at said parties, or told a joke in some of her speeches. My mother was the expert in The Islamic Golden Era, despite not being a Muslim herself. She prided herself on giving credit to those who deserved more but had their work stolen by Europeans. But then, when she went on that Egypt and Greece dig she had found something that unnerved her. I knew what it was, and I wish I hadn't either. My happy thoughts turn sour, and I can feel myself grimace. I am tired...so tired.

"You made it, It's good to see you here." my head whips around falling on emerald eyes.

"Yeah, I had already told Molly that she could take me to the next party she goes to. However, I didn't know that if you came with an invite and not a plus one that you had to sit at a separate table." He snorts and sits down to my right.

"You were originally sat by her but father assumed I needed a friend," He shows me a card with his name on it. "so he changed Grayson out for you."

"Do you not have friends?"

"None close by."

"When have I accepted you as a friend?" He smiles

"That is a good question, but the same goes for me, you more someone I tolerate."

"Same here, Besides your a bad influence."

"tsk,...touche." his gaze looks me up and down and I have the sudden urge to say 'eyes up here'.

"You look tired, would you like to go to the library?"

"Usually libraries and tired people don't mix."

"How about a tour then, we have several artifacts my father has purchased that you might find interesting." He pushes harder.

"You want an excuse to leave, don't you? I thought my main purpose for being here was to talk to Mr.Wayne, not venture into the mansion." He sighs with his own body, visibly exaggerating the movements.

"My father is deeply preoccupied already in another engagement, he won't even be here for hours. Would you prefer to stay here doing nothing or would you like to leave?" He sounds rather annoyed while looking off to his left and scowling more. I follow my eyes to a group of three who I recognize from the cafe, all of them are pointing and smirking. I being to feel more drained at the thought of them coming here and stand. "Your home, where to first?" He shoots up, grabbing my hand dragging me through the dense crowd of people.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Amazing, this would date back to the early years of feudal Japan, this is Greek! Oh! There's a Khopesh and a Canaan Sickel sword on this wall!"

Damian scoffs sounding more like a laugh than a mocking tone. "You can tell the difference." I give him a look, feeling offended.

"Of course I can, you mostly can tell by the markings on the blade." I turn my head back to the wall slowly pointing to the distinguishable pieces of evidence. "This one is older Hebrew, and here you can see small hieroglyphics depicting the sun. Plus the metals on each blade are very different." I tilt my head back to him, his face stays indifferent. "You knew that already didn't you?" He nods and walks again.

"You must really like history, seems like you could talk about it none stop." He calls back.

"Did you forget who my mother was?"

"I thought she specialized in the Islamic golden era."

"It didn't mean she didn't know the history of other peoples. My mother developed research of anything she could get her hands on." I pause for a minute. "What about you, where did you learn."

"I was taught by some of the best in the world, my mother made sure of it."

"I see." We talk more while examining the objects displayed, I had fun just listening to him explain how his father got some of them. Though the collection wasn't huge it still made me a bit happy to see the objects. My phone buzzes, and I quickly take it out of my pocket.

Molly: Hey where are you we need to get going!

Molly: Dad got too drunk and now he's crying about the world.

Molly: We will be outside, Be there.

"Sorry, I have to get going, I'll see you at school later!" I run through the hall and snag as many macarons as I can on the way out. Molly waves from the car opening the door so I slide in faster.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Sorcerer found. Name: Doctor Fate, Subject: host"

"Anyone else?"

"Database shows,... John Constantine, and Zatanna. All other information is unavailable."

"Gather what they have on the crows send probes if you must."

"Proceeding."

Nightmare stands by the window waiting for his queue. I pull a scale out from the box and open the window. I hand him the scale and he chews effectively destroying the small miracle. "Remember stay out of sight if someone spots you wipe it from their memory and if you see a crow take the fight to the in-between and go for the kill. You have a little bit of my power with you only use it when needed." He purrs, rubbing his head on my hand, then jumps. He vanishes. I sigh putting the device in the box marked with an X just in case and push it under my bed. I head out into my living room putting some things away and cleaning here and there. Proud of my work I turn on the TV and sprawl on my sofa with a bowl of popcorn. Reruns of Highlander play on one of my favorite channels, I smile at my luck and sing to the theme song.

*Thunk thunk thunk*

I jump at the sound, I hear the noise again and follow it to my kitchen bat in hand. I flip on the light and smack my face, a very wet robin scowls at me through the glass. Only then did I notice the rain, and I pray that Nightmare is staying safe. I open the door and let him in, he mutters a thank you while walking in dipping water on my floor.

"Not to be rude, but is there something you need?" He ignores me and continues dragging water on the floor to the living room.

"Robin?" I catch up to him, he pulls something out from his ear and stuffs it in his pocket.

"I would like to stay here for a little while"

"How long is a little while, will I need to pull out the bed in the couch?" He gives me a look.

"There's a bed in your couch?"

"Sometimes I want to watch TV while I do my homework, laying down here makes it easier." I go to the bathroom to pull out some towels.

"Where was this when I was heavily injured?"

"I'm sorry, but the fact that you were bleeding was more concerning. I also put new sheets on the bed and you broke a perfectly good window. There is still blood on my cushions, and you wanted me to place you on the bed?" grabbing the biggest fluffiest towel in the bunch walking back out to the living room.

"You still on about that?"

"It was expensive!" I hold out the towel, he takes it and places his yellow cape in my hand. I frown but head to the coat rack hanging the heavy fabric on the highest rung. I feel short noticing its length, I turn back to Robin who's sat down on the couch the large towel engulfing him completely minus his hair. The black strands stuck oddly to his face and drooped sadly, I almost laugh because he looks like a sad cat. Like Nightmare whenever I give him a bath, I think I have a picture of that somewhere. "Did you want something to drink or eat?"

"Why is it that every time I come here you offer something?"

"It's a hospitality thing I got living in Minnesota, it's just being nice. Besides, you work to protect people, don't you? It only makes sense that I offer you something, I doubt you get paid to do your job. I bet you have countless scars from just doing so, I can do my part and help you feel comfortable. Call it a form of respect."

"Tsk."

I stroll into the kitchen, "Well, I suppose I could give some soda, tea, or water after all you left plenty on the floor."

"What happened to respect?"

"Well, I have feelings to sir! Tossing my words aside like that, I shouldn't even feed you." I poke my head back out, I smile at his scowl while he in turn glares at me. "Now for once, I am out of tea but I have several cans of cherry coke and some popcorn and macarons from a party I went to earlier. How about that?"

"That's fine." I hum grabbing what I needed and plopped back down in my seat handing him the coke. I place the brightly colored macarons and some chips I found between us along with the popcorn. I let myself get absorbed into the Highlander again just as MacLeod beheads another immortal and gains his Quickening.

"What is this?" My Jaw drops while I look at him concerned.

"Just how uncultured are you." His face flushes and his face twists he opens his mouth but i stop him. "Say no more, I will be right back." I come out with my computer and pull up VUDU opening season one of the show. "Sit back buckaroo, now your in for the long haul. Now right now all you need to know is 'There can only be one." His face contorts in confusion, but gives in and moves closer.

"I'm not going to get in trouble with Batman am I." He smirks.

"Most likely."

"Dammit."

[coneygoil]

The Home We Built Together, part 37

Two young Vikings. An arranged marriage. Hiccup always wanted to win the girl of his dreams, but not like this. Now he and Astrid must learn to live together and maybe one day, learn to love…

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9| Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31 | Interlude | Part 32 | Part 33 | Part 34 | Part 35 | Part 36

The roar echoed through the cove – snaring and furious. But it was not produced by a dragon. Toothless lifted his head, green eyes blown and ears standing on end at the disturbing noise. When he saw who it was, he grumbled and rested his chin once more on his front legs. Astrid was just as much a part of his life nowadays as Hiccup. It wasn’t uncommon for her to target practice in his peaceful sanctuary, though her practice did seem more heated than usual today.

Anger-fueled adrenaline pumped through Astrid’s body. She wasn’t sure what she expected when she woke up from the few hours of sleep she managed to snag. She hated being upset with Hiccup, but she hated even more the actions he’d taken in the past two days. He’d disappeared for another entire day after he’d promised to at least tell her if he was leaving Berk. The little twirp was true to his word about one thing. He didn’t leave a note this time.

Her axe slammed into the largest tree truck in the vicinity. Astrid needed this -- to expel the accumulated frustration that had built up. Her entire body pulsed with it. If she didn’t get rid of it soon, every fiber of her would blow at the seams. That’s why she left before the sun had awoken. That’s why she was far from Hiccup, relieving the pressure so it wouldn’t explode in his face.

She flung her axe until her arm ached and chest heaved. Astrid couldn’t tell if she felt better because of the workout or because she was too exhausted to care anymore. She made her way over to Toothless and plopped down against his side. Toothless raised his head, watching her curiously. It was odd for her to visit the cove without Hiccup. Toothless was bewildered as to why his best friend hadn’t accompanied her.

“I know you’re Hiccup’s dragon and I probably shouldn’t complain about him to you.” The dragon warbled, tilting his head at her. Astrid tapped the axe handle on the ground a few times, contemplating. “But, you’re my friend too, Toothless. The only friend that I can come to.”

Toothless stretched his neck, licking the top of her hand that rested on her knee. Astrid gave Toothless a tight-lipped smile. Maybe she did feel a little better.

“I don’t know why Hiccup does what he does,” she continued. “I thought he was finally growing up. Becoming responsible. He was showing the makings of…well, of a chief! I was seeing what he could do. What he could become.” She released a frustrated growl. “Why is he suddenly going backwards?”

Astrid turned her gaze to meet Toothless’ wide green eyes. “I’m sure you know why. Hiccup probably talks to you.”

Toothless’ nose twitched a few times, his expression one of contemplation. It was funny how such distinct expressions were noticeable on a dragon when you weren’t in the heat of battle with one.

Astrid yelped in surprise when Toothless nudged her onto his head and flung her onto his back. She barely kept hold of her axe as she landed onto the stiffness of the saddle.

“Toothless, what in Thor’s name?” Astrid exclaimed, righting herself on the saddle.

Toothless warbled excitedly and pointed with his nose toward the foot pedals.

Astrid cocked an eyebrow. “You want to go for a flight. With me?”

Toothless grunted in response.

“Okay.” Astrid sighed, slipping her boots into the pedals, and preparing for launch. Maybe a few minutes in the air would clear her head. Toothless probably learned that from Hiccup. Since Astrid couldn’t ride Stormfly during the day, Toothless was the only mode of dragon transportation.

Astrid patted him on the side. “Let’s go.” With a little crouch and wiggle, Toothless shot into the sky.  

***

This was not how Astrid pictured her day going.

“Thanks for nothing, you useless reptile,” she grumbled, using Hiccup’s exact words for anything Toothless did to annoy him. Astrid was beyond annoyed by the Night Fury as he hopped down the branches when he left her there. Now, she was downright furious.

The tree’s branches swayed every time she attempted to move, and the axe strapped to her back made her off balance. She wasn’t afraid of heights or climbing trees, but she was in such an awkward location on the tree, if she tried to climb down, she could easily fall to her death.

What was Toothless thinking stranding her in a tree!? How in Thor’s name was she getting down? She wasn’t sure how long she was stranded when she heard the familiar swoop of wings, and she turned her head to see Toothless approaching, a gangly figure riding in the saddle. Astrid rolled her eyes. This was not her day.

Astrid yelped and clutched the branch she was teetering on with her thighs as the top of the tree bent over swiftly from Toothless’ weight.

“Astrid, what’s going on?” Hiccup asked from his safe perch atop his mutinous dragon.

“Ask your dragon,” she hissed out, glaring daggers at Toothless.

Hiccup leaned over to peer into one of Toothless’ large green eyes. “Did you leave Astrid up here?”

Toothless warbled sheepish.

Astrid growled. “Just get me down from here!”

“Grab my hand.” Hiccup urged Toothless to inch closer, and he stretched out his hand for her.

Astrid fought the urge to smack it away, but she was too far away to risk shimming across the branch without assistance. Her stomach burned at the thought of needing help with something as simple of getting out of a tree.

Hiccup’s hold was firm as he steadied her to stand on the branch and climb on Toothless’ back. “You okay?” he asked as she straddled behind him.

“What do you think?” she snapped.

“Hang on,” Hiccup reminded her just before Toothless shot into the air.

***

“Toothless, what were thinking!?” Hiccup scolded, wasting no time when they hit the ground in the Cove. “Stranding Astrid in a tree? She could have fallen and died!”

Astrid paced from a distance, hugging her arms across her stomach, thankful to be on solid ground. Her knees were wobbly, and thighs burned from gripping the tree branch for so long. She didn’t notice Hiccup approaching her until he touched her shoulder from behind. She jerked, pivoting sharply to face him. Hiccup hung his head, avoiding her hard gaze.

“Astrid, I’m sorry.” Hiccup gulped loudly, fiddling with the back of his neck. “Toothless should have never done that to you. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

The dragon in question stalked up to them, perching himself a short distance from them. He grunted, pointing his nose up in the air as if trying to tell them something. Then he turned his large eyes on Astrid as if he were pleading with her. She stared at him as her emotions buzzed through her body. It was then that it struck her.

He didn’t want them to fight. In Toothless’ own convoluted way, he was trying to get them to talk it through. Why he had to strand her in a tree for a couple hours angered her still, but she now understood his intentions and her fowl mood sobered.

Astrid sighed, heavily. “Why did you runaway again?”

Hiccup froze at her question, his hand midway in front of him. His raised features began to droop as his hand lowered. “My dad,” he murmured almost inaudibly.

Astrid shook her head, taking a step forward. “Hiccup,” she breathed out slowly, “you should have heard your dad talking about you. All that Gobber had filled him in on. He was so proud of all that you’d accomplished while he was gone.”

It was as if a dark shadow had suddenly rose between them. Hiccup’s jaw clenched. “Yeah, proud of Hiccup the ‘dragon killer’. He thinks I’m going to slay dragons alongside him. He thinks I want to chat casually about slicing off heads and cutting out hearts.” His fists clinched at his sides. “I knew nothing good would happen when he returned.”

“And you couldn’t face it?”

Hiccup nodded without speaking.

Astrid worried her bottom lip. She scrubbed her palms over her face, lost as to where even to start to deal with this situation. She knew some details of Hiccup’s strained relationship with his father but being aware of it and knowing how to deal with it were two different heads. There were no words of wisdom, no helpful advice to offer him. There was a life or death secret they were keeping stashed right inside Berk’s boundaries. A plan was being worked out to eliminate the most known dangerous threat to the Archipelago.

Hiccup stood there looking even smaller than he already was. He continued to avoid her eyes, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Astrid’s heart sank like a stone. How could she be angry with him when the weight of their world was on his shoulders? She felt sorry and regretful for not considering all that they were facing. She’d learned in the past few months that Hiccup was stronger and braver than anyone on Berk knew to give him credit for, but sometimes the strong could be dragged down by the weight they were carrying. It was an Altas-sized burden on his thin shoulders.

Astrid swallowed the lump that had gathered in her throat. “Look, Hiccup. I know there’s a lot going on in that head of yours. I sometimes forget you handle situations differently than I would. But, please—” she stepped forward and he finally raised his eyes to cautiously meet hers, “please come to me about it. I don’t know what I could do or how I could help, but at least you won’t be alone.” She grasped his hand. “We may be kids trying to figure out how to navigate life, but we’re in this together.”

Hiccup shut his eyes tight. Without opening them, he hugged her, burying his face into her neck. Astrid hugged him tight against her, closing her own eyes and releasing a deep breath. They held each other for a long while until a snuffling nose invaded their space.

Astrid pulled away first, eying Toothless as he watched them. “I’m still mad at you,” she informed him and Toothless warbled out what sounded like an apology along with a lick to her arm.

She turned back to Hiccup, resting a palm on his chest. His hand slid around her waist as he watched her with his warm, green eyes.

“I promise – really promise -- I’ll come to you, talk to you about what’s going on in my head.” Hiccup let out a humorless laugh, shrugging one shoulder. “I guess the last two days have been weird for me.”

“No matter how weird, come to me,” Astrid urged, sliding her hand to his shoulder.

Hiccup nodded. “I will.”

Astrid gave him a little smack on the shoulder, hoping her affirmation would stick in his brain this time. “Good.”

“Am I allowed back in the bedroom tonight?”

Astrid grabbed the collar of his tunic, yanking him into a kiss. She broke away with a pop and raised her eyebrows. “What do you think?”

[tvdiaries-imagines]

Quite The Assumption

Pairing: Klaus x Reader x Kol 

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1620

The weather is absolutely perfect outside as you’re reading a book, sitting just outside a cafe here in Mystic Falls. You took a sip of your coffee before placing it back on the small table, allowing yourself to get lost in this novel.

A moment later, a shadow casts over you briefly and you notice a figure take a seat just ahead of you. You glanced up, learning that it’s Klaus and your stomach stirs with excitement but on the outside you remained calm and collected.

“Hello love.” He said, smirking.

“Hi Klaus. What’s up?”

“I just so happened to be in the area and noticed you here all alone. I also wanted to say that I enjoyed our little date the other night.”

“I did too.” You flashed a soft smile, placing a bookmark at the page you left off at before closing the book. You’ve only gone on two dates with Klaus so far and both were amazing. The hybrid has definitely grown on you.

“Do you have any plans tonight?” Klaus asked.

“I’m not sure. I have to check my calendar in a sec.” You lied. You know that you have nothing planned tonight. “Why?”

“I am throwing a soirée at my mansion tonight. You are more than welcome to come.”

“Oh okay. What time does it start?”

“An invitation with details will arrive at your doorstep later.” He reached across the table for your hand, placing a gentle kiss over your knuckles before rising to his feet to disappear along the street.

You smiled from ear to ear at his gesture, unable to focus back to your book. There’s no doubt that you’ll join his party tonight.

(Later…)

It is a quarter past 8. You followed the details of the invitation and dressed semi-formal with a black body con off the shoulder dress that stops at your knees. You paired it with a pair of strappy black heels.

After one quick glance at your rear view mirror, assuring your makeup is still on point, you took your keys out of the ignition and hopped out of your car.

Stepping inside Klaus’s mansion, a waiter was quick to hand you a glass of champagne. The gesture alone instantly felt like deja vu from when you attended the Mikaelson ball not too long ago. You accepted the bubbly and went on your way to search for Klaus.  

Through the crowd of people, you still couldn’t find him but happened to bump into Kol. You were slightly relieved to finally see a familiar face.

“Hello darling.” Kol greeted. “Pleasure seeing you here. Let me guess, you’re looking for Nik?”

“You read my mind Kol. Do you know where he is?”

“I do not. But I can keep you company in the meantime.”

“Sure thanks.” You clinked your glass with Kol’s, followed by taking a generous sip. “What is this party for anyways?”

“My brother didn’t get into the specifics with me. However, I enjoy a good party.”

Glancing around at the guests, you randomly made eye contact with Rebekah, who is conversing with someone you don’t know. She winks at you and you raise your glass to her as a greeting.

“Klaus sure knows how to throw a great party.” You mentioned.  

“Silly me. I forgot to mention how stunning you look in that little black dress.” Kol commented. You fought the urge to blush from his compliment.

“Thank you.”

“And you bought it specifically for this party?”

“Actually no. It’s been sitting in my closet for awhile now. I’ve never found the proper occasion to wear it until now.”

“You should wear it again.”

You let out a chuckle, swallowing down the last bit of champagne. “You're funny. It’s not like I go to these kinds of parties often.”

“What I meant is, you should wear it on our next date.”

“Kol stop.” You nagged as you glanced around nervously, hoping Klaus isn’t in earshot.

“I’m serious, darling.” Kol said.

“You know that I’m kind of seeing your brother.” You rolled your eyes. A waiter came by, stealing your empty glass from you.  

“And I kind of don’t care.” He challenged.

“You’re ridiculous.” You shook your head in amusement before walking off to search for Klaus again.

Finally, you see Klaus at the top of the staircase with the back of his head facing the crowd below. You notice that he’s lost in a conversation with a red headed female and you didn’t want to be rude by catcalling his name, so you slowly made your way towards the stairs. You couldn’t get over how handsome he looked in a suit and tie since he’s always dressed in a Henley shirt and jeans.

As you reached the second step, you noticed Klaus and his female acquaintance exchanging laughs. Next thing you know, she playfully hits him in the chest and that same hand found its way on his chest. You didn’t think anything of it until you noticed that Klaus allowed her hand to linger there.

You annoyingly felt a pang of jealousy and turned on your heel back to the first floor. A part of you hoped Klaus would have at least called or texted you asking of your whereabouts since you haven’t spoken to him since earlier this afternoon in front of the cafe.

“So Y/N, how about that date?” Kol said, suddenly appearing at your side.

“How about a drink first.” You marched towards the nearest waiter and stole a filled glass from the tray, taking a large sip of champagne.

“You see, my brother isn’t right for you. Bad temper, enemies around the world, and not as handsome as me.”

You couldn’t tell if you’re already buzzed from the alcohol or if Kol is downright funny right now. “You’re hilarious.” You chuckled, leaning your back against the nearest wall.

“I forgot to add, not as funny as me either.” Kol stepped forward, placing him palm beside your ear on the wall as he towered over you.

“Okay okay.” You put a hand up in defense. “Enough with all of the comparisons. I get it, you’re conceited.”

“You’re pretty and you have a sharp tongue.” Kol leaned down, whispering into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “You’re just my type.”

Before you had the chance to respond, you were rudely interrupted. “What the bloody hell is this?” Klaus asked with obvious distaste.

Kol grinned, pleased that he got a rise out of his older brother. He straightened his posture and snaked his arm around your waist.

“Oh hey Nik. I was just showing Y/N which Mikaelson is best suited for her.”

Instead of vamp speeding, Klaus took heavy steps towards his younger brother, holding him by the throat and slamming his back against the wall. He’s raging with so much fury that he didn’t care that all eyes are on him. “You just couldn’t help yourself, now could you, brother?! You’re so pathetic that you had to resort to compelling my date!” Klaus’s hand was so tight around Kol’s throat that he couldn’t breathe out a word.

“Klaus stop it!” You shouted.

“Niklaus.” Elijah announced, attempting to put his brother is check. His hand was placed inside his front pocket, standing beside you.

“Kol didn’t compel me!”

Klaus looked over his shoulder, eyes boring into yours. “What?” He let out in a loud whisper in disbelief, loosening his grip over Kol’s throat.

“Nik, what the bloody hell are you doing?” Rebekah asked, brows furrowed. Her heels tapped along the flooring as she made her way towards the scene.

You shot him a glare before storming off outside, not caring that you’re shoving into people along the way.

“Don’t point fingers at me, Nik.” Kol implied after catching his breath. “Go ask Y/N yourself why she’s cross with you and chose my company instead.”

Klaus followed after you without a response, ignoring the remarks that the party guests are exchanging with each other about what just happened.

The cool breeze hit him in the face. “Y/N, stop.”

“No I’m going home. It was stupid for me to come to this party.” You continued to walk towards your car with your keys in your hand. In the blink of an eye, you found Klaus in front of your driver’s door.

“Tell me, what did Kol say to you?”

“Why does it even matter?” You used all of your strength to shove him away so you can have access inside your car, but he’s got a thousand years on you and you couldn’t shift him. “Why don’t you go back inside and flirt with that red head some more.” You folded your arms across your chest, scowling at him in defeat.

“You can’t be serious, love.” He said with hint of amusement, which annoyed you even more because he is so goddamn handsome.  

“Leave me alone. And don’t call me love.” You spat, advancing around your car to the passenger side, hoping you can get to your drivers seat from there. But, Klaus beat you to it with his vamp speed. His fingers lightly grasped your upper arms, holding you in place with your back against your passenger side door.

“I was not flirting with anyone. I only fancy you.” You rolled your eyes at his response. “In case you’re wondering, she’s a witch. I was only playing nice to be on her good side.”

“Fine I believe you. But playing nice doesn’t mean it’s okay for her to have her hands all over you!” You shook off Klaus’s grip and made your way back to the mansion.

Klaus snickered, following behind you. “And I thought I was the one with the temper.”

[coeurdastronaute]

Either/Or: Krypton 7

Previously on Krypton

“Are you nervous?”

“Why would I be nervous?”

At the very idea of it, Lena balked, though that was more of a true statement than either could admit. It was nearly completely dark in her room, but still she was afraid Kara saw the look on her face. She didn’t look down at the girl between her legs, just felt the steady circles of her fingertips on her chest and her cheek against her ribs. There was a warmth there, to it all, Lena thought, as she played with the curly ends of Kara’s hair.

“Is it because tomorrow I’ll be going up to something called The Matrix, and I’ll be doing something, though no one can tell me what, and it will decide if I’m the right person for you to spend forever with?” Lena listed quickly, her words running together as she ran out of air. “Or that there are not only personal, but very political connotations to the idea of whatever it is? Or that it could tell me I’m trash and don’t deserve you and then we’ll be done and this could be my last few hours with you adoring me so completely that I feel different? I can’t imagine why I’d be slightly nervous, though I’m totally not.”

“Totally not,” Kara agred emphatically with a grin that spread with how worked up the overthinking girl from Earth truly got.

They sat in the quiet as Lena caught her breath. Kara pressed her ear against Lena’s sternum and heard each gust of wind. She yawned slightly and adjusted her legs.

“I don’t know if I can sleep.”

“You have to sleep. You love sleep.”

“Everything changes tomorrow,” Lena sighed.

“Like what?”

“Well.... everything, of course.”

“Right, right, but like what?” Kara asked curiously.

The head at the top of the bed tilted to the side and considered it before deciding what the best course of action was for the obstinate blanket that refused to see such severity.

“Tomorrow, I’ either alone or I’m with someone forever, and I don’t know which is more terrifying.”

“Why would forever be terrifying?”

“It’s very different from what I anticipated.”

Worried fingers moved along Kara’s shoulder and finally settled on Lena’s ribs where she intertwined them and waited. Numerous words and thoughts were inhaled deep where they buzzed around, swirling in the tornado in her lungs before being exhaled in an annoyed sigh of inability to put them in a cohesive order or confession.

“When you go to the Matrix, you will comune with the universe, and you will see where you’re supposed to be.”

“Someone should really market that.”

“I’m not worried,” Kara insisted again, resting her cheek against Lena’s stomach and adjusting further, putting the discussion to rest with her comfort.

“You should be,” Lena murmured. “You might end up with me forever.”

“There are much worse fates,” she smiled and closed her eyes as Lena’s fingers massaged her scalp.

“I don’t know about that.”

XXXXXXXXX

The day was uncharacteristically warm for the season. The sun was out despite the morning, and the moons crested to the southeast, full in their quarter of the sky. Not a cloud could be seen across the entire expanse of the planet, and Kara knew it was a good omen-- if she were to believe in such things as superstitions.

At an early age, she  decided to never pay too close attention to the little sayings and folklore her mother told her, about omens and monsters and the past and the future. She didn’t listen, but she heard it all and embedded it innately in her DNA, so that despite herself, she couldn’t help but remember that no clouds was an auspicious thing on a day of worry.

For the briefest of moments, there was some solace there. And standing atop the Capitol building, Kara peered out until she saw a speck of a cloud, just a wisp of a thing at the very edge of the world. She shook her head and pretended to not believe in superstitions.

Slowly, Kara made her way down the large staircase to the interior of the building. It was open on all sides, and the day’s heat hung through the halls and toward the interior. Large portraits of those gone by, of the times before, of the formula that governed mass thermodynamics on their planet as a way to harness its power. The entire city was created to function as an example, a conglomeration of the ideals brought back from other worlds. It was preserved buildings from the beginning of time, and it was brand new advanced buildings that defied all expectations.

As she made her way to the ground level, Kara thought about all the city she saw through Lena’s eyes, and how perfect it’d been through the past few weeks. Everything made sense, and had its place, when Lena saw and had questions, it only made Kara think of how well she fit into this world, her world, her life.

The thought made Kara content and then sullen a moment later. She didn’t even see her cousin as he sat on a bench and read the recent updates  on his tablet. Like everyone he was curious about the idea of someone from earth using their Matrix. So intrigued, he made the trip from another town just to see what happened with his own eyes.

“You’re pacing,” Kal admonished after a few moments.

“I am not.”

“You are walking back and forth in a relatively straight line while anxiously rubbing your hands together. I think that’s textbook pacing.”

“I’m not pacing.”

“She’s been in there for almost four hours,” he finally acknowledged. “You can pace. It makes sense.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re going to wear out the floor though, but by all means.”

Kara huffed and crossed her arms as she finally stopped moving. She set her jaw and flared her nostrils for a moment, not sure what to do now that she wasn’t moving. If she was moving, she had something to do, and now that she didn’t, she felt the worry crash into her.

For a second she debated. She bit her lip and she stared out at the horizon without really seeing anything as her brain toiled along until she got annoyed at herself for proving her cousin right, and she flopped down on the bench beside him in a tiff.

“I’m sure it’s going fine,” Kal sighed as he continued to read. “What's the worst that could happen?”

“I can’t even begin to calculate it. Death, probably. Followed by an unfavorable outcome for myself. A human has never interacted with the Matrix. They are an unknown species in its files.”

“Well, it’s been hours, so it’s safe to say she’s interfacing.”

“That’s true,” Kara nodded, somewhat relieved by that notion.

Kara sat on the bench in the quiet halls as time trudged forward at such a slow rate that she wasn’t sure what to do with herself. Each breath felt like it took six hours. She lived entire eternities in a few seconds.

“You want to Choose her?” Kal finally asked. “Are you certain? This isn’t something you can come back from. This is forever.”

To her credit, his cousin looked like she was thinking about it. She furrowed and bit at the inside of her lip while she stared quite bitterly at the lone cloud that whafted across the horizon, much larger than it first appeared and heading toward her at a direct angle.

“She’s perfect because she’s hugely imperfect,” Kara smiled, finally relaxing for the first time in twenty some odd hours. “She appeared and I can’t remember what life was like before her. Lena is smart. She’s very smart. She’s kind and fierce and beautiful. I feel like--- I feel like-- I feel like I’m at peace. I feel very happy when she’s around.”

“You have a lot to consider, with your standing.”

“She fits well with the family.”

“You’d have to go to the professors in Atomic Town to have children.”

“We are far away from that.”

“You should think about it. It’s important to our family name.”

“I have to make sure she gets to stay, first.”

“Would you leave?”

“I hadn’t…. I don’t know,” she shook her head.

“You still have a lot to think about.”

“It doesn’t change anything.”

“No, I guess it doesn’t.”

The two sat there and didn’t say anything else. The cloud passed across, the shadow trailing behind it across the city. Kara closed her eyes and tilted her head back with a large sigh.

“Excuse me,” a voice came from farther down the hall. “But they’re finishing.”

XXXXXXXXX

The crowd outside grew, though it was no way a huge riot. Kara’s family stood around while a few of Lena’s closer friends from the Earth delegation joined, nervous and still trying to figure out what all of it meant. In some form or another, all of the foreigners fell in love with the new planet. Homesickness was at a minimum and only felt if it was willed into existence. For the most part, minus daily reports and figures sent back and forth to help with the problems, Earth was a distant memory and an abstract concept.

But Lena Luthor took it a step further and fell in love not with Krypton, but with a Kryptonian, which was still foreign to the newcomers.

The large doors, gilded and wrought, loomed ahead of the park where the group waited impatiently. Kara stood in the middle of it, anxiously peaking at the doors as often as possible while still holding a polite and strained conversation with her father.

The sun began to set, its slow descent took hours, but it still triggered something in Kara that left her feeling even more exhausted, more aware of how much time had passed since the girl she thought she loved disappeared.

The dull murmur of the guests stopped as soon as the thick doors creaked open enough for Lena to squint and make her way outside. Kara’s mother stood behind her, careful to shut the door.

The first person Lena saw was Kara. Face slightly long and muscles taunt and waiting, her eyes darted over Lena’s face for a clue as to what was going to happen. The only thing that occurred, however, was Lena smiling and launching herself into Kara’s arms, squeezing her neck as tight as she could and inhaling as if she’d never breathed before in her life.

“You have to tell me,” Kara whispered, holding Lena to her, hiding the words in her shoulder.

“We’re a match,” Lena sniffled slightly before laughing. She kissed Kara’s cheek and clung to her so close she couldn’t kiss her, though she wanted to badly.

It wouldn’t have mattered. As soon as those words were understood, Kara cheered and swung Lena around by the waist, unable to contain her own excitement.

“We’re a match?”

“A match,” Lena nodded, finally set down again on her own feet. “I fit into Krypton somehow.”

“With me.”

“More than that. It’s like… it’s like I was meant to be here, with you,” she explained, shaking her head slightly as she tried to come up with words to articulate what happened in an accurate way though no words seemed right.

“I get to keep you,” Kara sighed, her smile unable to be anything less than blinding.

With a bit of a lurch, Kara leaned forward and finally kissed the girl she loved.

“Forever, if you want.”

“Let’s get until next week and go from there.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Lena grinned.

The entire crowd cheered happily, overjoyed for their friends and loved one, overjoyed at the spectacle that was true love, overjoyed by the idea that this was fated by high powers. It was a lot of things to consider, but most didn’t think of anything other than how happy the two looked together.

[alphawave-writes]

Play me a memory--A sigma fic

Summary: Sigma hopes to transcribe the universe's melody, in hopes of awakening his true powers, but gets more than he bargains for when the government facility he has escaped from has found him once again.

Read it here, or find it on AO3

-

Sigma sits in front of a piano. Not the Bechstein studio grand piano that used to sit in his apartment in The Hague but a cheap, upright Yamaha instead. He knows it is old just from the touch, the damp thud of the keys and the slow responsiveness of the pedals. Most aggravating of all is the tuning, the way the notes sound off to his ears. He does not have perfect pitch, and he never will, but if he concentrates hard enough, he can feel the shape of a note. Middle C is a yellow circle, and if he rises it up to a D, it transforms into an orange triangle. He hypothesizes that his abilities over gravity have given him a sensitivity to the electromagnetic waves that make up sound, but he cannot test this without rigorous testing. The beauty of these powers is that there are so many potential experiments and possibilities.

It’s been a long time since he’s played. Or at least, he thinks it’s been a long time. The last time he had touched a piano was one week before he went up to the international space station that caused his accident, but time is no longer linear and memories no longer make sense and he cannot say how many years have already passed since then. Has it been three years or longer? He cannot say.

He very much prefers listening to music rather than playing it, but he does not have that luxury. Talon is many things but it is not a musically inclined organization. His previous request for an parabolic microphone must have fallen upon flat ears for the next day he gets a regular microphone, the kind used for karaoke parties. It didn’t even have the batteries in it. So it is a miracle of sorts that his request for a piano got through. It was probably salvaged from a nearby dump, but it is still in working order, and he is grateful for whatever gifts Talon bestow upon him.

His body suddenly stiffens as he feels a shift in the air. He turns his head slowly, eyes wide as he finds himself staring back into his face. Only it’s not his face but another version of him, decked out in the orange jumpsuit that government facility crafted specifically for him. His copy smirks sinisterly.

 “Gravity is like sanity. All you need is a little push.”

“W-w-what?”

 “They called the geniuses of old insane back in their times.”

He is frozen in fear, staring into a face that is his but not his. The other approaches him and places his hands on his shoulders. He can feel the energy being sapped away from his body, his twisted mirror image growing larger, impossibly larger than him. As the energy leaves his body, he can feel his mind clearing. As his mind clears, he can see this twisted alter ego for what it truly is. It is sin, the devil in disguise. And behind that disguise is the black hole that destroyed his career and his mind. And it laughs. It laughs so viciously.

He feels his body suddenly being rattled back and forth, and his mind is clouded once more. The cloned image of him is gone, replaced by an annoyed woman with chocolate skin and purple lips. Her hair is parted to one side, showcasing the cybernetic implants glowing on her skull.

“Are you OK, old man?” She huffs.

Sigma is about to say “no” but he shakes his head and clears himself of the hallucination. It is easier to keep the fractured pieces of his mind together when he has a familiar face by his side. “Y-yes, I’m OK. Sorry if I scared you, Miss Olivia.”

“Ay, don’t call me that. Call me ‘Sombra’ like everybody else.”

“Sorry. I’ll…try and remember for next time.”

“I give myself a cool name and no one takes it seriously anymore,” she mutters to herself. Her eyes fall on the piano. “We have a piano? When’d we get one?”

Sigma smiles, relieved for the change of subject. “I asked Talon to provide it for me. I told them it was necessary for my experiments.” He raises his eyebrows. “I guess you could say this is an instrument in more ways than one.”

Sombra makes a face that is a cross between a cringe and a wince. A lot of people make that face when he tells jokes. So many years later and people still do not appreciate a good pun.

“A-anyway, I had a breakthrough last night,” he continues. “I have harnessed the harness that is gravity, but I have yet to maintain it in whatever shape and form I desire. I was at a roadblock. Then, it hit me! I’ve been thinking about it all wrong, you see. I’ve been trying to use my equations and quantum instruments to further my research, but I’ve yet to use the most important tool at my disposal.” He smiles in excitement. “I’ve got the universe’s melody in my head, playing on repeat. I’ve heard it so many times before, so I must be able to play it in the real world. If my theories are correct, it is as simple as transcribing a piece of music by ear.” He plays a chord and frowns. “Unfortunately, it seems music appreciation does not equate to music composition.”

“Wait wait, so you’re telling me that playing the piano,” she gestures wildly at the object, “is going to help you create a black hole again?”

His eyes brighten. “Yes. That’s precisely it! I knew you would understand.”

Sombra raises her eyebrows in disbelief. Out of all the Talon operatives that Sigma has encountered, she is the least judgmental—or rather, she is the least likely to dismiss his ramblings completely. She can be rather judgmental when she wants to be, often when it comes to Reaper and Widowmaker, but she makes no remarks about him. Perhaps she thinks it is bad taste to make fun of a man crippled psychologically like he is. Or maybe she doesn’t care enough to say anything about it.

He turns back to the piano and starts playing discordant notes. It has been years since he played but he remembers how to lie his hands, where the keys were, how to make his fingers glide over the faux ivory. He’s almost startled by the ease in which he remembers, because he knows he cannot account this for mere muscle memory alone. There are some things people do not forget, he knows that, but it’s unnatural how comfortable he feels in front of the piano.

It’s almost as if he is supposed to be here. Like the universe is calling to him from within the hidden strings. His fingers fly across as if in a trance. He hears the whispering in the air, but he’s not sure if it’s the benevolent universe or the demonic other or some other creature outside the confines of time and space that have decided to play their games with him. He listens and copies their words. A dark expanse of his own creation surrounds him as his eyes turn cloudy.

He hears someone snap their fingers impatiently in his ears, and turns to find Sombra next to him. She looks annoyed but there’s a familiar shimmer of pity in her eyes. It betrays her, just like his mind betrays him.

“Earth to Sigma.”

He winces. “My apologies.”

“I don’t know what goes on inside your head. You have the thingy on. The pedal. You’re pressing on it.”

He glances down at his feet, which are currently covered in pink wooly socks. They are expensive, and currently his only frivolous purchase since joining Talon. He does not remember putting them on, or when he bought them, or why he chose pink of all colours. On closer inspection, he sees that his foot is firmly pressing down on the right pedal.

“Oh,” he says, surprised himself. “So I have.”

Sombra groans loudly. “I don’t know why they tell me to watch you. I just wanna go back to my computer and watch some videos. Play some games. Hack some dudes or something.”

Sigma frowns. “You do not have to supervise me if you don’t want to, Miss Oli—I mean, Sombra.”

“Nah, the boss will kill me if I do that. I gotta make sure you don’t get yourself into danger.” She walks over to the side and leans dramatically over the top of the piano. “C’mon, piano man. Play a song.”

“This piano is for research. It is certainly not to be played with.”

“But I’m so booored.” She rests her head on her arms. “You must know some song, right? Play me one.”

“I shouldn’t…” he begins to say, but his mind is already buzzing with the songs of his past. One sticks with him, imprinted in his soul. A song from his past that spoke of simpler times.

He looks up into her eyes and falls victim for her doe eyes. He takes a deep breath, composes himself as best as he can, and begins to play Erik Satie’s Gnossienne 1.

It’s not long before he gets lost in the melody. Music is a language as easy to speak as English and Dutch. Sentences flow from his fingertips, time condensed into notes and sounds. Dark magic threads and twists from his wrist as gravity lifts up and away from his body. His mind drifts away to become one with the song, splinters of his childhood resurfacing. Images of his piano instructor in his majestic home, stern and imposing. His father falls asleep for the last time in his study, the sky outside the window going from day to night, the stars twinkling in rhythm to the invisible song.

Objects float and fly above him. Particles transform into one-dimensional strings that ascend into higher dimensions. The piano rises with him. There’s a yelp of surprise. “Let me down, let me down!”

His eyes widen as he finally notices Sombra, flailing her arms as she floats helplessly in the air. In that instant the spell is broken and the world returns to clarity. Gravity returns with a shuddering thud as the two of them crash back down into orbit. He is able to land gently. Sombra does not have the same luck.

“D-Dios mio, you’re going to kill me!” She hisses, rubbing her backside painfully. He doesn’t want to tell her how lucky she was. A few centimetres to the right and she would have been trapped under the piano. On one or more occasion, he has commended Talon for having the mindfulness of nailing everything in his lab down. It has prevented more than a few accidents due to his ever shifting powers.

She looks at him sternly, fire in her eyes. He shrinks a little.

“I’ve theorized for a while that my abilities are linked to my mental and emotional state. It seems music is able to amplify my abilities.” Sigma puts his hand on his chin and frowns. “Perhaps later I can determine the source of this ‘amplification’ and utilize it myself. Right now, however, it is an unfortunate complication to my experiments.”

“I’ll say. You’re going to hurt yourself at this rate.”

“I realise that, but I am close, I can feel it.” His hands glide over the dusty top of the piano. “If I can just find the correct song, I might be able to harness the fullest potential of my abilities.”

“Then maybe put the piano in a different room? So you don’t destroy everything in this room if you do find it?” She suggests.

“No, I…it’s better that I am here, where I cannot hurt anyone.”

Death has unfortunately become the new norm in his life. As payment, Talon tasks him with going on missions with their officers, and that often leads to a battle to the death. No one expects an old man like him to fight, and they definitely do not expect to be flung around like paper ragdolls in the wind. It’s frightening how the guilt washes away easier the more blood he must spill. During one such mission, he almost found himself enjoying the violence.

He places his fingers back on the keys. Sombra takes her place in the far corner of the room and watches warily, away from danger. There are no more fluctuations in gravity that day.

-

He plays and he plays, morning day and night, but he is no closer to his goal. He has continued his normal experiments, with the piano experiments continuing during his break. He eats and drinks and sleeps, but it is at a bare minimum. Why is it now, when he seeks out the song does it decide to run away? Why is this silence louder than noise, overwhelming him with nothingness? Why is it when his mind has never been clearer does a part of him yearn for the spark of insanity?

There is madness in his actions, but it is controlled and tempered. His equations are correct, as they always have been. He has ripped out a bit of paper to write sheet music on and has done his best to interpret the song. He can only work through sound. If only he knows an expert in music composition, or sound engineering. His understanding of sound is limited to his extensive knowledge of electromagnetic waves. Tonality, timbre, chord structure, they are patterns he hears but does not understand.

It’s late at night but he presses onward. He’s close, so very close, and he must work now while his mind is still whole. The pieces never hold together for this long, and sooner or later it will fracture, but he must press onward while he still has control. He wants to feel normal, and to feel normal is to surround himself in his research, pushing forward to new limits and new heights. The stars call out for his name. First he must understand and master his abilities. Then he can continue his original dream to see the stars outside their humble galaxy and walk on the surface of planets that are not his home.

He doesn’t hear the thudding footsteps approaching in the dead of night. He doesn’t notice the red light on the security camera suddenly go dark or the crack of his lab door breaking open. It’s only when he hears the unmistakable sound of a gun’s safety being taken off that he finally notices that he’s no longer alone. Three men stand before him, each training their guns on him. The sigil of the government facility he escaped from is displayed fully on their uniforms. It taunts him in a way that a gun to the head cannot. His heart leaps out from his chest.

“Subject Sigma,” one of them barks. “Come with us quietly, or we will shoot.”

Despite every instinct in his body, he cannot move. He is frozen in place in front of the piano, trapped, as if he is still tied down to that accursed bed, like his freedom and everything since is a dream he has conjured. He can imagine their hands forcing him into horribly itchy orange jumpsuit, the unprofessional way they injected their sedatives into him, the way they talk about him like he’s beneath humanity, a hideous creature without thought or intelligence.

“Didn’t you hear what he said?” A second soldier growls. “Get a move on!”

His eyes glance around, desperate for a way to escape, but there is none. The exits are watched by more soldiers. The very safety features within this room, designed to minimize the harm he can cause with his powers, are now the portents of his doom. In this section of Talon’s HQ, no one will hear him if he screams, and even if someone does, he will have less than a second before he’s shot dead. He might be able to block or absorb most of the bullets, but it will be futile. It will buy him seconds, maybe a minute. It’s not enough.

Even the voice that screams for violence in his ear is unnaturally quiet. It knows that taking the offensive will not help them survive in this situation. They’re trapped.

The third man steps forward, a curious smile spreading across their face. He orders the other men to stand down. As Sigma watches, he sees that this man is not dressed like the others. He wore glasses over his eyes instead of the tactical masks everyone else did, and his uniform has the markings of a combat medic rather than a soldier.

“It’s good to see you again, Siebren.”

The realization floods him with a feeling of terror but he hides it behind his gritting teeth. This is the doctor that was in charge of him back then. This was his torturer above torturers, Satan amongst the demons. “Dubrovnik,” Sigma spat.

“You’ve done well for yourself, haven’t you? A nice fancy lab, some powerful friends on your side,” His eyes glance down. “Loving the socks. Really sells the old man look.”

“What do you want?”

“To finish my job, and that is to keep you contained,” Dubrovnik said.

“You cannot stop progress.”

“You are a threat to humanity.”

“I am in control.”

“Until when?!”

Sigma stiffens. Dubrovnik puts his gun away and approaches slowly, the hunter coming to collect his prize. Sigma doesn’t react when Dubrovnik tugs his chin forward, jerking his head up to look into those cold, black eyes. Dubrovnik is significantly shorter than him, but in his seated position, their heights are roughly equal. It’s a frighteningly familiar feeling, being manhandled like this, like he is just a piece of trash on the ground.

He wants to choke him, make him suffer, make him hurt in all the ways he has been hurt, but he can’t and Dubrovnik knows this. Dubrovnik relishes in it. He was, and still is, a sadist.

“Out of the oven and into the fire, right, Siebren?”

“What are you talking about?” He rasped.

“You don’t know what Talon is?”

“They saved me!”

“You never thought why?” Dubrovnik’s lips curl. “I’ll tell you why. It’s because they want a weapon. They want Excalbur, and you happen to be the one who pulled it out of the stone. They want war, Siebren, they don’t care about you. As soon as they can wield Excalibur for themselves, they will throw you away like trash. And when they have Excalibur, no one will be able to stop them. They are terrorists. You know this.”

He wants to tell Dubrovnik that he’s wrong, that Talon is an organization of intelligent men and women who want to help humanity take the next big step, but he sees the heat in Dubrovnik’s eyes and he cannot help but take pause. Dubrovnik truly believes this. But why? He is needed, he is important. They will not go through the trouble of saving one man unless he’s important. They have been so kind to him, provided so much for him. They will not abandon him…right?

Dubrovnik takes a step back, Sigma rubbing his neck self-consciously. He’s not sure he imagines it but there’s a flicker in Dubrovnik’s eyes, almost like he pities him.

“If you come with us, we will help you subdue these powers. No one will hurt you or use you. I promise.”

“How can you promise that, you Croatian hypocrite?” Sigma snarls.

“Because no one should wield the powers you wield. Not you. Not Talon. No one.”

Dubrovnik puts his hand out and Sigma is left dazed. He glances around at the guards, emotionlessly watching the exchange. As far as Sigma can tell, Dubrovnik is sincere. And that terrifies him, because Dubrovnik knows something he doesn’t. About Talon, probably.

Sigma realizes in that moment how little he knows about Talon. All he knows is that they support cutting edge research, and have a private military to protect themselves. What is Talon’s goal? Why did they bother with an old man like him?  

He almost reaches for that hand, but Dubrovnik’s form swirls and shifts and suddenly his mirror image is standing there, orange jumpsuit and bitter smile and all.

 “Will you really submit yourself to him again?”

“What else can I do?”

 “You know what to do.”

The mirror image gestures behind Sigma, pointing at the piano. His skin pales.

“I-I can’t. I need to hold it together.”

“A little push,” they say as Dubrovnik appears once again from the smoke. The mirror image is no more.

“If you’re done with your muttering, would you kindly come with me, Siebren?”

Sigma turns back to the piano, his eyes wide. He can hear the melody again. The universe is speaking for him again. It asks him to play its song. It shows him the chords. It tells him the price it will wreak upon his mind.

It’s a price he is willing to pay this time. He turns around and opens the lid for the piano.

“What are you doing?” Dubrovnik asks.

“Let me play one more song before I go,” he says. “It’s my final request.”

He sees the blank faces looking at him in the reflection of the lacquered wood. In the darkness he finds his place on the faux ivory easily. He presses his foot lightly down on the pedal, spreads his fingers on the keys, and pushes his fractured mind off the cliffside. With perfect precision he plays a song of his own creation, a tribute to the song the universe sings.

Memories of his past resurface. The bitter judgment of his academic rivals, the callous disregard of his piano instructor, the stars in the sky, the sorrow of losing his home, the rage of knowing no one cared enough to find him. Dark emotions coalesce into space as gravity releases itself from its chains, sending everyone in the lab flying. There’s screams and shouts as guns are ripped from people’s grasps. Dubrovnik is saying something to him. A plea, a beg, something along those lines, but all Sigma can see is the cosmos expanding, with him at the epicenter. He’s no longer playing the piano; gravity is doing the work for him. He flies above everyone else, his hand outstretched. With every bit of himself he loses, he gains control. The dark voice in his brain laughs in murderous glee.

“D-d-don’t do this, Siebren, please! You’re better than this! You’re not a murderer!”

Alarms are going off above his head, painting the room a bright red. People are holding onto each other, trying to hold on. They know what is coming before he does. Despite the chaos and turmoil before him, he is strangely at peace. The universe sings its lullaby to him from the piano. There is no time signature, no bars, no rhyme or reason. It should not work, but it does.

A placid smile escapes his lips as he brings everyone crashing down. The crunch of broken bones is followed shortly by the bellows of pain. The dark voice takes over, grabbing one of the guns, still hovering up in the air. He shoots—not accurately, but he shoots. There is silence, save for the klaxon above his head and the whimper of one more person.

Dubrovnik crawls towards the door, broken. His left shin bone is sticking out from his pants, trailing blood. Sigma calmly floats forward, the dark voice in control as he pushes the might of gravity upon Dubrovnik’s head. There’s a gasp of air, and then the crunch of bone, and finally a squish. Red liquid oozes out of every hole of Dubrovnik’s head.

It’s not long before Talon realizes the reason for the breach in their HQ. Reaper and Widowmaker are the first ones there, guns at the ready. They round the corner to Sigma’s office down, ready to fight, only to discover the aftermath of a bloodbath. The entire lab is splattered in crimson, dead bodies lying in crooked angles and twisted postures. A pile of guns are stacked in one corner, all crushed and broken. By the door, a man's head looks to have been squeezed together.

Sigma sits alone on the piano stool in front of the cheap, upright Yamaha piano. He is perfectly clean, as is the piano. As they tiptoe over the bodies, careful to not step on the blood, Sigma turns to them with a stern but relaxed expression.

“You’re late,” he says, before waving dismissively. “It’s fine, though. I handled it. I think I even learned a new trick or two.”

If Reaper is not wearing his mask, they would see his mouth open and shut. He’s speechless.

“Since you’re here, how about a song?” Sigma cracks his knuckles and places his fingers on the keys. “How about ‘Piano Man’ by Billy Joel? An old classic.”

No one says anything. Reaper and Widowmaker stand there while Sigma plays and sings along from memory. They do not move. Their eyes are concentrated on the swirling dark energy hovering over the piano, bopping in tune to the beat of the song.

[theonewithtoomanyideas]

Scene #1

Hi everyone! I just wrote a scene of my story that I’m particularly proud of. I’m super happy with the way it turned out and thought to share it with anyone who might want to check it out. It is my first draft, so it’s still a little bumpy at places and definitely not the final form.

Hope you all enjoy!

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For the life of him, Storm couldn’t figure out what kind of demon had been possessing his mind when he had decided that letting three chaotic girls aboard his ship had been a good idea. Oh, of course. Three chaotic girls and a dwarf. As if that made anything any better. It was annoying enough to watch the three ladies parade around the ship, whispering conspiratorially to each other. He didn’t need a grumbling dwarf chef to stomp around his ship’s kitchen, complaining of this and that. But Azalea had brought the tiny menace aboard the ship herself, not paying any attention to Storm’s death glares and silent threats. Even Thea, the ever dramatic princess, had wrinkled her nose at Azalea’s choice for a chef. If only Storm had the freedom to force the stubborn girl to cleaning duty…

Sometimes he truly doubted Shittar and her decision-making.

However, no matter how much he grumbled and frowned, he couldn’t deny that finding a chef for the ship had been one of the priorities and Azalea had understood it before he had. Whether the said chef was up to the task or not was something he was soon going to find out. He pushed the door to the kitchens open grudgingly and saw to his distaste that the three she-devils had already sprawled on the seats comfortably, talking and laughing amongst each other. Upon his entrance, Thea sat ramrod straight, holding her chin high as if Storm was a prince who had offended her choice of wardrobe. Neveah who was lounging comfortably in her seat straightened up, training her eyes to the table before her after giving him a polite smile in greeting. Storm couldn’t deny that the little black devil had impeccable manners despite having such a dark reputation. Some days he even forgot who she was and why she had been brought abroad the ship.

And then, there was Azalea…

She was sprawled on her seat comfortably, her feet propped up on the table in front of her. As she saw Storm enter the ship, she gave him a wave, smiling a friendly smile, all without changing the way she sat. The act only made Storm’s scowl deeper. He rolled his eyes at the three of them and chose the furthest seat from them, giving the three a sidelong glance as they started their whispering and giggling anew. To be fair, it didn’t seem that the black demon and the princess did much more than listening as Azalea recounted what seemed like a fairytale with fervor and enthusiasm. Storm wasn’t paying any special attention to the silly tale but even so, he couldn’t help but lend an ear to the gushing girl as she told her story. She was a good storyteller, he had to give her that. Though as an actual Storyteller… Storm wasn’t sure how that would play out. For a split moment, he felt immensely relieved that she wasn’t a Storyteller, because he wouldn’t know what to do with his ship then. And the poor newborns she’d have to write their stories as well. Truly, the image was so horrific that he had to shake his head several times just to banish it.

He was just wondering where the grumbling dwarf had gone off to when the door to the kitchen burst open, the said chef stomping in, complaints pouring from his lips left and right. Thank goodness that he was keeping his voice low for the sake of Storm’s sanity. Upon seeing Azalea’s comfortable posture and her feet that were still propped up on the table, the dwarf’s eyes grow to the size saucers and he sputtered incoherently. Silently, Storm grimaced as the dwarf exploded, “You ungrateful little pile of red straws!” A snort of laughter left Storm’s lips involuntary as he witnessed the wide-eyed look on Azalea’s face and the increasingly reddening face of the dwarf. “I cleaned the table just a minute before I left this kitchen. I leave for a moment to fetch plates for you uncultured blockheads and what do I come back to?”

Before the tiny dwarf could bombard her with any more insults, Azalea dropped down from the stool, her eyes wide with panic, and picked up the nearest rag. “Yes, sir. I’m terribly sorry, sir. I’ll clean the table right away.”

The dwarf’s eyes widened once more as his eyes landed on the rag in Azalea’s hands. “Not with the vegetables’ cleaning rag, you won’t,” he sputtered angrily.

Azalea immediately dropped the rag to where she had found it and picked up another. “Then with this one?”

“Just sit like a proper lady and don’t cause any more trouble, little nuisance.” The dwarf yanked the rag from her hand and dropped it into a bucket of water angrily, muttering and grumbling just loud enough for them to hear. “First she drops into my peaceful life, disrupting everything, then she dares tell me that her brother is soon to be a king. What lady of court acts like an annoying buzzing bee? Trouble after trouble, that girl.”

Storm was barely holding his laughter in, especially as he watched Azalea’s reddening face and her narrowed eyes. It looked like her faithful friends were not faring any better than Storm. Thea’s face was red with a barely contained smile and Neveah’s shoulders were shaking as she laughed silently. Azalea sent a glare to her friends and slumped down in her seat. For once, Storm took pity on the three of them and asked the dwarf with a neutral tone, “You never told what your name was.”

The dwarf sent a sidelong glance long enough for him to feel uncomfortable and shuffle on his seat. Finally, he returned to his task of cleaning the table and muttered underneath his breath, “And when could I have said it? When I was kicking the little pest out of my house, or when we were running away from the explosion?”

“You didn’t even live in a house,” muttered Azalea under her breath. This time when the dwarf sent her a withering look, she returned it with narrowed eyes. Still, in the staring battle between the two of them, she was the one who gave up first, turning her eyes away as she pouted angrily and crossed her arms.

The dwarf rolled his eyes and slapped the wet rag to the table a little more forcefully than necessary. “That little nuisance, bringing trouble after trouble into my calm, simple life,” he muttered again as he finally finished cleaning the table and dropped the rag where Azalea had first found it. He gave Storm another sidelong glance and declared, “Eino. That is my name. You may not call me with any other names.” He wrinkled his nose and added, “Or nicknames.”

“But you can call us other names and nicknames?” protested Azalea with narrowed eyes, challenging the dwarf with her gaze.

“I’d like to see you try and change that, little pest.” A grim smile of satisfaction split Eino’s lips as he watched Azalea sputter for a retort before she gave up and glared at the back of Eino’s head with a glare.

A grin of satisfaction grazed Storm’s lips at the sight of Azalea fuming. Perhaps bringing the dwarf abroad the ship wasn’t that bad of an idea, after all. He watched him as he poured the contents of the boiling cauldron into bowls, the liquid inside them swishing and wafting a mouthwatering aroma as he did so. “So,” began Storm with a good-natured smile, “what do we have for lunch, Eino?”

The dwarf gave him another sidelong glance, this time more assessing than begrudging. “I’m not running a show for your humor, boy,” he said with a slight narrowing of his eyes. Storm opened and closed his eyes several times, caught off-guard at the comment. Finally, he decided not to say anything and only watched him as he prepared the meal, running from one corner of the kitchen to the other like a tiny whirlwind.

“But truly,” said Neveah as she spared a glance to Storm, smiling a small apologizing smile his way. “What is it that you made, Eino?”

Eino turned to her with narrowed eyes and rested his hands on his hips, giving the girl one of his withering looks. Neveah, however, held his gaze the longest, not fazed by the dwarf’s assessing look at all. To Storm’s surprise, it was Eino who looked away this time, rolling his eyes dramatically as he did so. Storm supposed the black demon’s long life through centuries had made her more than prepared for things more sinister than Eino’s glares, as hard to believe as it was. Eino took two of the bowls, not paying any attention to them, and marched towards the table. “The fine meal of today is none other than my life’s supply of pain and misery,” he said in a dry tone before he slammed the bowls on the table, giving the four of them another look before he turned away to retrieve the other plates.

As it turned out, Eino’s life’s supply of pain and misery was none other than a regular stew he had thrown together with some meat and potato. The flavor, however, was like none other than Storm had tried. The overall taste of the food nearly brought tears to his eyes from how perfect it was. He soon found himself asking for a second serving despite Eino’s never-ending supply of grumbles and insults at the request. After he wiped the bowl clean for a second time, he had to physically stop himself from asking for another serving. He couldn’t lumber around the ship half-awake because he didn’t have enough will power to stop himself from eating too much stew, no matter how delicious it was. However, as he stepped away from the kitchen and the alluring smell of the stew, he couldn’t help but berate himself for not asking for just half a bowl more.

Curse Azalea and her choice for the ship’s chef.

[chaoskirin]

Fanfic -- A Temporal Folly -- CHAPTER 2

Fandom: Queen Genre: Sci-fi/Horror Rating: PG-13 Chapter Title: Aged (Chapter Two) Word Count: 1145 Chapter Summary: John seems to have been involved in some interesting shenanigans. He’d really rather nap, though.

There is something ethereal In the spaces between. Two lives choked by a grievous misjudgment A billion-trillion souls cradled gently out of existence And yet their folly Shines as bright as the sun...

 "It's okay, John, we'll reschedule the concert," said Brian, pacing in front of the cracked-leather couch. "They understand. They understand." "I'm more concerned about the elephant in the room," Roger replied, eyes narrowing at John, who lay sprawled across all three cushions. Once in a while, he'd open his eyes to check his surroundings or to reply to a question, but other than that, he was pretty still. The weird part wasn't his mere presence, though... Roger gestured. "You want to tell us why you're--" He couldn't quite put it into words. Well, he could. But it sounded absolutely ridiculous, and he couldn't possibly be seeing what he was seeing. The man on the couch was clearly John Deacon, yet he seemed to have aged backward. "Am I going crazy? You're seeing this, right?"

John laughed, the sound catching in his throat and turning into a cough. "I'm tired, Rog." To demonstrate, he closed his eyes again, pulling the cold compress down from his forehead and over his eyes.

"Can you tell us anything?" Brian asked.

"Made a mistake," was all John said.

Brian looped his arm through Roger's elbow and pulled him away, whispering, "at least that explains what we were feeling."

"It doesn't explain it at all!" Roger glanced back at John, whose arm slowly slipped off the couch and toward the floor. "It doesn't explain anything. I mean, he's not a spring chicken, as the Americans would say. But look at him. Look."

"I know," Brian replied. "What would you place him at? Thirty? Forty?"

"Always hard to tell with him." Roger rubbed the back of his neck. "He's got some grey, so..."

"I can hear you old goats talking about me," John grumbled. "It's loud enough in here with your stage guys everywhere--"

"We're exactly the age we should be," Roger argued. But he felt old. He felt it. In his heart.

"Old goats," John repeated.

"Well, clearly he's done something," Brian said, voice just a little quieter. He shook his head in disbelief, pale curls bouncing around his face.

"Not sure what you think he may have gone and did," Roger said. "It's not like you can go to the local chemist and buy a pill that'll shave thirty years off your life." He scoffed. "If that was the case, I'da done it already."

"So we're going with forty," Brian mused.

It took Roger a second to figure out that Brian was still talking about John's age. "It was an estimate. Why are you counting, anyway?"

"Because numbers are real, and this isn't."

Fair enough.

Roger dragged Brian past the partition their road crew had set up to give John a little privacy. Immediately outside it were people trying to peer through the gaps to get a glimpse of the reclusive John Deacon. They glanced up guiltily as Roger appeared, and Roger shooed them off with a grumbled quasi-threat to their manhoods.

Out here, outside of the little bubble in which they'd contained their friend, was chaos.

Their bodyguards were keeping a couple well-dressed women at bay. One of them was holding a microphone and repeatedly calling, "Brian May! Roger Taylor!" as if their first names wouldn't have sufficed. One of them held out a microphone like a backstage pass, as if that would gain her the access she desired. Roger grunted.

Brian gently reached out, his hand just brushing the arm of one of their sound crew as he rushed past. "Can you do what you can to get them to leave?" he asked, nodding toward the reporters. "I know it's not your job..."

"It's all right, Brian," he said. "We're trying, trust me."

"I do, Jacob."

The kid changed course, heading toward the bodyguards.

"You still know all their names," Roger observed with a chuckle. "Sometimes I forget my own lyrics. You still know each and every person that comes through our entourage, don't you?"

"I try. Nowadays I have to make flashcards." Brian arched his silver eyebrows, giving Roger a pointed look.

Relieved by the slight levity, Roger allowed himself to laugh.

Brian's cellphone rang. Or rather, it buzzed a bit from his pocket. He tried to keep it on him, even on stage, which Roger never understood. "You and Instagram," he muttered.

Brian shrugged, checking the screen. His expression quickly soured to a scowl. "John's wife," he said.

With sudden alacrity that betrayed his prior exhaustion, John crashed around the partition, knocking it over. It slammed onto the cement floor with an ear-splitting bang. "Don't answer it!" he cried.

Brian peered between the screen and John, then ignored John's protest and answered the call. After a brief greeting, he asked, "Everything okay, dear?" John returned to the couch, slumping down onto it and resting his face in his hands.

"Are you sure?" Brian asked, looking over his shoulder. "Right, yes, it's just--" Another long pause. Roger could see the gears turning behind those concerned, alert eyes, then he added, "I'm so terribly sorry. Of course. No, Roger's here. I'll--I'll tell him. And call me if you need anything. We'll be home straight away."

Roger tilted his head as Brian hung up. "Well?" he asked.

Brian stood, stunned, his expression blank. His jaw hung just slightly open as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't. After some anxious shifting, he returned to the couch and sat down next to John, and though he spoke to John, Brian met Roger's eyes. "She called to tell us you'd passed away," he said.

"What?" Roger demanded.

But John just nodded, as if he'd been expecting it. "I wanted to explain before--fuck. God dammit. Look, I don't know how to say..."

"You're not dead, though. Clearly." Brian put a hand on his shoulder.

"No. I mean yes. I am. I'm not. But there's--" John bit his lip. "There'll be a... There's a body."

He looked so defeated that Roger couldn't even say something brash and annoying, like You'd better start explaining this right now! He wanted to. Because out of every emotion one could experience, Roger hated confusion the most, especially because nothing at all about any of this made sense.

As if sensing Roger's irritation, Brian held out a hand and mouthed "just wait."

Needing something to occupy himself, Roger managed to right the partition, setting it a bit farther away from the couch than before. He stood at the perimeter, making sure no one came close enough to hear. Even after that, it took John many long minutes before he finally spoke.

He looked up, eyes wet with stress and unshed tears, and said, "There were two of us."

[starlit-scifi]

Chapter 9

First•Previous•Next

With just a week to go, your plans start coming together, much to your collective relief. You’ve solidified the route you plan to take, the experiments you’re going to do, the equipment and supplies you’re bringing with you. Lori’s just gone along with it for the most part, since she’s more preoccupied with writing programs for your airscreen as well as making sure you probably won’t die. As you’re entering the final stages of your preparations, she disappears often. Sometimes you don’t see her for days, and she only messages you to ask for details or data. You get it: from the little bit of programming you did for your lower-level classes, you know it can be a tremendous pain in the butt, and you feel guilty every time you message her because you’ve forgotten something else that she should add. Manda’s said she’s making sure Lori’s getting enough food and sleep—sometimes by force, which she assures you is just what a good roommate does— but you can’t help but worry when Lori doesn’t message back.

“She just gets really focused,” Manda reassures you when you ask about her over dinner. “She’s having fun, really. Mostly.” She frowns. “I should ask if she wants me to bring her something to eat.” She pulls up her messages, and you return to picking at your vegetables.

“Hey. Aurie.” You barely catch Hay’s soft voice over the dining hall chatter.

“Hm?”

“You know, you might be better off letting Lori know how you feel.”

You almost choke on what might have, at some point, resembled spinach. After a big gulp of water, you ask, “What do you mean?”

She smiles gently. “Tell her that you worry about her. That you care about her… and you really want to have a dynamic where you truly work together, not just lock yourselves away for days at a time. After all, you’re going to be together pretty much all the time.”

“Oh, yeah,” Manda says, having picked up on the end of your conversation. “It won’t be like it was on our mission: we shared a room but that’s pretty much it. We didn’t even eat together most days since our schedules were so different. You guys get to do what kids dream of when they first hear about the humans who left the Solar system! Not just some glorified internship, adventure.”

You’re relieved that the topic has turned away from anything having to do with feelings, because you don’t even know where to start with those.

“That’s the problem though, I’m really not suited for adventure. I barely pass the PT test suppies take,” you mutter at your dinner plate.

“You know she knows that, right? She wouldn’t have let you give yourself a goal you can’t handle. And you’re much more fit than you were a month ago.”

“I guess.”

“You are. Almost as good as our second-worst first-year.” You stick your tongue out at her and she cackles. Her airscreen goes off; she looks up and then grins widely. “Look who’s come out of her cave!”

A weary “hey” comes from your right and you quickly scoot over. She stares at you expectantly until you realize you should probably move your food as well.

“Long time no see,” you say lamely once she's settled down. She shrugs.

“Just busy. I finally finished though.”

“Oh, with the…”

“The map filters, yeah. That’s the last thing we needed, right?”

“I think so…” You try to remember, but suddenly your thoughts are a mess.

“Great,” she says with a tired smile. “And with just three days to go. I think we did pretty good.”

“'We'? You did most of the work! I just kept making more work for you…”

She shakes her head. “I’m comp sci, remember? Of course I’m doing most of the work up here; I won’t exactly have access to the school servers when we’re in the middle of the rainforest.”

“I… I guess, but…”

“Don’t worry. I liked the challenge.” She covers a yawn. “Please don’t ask me to add anything else though, unless it’s absolutely critical. I don’t think the airscreen can handle anything more… and honestly, neither can I.”

“Got it.” You take a deep breath before you add, “Thank you. For everything. I really couldn’t do this without you.”

“Me either,” she says softly.

Across the table, Manda and Hay exchange a glance. Manda gestures and mouths that she and Hay are going to go; Lori notices and mouths back, “good riddance”.

She busies herself with eating like she hasn’t eaten in days while you stare at your own plate of potatoes and protein chunks. Finally, you decide there’s no point in sitting there in silence, so you start to get up to leave.

“Hey, hold on,” Lori says. “I actually needed to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“Just…" She shrugs. "I know I’ve been really bad about, well, actually talking to you. Not about the mission, about…" She pokes at her food. "Everything else."

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you say quickly.

She frowns. “...I think there is.”

You shake your head. She sighs, and somehow manages to look more tired than she had a few seconds ago.

“Look, I… I don’t want you to feel like I’ve… I don’t know, abandoned you or anything,” she says with a shrug. “I’ve just been busy and—”

“It’s not that,” you snap.

She blinks, puzzled by your forcefulness. “Then…”

“It’s not anything. I’m fine.” You brush a strand of hair behind your ear, trying to collect yourself. “I’m fine. I need to go.”

And you manage not to let the tears fall until you've made it to your room.

---

-Hey

-Are you okay?

-Please respond.

-Please

Your airscreen buzzes again and you open your bleary eyes. It's way past your normal sleep time, not that you're probably going to be able to sleep tonight, but it still annoys you that she won't just leave you alone.

-I don't want to talk right now.

-Can we talk tomorrow then?

-I don't want to go into this if we can't stand being around each other.

-I don't know what I did wrong, but I need you to please just tell me.

-Let me try to fix this

-Please let me try to help

-You can't

-Why not?

Your chest aches.

-I don't want to talk about it.

-At least not over text

-Voice call then?

-No

Your fingers tingle. You wince and adjust the control bracelet.

-Meet me at the third level observation deck

--Ten minutes

---

When you get there, she's already waiting, idly poking around on a star map. It's late enough that the lights in the room are in night mode, so the soft blue glow of her airscreen display is the brightest thing besides the actual stars. She looks back over her shoulder as she hears your footsteps.

"Hey," she says, swiping the screen away.

"Hey."

You sit beside her, electric nervousness filling your veins as you stare out into the vast nothing beyond the thin bubble of safety of Unity's walls. She doesn't say a word, and you're as grateful as you are sorry for letting things get to this point.

"I don't want this to end, ever," is the best you can give her out of all the tangled thoughts you've had for hours and hours. She shifts in her seat but says nothing for a long moment.

"What do you mean?" She asks finally.

"This project. Our partnership."

"We have more than a year left. We can still be friends after we graduate. I'm not sure if it'll be easy to keep in touch, but we can try."

"That's not what I mean," you murmur. "At least, not exactly."

"Then… what?"

"I don't know," you lie. "But it scares me." And that's the truth.

She's quiet. It's so quiet that you can hear the vents come on. She pulls up her star map again, setting it to highlight the Alliance planets. A flick of a finger sets the constellation of blue dots spinning.

"I get it," she says softly. "It's like… the one nice thing you have, the one place you can feel safe, not alone, like you almost have a little bit of power over your life—it all goes away so quickly, right?"

"Yeah," you murmur. But that's not what I meant at all.

"I've been there. It's not easy, leaving behind the one place where you know people care about you. I'm sure your parents do, of course, but…"

"We aren't close."

"I'm sorry,” she whispers.

You shrug. "I can't change how they are or where work takes them. They love me, but… You're honestly closer to me than they are. And I…"

It's there. It's just there, on the tip of your tongue, but it evades you yet again.

"Aurie." You look up at her, startled. "I get it," she says, looking at you with a gentle smile. "Everyone needs family. Genetics don't make a family, being there for each other does."

You nod silently.

"And I'm here for you."

You nod again.

It should feel good. It should feel good, but you still feel hollow.

"Thank you," you whisper anyway.

There's no more words worth saying right now.

She plays around with her map, fingers dancing from planet to planet as you stare out into space, the hollowness punctuated by stars whose names you don't know.

"Aurie, look."

You turn towards her. She's marked four points on the map. You stare blankly for a couple seconds before you recognize one.

"Yanna… and Irthtu," you murmur.

"Yup. And Lotanak, and here's us, and that…" She touches the last yellow point, and the now-familiar description pops up.

"Bernubos-3."

"Yes. And all of these are home, in a way." The glow of the screen is reflected in her eyes as she gazes at you through the cloud of tiny stars.

"I guess so," you mumble.

Though the map of this side of the galaxy could fit in two outstretched hands, you know the distances between the planets are unfathomably great. Even going through hyperspace it would take a day to get home from here. With your current technology, it would take weeks to close the distance between her face and yours...

You shake your head and laugh.

"What?"

"No, um…" How could you even begin to explain that completely foolish train of thought? You scramble for an alibi. "At… At this point I think I know more about the soil biology of B-3 than my own home planet. It's just… weird, that's all."

"Same," she says with a shrug. "Though to be fair, I'm not a bio person. I'm just learning all this from you through osma— um—"

"Osmosis."

She chuckles. "Yes, that." Her expression turns serious again, but she can't hide the worry in her eyes. "But you're okay?"

Even the question is nearly enough to shake you apart again.

"I'm okay. I just need sleep."

"Okay. Me too." She flicks the display off again, and you start to get up. "Hold on," she says, and you turn back to her and your heart is suddenly going too, too fast…

"W-what?"

"Aurie… I just really need you to know that I'm here for you. That you can talk to me… about anything. Not just because we need to work together for Colab, but because I truly think of you as a friend." There's this genuine passion in those beautiful grey eyes and it breaks your heart. "I—I know you don't want to talk about whatever's going on, but I just want you to know that I'm here to support you. I really care about you."

And as you're staring at her, lost in this unnameable emotion and her eyes, she raises her hands. For a moment, you stare numbly at them, before you realize what normal is supposed to be, not some imaginary starship shooting across the galaxy but your cold fingertips pressed against the warmth of hers.

And now you truly crumble, and with her holding you, you've never felt more alone, yet so at home.

"You're going to be okay."

"Yeah."

"Everything is going to go smoothly."

"Definitely."

"You're not alone."

"Thank you,” you say, but it’s lost in a sob against her shoulder.

You're all cried out and she's falling asleep on her feet but she still walks you back to your room.

"Aurie?" she asks as you’re about to unlock your door.

"Hm?"

"Please try to get some sleep. Eat. Treat your body right. We only have two days now."

"You too."

She chuckles. "Trust me, Manda's making sure of that."

“Good.”

You stare at her for a long time, because there’s still something you need to say, but you don’t quite have the words. Finally, you just settle on,

“Goodnight,”

the same word that leaves her lips. She blinks, then laughs, and you laugh along with her, as tired as you are.

“We both need sleep,” she says finally, rubbing her eyes.

“We do.”

She hesitates, then asks, “See you tomorrow?”

You smile.

“Sure.”

First•Previous•Next

[gyromitra-esculenta]

So guess who’s writing stories about corn demons for Halloween? Part 1. Part 2. Also, meet the Ghost Cat.

“I hate this,” Jack throws the book to the side with a light growl in his voice. “I hate trains. I hate being cooped up in this damn compartment. Remind me again why are we exactly going by train?”

“We’re smuggling weapons through the international borders,” Gabriel shares the sentiment even if it is surprising coming from Jack who could spend literal days buried under covers in his own room.

“I know but, man, fuck trains, fuck trains, next time I’m in charge of transportation, you point, I get us there!”

“How?”

“I’ll get Lena to give us a ride in Slipstream,” Jack looks at him with his eyebrows raised.

“I don’t want to owe anything more to Bureau…”

“If anything, she owes me for that thing with Emily,” Jack interrupts him. “Wait, yeah, you wouldn’t know, Lena’s got a girlfriend now, and they both live on site, her name’s Emily,” he continues with a sudden burst of excitement and Gabriel comes to realization he had missed this, the way Jack’s face lights up when he speaks about people he considers friends. “She got herself involved with witches and possessed a bit, and then they hit it off, real hard. I think Petras got more than his share in the beginning, even changed his desk, yeah, it was funny to see them haul this ancient block of furniture out.”

And how Jack could babble away hours with the newest gossip which isn’t as unwelcome as he would have expected it to be now – but something starts to nag at him.

“Why weren’t you living on the base?”

“It felt empty after you were gone,” Jack shoots him a look, the cheerfulness vanished, ”didn’t even say goodbye, asshole, but I guess it’s ‘all in the package’ deal. Could have at least, you know, leave a card or something, not just up and vanish. Or call. There’s this thing called mobile phones, ring a bell?”

“It was better this way,” Gabriel averts his gaze, in the same instant annoyed the subject comes up and deeply relieved because it has finally been breached after three weeks back in Jack’s company.

“Better for whom?”

“Better for everyone involved.”

“You mean, better for you, so you could go wallow in misery on your own,” Jack turns to the window absentmindedly picking on his own shirt. “You know, if you had asked me, I would have gone with you, no questions asked, and besides, you came to me now that you need help.”

Maybe this was the exact reason Gabriel had not asked. Because, with Jack, things were always that complicated and that easy at the same time – but before he has a chance to answer a blue-greenish blur passes through the side of the compartment and hops on Jack’s lap. Dizzy.

“There you are, I was just starting to worry something ate you.” The ghost cat mewls and bumps Jack’s hand demanding his attention. She had to be put down long ago – and it was the only time he had seen Jack cry – but she never left. “Weren’t you ever curious about mirror boy?” Jack looks up when Dizzy settles on his lap after a minute or two of fidgeting. “Why some people call me that?”

Just like that, the subject is changed.

“You didn’t look like you were fond of it.”

“I’m not. Never was,” Jack sighs. “But that’s what landed me in Bureau. That’s what happened. I walked out of a mirror.”

“Only that?”

“No, of course not, because this was also the third time I met that other thing in the cornfields. You know, there are things you never notice how… strange they are. Because they are all you know. You never question why something is done because that’s how it always has been like, like the offerings left for the ‘corn demons’, or the dances only for the ‘younglings’,” Jack rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I grew up in a cult.”

“A cult? Nothing sounded like…”

“Because all of it was everyday stuff,” Jack continues. “The offerings, the prayers, the dances in the barn after which sometimes some people disappeared and no-one ever spoke about that but the things in the corn were quieter for some time. There was this tradition during the dances, a game for kids, you know, standing in front of the old mirror and reciting one of the prayers, and then maybe you’d see your future spouse in there. Some people claimed they saw something in the mirror, and people that were gone after the dances were always those who saw something. Not all of them but only them.”

“It was two and a half year after Tommy Lou, and everyone had already stood in front of the mirror except me because I knew, felt, something bad was going to happen, and I thought it won’t happen if I don’t look,” Jack chuckles mirthlessly, “but I was wrong, so wrong, and when I finally did because everyone was waiting for me, I didn’t even manage to start reciting because it was there, in the mirror, behind me. I think I screamed then, totally girlish shriek as it reached from the mirror and pulled me in through it into whatever was on the other side, and I didn’t even imagine that because I heard other people screaming.”

“It was dark and cold inside, a dead place with no life, and the only source of light was that mirror behind me. That thing held me in place not letting me leave as the screams from the other side changed,” Jack closes his eyes and in his mind the creature – withered down with age – pulls him into its embrace with slowness speaking of eons, and he raises his hands to gently trace fingers along the sides of its face now yellowed with time and in places black with rot. Even its eyes, once burning points of fire, now smolder dimly. Under his fingertips, the bone slowly crumbles away as the creature clutches at him with its failing grasp and they slowly sink to the ground together. This time it is him who cradles the creature to his breast. Maybe he is the last kindness the cruel fate affords it as it dies and turns into dust in a world gone cold and empty long ago. “I can’t tell you how long I was in there, you know, but when I went away and came back through the mirror, it had been three days, and people from Bureau were there.”

“Someone tipped them off about the cult?” Gabriel leans forward with elbows resting on his knees.

“Yeah. Kind of. The smell was awful, and the flies were everywhere. The buzzing was awful. It was late summer, it was hot. Thing is, thing is that those things, the demons from the corn, there was not one person left alive in the ten-mile radius. No animals. Everything butchered and left to rot in summer heat,” Jack draws in a shaky breath and Gabriel slowly moves to sit by his side unsure of his own actions – if there is any kind of comfort he can provide – but Jack leans into his embrace and lets his head rest in the crook of his neck. “They took me home so I could gather my things. I couldn’t go inside. There was a hand by itself on the porch, with a ring on, the flies were sitting on it, and it was mother’s. I couldn’t. And then, meowing loudly, Dizzy crawled from under the house, she was bloodied and sick, and missing her eye and ear, but she was alive, and she came to me.”

“I can see now why you love this dumb cat so much.”

“Yeah. She’s dumb and lazy but she’s the best cat ever,” Jack whispers and returns to petting Dizzy. “But I can’t… I can’t help thinking that maybe I was supposed to disappear after the dance, and everyone died because I wasn’t there for them to take me so they took everyone else.”

“If you had,” Gabriel kisses his hair, “then I wouldn’t be here.”

“Yeah. That makes it better,” Jack answers with no hint of sarcasm in his voice.

[rainagainstmywindow]

All Shades of You (Chapter 5)

Happy Birthday to Percy Jackson! This is super fluffy so it commemorates the Percabeth anniversary as well too I believe. Thanks as always to my lovely beta @san-penedo and enjoy the small lifeguard!Percy i managed to sprinkle in there! (please search #ramwfics or #ASoY for previous chapters)

Percy groaned as he attempted to read the same passage of his history textbook for what appeared to be the hundredth time. The exhaustion that weighed over him thanks to swim practice two hours prior didn’t help either, nor the fact that he had to wake up early tomorrow for his dog-walking gig. He would have little time the rest of the weekend to catch up on homework since he’d taken on extra shifts at the local pool where he worked as a lifeguard to make up for what he couldn’t work during the weekdays now that he was in the swim team.

He got halfway through the passage once again but it was no use, the words just taunted him from the page, dancing around in weird, curvy waves. Frustrated, he slammed the book shut, immediately flinching at the sound. He hadn’t heard anyone come in but Smelly Gabe would give him hell for making any noise during his precious “TV time.” Percy slowly poked his head out of his room and was relieved to find he was home alone. His stepfather was probably out drinking with his buddies and his mom should’ve been heading home from the candy shop. He felt his phone buzz. It was a text from Sally.

Will probably get there in a few hours. Had to close up late and I stopped to get some groceries. Don’t wait up. Love you

Percy texted back a quick reply, knowing full well she was probably closing up but at a new job. She had not wanted to admit it when he’d asked, too concentrated on congratulating him for making the team, but this definitely put a strain on money. His school tuition had already been too much even when he was working more frequently. He wondered once again if this was worth it, if he was worth it. He knew his mom wanted him to have what she didn’t, to finish high school and make it out of this neighbourhood. But he’d only managed to screw up every chance he’d gotten so far, and college just seemed too out of reach. His stepfather seemed to agree with it all being a waste. I won’t waste a dime on your little delinquent kid, Sally! Percy had heard him and his mother arguing after she’d gotten Percy the interview at Goode. As if Smelly Gabe had ever contributed anything but anxiety to Percy’s life. He’d silently prayed he wouldn’t be allowed into the school, didn’t really see how considering his record and poor grades. But, somehow, he’d made it in.

He made his way into the kitchen and rummaged through the fridge. He’d made sure to have an extra large lunch but he had not eaten since practice and he was starving. Percy looked at the clock. 10:32 pm. He figured Beckendorf would be at his apartment, getting back from work himself. Last year he would alternate his time between practice and Beckendorf’s apartment. Most days Grover would join them and they would pass the time bothering Beckendorf about Silena or playing with Mrs. O’Leary. Yet another thing Percy had screwed up when he got himself kicked out. He slammed the fridge door too, this time flinching because he knew he couldn’t afford to break the old thing. It’s not like Beckendorf had stopped inviting him over. He’d even hung out there a few days ago. Percy just couldn’t help but feel guilty whenever he saw him.

In the end, his own boredom and frustration won and he found himself in front of Beckendorf’s door. Mrs. O’Leary must’ve heard him come because Percy could hear her barking through the door. A few seconds later there was Beckendorf staring down at him, still im his mechanic overalls. “Hey! Everything okay?” Percy didn’t miss how his dark eyes scanned his face. There had been a couple of times last year when he’d knocked on his door later at night looking worse for wear.

“Yeah,” he answered casually, “I just got bored. Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course.” Beckendorf stepped aside, making sure to hold on to Mrs. O’Leary’s colar. The large Rottweiler had started bounding happily at the sight of Percy, who scratched her ears on his way in. Beckendorf knew Percy too well. “You hungry?” He asked as they shuffled into his living room/kitchen.

Percy tried not to look too embarrassed as he admitted: “I’m starving.”

************

“What?” Percy asked Grover for the second time. He’d been too focused on a scrawny kid flopping around in the pool in front of him to hear what his friend was saying. He’d seen the kid before, not the strongest swimmer but Percy could tell it was more due to lack of confidence than anything else. He’d seen him manage quite well in the shallower parts of the pool. Today it seemed like he’d finally decided to try out the deeper end though. The kid’s parents were nowhere to be seen, and Percy could see the panic starting to creep into his face as he realized the water was too deep to stand in. “I’ll be right back.”

Percy slid into the water. He didn’t want to make a scene since the kid wasn’t actually drowning and he wanted to give him a chance to get out of there by himself. The boy spotted him right away, relief evident in his face. Percy was tall enough to stand in this part of the pool so he made his way slowly towards him. “Hey there.” The kid didn’t make a dash to hold onto him so Percy knew hadn’t gotten too desperate, but the way he was flopping around would tire him out soon enough. “What’s your name?”  

The kid, looking mildly embarrassed, told him it was Trevor. Slowly but surely, Percy got Trevor to paddle to a shallower part of the pool. His parents finally made an appearance not soon after. “Hey ma’am,” Percy called. They were clearly here just to pick him up and they didn’t look too happy about it. The father hadn’t even looked up from his phone. “Is this your kid?” The mother, a woman that appeared to be blonde with unusually dark skin (through his limited color palette Percy assumed it was due to a bad tanning job), looked him up and down but didn’t find it within herself to answer. “I had to help Travis swim away from the deeper end of the pool. He’s not a strong enough swimmer yet for you to leave him on his own like-”

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you complaining about doing your job?” The woman’s tone made Percy’s blood boil but he clenched his fists to keep his temper in check. He didn’t need any complaints going to his supervisor. He tried to apologize but the woman was too busy yanking Trevor out of the water to care. Percy tried to put on a fake smile as he waved goodbye to the kid and sulked back to his chair.

Grover looked distastefully at the spot where the woman had gone. “A plus parenting, huh?”

Percy rolled his eyes in agreement and slumped back into his chair. “What were you saying before?”

“Oh right,” Grover tried to calm his nerves, but he’d never been a good liar and Percy knew him pretty well by now. Grover was hoping to catch Percy in a good mood since he knew he wouldn’t like this next part very much. “Well, you know how you’ve been telling me you’ve been struggling with homework lately?”

That question alone was enough to hit a nerve. “I’m not struggling, Grover. I was just saying that I’m tired and I hate reading.”

“Yeah, well I was talking to Annabeth-” Grover held up a pleading hand before Percy could interrupt him- “She’s really smart, Percy! She could help you out after school!”

“Why did you have to tell her anything? I don’t even know her!”

“I didn’t tell her anything about that!” Grover argued. He knew it was hard for Percy to talk about people about his dyslexia and ADHD; he wouldn’t betray his trust like that. Little did Percy know, however, that Annabeth was in the same boat. “I just told her you needed some help with some subjects because I know she’s really good at all that stuff and she actually volunteered herself to tutor you.” It had taken Grover aback a bit actually. Annabeth was nice and always there to help, but she didn’t take on to new people right away. Grover hadn’t gotten the impression that she disliked Percy, but it usually took her a lot longer to show interest in new people. The only other person he knew she’d gotten along with right away was Thalia. Now that Grover thought about it, Percy and Thalia did have a lot in common, though.

“Tutor me?” Percy was looking thoroughly annoyed, eyes fixed on the water before him.

“She’s not going to charge you or anything,” Grover winced at his own comment. It was hard to manage Percy’s temper around this subject. He hated feeling pitied and wasn’t big on asking for help. “She’s just trying to help and she’s new here. She doesn’t know many people besides me and Thalia.” Percy sighed. “She’s the smartest person I know, Percy. I trust her. You met her. She’s cool.” Grover could tell he was going to give in. He knew Percy was worried about keeping his grades up. His swim coach had let him on the team under the condition that he would get his GPA up enough to get out of probation from the school. Grover was also secretly excited about his two best friends possibly becoming friends themselves.

“Fine,” Percy finally said, bringing his whistle up to his lips at the sight of a group of small girls chasing each other. He gave one firm blow and pointed at the sign that read No Running when they both whipped their heads towards him. “I’ve got some free time on Monday after practice.”

*************

Annabeth tapped her pen impatiently against the table she’d settled in at the library. It didn’t help her temper that today she found out that this same pen, which she’d been using since the beginning of the semester, was bright red. The color of romance, her father had once jokingly told her. And danger, Annabeth now thought. Yeah, that seemed more accurate in her case.

The guy was almost an hour late. She was about to give up when she heard what sounded like a chair being knocked over, a loud hush, and a quick apology. A few seconds later, there was Percy Jackson. His hair was still wet from what she assumed was swim practice and he was holding a battered skateboard under his arm. Annabeth was once again struck by the intense green of his eyes. She thought she’d gotten used to the color after seeing it everywhere for the past couple of weeks, but it still floored her. There was nothing else that was that exact shade of green.

“You’re late.”

He at least managed to look guilty as he pulled a chair out noisily, earning him a death glare from the librarian at the desk. “I know. I’m so sorry. We ended late and the subway broke down or something.”

Annabeth would’ve shrugged that off as a half-assed excuse but every time she’d gotten on the subway that week it had stopped for almost an hour. Percy also had a very sincere way of saying things that kind of put her on edge. She waved her hand dismissively. “It’s fine. Did you bring your book?” He pulled a history textbook from his battered backpack. She tried to ignore the fact he’d dogeared the page. “Fall of Constantinople, right?”

“Yeah.” She could tell this whole ordeal embarrassed him a little. It was becoming harder and harder to remember she was annoyed at him. “I just...can’t seem to understand why this city was so important. From what I managed to extract from the other chapter, it seems like this whole empire was already done for.”

“I mean it was certainly in decline, and the Ottoman Turks had taken the Balkans and Anatolia by this point. So that made Constantinople the last city holding up what used to be this seemingly unbreachable empire.” Annabeth saw Percy nodding along and jutting down some notes. There was no other way to call it, it was cute. “Constantinople also represented Mehmed’s rival religion.”

“Wait, so he tried to take it again? This Meh...however you say his name? He’d already tried before, right?”

“No, that was his dad.” Annabeth leaned closer to the passage Percy was looking at. He pushed the book towards her so she could get a better look. The font was so tiny that Annabeth almost got dizzy. It would’ve taken her almost an hour to decipher just one paragraph. She pushed the book back towards him, hoping he hadn’t noticed. Thankfully, she had always been good at remembering names and they’d gone over this in her school in San Francisco last year. “Murad was the one who failed to take the city and then his son Mehmed tried again and succeeded. He got this Hungarian artillery expert, Urban I think he was called, to build him a cannon powerful enough to take down the walls of the city.”

“Sorry, could you spell that last name?”

Something about the question made Annabeth falter for a second. Percy appeared to understand most of what they were talking about. It was the names that seemed to stump him. It sounded a little familiar. “Sure.” Annabeth spelled the name out for him and she watched him make some new notes. She thought about how Grover never failed to bring up Percy one way or another when she complained about homework assignments. “Once Mehmed seized the city he used the emperor’s famed cathedral as a mosque. I can’t remember the name though. Is it in your book? I don’t know if they’d want you to know it for class.”

Annabeth observed as Percy scanned the page; she could practically feel the frustration oozing off of him. She was absolutely certain her suspicions were correct when she saw him push the book a bit far away, a trick she herself had tried many times. “Hey Percy,” he grunted in response, still absorbed in the textbook, “are you maybe...dyslexic?”

She felt him tense right away. Grover hadn’t told her for a reason, it was clearly a touchy subject for him. Annabeth was grateful that Grover had also clearly failed to tell Percy about her. “I just think that’s why Grover brought all of this up.” He was now looking at her, a complicated look on his face, like he didn’t know whether or not he should be getting offended. “It’s just that,” it had always been hard for her to talk about it too. It was like a cosmic joke for someone that loved reading so much to be made in a way that made it almost impossible to do so. “I am too, dyslexic I mean. Just looking at that book just now made me want to throw up.” His expression immediately softened. Annabeth noted the way he could easily go from one emotion to another. “That font size is awful.”

“I know right. And it’s and older edition so it doesn’t have an audio version.”

“I think I still have one for my textbook last year. I don’t know if it has everything in this one but-”

“No, yeah. That’d be great! I mean if you don’t mind-”

Annabeth chuckled, definitely cute. “I don’t, Percy.”

He thanked her once again and they finally exchanged numbers. They got through the main events of Constantinople. Annabeth remembered everything pretty well and Percy took notes. She felt light as a feather the whole time. She tried to ignore it. It’d never been this way with anyone she liked in the past. Her crush on Luke had been anything but light. Being with Percy was just nice. She didn’t know about the whole ‘soulmate’ ordeal, she didn’t even know if she liked him that way really, but she definitely wanted to hang out with him again.

An hour later he casually checked his phone and almost jumped off his chair, earning him yet another glare from the librarian. Annabeth tried to mask her snort as a cough. “Sorry,” he said quickly. He turned to Annabeth. “I have to go. Are you free Thursday?” She was pretty sure she would be but she’d have to check. She could tell he was in a hurry though so she told Percy she’d text him. “Thanks again! See you then.”

Annabeth smiled silently to herself as Percy hurried out of the library, bumping into several chairs and failing beautifully at making a quiet exit. Her smiled melted when she looked down at the pen she was still holding. Bright red.

[mrkwonandmrchoibabygirl]

NOW~G-Dragon pt.17

Genre:Angst/SMUT Rated:NSFW Pairing: GD X Reader wordcount:5,426 Masterlist DISCLAIMER!:remember this is just an edit of an original book called after by anna todd i do not own this book! (if you want another edited part quick i want 50 notes and i will upload today or much sooner then i planned!)your thoughts ...ask box

Pulling into the spot next to Tae, I text Seungri to tell him that I have arrived. He writes back immediately with a note to meet him at the far left corner of the field.

I tell Tae where he’ll be as he and Rin walk up.

“Sounds good,” he says, but he seems less than thrilled.

“Who’s Seungri?” Rin asks.

“He’s my . . . friend.” He is just my friend.

“Jiyong’s your boyfriend, right?” she asks.

I look over at her. She doesn’t seem to be implying anything, she just seems confused. Welcome to the club.

“No, babe.” Tae laughs. “Neither of them are.”

I laugh, too. “It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

Right as we get to where everyone is, the school band begins to play and the field becomes more and more crowded. I’m relieved when I spotSeungri leaning against the fence. I point him out, and we head over there.

“Oh,” Rin squeals as we get close. I can’t tell if she’s surprised by his tattoos and piercings, or his good looks. Maybe both.

“Hey, beautiful,” Seungri says, beaming, and hugs me. I smile at him, returning the hug.

“Hi, I’m Seungri. It’s nice to meet you both.” He nods toward Tae and Rin. I know he’s met Tae before, so maybe he’s just trying to be polite.

“Have you been here long?” I ask.

“Only about ten minutes. A lot more people here than I expected.”

Taeyang leads the way to a less crowded area near the enormous mound of wood, and we all sit on the grass. Hyo-Rin sits between Tae’s legs and leans back against his chest. The sun is going down and the breeze is picking up. I should have worn long sleeves.

“Yeah, have you been to one of these before?” I ask Seungri, who shakes his head.

“No, this isn’t my typical scene,” he says with a laugh before adding, “But I’m glad to be here tonight.”

I smile at his compliment and right then someone walks up to the central bandstand and gives us all a warm welcome on behalf of the school and the band. After a couple of minutes of rambling on, they finally count down to the lighting of the fire, and three, two, one . . . the fire ignites and swallows the mound of wood fiercely. It’s actually quite beautiful being this close to the flames, and I can tell I’ll be warm enough after all.

“So how long are you here?” Seungri asks Rin.

She frowns. “Only the weekend. I wish I could come back for the wedding next weekend.”

“What wedding?” Seungri asks.

I look at Tae, who answers, “My mother’s.”

“Oh . . .” He pauses and looks down, as if thinking about something.

“What?” I ask him.

“Nothing. I’m just trying to remember who else said something about a wedding next weekend . . . Oh yeah—Jiyong, I think. He was asking us what he should wear to a wedding.”

My heart stops. I hope I don’t show it on my face. So Jiyong definitely still hasn’t told any of his friends that his father is the chancellor, or that he’s marrying Taeyang’s mother.

“Bit of a coincidence, right?” he asks.

“No, they are—”Hyo-rin begins, but I interrupt: “Quite a coincidence, but, then, in a town this size, there are probably a few every weekend.”

Seungri nods in agreement, and Taeyang whispers something in Rin’s ear.

Jiyong is actually considering going to the wedding?

Seungri chuckles. “I can’t imagine Jiyong at a wedding anyway.”

“Why not?” My tone is a little harsher than I meant it to be.

“I don’t know, because he’s Jiyong . The only way to get him to go to a wedding would be if he knew he could have sex with the bridesmaids. All of them,” he says and rolls his eyes.

“I thought you and Jiyong are friends?” I say.

“We are. I’m not saying anything bad about him—that’s just how Jiyong is. He has sex with a different girl every weekend, sometimes more than one.”

My ears are buzzing and the fire feels too hot on my skin. I stand up before I realize what I am doing.

“Where are you going? What’s wrong?” Seungri asks.

“Nothing, I just . . . I need some air. Some fresh air,” I mumble. I know how stupid that sounds but I don’t care. “Be right back, I just need a second.” I march away quickly before any of them can follow me.

What is wrong with me? Seungri is sweet and he actually likes me, he enjoys my company, and yet all it takes is a mention of Jiyong and I can’t stop thinking about him. I take a quick stroll around the stands and few deep breaths before walking back over to them.

“Sorry, the fire was just . . . too hot,” I lie and sit back down.

Seungri has his phone out and turns the screen away from me as he slides it back into his pocket. He tells me it’s fine and we make small talk with Taeyang and Hyo-Rin for the next hour.

“I’m getting sort of tired, I had an early flight,” Hyo-rin finally tells Tae, who nods.

“Yeah, I’m tired, too. We’re going to get going.” Landon stands up and helps Rin to her feet.

“Do you want to go, too?” Seungri asks me.

“No, I’m okay. Unless you want to?”

He shakes his head. “I’m cool.” We say goodbye to Taeyang and Rin and watch as they disappear into the crowd.

“So what’s the reason behind the bonfire?” I ask Seungri, unsure that he really knows.

“I think it’s like to celebrate the end of the football season,” he tells me. “Or the middle of it, or something . . .?” I look around and notice for the first time that a lot of people are wearing jerseys.

“Oh.” I look over at Seungri. “I see it now,” I say and laugh.

“Yeah,” he says and then squints. “Is that Jiyong ?”

I snap my head in the direction he’s looking. Sure enough, Jiyong is walking toward us with a short brunette wearing a skirt.

I scoot closer to Seungri. This is exactly why I didn’t listen to Jiyong on the porch—he’s already found some girl to bring here just to spite me.

“Hey, Seungri,” the girl says in a high-pitched voice.

“Hey, Emma.” Seungri hooks his arm around my shoulder. Jiyong glares at him but takes a seat with us.

I know I am being rude by not introducing myself to this girl, but I can’t help but dislike her already.

“How’s the bonfire so far?” Jiyong asks.

“Warm. And almost over, I think,” Seungri replies.

There is tension between the two of them. I can feel it. I don’t know why there would be— Jiyong made it clear to his friends that he doesn’t give a shit about me.

“Do they have food here?” the girl says in her annoying voice.

“Yeah, they have a concession stand,” I tell her.

“ Jiyong , come with me to get some food,” she demands. He rolls his eyes but stands up.

“Bring me back a pretzel, yeah?” Seungri yells, smiling, and Jiyong clenches his jaw.

What is up with them?

As soon as Jiyong and Emma disappear I turn to Seungri. “Hey, can we go? I don’t really want to hang out with Jiyong ; we sort of hate each other, in case you forgot.” I try to force out a playful laugh, but it doesn’t happen.

“Yeah, sure, sure,” he says. We both stand up and he reaches for my hand. We hold hands as we walk, and I find myself looking around for Jiyong and hoping he won’t see.

“Do you want to go to the party?” Seungri asks as we reach the parking lot.

“No, I don’t really want to go there, either.” That is the last place I want to go.

“Okay, well, we can just hang out another . . .” he begins.

“No, I still want to hang out. I just don’t want to be here or at that frat house,” I say quickly.

He looks surprised as his eyes meet mine. “Okay . . . well, we can go to my place? If you want; if not, we can go somewhere else? I actually don’t really know where else to go in this town.” He laughs and I join him.

“Your place is fine. I’ll follow you there,” I tell him.

During the drive, I can’t help but picture Jiyong’s face when he returns to find us gone. He brought a girl there with him, so he has no right to be upset, but it doesn’t really ease the pang in my stomach to justify it like that.

Seungri’s apartment is right off campus and is small but clean. He offers me a drink, but I decline since I plan on driving back to my room tonight.

I plop down on the couch, and he hands me the remote before going back to the kitchen to make himself a drink. “You can be in control; I don’t know what you like to watch.”

“Do you live alone?” I ask him and he nods. I feel a little awkward as he sits next to me and puts his arm around my waist, but I hide my nervousness with a smile. Seungri’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he stands up to answer it. Holding a finger up to tell me he will be back, he wanders into his small kitchen area.

“We left,” I hear him say. “So . . .” “Fair.” “Too bad.” The few snippets of conversation that I catch make no sense to me . . . except the “we left.”

Is that Jiyong on the phone? I stand up and walk toward the kitchen as Seungri hangs up.

“Who was that?” I ask.

“No one important,” he assures me and leads me back to the couch. “I am really glad we are getting to know each other; you’re different from the rest of the girls here,” he says sweetly.

“Me, too,” I tell him. “Do you know Emma?” I can’t help but ask.

“Yeah, her girlfriend is Daesung’s cousin.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Yeah, they have been together awhile. Emma’s pretty cool.”

So Jiyong wasn’t there with her, not in that way at least. Maybe he actually came there to try to talk to me again, instead of trying to hurt me with another girl.

I look over to Seungri just as he leans in to kiss me. His lips are cool from his drink and taste like vodka. His hands are careful and smooth against my arms, then my waist. Jiyong ’s heartbroken face from earlier pops into my mind, the way he begged for one more chance and I didn’t believe him, the way he watched me drive away, the outburst in class about Catherine and Heathcliff, the way he always shows up when I don’t want him to, the way he never tells his mother that he loves her, the way he said he loved me in front of everyone, the hurtful way he took it back, the way he breaks things when he’s angry, the way he came to his father’s house tonight even though he hates it there, and the way he asked his friends what to wear to the wedding—it all makes perfect sense, but no sense, at the same time.

Jiyong loves me. In his own damaged way, he does love me. The realization of this hits me like a truck.

“What?” Seungri says and pulls away from our kiss.

“What?” I repeat his word.

“You just said Jiyong .”

“No, I didn’t,” I defend.

“Yes, yes, you did.” He stands up and steps away from the couch.

“I have to go . . . I am sorry,” I say and grab my purse and rush out of the door before he can say anything else.

I take a second to think about what I am doing. I left Seungri to go find Jiyong , but I really need to think about what will happen next. Jiyong will either say terrible things to me, curse at me, and make me leave, or he will admit that he has feelings for me and that all these games he has been playing are just his way of not being able to deal with and express his feelings in a normal way. If the first scenario happens, and I mostly expect it to, I will be in no worse a state than I am in now. But, if it’s the second, am I ready to forgive him for all the terrible things he has said and done to me? If we both admit the way we feel about each other, will everything change? Will he change? Is he capable of caring for me the way I need him to, and, if so, am I capable of putting up with his mood swings?

The problem is, I can’t answer any of these questions on my own, not a single one. I hate the way he clouds my thoughts and makes me feel unsure about myself. I hate not knowing what he will do or say.

I pull up to the damned fraternity house that I have spent way too much time in. I hate this house. I hate a lot of things right now, and my anger toward Jiyong is almost to its boiling point. I park at the curb and rush up the steps and into the crowded house. I head straight for the old couch Jiyong is usually perched on, but, not spotting his mop of hair, I duck behind a heavyset guy before Hyuna or anyone else can spot me.

Rushing up the stairs to his room, I bang my fist against the door, annoyed that once again he has it locked.

“ Jiyong ! It’s me, open the door!” I yell desperately and continue to pound, but there’s no answer. Where the hell is he? I don’t want to call him to find out, even though that is obviously easier, but I’m angry and I feel like I need to stay angry so I can say what I mean—what I need to say—and not feel bad about it.

I call Tae to see if Jiyong is at his father’s, but he isn’t. The only other place that I know to look is the bonfire, but I doubt he would still be there. Still, I don’t have any other options right now.

So I drive back to the stadium and park my car, repeating the angry words I have saved for Jiyong over and over to make sure I don’t forget anything in case he actually is here. Approaching the field, I can see that almost everyone has left already and the fire is almost out. I walk around and squint in the dying light and stare at couples to see if they are Jiyong and Emma, without luck.

Just as I decide to stop looking, I finally do see Jiyong leaning against the fence by the goalpost. He is alone, and doesn’t seem to notice me walking toward him as he takes a seat on the grass, wiping his mouth. When he removes his hand, it looks red. Is he bleeding?

Suddenly Jiyong’s head snaps up as if he can sense my presence, and, yes, the corner of his mouth is bleeding and the shadow of a bruise is already forming on his cheek.

“What the hell—” I say and kneel down in front of him. “What happened to you?” I ask.

He looks up at me and his eyes are so haunted, my anger dissolves like sugar on my tongue.

“Why do you care? Where’s your date?” he growls.

I click my tongue gently and move his hand away from his mouth, examining his busted lip. He jerks away from me but I bite my tongue. “Tell me what happened,” I demand.

He sighs and runs his hand over his hair. His knuckles are busted and bloody. The cut on his index finger looks deep and very painful.

“Did you get in a fight?”

“What gave you that idea?” he snaps.

“With who? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I am fine, now leave me alone.”

“I came here to find you,” I tell him and stand up, wiping the dead grass off my jeans.

“Okay. And you found me, so go.”

“You don’t have to be such an asshole,” I say. “I think you should go home and get cleaned up. You might need stitches on that knuckle.”

Jiyong doesn’t respond but stands up and walks past me. I came here to yell at him for being such an idiot and tell him how I feel, and he’s making it very hard—I knew he would.

“Where are you going?” I ask, following him like a lost puppy.

“Home. Well, I’m going to call Emma and see if she will come back and pick me up.”

“She left you here?” I don’t like her at all.

“No. Well, technically, but I told her to.”

“Let me take you,” I say and grab his jacket. He shrugs me off, and I want to slap him. My anger is returning and I am more pissed-off than before. The tables have turned; our . . . whatever this is has shifted. I am usually the one running from him.

“Stop walking away from me!” I yell and he turns around, eyes blazing. “I said let me take you home!” I scream.

He almost smiles but frowns instead and sighs. “Fine. Where’s your car?”

Jiyong’s SCENT IMMEDIATELY fills the car, only now there is a hint of metal mixed in; it’s still my favorite smell in the entire world. I turn the heat on and rub my arms to warm up.

“Why did you come here?” he asks as I pull out of the parking lot.

“To find you.” I try to remember everything I had planned to say, but my mind is blank and all I can think about is kissing his busted mouth.

“For what reason?” he asks quietly.

“To talk to you, we have so much to talk about.” I feel like crying and laughing at the same time and I have no idea why.

“I thought you said we didn’t have anything to talk about,” he says and turns to look out the window with a coolness I suddenly find beyond irritating.

“Do you love me?” The words come out rushed and strangled. I had not planned on saying them.

His head snaps to the side to look at me. “What?” His tone is one of shock.

“Do you?” I repeat, worrying that my heart might pop right out of my chest.

He focuses forward. “You are not seriously asking me this while we are driving down the street.”

“What does it matter where or when I am asking, just tell me,” I practically beg.

“I . . . I don’t know . . . No, I don’t.” He looks around, almost like he needs to escape. “And you can’t just ask someone if they love you when they are trapped in a car with you—what the hell is wrong with you?” he says loudly.

Ouch. “Okay,” is all I can manage to say.

“Why do you even want to know?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I’m confused now, so confused, and my plan to talk out our problems has crashed and burned in front of me, along with any dignity I still held.

“Tell me why you asked me that, now,” he demands.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” I shout back.

I pull up to his house and he looks out at the crowded lawn. “Take me to my dad’s,” he says.

“What? I am not a damn taxi.”

“Just take me there, I will get my car in the morning.”

If his car is here, why doesn’t he just drive himself? I don’t want our conversation to end yet, though, so I roll my eyes, and head off toward his father’s house.

“I thought you hated it there,” I say.

“I do. But I don’t feel like being around a lot of people right now,” he says quietly. Then, louder, he goes on: “Are you going to tell me why you asked that? Does this have something to do with Seungri? Did he say something to you?”

He seems really nervous. Why does he always ask if Seungri said something to me?

“No . . . It has nothing to do with Seungri. I just wanted to know.” It doesn’t really have to do with Seungri; it has to do with the fact that I love him and thought for a second, he might love me, too. The longer I am around him, the more ridiculous that possibility seems.

“Where did you and Seungri go when you left the bonfire?” he asks as I pull into his father’s driveway.

“Back to his apartment,” I say.

Jiyong’s body tenses and his bloody fists clench, tearing the skin on his knuckles further. “Did you sleep with him?” he asks and my mouth falls open.

“What? Why the hell would you assume that? You should know me better than that by now! And who do you think you are to even ask such a personal question? You made it clear that you don’t care about me so, what if I did?” I shout.

“So you didn’t?” he asks again, his eyes like stone.

“God, Jiyong! No! He kissed me, but I wouldn’t have sex with someone I barely know!”

He leans over and turns my car off, clenching his bloody hand over the keys and pulling them out of the ignition.

“You kissed him back?” His eyes are hooded as he seems to look straight past me.

“Yeah . . . well, I don’t know, I think I did.” I don’t remember anything except Jiyong’s face in my mind.

“How do you not know? Have you been drinking?” His voice is louder now.

“No, I just . . .”

“You what!” he shouts and turns his body to face me. I can’t read the energy between us, and for a moment I sit there, trying to get a handle on it.

“I-I just kept thinking of you!” I finally admit.

His stone features soften tremendously and he brings his eyes to mine. “Let’s go inside,” he says and opens the passenger door.

Karen and Ken are sitting on the couch in the living room and both look up when we walk in.

“ Jiyong ! What happened?” his father asks, panicked. He jumps up and comes over to us, but Jiyong brushes him off.

“I’m fine,” Jiyong grumbles.

“What happened to him?” Ken turns to me.

“He got in a fight, but he hasn’t told me with who or why.”

“I am standing right here—and I just said I am fucking fine,” Jiyong says angrily.

“Don’t talk to your father like that!” I scold him and his eyes widen. Instead of screaming at me, he takes my wrist in his busted hand and pulls me out of the room. Ken and Karen discuss Jiyong’s bloody appearance as he drags me upstairs, and I hear his dad openly wonder why Jiyong keeps coming here when he never used to before.

Once we reach his room, he turns me around, pinning both of my wrists to the wall and steps up close, leaving only a few inches between us.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he says through his teeth.

“Do what? Let go of me, right now,” I tell him.

He rolls his eyes but does let me go and walks over to his bed. I stay close to the door.

“Don’t tell me how to talk to my father. Worry about your own relationship with your own father before trying to meddle with mine.”

As soon as the words come out of his mouth, Jiyong registers what he says, and he immediately looks apologetic. “I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean it like that . . . It just came out.” He takes a step toward me with outstretched arms, but I take a step backward into the doorway.

“Yeah—it always just ‘comes out,’ doesn’t it?” I can’t help the tears pricking my eyes. Bringing my father into this is just way too much, even for Hardin.

“Baby, I . . .” he begins but stops himself when I hold up one hand.

What am I doing here? Why do I keep thinking he will stop the endless string of insults long enough to have an actual conversation with me? Because I am an idiot, that’s why.

“It’s fine, really. That’s who you are; that’s what you do. You find people’s weakness and you exploit it. You use it to your advantage. How long have you been waiting to say something about my father? You’ve probably been waiting for an opening since you met me!” I shout.

“Damn it! No I haven’t! I wasn’t thinking when I said that! You are not innocent here—you provoke me on purpose!” he yells, even louder than I did.

“Provoke you? I provoke you! Please, do enlighten me!” I know everyone in the house can hear. But, for once, I don’t care.

“You always push my buttons! You constantly fight with me! You go on dates with Seungri—I mean, fuck! You think I like being this way? Do you think I like you having this control over me? I hate the way you get under my skin. I loathe the way I can’t seem to stop thinking about you! I hate you . . . I really do! You’re such a pretentious little . . .” He stops and looks at me. I force myself to look back at him, putting on the charade that he didn’t just tear me apart with every syllable.

“This is what I am talking about!” He runs his hands over his hair as he paces back and forth across the room. “You . . . you make me crazy, literally fucking mental! And then you have the nerve to ask if I love you? Why would you even ask that? Because I said that one time, by accident? I told you already that I didn’t mean it, so why would you ask again? You like rejection—don’t you? That’s why you keep coming around me, isn’t it?”

All I want to do is run, run out of this room and never, ever look back. I need to run, I need to flee.

I try to stop it, but he has me in such a rage, I yell the thing I know will get to him, break his control: “No, I keep coming around because I love you!”

I cover my mouth immediately, wishing I could push the words back in. He couldn’t possibly hurt me worse than he has, and I don’t want to be left wondering years from now what he would have said if I told him. I am okay with him not loving me. I got myself into this knowing how he was all along.

He looks astonished. “You what?” He blinks rapidly as if trying to process the words.

“Go on, tell me how much you hate me again. Go ahead and tell me how stupid I am for loving someone who can’t stand me,” I say, my voice coming out foreign and almost in a whine. I wipe my eyes and look at him again, feeling as if I’ve been gravely defeated and need to leave the scene to bandage my wounds. “I’ll be going now.”

As I go to turn, he takes one long stride to close the gap between us. I refuse to look at him as he puts his hand on my shoulder. “Damn it, don’t go,” he says, his voice full of emotion.

Which emotion is the question.

“You love me?” he whispers and puts his busted hand under my chin to tilt my head to him. I dart my eyes away from his and nod slowly, waiting for him to laugh in my face.

“Why?” His breath comes in a hot burst against my face.

I finally bring my eyes to his and he looks . . . afraid? “What?” I ask softly.

“Why do you love . . . how could you possibly love me?” His voice cracks and he stares at me, and I feel like the words I say next will determine my fate more than anything I’ve ever done before.

“How could you not know that I love you?” I ask instead of answering him.

He doesn’t think I could love him? I have no explanation except that I just do. He drives me crazy, makes me angrier than I have ever been, but somehow I fell for him, hard.

“You told me you didn’t. And you went out with Seungri. You always leave me; you left me on the porch earlier when I begged you for another chance. I told you I loved you, and you rejected me. Do you know how hard that was for me?” he says.

I must be imagining the tears welling in the corners of his eyes, though I am too aware of his callused fingers under my chin.

“You took it back before I could even process what you said. You’ve done a lot of things to hurt me, Jiyong,” I tell him and he nods.

“I know . . . I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you? I know I don’t deserve you. I don’t have the right to even be asking this . . . but please, just one chance. I am not promising not to fight with you, or get mad at you, but I am promising to give myself to you, completely. Please, just let me try to be what you need.” He sounds so unsure of himself, it turns my insides to liquid.

“I want to think this can work, but I just don’t know how it could, so much damage has already been done.”

But my eyes betray me as the tears fall. Jiyong brings his fingers up from my chin and captures them, even as a single tear escapes down his own cheek.

“Do you remember when you asked me who I love the most in the world?” he asks, his lips inches from mine.

I nod, though it seems so long ago, and I didn’t think he was even paying attention.

“It’s you. You’re the person that I love most in the world.”

His words surprise me and dissolve the ache and the anger in my chest.

Before I will let myself believe him and turn me to putty in his arms, I ask, “This isn’t part of your sick game, is it?”

“No, Y/N. I’m done with the games. I just want you. I want to be with you, in a real relationship. You’ll have to teach me what in the hell that even means, of course.” He laughs nervously and I join him with earnest laughter of my own.

“I have missed your laugh. I haven’t heard it enough. I want to be the one to make you laugh, not cry. I know I am a lot to handle—”

I cut him off by pressing my lips against his. His kisses are rushed and I can taste blood from his cut. My knees want to buckle from the electricity shooting through me, it seems so long ago that I last felt his mouth on mine. I love this damaged, self-loathing asshole so much that I’m afraid it will crush me. He lifts me up and I wrap my thighs around him, tangling my fingers into his hair. He moans into my mouth and I gasp, pulling harder. My tongue runs over his bottom lip and when he winces, I pull away.

“Who did you get in a fight with?” I ask and he laughs.

“You’re asking that now?”

“Yeah, I want to know.” I smile.

“You always have so many questions. Can’t I answer them later?” He pouts.

“No, tell me.”

“Only if you’ll stay.” He holds me against him tighter. “Please?” he begs.

“Okay,” I say and kiss him again, completely forgetting about my question.

50 notes and i will upload another part tonight or just much sooner

[singledarkshade]

From The Ashes

Part Three

“Can anyone hear me?”

Nate dropped his head against the wall he was sitting against frustrated. He’d been stuck in this cell for hours, his cellphone wasn’t working except to tell him that the minutes were ticking by while he was trapped and unable to transform.

Remembering Gideon’s eyes glowing as she left him here Nate sighed sadly. He honestly hadn’t thought that Gideon was upset at Rip’s death because he never thought about her having feelings at all. Sure she had attitude but that was the way she was programmed.

And now if he couldn’t get out of this cell to warn the others then she was going to kill them all.

“Nate?”

Stunned to hear the call Nate scrambled to his feet, “Wally? Wally, I’m in here.”

“Hold on,” Wally called back, “I need to work out how to open this.”

“There’s no key?” Nate demanded.

An annoyed huff came from outside the door, “No. That would make this easy. I could phase through but I couldn’t phase you back.”

“Okay,” Nate sighed.

Several minutes passed before Wally called through, “You might want to get as far back as you can.”

Frowning Nate pulled himself into a corner, wincing when the lock exploded but the door swung open and Wally stood there grinning at him.

“Nice,” Nate told him.

Wally nodded, “Knowing Cisco has its advantages. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Nate assured him, “But Gideon is going to go after the others. We have warn them.”

Wally sighed, “She already did. Zari, Ray, Mick and Constantine are all missing.”

“What about Sara?” Nate demanded.

“Gideon trapped her and Ava in the Time Bureau,” Wally told him, “Then set the place on fire.”

Nate stared at him.

“They’re both alive,” Wally assured him, “But we need to find the others. Ready?”

“For what?”

Wally grinned and, grabbing him, ran them back to the Bureau.

Sara hugged Nate, relieved that one of the team was back safely.

“Okay,” she said taking a seat, “We need to find the others. So I am open to any ideas you have.”

Wally shrugged as did Nate.

“You two are a lot of help,” she sighed rubbing her eyes; “John and Mick went to check out one of Constantine’s alarms being set off. I haven’t heard from them since.”

“Are we assuming Gideon did something to them,” Nate stated, folding his arms in thought, “She didn’t hurt me, well not exactly. It’s more than likely she’s just stuck the others somewhere out the way too?”

Before anyone else could speak Sara’s phone began to buzz, “Felicity?” as she listened to the woman on the other end of the phone her eyes widened in surprise, “What?”

“What?” Nate and Wally demanded.

“One sec,” Sara said to Felicity before looking at the two of them, “Well, we know where Ray is. He appeared at Palmer Tech this morning thinking he was still running the place with Felicity.”

“What?” the two men demanded again.

Sara held up her hand to shut them up, “Okay, Felicity I’m sending Wally to pick him up. He’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Wally threw a mock salute to Sara before he disappeared.

“I’m guessing Gideon used the memory flash thing on him,” Nate frowned, “Do we know if it can be reversed?”

Sighing Sara stood, “Let’s find out.”

                          *********************************************

  Mick swore for about the tenth time in the past sixty seconds as they hiked along the trail hoping that a car would pass them soon. He had a slight limp thanks to several rocks he’d encountered seconds after Gideon had closed the portal while Constantine was dripping wet with a huge bump on his head. But as much as they were lost, Gideon hadn’t dropped them somewhere where they would have no chance of survival. Just somewhere with absolutely no cell service.

���Car,” Constantine called bringing Mick’s attention back to the road.

The two men waved it down, relieved when the car stopped.

“Hi there,” the man greeted them, “You boys look like you’ve gone through the mill. Can we give you a lift somewhere?”

Glancing behind the driver Mick grimaced to see the two bright-eyed brats looking at them with interest.

“If you can get us to somewhere with a phone,” Constantine said before Mick could speak, “We’d be grateful.”

“Climb on in,” the man grinned at them.

Mick turned to Constantine who motioned with his head for Mick to get in the car, an annoyed look on his face. With a growl Mick climbed into the passenger seat while Constantine took the seat in the back with the kids. At least they were heading back to civilisation.

  “Sara,” Constantine called, grimacing at the bad connection between them, “Sara, can you hear me love?”

“Barely,” the crackling response came.

Constantine frowned, “Can you at least find where we’re calling from?”

“Stay on the line,” Sara told him, “We’re getting one of the Bureau tech team to trace you.”

He frowned wondering what had happened to Ray or Zari who would have been the normal choice to do that but decided not to ask until they got back.

“Hurry up,” Constantine told her.

Standing with the phone against his ear Constantine waited, he watched Mick sitting with a clean bandage around his leg while the kids from the car kept trying to ask him questions. They weren’t even scared when he growled at them.

It was hilarious.

“Okay,” Sara came back on, “We have you. Go around the back so we can open a portal.” Constantine sighed in relief, “Give us five minutes.”

Hanging up he moved to Mick, chasing away his young admirers, “Our ride is coming, say goodbye to your fan-club.”

They exited the store and walked slowly, allowing for Mick’s injury, round to the back of the building. The portal opened and Sara appeared on the other side waiting for them relief on her face.

  “So,” Ray said as he sat in the infirmary staring at the strange group of people standing in front of him, “You’re telling me I finished my ATOM suit and I now travel through time stopping...what was it again?”

“Time aberrations and anachronisms,” Nate told him.

Ray frowned at him, “That just sounds...crazy.”

The blonde laughed, “You have no idea. I know you don’t remember but we’ll fix that.”

“How?” Ray asked worriedly.

The five people standing in front of him all grinned before turning to a brunette woman who had been waiting to one side with a strange device. Before Ray could ask anything else or protest the thing was shoved in his face and a bright white light filled his vision.

Ray blinked.

“Are you okay?” Nate asked concerned while Ray rubbed his eyes.

Ray nodded, “Yeah, I’m just...a little overwhelmed.”

“I’d love to be able to give you some time to get your head around this but Zari is still missing,” Sara said, “We need to try and track her down.”

“Gideon stuck me in a locked room,” Nate noted, “Sent Mick and Constantine to the middle of nowhere but Ray, you were sent somewhere safe and warm. Why?”

Ray chewed his lip in thought, “Gideon said that I was a good man.  She wanted me to continue to be the good man who cared for her when she became human. Zari helped her sleep that first day. Zari comforted her too,” Ray continued, “What if Gideon did the same to Zari as she did with me?”

“Blanked her memory?” Nate asked.

Sara frowned at him, “Sent her home.”

“Considering where Zari is from that’s not exactly a great idea,” Nate mused.

“But in Gideon’s mind it was the best place for her,” Ray replied, “Out of the way where she won’t be hurt but somewhere she knows.”

Silence filled the room.

“Alright,” Sara said, “I’ll talk to Agent Simpkins and see if he can trace her. Everyone else, start working on where Gideon might be. We need to go after her and end this.” Seeing the grimace on Ray’s face, she sighed, “She trapped me and Ava in a burning building.”

“What?” he gasped.

“The Gideon we knew is gone,” Sara continued, “I wish it wasn’t true but she is. Now she has already tried to kill me and Ava. We know she’s coming after the Time Bureau. That is a lot of people in the firing line.”

Ray sighed before he nodded, “Then I better get to work.”

  Zari readied herself for a fight when she heard noise behind her, sighing in relief when she saw Mick and Wally standing there.

“Finally,” she said, walking over to them, “It is so good to see guys.”

Wally chuckled, “You didn’t miss us did you?”

Zari grinned back giving Wally a quick hug before she punched Mick on the arm, “Are we getting out here?”

“Not having fun?” Mick asked with a smirk.

Rolling her eyes she walked through the portal back into the Bureau where the remainder of the team were waiting for her.

“Everyone present and accounted for,” Sara noted, “Let’s get to work.”

                          *********************************************

  “You should be very proud,” Rip murmured as Gideon stood looking across her army in the caverns they had made below London, “They are all here to protect you, their brilliant beautiful Queen.”

Gideon turned to look at him, “They will help me destroy the Time Bureau.”

“Yes, they will,” Rip said softly, “Are you ready?”

“Not yet,” Gideon replied, “Whoever has the core for the Time Drive has access to power they do not understand. I need to retrieve that before we can leave. I will not allow anyone to have it.”

Rip nodded, “Alright. Once you have retrieved that then we will go and your army will destroy the Time Bureau.”

“Yes, Captain,” she breathed.

A proud smile covered Rip’s face, “For me?”

“For you.”

Part Four