#and I was so fucking nauseous on my shift because I forgot to eat enough before it

[thegaythespian]

hate hate hate hate hate my brain

[sachigram]

“With Teeth” Chapter 5

((click here to read on ao3!!))

Izaya is frowning down at his computer, his hands hovering above the keys of his keyboard, not moving. Next to him, Namie is typing away, a bemused little smirk on her face. She's enjoying this, clearly, and she's itching to say something biting.

“You're handling this better than I thought you would,” she says, her tone forcibly bored. Izaya blinks at her, lifting his hand to motion for her to continue. “Your little monster friend has a girlfriend now. He'll have less time for you, right? I assumed you'd be setting fires across the city by now.”

“You know what they say about assuming,” Izaya says breezily. “If anything, she's distracting him enough to leave me be.”

The chatroom is full of people chattering away about Shizuo and Vorona, who are spending a lot of time together, holding hands, exchanging glances, sharing beverages. It's sickening. Izaya feels vaguely nauseous just reading about it, but he thinks that's probably due to his insane schedule at the moment, and his lack of sleep. He keeps meaning to take a healing potion, but he forgets every time.

“Distracting. Right.” Namie types another response, fanning the flames of all the rumors circulating about Ikebukuro's hottest couple. Her smirk drops, and Izaya can't resist the temptation to dip into her mind, just a little, to see why she isn't enjoying this as much as she thought she would.

She's thinking of Seiji, of course, but also of Mika, and of Celty's head, and all the times she's been overlooked in favor of someone else. She thinks Shizuo dating Vorona is distasteful, because she's set on the idea that Shizuo must be fucking Izaya, and that's why he comes by so often. Izaya withholds a snort at that, and he graciously doesn't comment on the fact that Namie could probably have anyone she wanted, if she wasn't so obsessed with her own brother.

“Who cares, anyway?” Namie asks, closing her laptop. “The two of them together probably have conversations as interesting as watching paint dry. It's not worth even talking about anymore.”

“I couldn't agree more,” Izaya says, pushing away from his desk. He tilts his head at her. “Let's order out for dinner. My treat.”

“In that case, I'm craving something expensive.”

“Of course you are.”

***

Izaya is watching the sunset from a small window when he realizes he must have fallen asleep. He isn't at home anymore, and this is beginning to feel like the kind of dream he's been dreading to have lately, one where he knows Shizuo will show up at some point.

“Who are you?” A child's voice asks from behind him. Izaya turns, looking down at Shizuo, who is in a hospital bed, his arms wrapped, a brace around his neck. He's frowning up at Izaya, who sighs loudly before plopping into the vacant chair next to the bed.

“Oh, why does it even matter? You won't call me by my name anyway.” Izaya pulls his knees up to his chest and studies Shizuo closely. “You're here alone?”

“My family just left.” Shizuo looks up at the ceiling, seeming to decide that Izaya isn't a threat to him. “They used to stay with me a lot, but this happens all the time now, so they can't stick around as much.”

“I see.”

“I'll only be here one night anyway.”

“So who was it this time? Was it another fight?” Izaya asks.

“It's not like I wanted to fight.” Shizuo's eyebrow twitches. “I threw a swingset.”

“A swingset?”

“Yeah, but apparently it was bolted into the ground or something. Really fucked me up.”

Izaya can't help it. He laughs hard, curling into himself as he does so.

“Hey, fuck you, it isn't funny!” Shizuo snaps, but he seems to be trying not to laugh himself. “Well, maybe it was a little. The look on their faces was pretty funny.”

“Did you at least manage to hit them?” Izaya asks, still giggling at the mental image.

“No. Turns out all the time I spent lifting it gave them some time to escape.”

Izaya laughs harder. When was the last time he found something this genuinely funny? Lately all he does is work until he passes out, and he deserves it, he knows. Still, as he feels tears stinging the corner of his eyes, he thinks he feels good now, here with this kid version of Ikebukuro's monster. There doesn't seem to be anything else to do but talk to him, and their dreams keep connecting them no matter what Izaya does. He's tired of fighting it.

Shizuo is gazing at him with poorly concealed awe and wonder.

Pretty.

Izaya snorts at Shizuo's thought. What's so pretty about this scene right now? The sunset outside? The various machines hooked to Shizuo, beeping idly in the background? Shizuo keeps looking at him, and Izaya realizes, feels his face grow hot.

“Who are you?” Shizuo asks again.

“Your worst enemy.”

“Really? You don't seem all that bad.” Shizuo shifts a bit, winces. “You're not scared of me, are you?”

“Not now, not ever.”

Shizuo nods, and his lip wobbles. “People tell me all the time they aren't scared of me, but I know they are, deep down. How could they not be? They'd have to be crazy. But...” Shizuo chokes up, laughs a little. “I can tell you mean it. And if that makes you crazy, I think that's okay, because it feels good to not be feared, for once.”

Izaya lowers his legs, leaning closer to the bed. He idly touches the flimsy fabric of the blanket draped over Shizuo, who is watching him curiously. Izaya looks away.

“Sometimes you're so pathetically simple it makes me want to vomit. Sometimes it feels like a chore, hating you. Did you know that?” Izaya asks softly, and there's a long pause after his words, no sounds aside from their breathing. Even the machines have somehow gone quiet.

“So then why do you?” Shizuo asks at last.

“Isn't it funny that it's been so long of us hating each other that I forgot what caused it in the first place? I think you did, too.” Izaya crosses his arms over the bed, puts his head down. “People like us will always be at each other's throats. It's just the way it is.”

“You sound like a grownup,” Shizuo says, glaring now. “They always say that, when they don't know the answer to something. 'It's just the way it is.' If you don't know, then why does it matter in the first place?”

“Believe it or not, I am a grownup. I'm only a kid right now because you're one, too. We're always the same age in these dreams, even if only one of us remembers the future at a time.” Izaya lifts his head enough to grin at Shizuo, who blushes and immediately turns away. He seems to be trying to gather the courage to say something, but there's suddenly a knock at the door, and Izaya turns towards it. “Expecting someone else?”

“Huh?”

“There's knocking.”

“I don't hear anything.”

Izaya stands. “Oh. This may be in real life. I think I'm waking up.”

“Waking up? Does that mean leaving?” Shizuo's eyes look panicked. “When will you be back?”

“I never know. Why do you keep wanting to see me so badly? You're the one pulling me back here, you have to be.” The room starts to grow fuzzy as the dreamscape begins to fall apart around them.

“You're not scared of me. You laughed at me instead of running— Fuck!” Shizuo seems to be trying to get up to grab Izaya, but he can't with his arms bandaged. “Tell me your name so I can find you again!”

“You'll just call me a flea anyway, won't you? So it doesn't matter.”

***

Izaya opens his eyes to discover he passed out at his desk at some point. He sits up and frowns at the container of pasta next to him. He remembers ordering dinner for himself and Namie, and then...

“Ugh. Of course she just left,” Izaya mutters to himself. Namie is an opportunist if nothing else. She isn't the type to stick around and see what happens next, unlike Izaya. Another knock sounds at the door. “Who is it?” Izaya calls, feeling sluggish. He checks his phone to find he's been asleep for about two hours.

“Me!” Shinra's voice replies, muffled from the door. “Let me in, would you? I've been knocking forever!”

Grumbling, Izaya makes his way across the room, opening it for Shinra, who waltzes inside like he owns the place.

“Hi! I'm working late tonight, and I didn't have time to eat dinner before I left, so I figured while I was in Shinjuku I could come see what you had—“ Shinra stops talking and tilts his head to the side, observing Izaya. “You look awful. What have you been up to?”

“Also working,” Izaya says. He reaches up to wipe crusted drool from the corner of his mouth. “So you came to raid my fridge?”

“Ah, yes!” Shinra turns and continues his march to the kitchen. “I just got done with an emergency call, and next I'll be going to visit another patient. I didn't want fast food, so here I am! Did Yagiri-san make anything?”

“Should be leftovers somewhere around here.” Izaya looks back at his own pasta, feels his stomach rumble. He can't remember the last time he really ate or slept fully.

“Why don't we eat something together?” Shinra asks. “You look ready to fall over.”

Izaya ends up tossing the pasta. It was congealed together, and not very good in the first place. Namie picked the place to order from, but he'll definitely complain enough about it later to where they don't order from there again. Shinra actually goes through the trouble of throwing together some fried rice, because Izaya doesn't have the ingredients for much else. He'll have to send Namie for groceries.

“So what are you working on so religiously, anyway?” Shinra asks as they sit down. “I haven't seen you this absorbed in work for a while.”

“It's not just one assignment, but multiple. All of them are due around the same time.” Izaya eats a bite of rice and shrugs. “It's just poor timing.”

“More than that though, right? I heard Shiki-san was pissed at you for multiple reasons. Sounds like he's keeping you overloaded on purpose.” Shinra smirks at him. “You can never leave well-enough alone, Izaya-kun.”

“'Well-enough',” Izaya scoffs. “If he had his way, I'd be locked in a cage, of use only to him and his little cronies.”

“That's what you signed up for. You'll get yourself killed if you keep meddling. I mean, come on, Akane-chan? What did you think would happen by sending her off on her own like that?”

“Who says I was behind any of that? Akane-chan has a smartphone. Kids like her are always going to be involved in things, because they want better than they're given.”

“I don't believe you, and I know Shiki-san doesn't, either. It's clear he's punishing you, but...” Shinra leans closer, lowers his voice like he thinks Shiki is in the next room. “To be honest, I thought you'd have it way worse than this. You ordered Shizuo-kun's attack too, didn't you? I thought Shiki-san would hang you upside-down.”

“Again, Shinra, you're reaching way too far. I never said I was responsible for Shizu-chan either.”

Shinra pouts, and then sits back in his chair, shoveling down more rice. “Fine. Don't tell me. Just take better care of yourself, at any rate. It's not like you can't cure the effects of fatigue with your power. You're choosing to suffer, right? But then again, you've always been like that.”

“Don't you have another appointment soon?” Izaya asks, annoyed by Shinra and his big mouth. He's often wondered if friendship is supposed to be this exhausting, but it isn't like he has anything else to compare it to. Shinra was always the only one crazy enough to stick around.

“I'm only saying. You should accept your punishments and actually learn something from them every now and then. It seems like you just bounce back, more determined to make a nuisance of yourself than before.”

“If I don't make a nuisance of myself, I'll die from boredom,” Izaya lilts. “It's really that simple.”

“More like you're worried about being forgotten.”

Izaya resists the urge to throw something at Shinra, who is wearing a strange expression, something akin to actual concern.

“You've improved on your acting ability,” Izaya says, pushing away from the table. “Don't act friendly towards me now. It doesn't suit you.”

“I am your friend,” Shinra insists. “I'm the only one you've got, so maybe you should listen to me once in a while.”

“It always goes back to Celty anyway. What, are you worried I'm going to use her for something too dangerous?”

“Celty agrees with me that it's unusual for you to allow Shizuo-kun to be in your space as you have. Are you actually feeling guilty?”

“Are you?” Izaya stands and grabs a bottle of red wine from his counter before he pads over to his desk. “I don't have the time for this, Shinra. See yourself out when you're ready to go.”

Shinra sighs loudly, finishes his dinner, and picks up his briefcase. He walks towards the door.

“Take care of yourself, Izaya-kun. If you even know how to.”

Izaya uses his magic to slam the door shut behind Shinra, and then he drinks until he passes out.

***

He wakes hours later, in bed somehow.

Groaning, he sits up, trying to remember the night before. His mouth feels like cotton, and his head feels like it's trying to split itself open. He thinks he may throw up at some point in the very near future.

“Feeling better?” Tsukumoya asks from beside him. The shades are drawn closed, and the room is still dark despite the sun being out. Izaya glares at the vampire in his space.

“Why are you here?” he croaks.

“You don't remember? You invited me. We fucked.” Tsukumoya has his laptop, and is typing ridiculously fast even as he speaks. “It was quite the evening.”

“I'm serious. You just keep popping up. It's annoying.”

“Mm. I had a feeling you were being your usual destructive self. There's water for you on your nightstand.”

Izaya reaches next to him, grabs the glass before chugging it. His stomach immediately churns dangerously in protest.

“Why not take a healing potion? I know you have plenty of them,” Tsukumoya says, still not looking at him.

“Don't need it.”

“Right, you don't. The great Orihara Izaya doesn't need anything or anyone, how could I forget?” Tsukumoya finally glances over at him. “You might need to reconsider. Tonight's the night of the full moon. You'll need to be alert when your puppy visits.”

“Fuck, is it? I forgot all about it.” Izaya groans and flops back into the bed, rolling away from the annoying vampire in his space. “You weren't supposed to come until tomorrow.”

“Stop complaining so much. Do you need more water?”

Grumbling, Izaya tries to piece together the night before. He drank too much, he remembers that. Shinra was being annoying. He definitely fell asleep at his desk, meaning Tsukumoya carried him to bed.

“We didn't really fuck, did we?” Izaya asks.

“No. Did you want to?” Tsukumoya's voice is annoyingly smug. “I wouldn't be opposed.”

Izaya snorts and closes his eyes, wills the room to stop spinning. “Don't flatter yourself. You're not my type.”

“I'm not? Here I thought you had a thing for monsters.”

Izaya considers throwing Tsukumoya across the room, but that would be rising to the stupid teasing, and it would require more effort than he currently wants to exert. He stays where he is, listening to the sound of Tsukumoya's fingers on the keys.

“You're being especially pitiful lately, Izaya,” Tsukumoya says after a while. “So you've lost control of your little game, so what? Maybe you should think of what to do next instead of working to the point of exhaustion. You know I hate it when you're predictable.”

“Why does it matter what I do? I'm trapped.”

Tsukumoya sighs. “Yes, you are. And what are you going to do about it?”

“Right now, I'm going to be miserably hungover. Next, who knows? It'll surprise us both.”

“If only I found you sooner.” Tsukumoya goes back to typing. “The things you could've done. Humans are always finding ways to control what they don't understand or fear. But now, you can only help yourself. If you believe you're going to be trapped forever, they've already won.”

“I know that.” Izaya thinks of the work assignments that aren't ever going to stop, and he thinks of Akane, of Shizuo. He knows he went too far, but he has to go even further still.

Tsukumoya seems like he wants to say more, but he pauses, and the typing stops once more.

“You really might want to take that potion now,” he says. “One of your executives is on his way here.”

***

Izaya does not take the potion, and when he answers his door, it's with a slightly green complexion. Akabayashi takes one look at him, and promptly bursts into laughter.

“Oh, wow. And I thought I drank too much. You look awful, brat.” Akabayashi invites himself inside, stepping around Izaya. “I'm doing a wellness check on behalf of the boss. You understand, right?”

“Seems like I have more people in my life than I thought,” Izaya says, closing the door before moving to his couch. “This is my third wellness check.”

“Hard to believe a roach like you has friends, but then again, this city has an infestation. You missed a deadline today.”

“I got a little carried away last night. I've been in bed all day.”

“But you answered the door fully dressed, like you've been up and about,” Akabayashi presses.

“I sensed you coming,” Izaya lies.

Akabayashi hums in thought, and he grins menacingly. “Ya know, I ran into Heiwajima the other day at Sunshine. He seemed really interested in who bit him and why.”

“You should tell him,” Izaya says. “If anything, it would get him off my back for a while.”

“Oh, don't act innocent. We all know who made the phone call that started everything.”

“Clearly what I want doesn't matter. You've made that abundantly clear.”

Akabayashi walks closer to the couch, and he leans closer to Izaya. “Watch yourself, kid. Just because you haven't been caught in the act yet doesn't mean we don't know you're guilty. That magic of yours will only get you so far with us.”

“If your power spans so far, you shouldn't be worried about what I did or didn't do. If you really knew I was guilty, you'd have killed me by now,” Izaya says.

“Assuming monsters like you actually have enough humanity left to die.”

“Why don't we both find out?”

They glare at each other, and Izaya can sense from Akabayashi that the executive would like nothing more than to tear him limb from limb, but he won't. It would be against Shiki's wishes, and as much as Akabayashi hates it, he has to follow orders, or he'll be next on the chopping block. He takes another step towards the couch, but before he can do or say anything, the door slams open with such force that it bangs against the wall and cracks it.

“Hello, Shizu-chan,” Izaya calls without breaking eye-contact with Akabayashi. “Entertain yourself for a moment, will you?”

“What the fuck is this?” Shizuo asks. He growls when he notices Akabayashi. “Oi! I still have questions for you, asshole!”

“I'm sure you do,” Akabayashi says, standing up straight again. He grins at Shizuo. “I can't answer 'em for you, though. Sorry about that.”

“I could always beat it out of you,” Shizuo says, cracking his knuckles. “I'm even stronger than I used to be, since you bastards made me into a monster.”

“You wouldn't get far. I'd relax, if I were you.” Akabayashi turns back to Izaya. “Get to work, brat. Shiki's only so forgiving.” With that, he turns on his heel, and goes towards the door. Shizuo makes to stop him, but Izaya lifts his hand and summons Shizuo backwards, towards the couch.

“What the fuck!” Shizuo shouts, fighting it. “Let me go!”

“Don't make me exert myself, Shizu-chan. I'm having a rough day,” Izaya says. Shizuo turns and glowers at him, but his features soften.

“What's wrong with you? Are you sick?”

“Yes.” The door opens and closes, and Izaya knows he's alone with Shizuo once more. “You didn't knock this time.”

“Didn't think I needed to. It's not like you weren't expecting me.” Shizuo leans down, scrutinizes Izaya. “You're hungover.”

“Don't read my mind,” Izaya huffs, curling into himself.

“I didn't. You reek of alcohol.”

Grumbling, Izaya summons a blanket and throws it over himself. He doesn't know if he prefers Tsukumoya's company to Shizuo's, but at the moment, he thinks he'd rather deal with the vampire. At least for a little bit.

What a messy flea. Shizuo thinks, and then he walks away from the couch. There's the sound of him sifting through the fridge, but there isn't anything for him to find. Namie had the day off, and Shinra cooked what little was available the night before.

“You might have to order out,” Izaya calls. “You have a couple of hours before sunset.”

Shizuo growls loudly, thinks something about Izaya being useless, and then pulls out his phone. Izaya stays where he is and doesn't move, enjoys the silence for a few moments before it's ultimately shattered by Shizuo, who is suddenly sitting on the couch near Izaya, but still far enough to where they're both comfortable.

“I ordered pizza,” Shizuo says, and he leans back against the couch cushions. “You should foot the bill.”

“If you wanted me to pay, you could've ordered something better,” Izaya replies.

“Nah, everywhere else would've taken too long. Pizza is fast and easy.”

Izaya watches sleepily as Shizuo picks up the remote and turns the TV on, flipping through a few channels before settling on a soap opera. It should feel weird, sitting here with Shizuo, watching a woman sob because she caught her husband having an affair, but it really doesn't feel weird at all. Maybe Izaya is too tired to feel one way or another about it, or maybe their strange mental link has done the majority of the work in making them civil towards one another. Either way, Izaya feels comfortable enough to let his guard down a little, and it's an instant relief, like setting down something immensely heavy.

“So, I don't get it. Why are you just sitting here feeling like shit when you can heal yourself easily enough?” Shizuo is still looking at the screen, but he's back to poking around in Izaya's head, whether he knows he's doing it or not.

“Shut up, Shizu-chan,” Izaya says without any real bite.

“Oh. You just want to feel bad. Seems like a stupid thing for someone who's supposed to be some kind of genius, but whatever.”

The woman on screen is confronting her husband's mistress, and it winds up in a fist fight on a balcony. Izaya snorts when the mistress is pushed off to her death. How predictable. Shizuo is scowling at the TV, but he's thinking about his shared dreams with Izaya, and also about some images he's been seeing through Izaya's side of the link. He's also thinking about Shinra, who apparently ran into Shizuo last night after his last appointment. Shinra seemed worried about Izaya.

He's a good actor. Izaya sends. He always has been.

I don't think he was acting. You look worse than you normally do.

I'm hungover, as you so aptly put it. You being in my head isn't helping me feel better.

“I'm not doing it on purpose!” Shizuo snaps, and the sudden loudness has Izaya flinching. “I don't get why it's happening either, okay? I'm only just now starting to believe it's not actually you doing it.”

Because you've seemed like such a mess ever since it started. Shizuo thinks, and Izaya grinds his teeth in frustration.

“I'm not a mess.”

“What did that guy want?” Shizuo asks, changing the subject abruptly.

“Akabayashi-san stops by from time to time to threaten me. It's a pastime for him.” Izaya is starting to feel nauseous again, so he closes his eyes and wills it to go away.

“Don't you work for him, though?”

“I don't work for anybody. I'm a freelance informant for hire, and I give the organization he's part of information when they pay me for it, same as anyone else.”

Shizuo frowns, thinks something biting about Izaya working for the Yakuza. “He seemed like he wanted to hurt you.”

“Oh, he does. They all do,” Izaya says. “They'd kill me if they could.”

Shizuo doesn't like that he has something in common with the Yakuza. He grimaces before he says, “So what? You're just too strong to die or some shit?”

“No,” Izaya replies. “I'm just too important for them do dispose of. I'm part of the reason they're as powerful as they are, and they know it, even if they hate it, even if they hate me. I'm the strongest tool in their arsenal. Killing me would be crippling themselves.”

Silence follows Izaya's words. Shizuo's mind is a whirlwind now, thinking so many things at once, all laced with rage. He doesn't like anything about what Izaya said, the way it was said so flippantly, the way Izaya doesn't seem to mind. Shizuo doesn't like that Izaya thinks of himself as a tool, as something other than human, even if it might be true. Shizuo doesn't want to think of himself as other than human, either.

Shizuo doesn't seem to do well with the truth.

“That isn't true,” Shizuo growls, no doubt in response to Izaya's thoughts. “You're a person. I'm a person. We're other things too, but whatever we are, we're human first. You said so yourself, right? You can die, you can be killed. You're human enough to die.”

“I'm telling you this once, and once only, beast,” Izaya murmurs, opening his eyes to glare at the TV as he speaks. “It would be the exact same as breaking a screwdriver, or losing your favorite toy. If I died, that would be it. They would just replace me. They want to, and they would if they could, but I'm one of the last of my kind, and I'm definitely the most powerful one left. I don't care about it, because I've always known I was only useful for what I knew and what I could do. If you're going to be hated, you damn well better be useful. That's the way it is.”

“Fuck that!” Shizuo yells, and he stands, his hands clenched into fists. “What the hell are you talking about? You think it's okay to sit here and feel sorry for yourself, like you didn't have a hand in being the hated little rat you are? You think it's just because of your magic? You're the one deciding to do the shitty things you do. People hate you. If they knew you were a witch, whatever, maybe some of them would hate you more, but it's only because they hate you already. Get the fuck over yourself.”

Izaya laughs, delighted at the outburst. Doing so hurts his head, and his vision swims. This is pitiful, isn't it? Feeling useless, being forced to lie back and swallow vomit just so no one else can ask anything more of him. If he's a tool, he's a damaged one, and every time he's human, he dulls himself a little more. If this is a game to be played, and his opponents have the winning hand, Izaya will make sure none of them win. He'll destroy himself if he has to. He'll destroy everything.

“Trust me, Shizu-chan,” he croaks, “I know they would've hated me either way. The difference between us is you're searching so hard for a place to belong, and I've accepted long ago that it doesn't exist. Now would you kindly shut the fuck up? My head hurts.”

Shizuo is seething, his breaths labored as he works to calm himself down. He wants to lift Izaya up and shake him until his head pops off. Then Shizuo wants to tear apart everything in the apartment, maybe go punch Akabayashi for good measure. He hates that he sees the reasoning in Izaya's words. He hates himself, and he hates Izaya more than anything else.

“Get out of my head,” Shizuo grits out.

“I'm trying,” Izaya says, and he leaves it at that.

They lapse back into silence, and when Shizuo flops back onto the couch, his brow is furrowed, his jaw set. It's clear he isn't going to let this go, but he at least doesn't want to be in a terrible mood before his transformation. The bloodlust is worse when he's angry. He has to keep reminding himself that Izaya is a liar, first and foremost. Izaya uses words to protect himself, and Shizuo doesn't have to, and won't, ever do the same.

“Well, isn't this cozy?” Tsukumoya's voice asks as he walks down the stairs. He's wearing a hood, covering himself from the weakening rays of sun that still shine through the windows.

“I thought you left,” Izaya calls as Shizuo whirls to growl at the vampire.

“I was going to, but I figured I'd stick around to make sure you didn't die,” Tsukumoya says. He smirks at the scene of Shizuo and Izaya sitting together almost peacefully, watching trash TV in silence. “I wondered how your nights with the puppy went. I suppose I can see for myself now.”

“Why the fuck are you here?!” Shizuo barks, and then he whirls to face Izaya. “Does he always just pop up like this?”

“Not always,” Izaya says. “He stayed the night.”

“What?”

“Relax, Heiwajima-san. Rest assured, I didn't touch him.” Tsukumoya flounces past the couch while Shizuo's face turns a variety of fun colors. “At least, not much.”

Shizuo stands from the couch, and Izaya sighs loudly.

“Don't you have anything better to do?” he asks Tsukumoya, who is still looking at Shizuo appraisingly.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. I trust you won't drink yourself stupid a second night in a row?” Tsukumoya says, looking at Izaya.

“I don't have the luxury tonight,” Izaya answers.

“Right, you're puppy-sitting.”

“Do you mean me, you fucking—“ Shizuo starts, and he barrels towards Tsukumoya, who easily side-steps him.

“Make sure you eat something at some point,” Tsukumoya calls to Izaya. “That pizza will help you feel better.”

“I don't want it,” Izaya grumbles, covering his head with the blanket. He hates both of the people in his space right now, and he just wants to sleep.

You must be making a conscious effort to not heal yourself if you're still this sick over a hangover. Tsukumoya's voice sounds in Izaya's head. Is this really helping anything?

Yes. Izaya can't escape either of them, can he? They're both annoyingly perceptive and persistent. He can feel fondness radiating from Tsukumoya, but it's quickly being overshadowed by the amount of fury pouring from Shizuo, who is clearly listening to their mental conversation.

“Your pizza is here,” Tsukumoya says, and the knock comes a moment later. “Make sure he eats something, please,” he says to Shizuo, and then he vanishes before anything else can be said.

***

Shizuo scarfs down the entire pizza at breakneck speed, once or twice trying to get Izaya to accept a slice before giving up. He doesn't care if Izaya eats or not, and he doesn't care if Izaya feels sick or not. Shizuo's mood increases as he eats, and by the time he's finished, he's as mellow as he ever is while sharing a space with his mortal enemy.

Izaya, for his part, is starting to feel a little better. His stomach rumbles a bit at the scent of the pizza, but his appetite wanes at the grotesquely barbaric way Shizuo eats. It seems worse than usual, more...animalistic.

In fact...something seems off about Shizuo, even for a full moon. Maybe something happened earlier, or maybe Shizuo just went too long without eating until now, but Izaya can sense the bloodlust permeating from Shizuo like a miasma.

“Shizu-chan,” Izaya says, slowly sitting up to level his gaze at his unwanted guest. “Have you taken your potion?”

“Huh? Of course I have,” Shizuo replies. His hair is glowing from the fading rays of the sun as it descends behind the tall buildings outside.

“Have you taken it exactly as you should, the way I instructed?” Izaya asks through clenched teeth, already knowing the answer.

“Well— I drank it all a couple of days ago. I spent all day with Vorona, and I didn't want—“ Shizuo pauses at the look on Izaya's face. “What? What did I do wrong? You said to take it all before the full moon, and I did!”

“I told you to drink it every day, bit by bit, and to finish it before the full moon. The exact way you've done every month until now, because you're so pathetic in the presence of that woman that you can't follow basic fucking instructions!” Izaya snaps, and Shizuo's eyes widen.

He looks scared. Shizuo thinks, and then a beat later, Oh fuck. He's scared of me.

“Izaya, I—“ Shizuo begins, and then his hands grip his knees as his body begins to shake. The sun's rays fade at last, bathing them in twilight. “I feel...wrong.”

Izaya stands from the couch, the room spinning as he does. He's not at his full power. Even if he weren't hungover, he hasn't been eating or sleeping the way he should, buried in work as he is, and reluctant to care for himself as ever. He starts towards the stairs, in search of the healing potion he should have taken earlier, but he knows it's already far too late, as Shizuo's body is already beginning to crack and twist, and his mind is already gone, replaced by that of a true monster.

“Shizu-chan, you're such a fucking idiot,” Izaya hisses, and his sentence is barely finished before Shizuo is lunging at him, aiming for his throat.

[raleighcarrera]

saved by the bell

foreign affairs | m!blaine hayes x mc (kennedy monroe)

blaine springs kennedy from her date in chapter 10.

catch up: knockout (E) / on the ropes (T) / outpoint (T) / parry (E) / pulling punches (T) / ringside (T)

tagging: @pixeljazzy ; @zigtheeortega ; @pixelsandkink ; @writinghereandthere ; @choicesarehard ; @dakotawinchester ; @flyawayboo ; @withbeautyandrage ; @blainehellyes ; @levineseth ; @gryffindordaughterofathena ; @thefirstcourtesan ; @josieplayschoices 

~3.5k words | T

he’s not going to look.

no matter how much his phone lights up with incoming notification after incoming notification, he’s not going to look. blaine refuses to torture himself by checking for photos of kennedy’s date, though his curiosity is eating him alive.

it’s a nice reprieve from worrying about her, at any rate, even if it is maddening.

lately it feels like all he’s done is worry about her, though that’s mostly because kennedy looks to be about an inch away from tears every time she’s around -- not that it’s often, anymore. there’s absolutely nothing worse than seeing her suffer from the sidelines; he still feels just as helpless as he did when he watched her give that first disastrous press conference in his dorm, the day after the pictures hit voyeur. 

it’s unbelievably frustrating, being forced to sit on his hands and watch everyone else try to control her life. kennedy’s under a microscope like neither of them have ever been before, and for the first time in his life, he’s in the uncomfortable position of having to be careful -- not because he gives a shit about himself or his own reputation, but because of her, and what it might do to her if he was reckless.

he’s bitten his tongue more times in the last week than he has in his entire life. it’d taken every last ounce of his self control not to snap and defend kennedy at the pet store, not to panic when she’d clued him in on her mom’s newest pr strategy, not to keep her locked in the teacher’s lounge with him for the rest of the semester and refuse to let her go when she snuck out to meet him.

already he knows he’ll never forget the names and faces of the classmates of theirs that’d picked on her. if he ever really does wind up in charge in ardona, one day, he’ll come to power with a ready-made list of enemies, all because of the way they’d made her look when she sunk down low into her seat in class, her shoulders hunched in shame.

he’s laying in bed, moping miserably, thinking over it all when peter pokes his head in with a hesitant knock. “how’re you holding up?” he asks, tactfully, given that blaine’s pretty sure he looks utterly awful. “those daily post photos were... rough.”

blaine groans, burying his face in his hands. “i’m not looking at them. i don’t want to know.”

“that’s probably for the best,” peter says sympathetically, and that does it -- seals the deal completely. he reaches for his phone, snatching it off the nightstand.

dionne’s also texted him, which means the photos are as bad as he’s hoping they won’t be. his stomach twists into knots as he navigates to his favorite gossip site, certain the pictures he’s looking for will be plastered all over the homepage.

sure enough -- there they are: kennedy and alexei, huddled together outside of some swanky restaurant, hand-in-hand. she’s all dressed up for the occasion, because with alexei she’s allowed to be; she doesn’t have to sneak out to see him, hidden under a baseball hat in some far away place where no one will recognize either of them. the point of this date is to be seen, and judging by the crowd of flashing lights surrounding them, they’ve done a perfect job selling their relationship to the press.

so the second picture accompanying the story is an unnecessary twist of the knife -- complete overkill. they’re kissing, in this one, lips pressed together chastely just outside the limo. he feels nauseous.

“they’re probably having a terrible time,” peter says, though blaine’s still staring at his phone, eyes fixed on the photo in his hands. “i heard that restaurant is horrible.”

“it’s fine,” blaine says hollowly, tapping back to his texts to answer dionne. she wants to know how he is, too, and he gives her the same answer: fine. everything is fine.

“you’re so full of shit,” dionne says, when she shows up at his dorm twenty minutes later, her arms folded across her chest and her expression unimpressed.

yeah. he forgot she knows him so well. “well -- whatever,” blaine sighs, dragging a hand down his face. it doesn’t matter. it has to not matter, for kennedy’s sake. “it’s not like i can do anything about it. this is the way it has to be.”

the look in dionne’s eyes grows distant, and he sits up slowly as a smile starts to overtake her face, cautiously optimistic while what’s obviously an evil plan begins to unfurl. “no,” dionne says, “it’s not. i think i have an idea.”

so -- that’s how he finds himself sweating through his jacket, overthinking this whole stupid plan while he waits for kennedy to slip out the back of the stupid opera house and meet him and his stupid rental car in the alley. he thinks back over all the ways they’d had to cover his tracks to get him here: how peter’d had to call in the car, how dionne’d had to threaten and sweet talk alexei at the same time, how there isn’t a single hurdle he wouldn’t leap or hoop he wouldn’t jump through for even just half an evening alone with her.

this is probably a terrible idea. at the very least, it’s dangerous, and sure to get them fucking caught again, no matter how careful they all were in making it happen.

maybe he should call the whole thing off. call dionne and get her to tell kennedy to forget it -- to go back to her date and take the easy way out, because who is he kidding, anyway?

the sound of heels on the cobblestones takes the decision swiftly out of his hands. blaine looks up to see kennedy standing in front of him, admiring the rental with a gentle smirk on her beautiful face. she looks even more ridiculously gorgeous than she had in the daily post pictures, as annoying as that is. 

she’s alone.

“no limo? that’s not very romantic, mr. hayes,” she teases playfully, mouth stretched wide with a smile.

he leans over to pop the door open for her, grinning to cover up his nerves. just having kennedy around is going a long way towards keeping him calm -- he feels undeniably more sane out here with her than he had in his room, pouting with fruitless jealousy. “take it up with dionne,” he shrugs, eyes raking up and down her outfit. she really does look nice. “now hop in.”

“we have three hours and forty-five minutes,” kennedy says helpfully, as soon as they’ve slipped out of town unseen and headed to the highway, “i have to be back by curtain.”

“i know,” blaine hums, sighing with relief as soon as he glances in the rearview mirror and sees they aren’t being followed, “dionne briefed me. she figured out a whole plan.”

“oh,” kennedy says. she sounds... happy. “that was really nice of her.” there’s a pause, and he fidgets with the steering wheel for a moment before shifting his left hand up to the top to steer so his right arm is free to drape across the back of kennedy’s seat. she leans in closer to the center console and continues, “i really wish it was you in there with me.”

he exhales heavily. more relieving than not being followed, than being with her at all is hearing that -- that he’s not alone in his insanity. lately he feels like a completely different person, and he has no idea what’s come over him, so it’s comforting to know that it’s all for something, beyond just making kennedy smile. evidently, she wants to be his stupid girlfriend just as badly as he wants her to. “me, too. you have no idea. i’ve really missed you, these past few days.”

“i know. it’s weird,” kennedy agrees, “hardly seeing you. not being able to text you, and tell you about my day... i mean -- i barely even get to talk to you, outside of class.”

yeah. he knows. and when there’s other people around he has to watch what he fucking says, too. it’s far from ideal, and he knows he’s gotten sloppy, but...

part of him almost wants someone to catch them. blaine knows it’s selfish and stupid, but he wants it all the same. because if someone found out the truth and spilled the beans... they’d be free, and the impossible decision of what to do next would be out of their hands.

he could never ask kennedy to go public on her own. he would never ask her for that, no matter how badly he wants it. but a slip-up... that would be beyond their control.

blaine shakes his head. “it’s fine,” he says again, clearing his throat, “i’ll plan some secret meet up for us every night, if you want. even if it only buys us a few minutes.”

he glances to the side just in time to catch the look that crosses her face. kennedy’s quite obviously touched by his offer, her teeth digging into her bottom lip as she stares down at her hands. forcefully, he drags his eyes back to the road. “i’d really like that,” she murmurs, so quietly he almost misses it. when he only nods, she raises her voice and asks, “so, where are we going?”

“you’ll see,” he directs, taking the exit that’ll bring them to the drive-in, mentally cataloging the travel time it’d taken to get up here and making a note of the minutes he’ll need to account for to get kennedy back, especially if he has to circle the block until the street is empty before he drops her off. 

her eyes light up when he pulls into the parking lot. “a drive-in theater, seriously? i used to love going to the drive-in back home. i didn’t know they had them near vancross.” her nose is practically pressed against the window as she looks around excitedly while he idles.

“this is my first time,” blaine admits, though how eager kennedy is definitely bodes well for the experience. even if it completely sucked, he’d still bring her back every weekend, just to see her smile like that. “we don’t really have these in ardona, but dionne talked it up.”

kennedy finally peels her eyes away from the window to smile playfully at him again, her eyes sparkling. “so you’re a drive-in virgin? interesting.”

his face feels hot, suddenly. blaine rolls his eyes at her, gesturing at the map of the venue in front of them. they’re kind of holding up the line. “yeah, yeah. pick your movie, rutherland. it’s just background noise for the real show, anyway.”

if he’s being honest, he barely hears her make her choice, the instructions on where to go flying in one ear and out the other. all he cares about for where he parks the car is that it’s secluded, and dark, away from prying eyes and any other people in the lot.

fortunately, blaine finds them the perfect spot, and he doesn’t even waste a second pretending like he gives a single shit about the movie at all, his eyes on her just as soon as the gear shift’s out of his hand.

kennedy’s turned in her seat and already looking back at him. she smiles and says, “thanks for doing this. it’s nice to have a normal date. i never pegged you as the type of guy who was all about carnivals and drive-ins and making these fun experiences for us.”

he shrugs, more nonchalantly than he feels. “probably ‘cause i’m not,” blaine answers honestly, “but everything’s different, with you.”

kennedy makes a soft sound of disbelief, lifting her hands to cover her face. when she peeks out from between her fingers, he sees that she’s smiling widely again. “you keep saying stuff like that. it’s so charming.”

blaine laughs, reaching out to tug her hands off her face. “that’s kind of the point.” he clears his throat, then continues more seriously, “but... i want you to know how i feel, you know? you shouldn’t have to guess. the truth is... i’ve been all-in for awhile, now, and -- those pictures were just a shitty setback. they don’t change the way i feel about you at all.”

she reaches out for his hand, and he lets her lace their fingers together, squeezing affectionately. “you have no idea how nice it feels to hear that,” kennedy sighs. “honestly...” the hesitation in her voice makes it clear she’s unsure of whatever she’s about to say, but she continues, “it kind of just felt like i ruined everything. things were actually going pretty well, for once, but now it’s like there’s this... dark cloud hanging over everything i do. i can’t even hang out with you without worrying we’re going to get caught again.”

his expression softens. he’s not usually one for optimism, but for her, and in the interest of getting some of that thick sadness out of her voice, he’ll try. “well, we’ve done a pretty good job avoiding that so far.”

“that’s true.” kennedy’s head tips back agains the carseat, and she smiles at him again. “i guess we’re making it work, in our own way. i love that i can always count on you to be real with me. it’s so -- refreshing, after all the fake posturing we deal with.”

well -- that’s probably as good an opening as he’s ever going to get. he spares a moment to silently thank whatever god is listening for the chance to ask the question that’s been eating at him for hours, the one thing he’s most desperate to know, beyond even the other stuff that usually keeps him up at night, everything from the simple inner workings of kennedy’s mind to why he’s so tripped up over a girl he’s only spent a few short months with. “speaking of fake...” blaine pointedly looks somewhere beyond her, staring out at the parking lot, “how’d your date go?”

kennedy’s quiet for long enough that he has to look back at her. there’s a knowing little glint in her eyes that he decidedly does not like. “are you jealous?”

“what?” he scoffs, “of course not. you left alexei to go out with me.”

“right,” she laughs, one small word injected with endless disbelief. “well, we had a good time. alexei’s not so bad.”

he’s an egomaniac and a self-centered prick, actually, blaine thinks. out loud, he says, “oh. cool. glad it worked out. cool, cool, cool...”

he fidgets restlessly. kennedy’s visible amusement only grows. “you know it was still a fake date, right? neither of us have any interest in the other.”

“i know,” blaine insists defensively. kennedy only arches an eyebrow at him. with a groan, he slumps back in his seat, a hand rubbing at his jaw. “fine, maybe i am a little jealous. give me a break, okay? this is kind of a unique situation for me.”

“if it helps, i think you’re doing a pretty great job.” she’s still smiling at him, but less like she thinks he’s being funny and more like she thinks he’s being sweet. she leans in a little closer, and -- it actually does help. the knots in his stomach that’d been coiled there since she first said her mom’s team was planning a pr relationship for her are finally starting to unwind.

“yeah?” he asks, gratified by the immediate nod she gives. “that’s good. i don’t wanna half-ass this boyfriend stuff just because it’s new to me.”

there’s a long stretch of silence. he realizes what he’s said all at once and starts to feel nauseous all over again, staring silently back at kennedy while he waits for her to say something -- anything.

“boyfriend stuff?” 

“ah.” his hand slips around to rub at the back of his neck sheepishly. “sorry. slipped out.” he should probably just cut his losses now -- bring her back early to be on the safe side and go back to his dorm and drown himself in the shower, because he is an idiot and that’s what an idiot deserves. “i know you kind of already have a boyfriend.”

kennedy huffs out a quiet laugh. “i kind of do.” she tilts her head to meet his eyes, forcing him to look at her again. his heart stutters painfully in his chest, picking up into a pace that’s almost frantic. “but... that’s not a ‘no.’”

their hands are still linked together. he looks down at where their fingers are interlaced, hoping his palms aren’t as sweaty as they feel. blaine disentangles his hand to lift it instead to kennedy’s face, pushing a lock of hair out of her eyes with a hesitant smile she immediately returns tenfold. 

it’s also not a ‘yes,’ but he’ll take what he can get. 

as it turns out, three hours and forty-five minutes is kind of not actually a long time at all.

or maybe it would be, for some people, but with kennedy in his lap, squished between him and the steering wheel so she can kiss him senseless, the time flies by. they watch what’s probably ten minutes total of the movie, they’re so busy kissing and talking, his hands wandering along her new outfit to show his appreciation for it the only way he knows how.

for her part, kennedy gives as good as she gets, tugging his hair out of place and messing up his jacket and making him forget his own name, with the way her hips are pushing into his lap and all the sweet little sounds she makes when he whispers something dirty in her ear and presses her in closer against him.

no amount of agonizing over her fake dates and not being able to kiss her in public is ever going to drive the way she shivers with her whole body when he says something she likes from his mind.

still, the drive back is somber. it’s time to bring kennedy -- kiss-swollen lips and raised hemlines and all -- back to the opera house before he knows it, and he’s really not looking forward to everyone who sees her thinking she spent four hours fooling around in the private box with alexei, of all people. he’s looking forward to driving home alone and going to bed by himself even less.

tomorrow he’ll have to sit by her in class again and pretend like everything’s fine.

because they had tonight, and he knows he should be content with that. the problem is -- he’s not. 

“you okay?” kennedy asks, checking the time on the watch on his wrist with a frown. she’s holding his hand in both of hers. “and don’t say you’re ‘fine.’”

“i am fine,” blaine insists, running his thumb across her wrist. “this sucks, but it’s what we have to do. if you’re good, then i’m good.”

she studies his expression for a minute, then sighs. “i’m as good as i can be,” she murmurs, “but things will get better.”

he knows that, too. even if no one ever finds out it’s him in the photos, even if they have to spend the rest of their lives sneaking out and ditching their bodyguards so they can find a few hours alone together -- things are good. the alternative -- winning the fight with his parents to keep him away from vancross, never getting the chance to know kennedy as well as he does... that’s a future that seems bleak, now that he’s seen the alternative.

“it’s really alright,” blaine assures her. “i’ll miss you, but... do what you gotta do.”

something about the way he says the words seems to instill new confidence in kennedy. she straightens her shoulders and glances back at the opera house door with determination. “thanks,” kennedy sighs, squeezing his hand one last time before slowly pulling away. she probably has only seconds until the finale starts up, though he’s desperate for a way to make them stretch longer. an eternity would be a nice place to start.

“will you... text dionne goodnight before you go to bed?” she asks, looking so hopeful he finds it’s impossible to do anything other than nod.

he grins widely at kennedy, leaning in to steal one last kiss. “dream about me, will ya?”

“every night,” she promises, and blaine lowers the window to get a better view of her and the sway of her hips when she slips out of the car and back inside, sighing heavily once she’s gone and he’s alone again, whacking his head against the carseat.

this is some mess they’ve gotten themselves into.

but, he figures, as he pulls away from the curb and starts back towards campus, the image of kennedy walking away in the heels and skirt she’d been wearing playing over and over again in his mind like a highlight reel, it’s definitely not without its perks.

[happy-whumper]

Food Poisoning

Is this..actual content? Damn who would have thought that would happen again 💀🤣

For a bit of context, this is set before Olivia came to Nicolas, actually her last 'owner' before him.

psh psh @darklyria, come simp for the Evil bastard Man~

CW: Poisoning/Drugging, Starvation, Vomiting, begging, creepy/intimate whumper, noncon touching (non sexual), pet whump (if I forgot anything, please let me know and I will add it!)

5 days. It had been 5 days since Olivia had last eaten.

She was laying on her back on the wooden floor, staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the aching emptiness in her stomach, another wave of nausea washing over her, causing her to tightly close her eyes.

Deep breaths.

Easier said than done, considering the just slightly too tight collar around her neck. Not quite tight enough to fully cut off her airflow but enough to cause her breathing to be labored and shaking lightly. She tried to swallow but her mouth was completely dried out, leaving an almost stale taste behind.

At the door stood two people, a man and a woman.Olivia didn’t need to turn her head to know that they were there. She didn’t know their names or maybe she had known them at some point and just forgotten.

Either way it didn’t matter, they never did anything to help her anyways. Just stood there, watching. Making sure she didn’t try anything stupid.

These times were still the closest she came to having some peace, the closest she came to being alone. But they never lasted long.

As if on command she heard awfully familiar footsteps approaching. Confident, determined and almost..relaxed in a way.

Olivia shivered, both from the dreadful anticipation as well as the almost numbing cold she had been feeling for the past days.

She tried to somehow prepare herself for what was about to come, knowing full well it wouldn’t have any use anyways.

As the door opened and a tall, blond man in a casually expensive looking white shirt walked in, Olivia had just managed to at least half sit up, still mainly leaning on her hand and elbow. Something about the man caused all the attention to immediately shift towards him, something he was clearly very aware of.

He was grinning, there was something smug about it, that made Olivia want to punch him, but since that wasn’t exactly possible she instead resorted to glaring dagger at him, only causing his smile to only get even more amused.

“Aw, well someone doesn’t look happy to see me…”

Clenching her jaw Olivia tried to push herself up a bit more, but failed because of the weakness in her muscles. “Yeah I wonder why.”

Nathan just laughed at that, putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “What’s wrong Princess, not in a good mood today?” The ‘nickname’ made her skin crawl and she wasn’t sure if the next wave of nausea came from hunger or pure disgust by the man looking down on her.

She didn’t bother responding, which he didn’t seem to care about too much. He stepped a bit closer, crouching down in front of her and firmly grabbing her chin, causing her to instinctively pull away. “Ah, ah, ah, what did I say about pulling away from me, hm?” His voice was still calm but she didn’t miss the warning undertone in it causing her to immediately freeze.

He chuckled lightly to himself, lightly brushing his thumb over her chin, causing a feeling of discomfort and disgust to send a shiver down her spine. “That’s what I thought,” he made a gesture to the man standing at the door, causing him to move out of Olivia’s view, leaving her a bit uneasy as Nathan started talking again, “Well, I actually have something that might cheer you up a bit Princess~”.

She felt her heart drop, her eyes immediately going wider. That never meant anything good…

A few seconds later the broader man appeared again, handing Nathan something she instantly recognised, only increasing the feeling of unease in her chest and causing the hairs on her arms to stand up.

“No! Get that..fucking thing away from me!” Rapidly shaking her head and almost crawling backwards, she stared at the short, black leash in his hand. The man in front of her just smirked at her reaction, a hint of impatience.

“Hm, I see someone’s decided to be… difficult today, hm pet?”, he leaned back a bit, lightly tapping has chin as if he was considering something, looking towards the man next to him, “I am not sure if such an ungrateful pet deserves to eat after all…”

At his last words Olivia's head immediately snapped up, a sudden feeling of desperation taking over her, still awfully aware of her empty stomach. “No, please I’m sorry I-”, his head turned towards her, lightly raising an eyebrow with an expectant grin on his face. For a moment she stayed silent, her mouth feeling even more dried out than before, swallowing hard and as a result feeling the tight collar press into her throat. She knew exactly what he wanted to hear and even though a part of her wanted anything but to give in to him, the bigger, more present and louder part was desperate, willing to do anything to just get something to eat.

“P-please Sir...I’m sorry I…”, she closed her eyes for a moment, almost forcing the words out, “I’ll be good Sir, I promise, please!” Her cheeks burned from embarrassment and humiliation but as she opened her eyes again and saw the satisfied smile on his face, she knew that it had been convincing enough.

“Hm, I love hearing you beg like this… So desperate, aren’t you princess?” Olivia bit the inside of her lip so hard that the faint taste of blood filled her mouth but she nodded, her eyes glued to the ground. “Y-yes Sir…”

“Good pet.”

About 45 minutes later, Olivia could finally remember what it was like to not feel hungry again, almost allowing her to relax a bit.

She lightly glanced up to Nathan who was sitting in a chair at the head of a conference room-like table, calmly listening to the other Man around the table talking and discussing. Despite the fact that she was kneeling next to him, the humiliation burning through her, she almost felt...grateful.

As if it hadn’t been Nathan who had starved her in the first place.

Suddenly a wave of dizziness came over her, prompting her to close her eyes for a moment, trying to fight the dazed feeling, not thinking too much of it.

The sudden feeling of a hand in her hair made her flinch, her eyes instinctively flying open, from the corner of her eye noticing the light smirk on the Man’s face.

She let out a breath, trying her best to just ignore it and focus on something else.

Only a few minutes later she once again started feeling light-headed, more severe than the first time, causing her to suck in a sharp breath, catching Nathan’s attention again.

“Everything alright dear?” His voice sounded almost concerned, if Olivia’s mind hadn’t been so woozy she would have picked up on the fake sincerity behind it. As it was though, she just nodded slowly, suddenly feeling nauseous, her eyes going wide, shifting on her knees.

Nathan chuckled lightly to himself, tightening the grip in her hair lightly, but she barely even registered it over the sudden stabbing pain in her stomach, letting out a pained gasp.

She quickly shut her eyes again, the nausea and dizziness getting worse by the second. It felt like the whole room was spinning, the floor underneath her shifting and turning, leaving her dazed and disoriented.

What the hell…

What she couldn’t see was the cruel smile spreading across Nathan's face as he leaned back in his chair, watching Olivia. More to himself, not loud enough for Olivia to hear, he chuckled lightly “Well that worked faster than I expected… “. He gestured to one of his ‘assistants’, signaling him to walk over to him.

"Yeah, Boss?" Nathan didn't even so much as turn his head, his eyes fixated on his pet, who's gaze was getting more glossy and distant. "Take my pet back to my room, I'll be there as soon as this here is done. Until then you stay with her and watch her. Wouldn't want to risk any...more permanent damage."

The man Paused for a Moment, getting a mildly confused look on his face, frowning lightly. "Uh… With all due respect Sir, you want me to play Babysitter?".

At that Nathan turned to him, raising an eyebrow "Is there a Problem? James, isn't it?", as the other nodded he continued talking, "Now I understand it that you're new here, so let me explain something to you. If I say something, you do it, you don't question me, you don't give any comments on it, you simply Follow the Order. I pay you enough for you to simply do that, don't you Think?" His voice had gotten colder now, a clear warning to not test his patience any further.

James nodded quickly, clearly a bit more intimidated now. "Oh yes of course Boss. Sorry." He lightly cleared bis throat and Nathan just nodded swiftly, turning his attention back to the men at the Table whose conversation had fallen quiet, the attention turned towards the Man sitting at the head of the Table. "Excuse me Gentlemen, just something small I had to take care of, please continue".

As the conversation slowly started again, the taller Man, James, Walked around the Chair, harshly grabbing Olivia's arm and pulling her up. The sudden motion combined with the nearly overwhelming dizziness caused her to stumble and almost fall, reflexively reaching out to the nearest surface, in that case the armrest of Nathan's chair, grabbing onto it as though her life was dependent on it.

Without turning around, Nathan put a Hand on Olivia's back, something that would have normally made her skin crawl but she was almost grateful for now.

"Careful. I would hate for you to damage my property."

By the time they were back in the bedroom, Olivia was sure that she was dying.

Every part of her body was taken over by an aching, hot pain, making her feel like she was burning from the inside out.

Her stomach felt like it was being cut open from the inside by a thousand tiny knives, leaving her almost breathless. In Addition to that she felt a burning fire build up behind her eyes, Lifting her arms up with a groan and pressing her Hands against her temples, granting a short Relief of the burning heat.

That Relief only lasted until the overwhelming nausea caused her to empty the insides of her stomach into the Toilet in front of her.

She couldn't remember how she even got to the bathroom floor but at that Moment she also didn't have the energy to Think about it, as the bitter taste of bile made her gag again, despite her stomach being completely emptied out.

Hot tears were running down her face, a ragged sob shaking up her whole body. She let herself drop to the cold floor, savouring the short alleviation of the cold, pulling her knees up to her chest, hoping for any sort of relief to the pain. But it never came. If anything, it just got worse the more time passed, making her feel like her insides were twisting and turning in cruel agony.

As a sudden, almost stabbing feeling went through her she wanted to scream, but her body was too worn out to bring up the energy, only managing a broken whimper. Olivia once again screwed her eyes shut, hoping that she might at least pass out so the pain would stop.

While she collapsed on the floor, James was standing in the doorway, his back turned away from her, frowning in annoyance. He hadn’t been paying too much attention to what exactly she was doing, still irritated about the fact that he had to ‘babysit’ now.

He scoffed, shaking his head lightly and crossed his arms in front of his chest, half glaring at the door across the room.

If I had known that this was part of the job I would have thought twice before taking it…

At the sound of a broken sob he turned around, narrowing his eyes but instantly freezing at the sight before him.

The girl, or 'pet' as his Boss referred to her, was lying on the stone tiles curled up in a fetal position, her breathing unsteady and interrupted by muffled sobs, her whole body trembling and shaking.

He felt his stomach drop, a sickening feeling spreading throughout his body. From the others he had heard about how his new Boss treated his ‘pets’, that it was just to be ignored, but this was the first time he had witnessed it first hand.

James didn’t even know her name and yet he felt awful seeing her lying there, her pale face almost matching the colour of the tiles her head was resting on and the pained whimpers escaping her throat.

But he knew that there wasn’t anything he could do to help her, no matter how much he wanted to. The others had warned him about that too, it would easily cost him his job if not worse and at the end of the day, it would only make things worse for her as well.

So all he did was stand there, watching her with an almost overwhelming feeling of helplessness.

About 10 minutes later, the bedroom door opened and the tall blond Man stepped through, a relaxed smile on his face. James had turned around again, not bearing the sight of the girl suffering any longer.

As Nathan walked towards him, his smile only seemed to widen, causing James to feel sick. How could he seem so...happy while another person was clearly in misery? He shivered lightly, keeping his gaze on the wall across from him.

Nathan glanced at him lightly from the side, smirking. “Now, was ‘babysitting’ really so bad?” James didn’t respond but the other Man clearly didn’t really look for an answer anyways, walking past him and crouching down in front of the girl who was still trembling violently.

If he hadn't known better, James would have thought that the way Nathan looked down on her was almost… caring. But that was only until he saw the sadistic amusement in his eyes, as he brushed a strand of hair that was sticking to the sweat drenching her forehead, to the side.

"You can leave now." He didn't turn around as he gave the command and James didn't hesitate to leave the room, not turning back once.

Olivia could feel the light touch, too exhausted even so much as flinch. She heard him chuckle lightly but it felt as though the Sound was muffled through a thick veil.

"Please…", her voice was barely above a whisper, shaking and unsteady, "Please, Sir I-i'm sorry, I-i-i..i'll be good, I promise!".

Another Wave of pain shot through her, forcing out a broken sob. "Please...please just m-make it s-stop...It hurts…"

Nathan just watched her with increasing satisfaction, fully enjoying seeing her broken down like that. "Oh you're so pretty begging and crying for me like this princess…"

Chuckling lightly to himself, he tilted his head to the side a bit. "Let's get you somewhere a bit more comfortable, hm?"

The last thing Olivia became aware of, was the feeling of someone picking her up, instinctively grabbing onto Nathan's shoulder for support to fight the new wave of lightheadedness before closing her eyes again, the darkness finally taking over and letting her escape into the temporary safety of unconsciousness.

Taglist: @starnight-whump, @jordanstrophe, @froggywhumpy, @whumpasaurus101, @as-a-matter-of-whump, @jojothepanwithoutaplan, @myst-in-the-mirror, @whumpsweetwhump, @darklyria

[undeadsnorlax]

Alone at Midnight, Inside My Mind

@badthingshappenbingo

Ao3 Link

Bingo Card

using the prompt in a metaphorical sense, as opposed to the medical aid sense

Prompt: Crutches

Fandom: Yakuza/Ryu Ga Gotoku

Warnings: a lot of alcohol related issues, including addiction and withdrawal, some suicidal thoughts and body image issues, hurt/no comfort. set pre-Yakuza 2.

Wordcount: 5511

2pm. He could tell it was because his downstairs neighbour was home, attending to the array of plant pots she kept littered outside her door, and playing music on the radio that bled through the crack of the open window.

Daigo squinted in the afternoon light that managed to make its way through the blinds, groaning loudly.

“Fucking hell…”

Suppose now was as good a time as any to start the day. Especially when he felt his stomach rumble.

It took some effort to get to his feet, but soon he was dragging himself into the kitchen, yawning loudly. He needed something quick and tasty, now.

The fridge had nothing but convenience store sushi and days old leftover curry. The cupboards were also pretty bare, half a bag of rice and a ramen cup.

Daigo sighed heavily, setting his kettle to boil before grabbing the sushi. He stuffed a piece into his mouth, wrinkling his nose at the taste of stale rice but ate another without any complaint.

Head to the store. Get some more food, he thought, holding the ramen cup in place as he lifted up the kettle.

The water splashed on the counter a little, narrowly missing burning his fingers, making him forcefully slam the kettle back down once the cup was filled.

Daigo gripped the sides of the counter, closing his eyes as he felt a pulse of nausea rush through his body. If he forced the tension against the surface hard enough, he could stop his hands shaking for just a moment.

Eat noodles. Have a shower. Go to the store.

Opening his eyes again, he ate another piece of sushi, absolutely no taste on his tongue as he chewed it into mush, before taking his ramen into the living room.

He slumped down on the couch, turning the TV on and forced the food down him. He still felt nauseous, but he knew he wouldn’t actually vomit. He already had last night. Doubled over in a bush outside the train station and puked his guts out, despite not having much solids in him. Even now his throat felt sore from it. Classy.

He wasn’t even hungry, really. He was eating out of obligation, feeling his stomach gurgle happily at finally being filled with some kind of food.

As he ate, he noticed his cell phone on the table in front of him, discarded amongst the empty bottles and candy wrappers. It was flashing.

Daigo frowned, reaching over and flipping it open.

Three new answer machine messages.

Who the hell had tried calling him?

Message one - 9:25am

“Daigo, it’s your mother. Pick up.”

Message two - 9:43am

“Me again. Please answer your phone.”

Message three - 10:08am

“Daigo...it’s Mom-“

Daigo groaned, snapping his phone shut to end the messages. Nope! He was not dealing with this today.

He discarded the empty ramen cup and chopsticks with the rest of the trash on the table, storming towards the bathroom.

Shower on, clothes off. He used the toilet as the water heated up, catching the reflection of his upper half in the mirror as he finished.

“Hrmph.”

He ran a hand down his front, resting it on the middle of his stomach and huffed again.

His weight had been up and down the last ten years, though it had obviously settled during his stint in prison, with its shit food and no alcohol. Now that he was out, with all the freedom to indulge in every last inch of hedonism he could find though, he had developed a bit of a gut. Just a bump, but it was…noticeable, it was there. It stuck out.

No surprise really. How much did he drink last night again?

Enough I puked in a bush.

Daigo shifted on his feet, standing up a bit straighter and sucking his stomach in. It didn’t make much difference. He suddenly wondered how visible it was under his t-shirt, glad he usually wore a thick coat to hide himself in.

“Great,” he growled, stepping into the shower. Another thing to feel insecure about.

He stood there, forehead pressed against the wall as he let the water run down the Fudo Myoo on his back.

His hand started shaking again.

“Give me a break,” he said, clasping it to his chest, “A few hours, a day.”

He dried himself off, going back to his bedroom for a clean shirt and pair of jeans – both black, of course.

He also grabbed a heavy hoodie to wear to the store, a way to feel a little more comfortable in himself in a public place.

Wallet, keys, phone. Go to store. Buy supplies.

Daigo pulled his hood up as he jogged down the stairs, immediately blocked from leaving by the downstairs neighbour still gardening.

“Lovely afternoon, isn’t it Dojima-san?” Ito cried, beaming at him. She was older, always so chipper. How did she manage?

As much as he wanted to ignore her, Daigo had been raised with far too proper manners. He still remained casual, grunting a little and rubbing the back of his head.

“Yeah, suppose.”

“You came back late again last night,” she added, hands lifting a plant to move to another pot, “Ouma-san went off about it before going to work this morning.”

“Oh, did he now?”

Ouma was the guy around his age in the apartment next door. Always miserable, always bringing a new girl home every weekend that Daigo had to endure hearing fake horribly through his thin bedroom walls.

“I’ll try to be a bit quieter next time, Ito-san,” he mumbled. For her sake, not for that asshole Ouma.

“Or maybe you should stay in once in a while, hm?”

Daigo scowled, jerking his head and storming off toward the store. With any luck the old bag would have gone inside by the time he was back.

As he made his way down the street, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He went to answer but paused, clenching his fingers tight into his palm. Nope. He knew who it was, and what she wanted, and he didn’t care.

His supply run was basic. More noodles, packs of chips and cookies, some onigiri and bentos that could last a few days.

Whilst picking up a few bottles of Staminan and Tauriner, he stared blankly at the alcohol.

His hands still shook. There was such a quick fix to settle that.

He grabbed a six pack of beer and a bottle of scotch and vodka, unable to help a crooked little grin.

The cashier looked at him a little oddly as he set his basket down on the counter. And yeah, he’d admit he looked strange. Sweating and shaky from withdrawal, under his eyes dark and his brow pulled into a near permanent scowl, face otherwise obscured by the shadow of the hood.

“Get me some cigarettes too, huh?” he mumbled, taking out his wallet and avoiding eye contact.

He was a mess.

He stared at the glass case of baked goods, unable to resist the pull from his sweet tooth, and asked for two donuts as well.

He arrived back home rather pleased with his haul. He had enough in him to pack away most of it, before he stared down the booze he bought.

He could...not do this, actually. He could not drink. It was easy, in theory.

He wiped his damp brow, licked his dry lips. His head hurt, despite the slight gloom of the kitchen.

They could sit there as an ultimate temptation. He could ignore them. He could do all manner of things.

But he wanted to drink, that was the issue. That was the whole point. Drinking was the only thing he had that stayed consistent.

He grabbed the scotch and slugged back a long mouthful, feeling everything just melt away. He let out a relieved gasp, the taste strong on his tongue and warming his throat. Felt like a part of him was back. His mind became a little clearer, his mood a little more elevated. He took a shorter swig for luck, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Much better…”

He spent the rest of the afternoon lounging on the sofa, playing video games. There wasn’t much else for him to do during the day.

Evening was his time.

When seven rolled around, Daigo got ready. His jeans and t-shirt were fine already, so all he had to do was put on his usual cross necklace to complete the outfit. He spent a while staring down himself in the mirror as he applied a shaky dash of eyeliner around his lid.

Once upon a time he shied away from doing this publicly, but since leaving jail he stopped caring. Wore eyeliner and straightened his hair. Painted his nails black and picked at the polish when he was anxious. Who gave a shit? Anyone dumb enough to say anything soon regretted it.

Keys, wallet, phone. Same routine. He chose his white puffer jacket to wear instead of his hoodie, enjoying the barrier it gave him from the rest of the world.

One quick metro ride later, he was in Kamurocho, just as the town was coming alive in a burst of neon. Daigo lost himself in the crowds, thinking of which bar to hit up first.

He paused for a moment down Tenkaichi Street, staring at the sign for Serena. Place was closed, and had been for a little under a year now.

He knew what happened last year, of course. Heard about Rina through another barkeep. Not that he’d known her well, or spent much time at Serena, but something in his chest ached hearing she was gone in such circumstances.

He soon forgot about it with another glass.

With a weary huff, he decided the Champion District on the other side of town was the best place to start. The bar he chose was quiet, no other customers, and a barman who knew when to keep his mouth shut.

Perfect.

Instead of conversation, Daigo focused on the soft jazz music playing as he nursed his whiskey. He was into heavier tunes, but he needed a bit more of a buzz before going to his favourite rock bar.

He tapped his nails against the glass, tilting his head. Good idea, actually. They did cheap shots and a big array of imports.

He slammed some cash down on the counter before stumbling into the street, glad to feel the slight evening chill on his cheeks.

Down to Pink Street, and into the rock bar he enjoyed. Already feeling at home with the heavy guitar music blasting over the speakers, most of the other patrons dressed in a similar style to him. He’d missed out on a lot of stuff whilst locked away, the slight sways in fashion that happened in such a short amount of time, but he liked knowing he was still on trend within his scene, mostly.

He sat at the counter, giving a half-grin to the girl working there, and ordered himself five shots of vodka.

His earlier drinks had been a warmup, these were the first leg of the race. The second came in the form of a large scotch, some new brand they’d started selling.

Honestly, the start to a perfect night for him, until he heard a small gasp from behind him.

“Hey! Aniki!”

Daigo’s heart sank at the voice, glancing over his shoulder. Five of the guys he usually hung around with were there – or more accurately, they hung around him.

He rolled his eyes and groaned, turning in his seat and glaring them down. He should never had shown them this place.

“What do you want?” he muttered, already knowing the answer.

“We didn’t know you were out today!” Arita cried, leaning up next to him, with that sycophantic look he always had in his eyes. As if Daigo wasn’t out every night.

“Why don’t you join us aniki?” Kubo asked, which actually translated to wanna pay for all our drinks because we’re cheap scrounging bastards?

Daigo groaned again, knocking back his glass and waving the bartender over again.

“If you quit calling me aniki.”

They didn’t, of course. They gleefully accepted the drinks he bought them with more coos of thank you Dojima-aniki. Daigo rubbed the bridge of his nose and ordered himself two double scotches, slugging them back like they were water.

“I was thinkin’ we could go to Dazzle after this,” Arita said, having not left Daigo’s side. He always babbled and talked too much, like he felt he had to fill every silence with his own voice save people be left alone with their own thoughts.

“Why there?” Daigo asked, thinking of all the things he’d rather do more than go to a hostess club, including and not limited to slamming his face into a lit stovetop and drowning in a hot tub.

“I just think the girls there are really underrated, y’know? I like that they have some slightly older gals, I love a mature lady. How about you?”

Daigo shoved a shard of ice from his glass into his mouth and let it melt on his tongue. “Come on then.”

He was paying for two hours and that was that. At least he could get a bottle for himself and work through that, sitting at the edge whilst the others enjoyed the girls’ company.

Dazzle might have specialised in more mature women, but the decor was a nightmare like every other hostess club. Why’d they always insist on so many sparkles, it gave him a headache.

“Um...are you enjoying yourself?”

Daigo lowered his gaze to look at the girl. ‘Mature’ really meant ‘late twenties’, and she was running on the younger side of that.

“What do you think?” he said coldly, swirling his drink in its glass.

She seemed a little dazed at this, glancing back at her fellow hostesses, but kept going.

“M-my name is Nashi. Yours?”

“Daigo Dojima.”

He clicked his tongue, emptied his glass and went to refill it, his shoulders slouching slightly. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be so short, you’re only doing your job.”

“Oh, it’s fine, I’ve had far worse responses.”

Daigo just gritted his teeth. Another reason he hated hostess clubs was he knew how other men treated these girls, saw it himself the times his father brought him along as a teen.

The least he could do was give this lady a nice conversation.

“Well, I’ll try to be a bit better than them,” he said, gesturing with his head towards the others, so loud and obnoxious.

Nashi smiled a little. “They’re not so bad. Your friends are just a bit...out there.”

He scoffed. “They’re not my friends. I don’t really...do friendship anymore.”

“Oh? How come?”

Shit. Of course, when you say something like that, people have questions. Daigo licked his lips in thought, considering how he should phrase this.

“You...don’t recognise my name, do you?”

Nashi blushed a little, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Um, well, you do have a bit of notoriety around town, Dojima-san. I know girls in other clubs, and they always talk about you.”

Daigo did a slight double take at this. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah. You’re a rather…” She gestured at his coat and skinny jeans. “A striking figure, you know. A lot of girls like the edgy emo bad boy look. It’s popular right now.”

“Hm, figures.” A lot of men are also fans…

Daigo sat up a little straighter, gazing Nashi down. “Do you?”

“H-huh?”

“Find me attractive?”

It was a joke, said with a dry smirk, but she flustered, clearly uneasy. Daigo grimaced, sliding up a little closer and putting a hand to her knee.

“Hey, hey. I’m kidding.” He made his smirk a soft smile, broke down the facade for just a moment to put her at ease. “Don’t worry about it.”

Nashi’s eyes went wide, but nodded, brushing down the edges of her dress.

“A-anyway, I...I’ve heard you...were involved with the Tojo Clan. Is that why you don’t ‘do’ friends?”

“Mm. Essentially.”

Daigo gave up on the glass, swigging back from the bottle which got him a funny look from one of the other patrons across the way.

“My only friend murdered my father,” he said, so matter of fact. He hesitated a moment, letting out a short huff. “Well. He went to jail for the crime, at least. He was actually covering for someone else. Either way, I was left without his guidance for ten years, thinking he had betrayed me like that.”

He paused a second, swilling whiskey around his mouth, before continuing.

“I came back to town a few months ago and...he hasn’t bothered trying to find me. Which shows how little he cares.”

“Oh. That sounds...awful, Dojima-san.”

“It sure does, doesn’t it?”

Daigo shrugged, tilting the empty bottle back so he could savour just a few more drops as best he could. “That’s just how my life is now.”

He grumbled a little as he set the bottle down, belching into his cupped hand before draping himself back against the seat.

“Sometimes you gotta deal with the hand you're given,” he added, scratching lazily at his middle, “And unfortunately, I’ve had a poor deck from the start.”

He shut his eyes before letting out a laugh, forced and hollow. “Sorry. I’m not the best at keeping things light.”

How many hostesses had he paid to listen to him whine? Then he thought how they were probably all used to it, which made it even worse.

“Well, given your circumstances…”

Nashi glanced back at her co-workers, the barely hidden looks of disdain towards the rest of the crew and their boorish behaviour.

“I’d much rather talk to you though,” she said, reaching over to grab another one of the bottles along the table, gesturing toward his glass, “You’re nice.”

Daigo swallowed, nodding in approval as she filled it to the brim. His head pounded, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the music or the cravings.

“If you say so.”

The glass was empty in a flash, and filled just as quick.

“You’re good at this,” he purred.

The bottle was empty by the time the waiter came by. Daigo had just enough mental capacity to dig through his pockets and pay, giving Nashi a shaky smile and a pat on the knee.

“Thank you for tonight. You’re great.”

His friends, on the other hand, all started to whine as the waiter began to urge them into finishing their drinks.

“Aw, c’mon aniki, let’s hang around a bit longer!”

“If you want that, pay yourself, ya cheap fucks.”

Daigo stood up, a bit too quickly as he felt the room spin. He stumbled to the side slightly, wincing as he contained a belch that very much tasted of vomit. Nope! No puking tonight. Keep it all inside.

“I’m outta here,” he mumbled, resting a hand on any available solid surface to keep himself steady as he left.

He blanked out the cries of the others as he did. He’d wasted enough time with them tonight, and he was craving something else.

“Burger,” he mumbled, squinting as he glanced up and down the street, “Pffft...that way.”

This was always the worst part of the night. Trying to sober up enough so he could keep going, or at the very least get home in one piece. Stumbling through the streets and trying not to crack his skull open.

It wasn’t just food he craved though. He felt...itchy. That was the only way to really explain it. The desire to go wild, start a scuffle. Really earn that reputation he supposedly had.

To hell with staying in one piece.

But first, Smile Burger.

The fact that the poor worker even understood what he said through his slurred words was impressive and soon he was curled up against the window, feet pulled up on the chair beside him as he made his way through a burger that tasted like the finest wagyu steak right now.

All the while, he kept his eye out.

Yeah, it felt shitty to target people for a fight like this, but he made sure it was a fair fight. Usually a few guys, who looked like they could take a hit as well as throw one, maybe even have a chance if they weren’t facing someone running on adrenaline and too much booze.

He cocked his head as he focused on a table nearby. Four men, mid-twenties, definitely young yakuza from some family. He couldn’t see any lapel pin from where he was sat, but they were perfect.

Childishly, he picked up one of his fries and threw it in their direction. It hit the back of one guy’s head, and he looked around puzzled. Daigo just threw another, chuckling as it hit him again. A bit too obvious, as he was spotted this time.

“What the hell’s wrong with you dude?” one of the four cried.

“I dunno,” Daigo said, stuffing a bunch of fries in his mouth before flinging another their way, “Target practise.”

This one hit a guy in a striking red sports jacket right between the eyes, and Daigo could barely contain the full-on cackle he let out at the expression he pulled. It was almost too easy.

He grinned when one came over and jabbed him in the chest.

“Outside. Now.”

“My pleasure.”

He followed them into a nearby side street, hands in his pockets and head held high. He liked an audience sometimes, but a private fight was fine enough.

The biggest one of them threw the first punch. He was expecting it, crossing his arms over in front of his face to block it, before kicking out at the guy’s ankles.

The whole fight was messy. The little gang clearly had never been in a proper fight, had no form. They kept punching poorly, wincing with any that managed to hit as they stung their knuckles.

Not that Daigo was any better. He was still far too drunk, but that was half the fun. Stumbling about and getting in a rough hit that frightened these kids who’d never experienced this before. He just wanted the thrill, the rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins. Anything to feel something.

Daigo landed a punch on that guy in the sports jacket, right in the middle of his face. It sent him flat on his ass, skidding down the street slightly.

“Come on!” he groaned, “Grab him, idiots! We outnumber him!”

A moment of pause. Daigo tried to catch his breath, but ol’ sports jacket was right. He was outnumbered.

Two of them grabbed his coat and pushed him back against the wall, holding him there. The third punched at his gut, over and over. Daigo gritted his teeth, tensed his stomach for every punch.

He knew he could get out of this, easily. The guys holding him were hardly doing much, weren’t even gripping his actual arms, just the sleeves of his jacket. It wouldn’t take much to duck and slip down, then send them crying home to their mommies.

“Come on!” he hissed, baring his teeth.

But he wanted them to hit him.

“That all you got?”

He wanted them to hurt him.

Sports jacket guy had gotten back on his feet now, face already starting to bruise. His fist met the middle of Daigo’s face hard, harder than they’d been hitting before. It stung, a lot, which is exactly what he wanted.

Not that it solved anything.

It never did.

“Oi!” They all froze, turning toward the entrance of the street. Daigo, semi-dazed, managed to look too, and felt his stomach drop.

Kashiwagi's expression, initially a scowl, changed the moment he saw him, shaking his head and blinking a little. “Daigo?”

He sighed heavily, storming over and waving his hand at the little gang. “Shoo. Don’t let me catch you boys doing shit like this again, you hear?” “Y-yes Patriarch Kashiwagi.”

They scurried off further down the street, leaving Daigo to stand up straighter, rubbing his nose. He groaned a little as he saw the streaks of rusty red on the back of his hand, sniffling heavily. “Great.”

“Daigo…”

Kashiwagi sighed again, rubbing at his temple. “What are you doing?” “I’m just...I’m just out.” Daigo sniffed again, scrunching his nose. “Just finished dinner.”

“You know what I mean…”

Kashiwagi looked around, then grabbed Daigo by the shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s talk in the office.”

Daigo went to argue, but it only took one stern glare, the kind the older man had given him his whole life, for him to clench his jaw and follow.

Kashiwagi led the way toward the Millennium Tower, hand on Daigo’s shoulder the whole way. It felt so patronising, like that time he accidentally broke a window at the Dojima Family offices when he was ten, and Kashiwagi had done the exact same gesture, marching him to his mother.

“Nice upgrade,” he still said, gazing out the wide window of Kashiwagi’s office once they arrived, “From that little place on Tenkaichi.”

“Well, we make do. I’m second in command now.” Kashiwagi set down the plastic convenience store bag he’d been carrying on his desk, letting out a small, bemused exhale of air. “It’s not all bad. Now come on. Why were you fighting?”

Daigo clicked his tongue and shrugged, staring at the blinking lights below them.

“Daigo…” “I just was, okay?”

He gave a dismissive shrug, walking across the floor toward a cabinet, throwing the doors open. Kashiwagi watched him with tired eyes, slumping down in his chair. “I think you’ve had enough to drink tonight.”

“How did you know that’s what I was looking for?”

“Your breath reeks of it, kid. Your whole body does.” He took out a bento and can of coffee from the plastic bag, raising a brow. “And I know what you’re like, especially lately. How’s being a free man by the way? Haven’t seen you since you were released.”

“It sucks ass.”

Daigo slammed the cabinet door shut, opening another and grinning as he saw half a bottle of whiskey there, as well as some crystal glasses. He heard Kashiwagi tut loudly as he slammed both down on top of the cabinet.

“What did you expect?” he scoffed, pouring a very large measure, “Mom told me the news the moment I got out. What Nishikiyama did. That it wasn’t Kiryu. He hasn’t even come to see me, to apologise for it.”

He knocked the glass back, the sensation warm and familiar down his throat. “Hardly feel free. Just not in jail anymore.”

“What happened to the boy I knew?” Kashiwagi asked, walking over and placing a hand on Daigo’s shoulder once more. This time it was gentle, kind, attempting to be comforting. Not Kashiwagi-san, one of his father’s men, but Uncle Osamu, his mother’s best friend.

Daigo scrunched his nose up, taking another slug of whiskey. “You say that like I’ve ever been cheery.”

“Well, okay, you’ve always been a serious young man, but…”

He just shook his head, moving his hand away. He grabbed the whiskey bottle in the process, making Daigo let out a pathetic little whine.

“I’m not going to enable you any more than I have,” he said firmly, before adding, “I mean it though. You don’t need to throw your life away like this.”

Daigo didn’t reply, because he didn’t like the real answer. There wasn’t much of a life to throw away. He was doing everyone a favour with this.

“You bring me up here just to lecture me old man?” he growled, narrowing his eyes.

Still looking for someone to fight. Kashiwagi would wipe the floor with him, he knew that, but he didn’t care. He also knew he wouldn’t get that kind of satisfaction.

Didn’t mean Kashiwagi wasn’t frustrated with his attitude. He closed his eyes, clenching his fists and let out a deep exhale from his nose. “I saw your mother today. She’s been trying to call you all morning.”

“I know.” The empty glass was set down heavily, with a grunt. Daigo dug around for his phone, holding it out so Kashiwagi could see the countless missed calls and texts from her on the home screen. “I know what today is.”

“...and is that why you’re-”

“You know I’m like this anyway.” He stared at the texts, all similar in tone - Daigo, please call me. Daigo, it’s important. Are you okay? He got them most days from his mother. She was trying so hard. He didn’t want her to. He would rather she forget about him. She deserved that much.

Kashiwagi wasn’t looking at him, staring up at the ceiling as he thought of what to say next.

“I understand that...none of us could have predicted the extent of what your father was like.”

Daigo did a double take, noticing Kashiwagi immediately cringe. At least he knew what he said was stupid.

“Sorry, that was-”

“Yeah. It was.” Daigo looked up, head cocked to his shoulder. “Anyone could have guessed, really. We just pretended otherwise, because somehow he seemed to be the only thing keeping the Tojo Clan from completely falling apart.”

He was up in Kashiwagi’s face now, feeling his chest clench tight. He was working himself up over nothing, over that bastard. He hated it, but thinking of what his father did to get himself killed, the kind of man he was, it made his skin crawl.

“He deserves to spend every birthday after what he did having the most miserable time in hell,” he said with a hiss, noticing his voice wobbling, “I know it. You know it. But Mom refuses to let go-”

The slap felt cathartic, for both of them. Daigo shut his eyes and nodded as his cheek stung. He deserved that. He was trying to provoke that kind of reaction and got exactly that.

“I take back what I said. That boy you were is still there. An insolent brat,” Kashiwagi said, walking back to his desk, “Daigo, one day, you’re going to have to grow up. You can’t keep doing this until you die.”

He threw a semi-sympathetic look over his shoulder, but Daigo mostly felt it was piteous. That’s what he was. A pitiful, useless mess.

“Go home, Daigo. Call your mother. And for everyone’s sake, don’t have anything else to drink tonight.”

Daigo sucked in through his teeth and nodded again as he walked toward the door.

“...good night, Kashiwagi-san.”

No response. Yup. I deserve this.

He made his way home in a daze, everything working in automatic. Kashiwagi’s words kept echoing in his head, over and over.

You can’t keep doing this until you die.

Because that’s what he was trying to do, wasn’t it? Die. Suicide by hedonism. He was born already holding the worst hand life could deal, and he was never going to get anything better. After his father was killed, the one tiny scrap of potential good he could have in his life was gone, even if that prospect was a life of crime.

So why not? Why should he grow up when there was nothing to grow up for?

The moment he was inside his apartment, he slid down the door, staring blankly ahead. He’d needed that talking to, he needed a few really, from people who were currently pretending like he didn’t exist. That’s what he really needed. For Kiryu to talk to him, apologise for ruining his life, try and talk some sense into him. He always knew what to do.

But it was like he didn’t exist. Kiryu didn’t care. Kashiwagi tried to care, but knew he was a lost cause. Who did care?

Daigo opened up his phone again, staring at the missed calls and sighed. That’s who cared. Mom.

He should talk to her. He knew he should. He was an awful son who loved his mother very much, which is why he knew she deserved better. She was trying despite knowing she’d made mistakes, but he just couldn’t let that go.

He hovered on her number, ready to press the button to call...but instead he tossed his phone to land on the couch, walked to the kitchen and wrapped his fingers around the neck of the vodka bottle still on the counter.

He licked his lips, swallowed heavily...but let go, pushing it away.

“You win this time old man,” he grumbled, picking up an energy drink and the donuts he’d bought earlier in the day instead. Kashiwagi could never be allowed to know that though.

He knew this self-control wouldn’t last long. Come morning, he’d be shaking again, a hangover banging in his skull, and he’d be dragging himself towards that bottle like it was the source of life.

The same thing every day.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

He couldn’t have it any other way.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Fictober 21 - 2 “You have no proof”

I’m not tagging this one. It’s heavy.

Fanfic

Fandom: Inquistion

Summary: Withdrawal is hard. Dealing with that and his feelings is even harder for Owain Trevelyan. He doesn’t feel ready for this kind of thing. But maybe he doesn’t have to be. Maybe he just has to start.

(Warnings: mentions of withdrawal, child abuse, and homophobia.)

---

Another day, another pile of horse shit. Yet, somehow, still better than being a Templar. Life was funny that way.

Owain sighed in relief as he left the stable behind, body sore and mind tired. It had been a long day of taking care of the horses, punctuated by the fact he was actually afraid of them. People tended to forget that. Or maybe they did remember, and this was their way of torturing them. The Inquisitor seemed like a nice guy, so it was more likely than not that nobody had told him. He was going to go with that, because the alternative wasn’t great.

“Right… better go clean off and get something to eat.”

His mind was swimming, but it wasn’t as bad as it had been in weeks prior. He still felt the need in the back of his mind, but today it was more of a whisper than an outright scream. Tomorrow, who knew, but he was going to take his victories where he got them. A day without lyrium was in his book as good as any.

He just wished getting through this didn’t hurt so damn much.

“Alright there, Trevelyan?”

A deep voice made his insides flutter. He felt his face heat as he turned towards the barn. In his griping over the body aches, Owain hadn’t noticed that he had company. Someone was standing in the entrance to the barn, a block of wood in hand.

“Oh… Warden Blackwell.”

The man shook his head as he kept carving. He stopped to watch him, curiosity getting the better of him. Woodwork was always something he had admired as a young man, but he’d never had time to learn. Now he was probably too old for it. Knowing his luck, he’d probably cut one of his fingers off, and there would he be?

Well… not like he needed all 10 to take care of horses, but he’d like to keep them all the same. He had enough problems.

“Just Blackwell is fine.” His knife rasped against the wood again and again. From the looks of things, maybe it was starting to become a bird? “Long day?”

Owain could barely hear him over the pounding of his heart. “Oh… yes. I suppose so. I should be fine after I eat something, though.”

The man’s eyes were on him, studying him. It was hard to breathe then as he wondered just what Blackwell was looking for. Did he suspect him of lapsing on his promise? Most people did… he couldn’t blame them for that.

He just wished this one hadn’t…

“Ask the healer for herbs for the pain.” He kept carving. “Overheard a few ex-recruits talking about it.”

There went his heart again, pounding like crazy. “I will… tomorrow. Right now, I just want food and my bed.”

There was Blackwell’s eyes on him again as he stopped carving. His stomach shifted, and for not the first time in his life he felt guilty for something he hadn’t done. Right then, he was nothing more than a schoolboy being scolded for a mess he hadn’t made.

It was kind of annoying.

He took a breath before he spoke. “I assure you… I have not lapsed.”

“I believe you.” Blackwell kept carving. “Be hard for a stable hand to get lyrium anyway, unless you’re friendly with the mages.”

His carving was turning less bird like by the second. It took Owain a second to realize it was becoming a griffin. Maybe he should’ve realized that one sooner – after all, the man was a Grey Warden. Griffins were kind of their thing.

But…

“That is quite true.” He frowned. “Forgive me if I was short…”

There he went again, apologizing. In those moments, he swore he could feel his father’s hand on him, and it was hard not to wince. Even years later, he found he couldn’t escape it. Maybe he never would be able to – talk about a legacy.

“You were defending yourself.” Blackwell finished carving. “Only natural, I suppose, given the hell you’re going through.”

He held his griffin up to the light. It was a fine thing, at least by Owain’s lack of knowledge, wings spread, and beak bared in what probably would have been a vicious scream if any lived to make a sound. It was a fierce little thing – he would’ve hated to see the full-size version. Or worse… shoveled its shit.

All things considered that probably would’ve been his job…

Much to his surprise, Blackwell left the barn and met him in the yard. Owain blinked back surprise as the griffin was placed into his dirty hands. That close, he could smell the other man – there was sweat there, but also wood and hay.

It… was a nice smell.

“Here. You looked like you could use it.”

And briefly, he smiled. It was a little hard to see with the beard, but he felt it nonetheless. His heart thudded to life once more as he watched the man walk back to the barn. In that moment, he forgot how to breathe as he looked down at his gift.

This was probably the point he should have said thank you, but he wasn’t sure how to work his tongue anymore.

At least he managed to nod his head as he sped off, clutching the carving close to his pounding chest. Owain didn’t slow down until he was all the way back in his room, away from prying eyes and clicking tongues. Then he slid to the floor, back against his door, staring at the little griffin he had placed on the floor.

Blackwell had made it for him.

“Oh, Maker.”

It took him a few moments to rise and make it to the wash basin, but his thoughts were of nothing of the Warden. Even the cold water left from that morning did nothing to dissuade him of images of Blackwell, his smile, his hands… everything.

He was acting like a bloody teenager…

“Get it together, Owain. You’re far too old for this.” He brushed back wet hair from his forehead, sighing as he studied his tired expression in the glass he had hung above it. Lyrium withdrawal had made him lose a bit more weight, and the dark circles under his eyes didn’t help matters. “Best to return to reality, my friend.”

The extra splash of water did nothing to help him other than to wash the stink off, but at least he was clean enough to go get some food without offending people. His griffin soon rested next to the basin, where it would no doubt guard his room while he was away. Then he shut the door behind him to head off.

Naturally, the Great Hall was a mad rush at mealtimes. He threaded among the crowd, keeping his eyes low as he made his plate. The lyrium withdrawal made it hard for him to eat, but he needed to if he wanted strength for tomorrow. At least the ale helped keep things down as he grabbed a mug and started to look for a place to sit. Much to his relief, he found a small spot off to the side. Away from others, he was content to sit.

And as soon as he did, his stomach began to turn.

“Fuck.”

The expletive slipped from between his lips, but thankfully no bile followed. Owain rode the sudden wave of nausea, shutting his eyes tightly. The light made things worse sometimes, he found. At least it would be over soon… and lucky for him, dinner wasn’t strong smelling. He definitely would’ve vomited if so.

Things were going his way for once.

As the nausea subsided, Owain allowed a shaky breath. When nothing came up, another followed. Soon, he could risk opening his eyes. The room was no longer spinning, which meant he definitely could risk trying to eat.

But… maybe a few minutes more, just to be safe.

“Now, now, it’s not polite to swear.”

A voice from off to the side drew his attention. He cocked an eyebrow at spotting a man dressed all in black, his face a grinning skull. Ian was doing better those days as well, though he still needed to put on a bit more weight. His robes were at least not hanging as loose as they had been.

Though, it didn’t explain why he was there…

“Can I…” His eyes widened as he realized there was another standing next to him, a woman in a long dress with a cloth wrapped around his forehead. “Oh… Aeronwen.”

His sister nodded stiffly. “Owain.”

The shock ran through him as they both sat across from him, placing their plates down. He was numb in the moment as all thoughts shut down. If either noticed, they didn’t care. They were too focused on eating.

Why now? And with him?

Ian answered that for him as he sipped from his mug, beaming in a none-too-friendly way. “So… I saw you getting awfully chummy with the Warden in the yard. Didn’t think you were into the big and hairy type.”

Owain’s heart stopped, and his mind reeled. “I… no you don’t…”

Aeronwen shook her head as she put down her fork. “We know you prefer men, Owain. So does Ian.”

“And Aery’s a big ol’ lesbian, so we’re the death of the Trevelyan line!” Ian laughed cheerfully, practically throwing his head back. “Well, besides any older siblings that had children… I guess that’s a fly in the butter.”

His heart was still struggling to start back up as he took in the information. On the bright side, he definitely wasn’t nauseous anymore. Downside… everything else. This definitely wasn’t a conversation he had been planning… well, ever. But it was happening, and he couldn’t exactly escape.

Fuck his need to be polite…

Ian seized upon his stunned silence and leaned in, grinning. “So… you and the Warden…”

His face heated as he glanced to the side. “I have no idea what you speak of Ian. We work in similar spaces and have chance to speak.”

And… sometimes he got presents…

“Looking like more than just speaking to me.” Aeronwen took a sip of her ale, grimacing. “Ugh, who brewed this, it tastes like rotten dirt.”

Her cousin chuckled. “Good to see you’re still an ale snob, Aery. It does my dark little heart good to hear you complain.”

“The stuff I make is miles better.” Her eyes were back on him, however. “But we’re getting off the subject. About your crush on the Warden…”

Another pang of panic shot through Owain’s system. Them knowing his attractions was one thing… implying he had feelings for Blackwell was another matter entirely. Maybe that was why he quickly rose to his feet, almost knocking his mug over in the process.

“I don’t…” he took a shaky breath to steady himself and his shaking hands. After that, it was a sip of ale to help his dry mouth. How it tasted like dirt, h had no clue – it didn’t matter then as he put it down with a still trembling hand. “You have no proof.”

Ian and Aeronwen exchanged looks, neither saying anything. It was impossible to tell what either was thinking then. However, he sank back down in his seat regardless. Shame was squirming in his stomach for so many things right then, he just couldn’t pick one.

On the bright side… no nausea?

“It’s not a big deal, you know. He seems interested.” Ian took a hearty sip from his mug. “Might as well go for it. Once you come off the lyrium withdrawal you’re going to be horny as fuck anyway.”

“Gross.”

“What, I heard an ex-recruit talk about it.”

None of their conversation registered with Owain. He was too busy staring blankly down at his plate, unable to think. Too many thoughts were racing through his mind; he couldn’t even think to grab one and settle on it as he wordlessly ate, mostly on instinct. If the pair noticed, they didn’t say anything.

In the end, he finished long before they did. Wordlessly, he got up from the table. Before long, he was leaving the hall. Right then, all he wanted was to find his bed and stay there until things made sense again. He would even take the aches in his body over this.

Fuck…

Maybe due to his inability to focus, he missed the sudden weight on his shoulders. Then it left him. He blinked and realized that someone was standing in front of him. Paper crinkled as they unwrapped a chocolate and popped it into their mouth, eyes glowing in the torchlight.

Jackel Lavellan. Just who he didn’t need.

“You should probably work on that whole shame thing. It’s going to cost you a chance at a good relationship.” She swallowed. “That, and all the work I did. It wasn’t easy getting you from creepy templar to mostly normal.”

He winced at the memory. “I thank you for the help but…”

The words died in his throat. A thousand things he could’ve said, but he just couldn’t get them out. In the end, he settled on silence. It was an old strategy, one he had mastered as a child. Once again, it was helping him.

How were they all so… casual about it?

Jackel nudged him forward – he moved without thinking. “He likes you. It’s why he made the griffin for you.”

Maybe if this had been a month prior, Owain would have been surprised. However, time and experience had taught him the elf knew everything hidden in Skyhold. For all he knew, she had been watching from a tree. She did that a lot – made it easier to jump on people.

Again, he would know – she had knocked him down a few times.

“I…”

He frowned. “I do not think I know what to do about any of this.”

The elf gave him a nudge forward; maybe on someone else it would have been a shove. Lucky for him, she was tiny. “Stop thinking about it with the big head and go with the little one. See where that leads you.”

Humorless laughter bubbled from his lips as Owain shook his head. “I can only see it leading to disaster.”

Where else could it lead? Even if it wasn’t Blackwell, it wasn’t like he had… experience… in these matters. The other man would expect him to know things he had no idea about. Just thinking about it made his stomach squirm, and the nausea returned.

Just the time to feel sick.

“Well, I don’t. And I know more than you.” She elbowed him in the side. “So, trust me and get that Warden already. He’s practically pining. It’s rude to make him wait.”

It was also rude to presume things… but Owain’s mind traveled back to the smile and the griffin resting in his room. Just thinking about them made his heart feel warm in a way he didn’t often allow. As much as it scared him, he wanted more. Right then, he wanted it more than his next breath.

But… to actually ask…

Jackel shoved him forward again. “Just do it. You don’t have to jump his bones on day 1 even, just get it going. Mythal’s tits, you’re slow.”

Get it going.

“I… think I could do that.”

She nodded at him, clearly pleased. “Good. And don’t forget to take a bath before you fuck. You don’t want to smell like horse shit. I doubt even he’s into that.”

Her bluntness brought the color to his cheeks, but at least he managed a nod. While the dark feelings still swarmed in his stomach, there was still the warmth that refused to leave even as they swarmed.

Maybe… he would stop by the barn. Just to talk. Nothing too serious yet. Just… starting things. If there was anything to start.

That thought may have been quiet, but something about it echoed through Owain’s body. For the first time in what felt like ages, his step was lighter as he started to walk again. While a weight still weighed him down, it was easier – almost manageable. Maybe with time, he would be free of it.

But… at least he was starting. And that was something. One small step was all it took to start, after all. Where it would take him, Owain wasn’t sure. All he knew was that it was in a new direction, one completely off the path planned for him. A step he had decided all on his own, tiny as it was.

He could get used to this sort of freedom. Now… what the hell was he going to say? They hadn’t exactly covered flirting with another man in etiquette lessons…

[baekhyuq]

“Cybersex.” Baekhyun (m) Robot!bbh

[Artificial Intelligence!Baekhyun/Robot!Baekhyun]

Genre: Smut/Fluff

Word count: 3.5k

Playlist: Cybersex - Doja Cat/Say so-Doja Cat

Summary: You order your first AI because you’re lonely, but the AI seems to be more in control of you than you are of him.

Dragging the tab to customize your characters face, you make a sound as it comes together. Your customized character looks absolutely fuckable. In your own words.

Your friend—Yeri—introduced you to a very popular company that allows you to custom a robot/AI and have it delivered right to your door step. This was a dangerous thing you’ve considered many times. What if the AI becomes something evil? Your worries were just childish but valid. Your friend assured you nothing bad would happen, you could always report it to the company.

She went on to tell you how she’s had her AI for about a year and nothing has happened. You remember coming over to meet her robot—man. He was charming to say the least, with the modern technology they’ve developed over the years, they’ve replicated human emotions almost perfectly. Some interactions are still awkward and stiff between the human and AI.

“It’s expensive but worth it, I need somebody.” You talk yourself into hitting the confirm order button. You stare at the button for over 5 minutes before clicking it and instantly regret.

“W-wait.” You breathe out, what if this was the worst thing you’ve done yet?

***

“Y/n you can’t cancel it...Once the order is made you can’t go back.” Yeri tells you over lunch. You’re both eating veggie burgers with a side of fries. You explained how you’ve tried everything to cancel your order to the company.

“I cant believe I just blew so much money on fucking AI.” You sulk in your seat, the truth is, you’re lonely and need a companion but literally buying one isn’t the way to go about it. Right?

“I just wanted someone to share my time with.” You confess, embarrassed. “Is there really no way to cancel my order?” You ask for the third time.

Yeri sighs, “No. Y/n, just think of it as a treat for yourself. There’s no harm done with wanting company!” She manages to cheer you up about the situation in which you’ve spent a large sum on a robot man.

If there’s no way you’re getting your money back then you might as well start making a place for it to stay.

You and Yeri shop for things to decorate its room with. Living in a two bed apartment, you had the space for the AI to live. Or exist, whatever it will do.

Your phone dings, indicating a text message. You check your phone, a message displaying across the screen. “AI has been delivered.”

It’s been only a day.

“Yeri!?!” You yell in the middle of checking out.

She turns to you with wide eyes, “What’s wrong? Do you not like the bedding that much? I’ll change—“

“It says he’s been delivered!” You whisper yell, you didn’t want anyone knowing you fell into society’s trap of having an AI.

Yeri’s face relaxes, “Their delivery has gotten faster, Chanyeol took about three days for them to ship him.” She smiles fondly, “We should go to your house asap.”

***

“I didn’t freaking know he would get here the very next day!” You’re more freaked out by the very tall box that’s standing by your front door.

“I-is he alive in there?” You tap the box.

“He has to be activated first silly.” Yeri giggles at you, pushing the box past your door way. “Let’s go!”

“Yeri im terrified.” The heavy box has been standing in your living room for almost 20 minutes. Yeri has had enough of your hesitating self, she’s taken the responsibility into her own hands to open the box.

“Instructions. These are important, so don’t throw them away, got it?” She talks you through the unboxing. She pulls the wings of the cardboard back and you see a hand.

“Oh my god!” You cover your eyes. This can’t be fucking happening.

Yeri tears away the plastic the robot is wrapped in. You peep through your fingers. He’s absolutely breathtaking. You gasp audibly.

“Oh my god, Y/n. You made this?!” Yeri’s surprised by how handsome he is, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Oh he’s toned, lets activate him!”

Yeri takes your phone and goes to the app of the company. She navigates through some steps before coming to a loading bar.

“Once this is filled up then you’ll have yourself a man!” Yeri’s clapping happily as she sits beside you to wait patiently. “You did such a good job, his face is so handsome.”

You’re jaw is still on the ground, you can’t believe your creation is here in the...flesh? You’re scared but at the same time you’re also excited.

“It’s almost finished.” Yeri’s voice breaks you out of your staring competition with the robot that has ceased to live yet. “Complete!”

A sound is emitted from the app, a beeping and a few buzzing sounds before its quiet. You can Yeri are hanging off the edge of the couch.

“Did it work—“

The AI jolts to life and looks around the room before introducing himself, “Hello, my name is Baekhyun.” A smile reaches his face and he looks even more handsome.

You’re forced to stand, reaching out to take his hand, shaking it. “H-hello my name is Y/n. It’s nice to finally meet you, Baekhyun.” Your hand is sweaty and you’re hoping he isn’t able to feel it.

“Your hand is damp, sweaty palms is an indicator that the person is nervous. Am I making you nervous Y/n?” The AI says intelligently, his voice is soothing. It’s also embarrassing that he just pointed that out.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been nervous since I ordered you...” You’re uncomfortable claiming that you bought him right to his face. Is it like an unnamed rule that you shouldn’t mention it?

“That is a normal reaction I suppose.” He laughs, your heart melts and your stomach erupts with butterflies. “Your brain is releasing oxytocin and cortisol, now your blood vessels around your gut are constricting. You must be feeling nauseous now, or as you humans call it ‘having butterflies in your stomach’.”

How can he tell by just standing near you?! It’s almost creepy!

“Baekhyun you’re very knowledgeable, you know that?” Yeri jumps in to slice the awkward conversation. She stands up to shake Baekhyun’s hand introducing herself.

“Nice to meet you, Yeri.”

“I actually have an AI of my own, his name is Chanyeol.”

“I’ve never heard that name before. He must be a customized model?” Baekhyun asks.

Yeri nods, “I should introduce him to you one day!” That’s not a bad idea, Baekhyun will probably become lonely here when you’re out.

Baekhyun smiles before shifting his attention to you. “You are my creator, correct?”

His question throws you off for a second. “Yes.”

“Alright, you must answer a few questions for my system if that’s alright.”

“Ah yes, that’s fine, please come and sit.” You and Baekhyun sit next to each other while Yeri wonders off into the kitchen for food.

Baekhyun asks questions such as what his duties are, or where he may or may not go in the house, ect.

“What is my purpose?” He asks, a blue dot by his ear lights up.

“For keeping me company...” You couldn’t blatantly tell him he was here because you wanted a man in your life! What kind of creator would you look like?

“Just company?” Baekhyun smirks almost, a questioning look on his face. He doesn’t press further, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. He could sense your heart rate increase at his questions. Your cheeks were becoming red by the minute. Each question would result in a stuttering response from you. Baekhyun found you fascinating.

“That is all I needed thank you, my system will accommodate to you based on the answers you provided.”

“Ah, no problem.” You can’t help but stare at him, he’s just so perfect. The round rip of his nose and the curve of his cheeks. It’s all so inhuman.

“I h-have a question actually.” You turn to face Baekhyun, your leg brushing his.

He nods encouraging you to speak.

“May I touch your face? I know it sounds weird but I just can’t stop staring at it, I know I created your face and all but I just want to see for myself. You know? Should I not mention that I created you? Does it make you uncomfortable? I won’t do it if you’re uncomfortable—“

Baekhyun interrupts your speech by grabbing your hand and placing it on his cheek. “Fleshy exterior and a metal interior. I’m made of 60 percent of customized silicone to replicate human skin. But the rest of me is various metals. You may ask any other questions you might have, I will answer to the best of my abilities.” His voice is silk, not skipping even one beat as he spoke.

Your hand hesitates in feeling around his face, tracing his nose and pinching his cheeks even. He feels just like a human. “What’s your hair made of?”

“100 percent human hair.” He chuckles, his hands in his lap. “My teeth are made of the silicone and various muscles replicated are made from the silicone, but with variations of densities with making one organ harder or squishy. Here touch it.” He sticks out his tongue and you grab it without hesitation. It’s wet and rough like a tongue.

“Wow, thats so freaky.”

“Right? The wondrous world of AI technology!” Baekhyun’s first joke to crack has you giggling endlessly.

***

‘He’s charming’ is your first thought of Baekhyun, he hasn’t stopped making you laugh since he’s arrived. Another thing is that he’s understanding, you’ve been sharing your personal life with him and he’s listened the whole time without judgement. He’s even given you well constructed advice.

“Ah! I forgot, Yeri and I were actually shopping for your room today. We picked up a few things, we weren’t sure what you’d like since...you know.” You led him to his room which was right across form yours.

“Wow that’s very considerate of you both, I really appreciate it.” Baekhyun looks around, the rooms to his liking. He doesn’t know exactly what he likes about it but he’s content with it.

“If you want anything else to decorate it with just let me know!” You stand at the door with your hands together. It’s an awkward silence before Baekhyun speaks.

“Is there anything that you would like me to do?”

“Oh, I—no. Not right now, no.” Your stuttering response makes Baekhyun emit a laugh.

“You don’t have to be nervous around me Y/n. I am your creation think of me as...” He pauses to think, his chin in his hand. He looks back at you, “Think of me as if i’m just your boyfriend!”

You choke on your spit, alarming Baekhyun who stands up to pat your back.

“Baekhyun I think i’m going to take a shower feel free to wonder the apartment.” You spit out before practically running to your room. If he wasn’t a fucking AI you would jump his bones right then and there.

You try to calm your heart rate with a steamy shower. The mirrors fogged up and you’re listening to your music on a low volume, minding your new roommate.

You’re shaving your legs when you hear the door open. You pause, did you hear right? There’s no possible way he would—

The shower curtain is ripped back and reveals a naked Baekhyun.

“Baekhyun—close the curtain! What are you doing in here!?” You scream in terror, your AI has literally just seen you naked.

“I thought this was an invitation? Did I read you wrong? Your body temperature was very high and your eyes were dilated. Those were signs of attraction, then you said you would go shower, I thought—“

“Baekhyun get out!” You cut him off by yelling.

Baekhyun leaves the bathroom. You’re absolutely mortified and embarrassed. You get out the shower wrapping a towel around your body to dry off. You begin to dress when you notice the shadow of his feet. You pull open the door, standing face to face with Baekhyun.

“Y/n, I ran through my system to see what mistake I made and I apologize.” He looks down at you, his arms at his side. He looks so robotic.

“Baekhyun don’t come into the bathroom when I’m in here... People take showers alone, okay?” You’re straining from what you want to actually say. Please fuck me now, Baekhyun.

“Yes Y/n.” There’s a pause. “Did you like it?”

“Like what?”

“The body you created.” He almost smirks, and you want to wipe it off his face. His subtle cocky attitude makes you uncomfortably horny.

“Seeing as your body temperature is rising again and you’re blinking a lot. And also how your brain is releasing plenty of dopamine and also your nipples are poking through your shirt. You must have enjoyed a part of it.” He’s leaning closer, blocking you from running.

“Tell me Y/n. Do you want to test if this body can meet your expectations? Would you like a test drive?” Baekhyun’s mouth is by your ear, his breath fanning the side of your face.

You can barely respond with a nod, not trusting your voice.

“I need words, I need your verbal permission. I will not hold back If you agree Y/n.” The way he says your name, your kitty is dripping already.

“Yes, Baekhyun. Please take me.” You gain a small amount of confidence from his want. His desire. Your hands grips his toned arms.“I want you.” You whisper.

Baekhyun picks you up with inhuman strength and carries you to your room. He tosses you on the bed.

“I would ask how you like it, but telling by your arousal at me throwing you on the bed I’d conclude you enjoy it rough.”

His words shoot right to your kitty. Fuck, how could this robot possess so much sex appeal right now? Looking like that should be a punishable crime.

You’re also curious, as to how he will perform. Will he be inhumanly perfect? Will he be careful? They are questions begging to be answered.

“What are you thinking of at a time like this? You’re zoning out.” Baekhyun straddles you on the bed, his hands running up your sides to take hold of your hands. He pins them above you, glaring down at you.

“Keep your mind only on what’s happening in this room.”

“I was thinking about you.” You bite your lip as you shamefully admit your dirty thoughts.

“Were you?” His eyes travel down to your lips, he licks his own.

“I was thinking of how you would be..in bed.”

“Is that so? Why don’t I just demonstrate.” Baekhyun dips his head to catch your lips with his. His lips taste like cherry, how could this be? His hand comes to the side of your face to caress your cheek. He’s gentle.

“Go ahead then.” You gain confidence at his desire, once more.

“Yes, Y/n.” He breaks away to let a smirk play on his lips. He starts with your nightgown, taking off the lacy slip. He kisses your shoulders and over your collarbones. His hand travels to your waist, holding you. You breathe calmly, the nervousness melting away with each kiss set by Baekhyun.

“Your heart rate has calmed but your body temperature is rising. How adorable.” He pushes your panties down teasingly, not taking them off. You roll your eyes, pushing him by his shoulder. For an artificial man he posses enough charisma and sex appeal to charm you out of your panties yourself.

He lets the band of your panties smack against your skin. You whine and pout, furrowing your brows at him. Baekhyun puts his hand over your clothed kitty, letting a single finger push down and sink between your folds. He rubs your clit gently, barely stimulating you but revving your engine nonetheless. You grab onto his wrist, asking him to rub you harder.

“Stop teasing.” You whine at his dainty touch, wanting to be petted way heavier than what he’s giving. Baekhyun laughs at your desperate attempts. He gives in and presses harder on your clit, rubbing in circles. You moan quietly, biting your lip quickly after.

Baekhyun’s brows furrow at the sound of your moans, his ears have never heard such a sound before. He rubs your clit harder to hear the song once more. You hold out trying not to embarrass yourself but it slips out when Baekhyun licks up your neck.

“Your moans are so adorable, Y/n.” You feel his voice vibrate through his chest.

Baekhyun slips his hand into your panties, touching your bare clit, his fingers become sticky and damp. The sounds coming from between your thighs fill the room, along with your heavy breathing. Baekhyun seems to be the only one unaffected.

“How can you not be out of breath?” You ask, turning your head to face him.

Baekhyun grins at the layer of sweat over your body. “Oh, Sweetheart. I am very much affected.” He takes your hand and places it over his chest, his hearts beating fast. “You caused this.”

He catches your lips in his and your hand sneaks up to the side of his face. His finger dipping into your hole surprising you, you jolt and let out a surprised squeak.

“The noises you make, I could listen to them all day.” Baekhyun confesses, he sits up, positioning you to lay on your stomach.

You lay obediently, becoming anxious for his touch. His thighs are on either side of your ass, his hand lands on the small of your back. His fingers walk up your spine to your shoulders, then down to the small of your back.

“Baekhyun stop playing, grab my ass.” You whine, arching your back for him even further.

Baekhyun erupts with laughter, “You’re so impatient.” He smacks your ass before grabbing it and soothing the sting. He slides off your panties tossing them on the floor. He has full access to your pussy. He dips his fingers between your thighs, rubbing you from behind. It feels as if the sensation feels more intense in this position.

You moan softly, earning a grunt from Baekhyun. You turn your head to see his face. He’s already looking at you. His dark eyes are penetrating yours. You feel as if you can’t hold out anymore.

“Baekhyun, please fuck me.”

Baekhyun undresses in an instant, you didn’t have to tell him twice. He’s positioning himself up to your pussy and slowly slides in. You almost cry out from the stretch. His length is perfect but he’s thicker than anyone you’ve ever had. He bottoms out, resting his hand on your hip. He slides out and thrusts forward slowly, letting out a low moan in your ear. His chest touches your back. Your breathing is uneven and your heart is beating fast. You could feel every inch of Baekhyun, his delicious cock buried inside of you. Baekhyun wraps and arm around your neck, holding you to him. He starts thrusting quickly, you squeeze your eyes shut at the pleasure.

Your climax begins to build, the knot in your stomach unraveling slowly. You reach down to rub your clit but Baekhyun slaps your hand away, rubbing it himself. You almost feel sensitive at the way he’s rubbing it and you jerk away from his touch.

“Baekhyun i’m about to cum!” You whine loudly, biting down on his arm. The slapping noises emitting from you both fill the room and the bed creaks quietly. The air is filled with sex and the smell of sweat.

Baekhyun furrows his brows as he speeds uo his thrusts. Your body is buried in the mattress, your hip burning from his grip on it. You feel as if any second you will—

“Ah~” Your feet dig into Baekhyun’s lower back, pressing him further into you. Your greedy kitty contracts around his length as Baekhyun tries to reach his own climax. Is it possible for an AI to ejaculate? You find out soon when Baekhyun lets out an animalistic grunt and your back is covered in a sticky wet goodness. Your feet drop back into the bed, fatigue plaguing you as your head rests on Baekhyun’s arm under you. You can feel his heavy breathing evening out as he rolls off of you.

“Well?” He breathes out, looking over at you.

You look up at him with droopy eyes. “Well what?”

“How was my performance, did I meet your expectations?” His toothy smile melts your heart once more. You place a hand on his chest, curling up by his side.

“You were amazing, I didn’t think I would cum so hard by an AI.” You tease poking your tongue out at Baekhyun. He spanks your ass and you giggle.

“This AI can do more than make you cum more than once, Sweetheart.”

[nightaekookie]

BTS Reaction » When you meet them for the first time.

Authors note » Aaah this is my first reaction ever (it was not requested but my request are open!) and i’m kinda new to the fandom and I am trying something new! (Pls give me feedback or something) Just wanna let you know english is not my first language so I’m sorry for grammar mistakes or something! Please let me know what you think? Credit goes to the rightful gif owners :)

Kim Seokjin » Your parents are coming over for dinner last minute so you are stressing out because today normally was your day to eat take out so hadn’t done any groceries and your fridge was empty. So now you have to go grocery shopping but you still don’t know what you want to cook for your parents. You hoped walking in the store would give you some ideas. You grab your keys from the kitchen counter and walk to the store. After a while you decide you are going to cook spaghetti, it was easy and delicious. So now you are walking around the store trying to find the right ingredients. You are so focused on finding the right ingredients you don’t notice the tall stranger standing in the same aisle, doing the exact same thing. You bite your lip while reading something on the back of the tomato sauce package you are holding. You feel something or someone bump into you. You let out a shriek and you drop the tomato sauce package on the ground. The tomato sauce package pops open and there is sauce everywhere “Oh god I-I’m so sorry” you hear a voice apologize. You look in the direction where the voice came from. You make eye contact with the most beautiful man you have ever seen and for a minute you forget how to talk, you realize you’re staring at the man and you start to blush “uhm it’s okay, I’m fine” you smile softly at the man standing in front of you. You realize the sauce is everywhere “oh shoot, look at the mess I made” you mumble shy. The man laughs “well I kind of helped you make that mess didn’t I? Again I am so sorry” he apologizes again “it’s fine” you reassure him with a soft smile “But I probably should find someone and tell them about the mess we made” you laugh “You probably should, but maybe I should join you? Because after all i helped you create this mess ” he smiles cheekily “Uh yeah, sure...” you wait for him to tell you his name “I’m Seokjin” he introduces himself, a beautiful name for a beautiful man “I’m y/n, nice to meet you” you smile. After telling a staffmember about the mess you two made, Seokjin helped you find the right ingredients for the spaghetti, he even gave you some tips on how to make the spaghetti even more delicious.

Min Yoongi » It’s two am, you just finished studying for your midterms. You totally lost track of time while studying and you forgot to eat so you were hungry for some good food, luckily the store near campus is open 24 hrs a day. You walk into the store causing a bell to ring. The man sitting behind the counter looks up from his phone and frowns, he probably isn’t used to people shopping this late. You smile sofly to the man and you make your way to the right aisle. Yoongi needed the money, that’s why he took this stupid boring job, he only worked night shifts. He didn’t mind the night shifts to be honest because there were fewer people doing their groceries and that meant fewer social encounters. He frowned when he saw you walking in the store at this time. He studies your features, you look tired, your hair is in a messy bun and you were wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. But he still thought you looked beautiful. You noticted the boy staring at you and you start to blush, grabbing the things you need quickly. You walk to the counter to pay the stuff. “Rough evening, huh?” the man asks. You look up and you make eye contact with the man. You only realize now how beautiful the man in front of you is. “Uh... I- I’ve been studying for my midterms” you tell the man and he nods “must be stressing you out?” you only nod, being to tired to have a normal conversation. “I’m Yoongi” introduces the man himself “oh uhm my name is y/n” you say, still not breaking eye contact with Yoongi. He shows you the most adorable gummy smile you have ever seen and you can’t help but smile back at him. “I get off in a few hours, do you maybe wanna grab a cup of coffee after my shift ends?” He asks and you nod “I’d like that”

Jung Hoseok » Today was another stressful day at work, your boss keeps yelling at you and pointing out all the things you are doing wrong and it was making you feel nauseous and you were one the verge of crying so you were in desperate need of a break. So when your boss told you to get her a coffee, from the coffee shop she loved so much, you obliged happily. A sigh of relief leaves your lips when you walk out of the building. You start walking towards the coffee shop thinking about how your boss was behaving towards you, you don’t really see what you are doing wrong, you do everything she ask from you and still it’s not enough. You reach the coffee shop and you wait in line to make your order. You are focused on your phone when a loud laugh fills your ears, you look around the shop to see where the sound comes from. You focus on a group of young men sitting in the back of the coffee shop, one man draws your attention, he is smiling bright and he actually looks like a ray of sunshine. You didn’t notice you were staring at the man until you make eye contact, you quickly look away from him and focus back on your phone. You don’t look up from your phone until you order the coffee for your boss. After ordering the coffee you wait patiently, still focusing on your phone. Your name is called and you walk up to the counter to pick up your order. When you turn around to go back to work you bump into someone and you spill all the hot coffee on the ground. A small scream leaves your mouth and you look at the mess on the ground “Oh god, I am so so sorry! Are you okay? Here let me help you” you look up to see the boy you made eye contact with earlier. The boy keeps rambling and apologizing and you just look at him. Tears are forming in your eyes and as soon as he notices he feels even more guilty “oh god please don’t cry” he begs “it’s not your fault, I’m just having a really bad day” you mumble. He whipes your tears away “I’m sorry to hear that, let me make it up to you and buy you a new coffee” he offers and you smile “thank you, that is very sweet of you” you smile weakly “don’t worry about it, it’s the least I can do for you” he smiles brightly “you have a cute smile” you didn’t even realize the words leaving your mouth “oh god I am sorry” you apologize ashamed “well...” “y/n” you say “well y/n I think you look really cute” you blush smiling at the man “I’m Hoseok but you can call me Hobi” he introduces himself with a wink.

Kim Namjoon » You were in desperate need of a new book to read. All the books you owned were old and most of them you already read twice or more. You walk in to your local bookstore, you greet the woman behind the counter, she just smiles at you. You walk to the aisle where they keep the crime/thriller books, your favourite genre. You notice a tall man standing in the same aisle but you don’t really pay much attention to him. You are focused on reading the back of a book that seems interesting when you hear a loud noise followed by a curse. You look to your right to see what happened. One of the bookshelves broke down and all the books that were standing on that shelf fell down. The man looks embarrassed as he starts picking up the books that lay on the floor, you decide to help the man. You kneel beside the man and you start picking up different books “thank you” says the handsome stranger, you just smile at him. You want to pick up the last book but so does the man, so instead of the book you touch his fingers, he quickly moves his hand away and you pick up the last remaining book. You get up again but so does the man, causing your heads to bump into each other and a painful growl leaves your mouth. “Oh god I am so sorry” he apologizes quickly “it’s okay, I’m fine. Are you okay?” You ask the man. He nods “I am, I just get so clumsy sometimes” he explains with a shy smile “Yeah I noticed” you giggle. “I’m y/n” you introduce yourself “I’m Namjoon” he smiles. “Maybe I could buy you dinner? To apologize for my clumsy behaviour” he ask nervously. “I told you I’m fine, but how can I say no to you buying me dinner” you say cheekily and Namjoon laughs.

Park Jimin » It is two o’clock in the morning and you are still practicing your dance choreography. You are getting more and more frustrated by the second. There is this particular dance move and you just couldn’t get the hang of it. It’s making you want to cry. After many attempts and many failures you decide you need to take a break. You lay down on the ground and a frustrated sigh leaves your mouth and you close your eyes for just a few seconds. A few seconds turn into fifteen minutes but a loud noise wakes you up, you look around but you there is no one here. You stand up again and you start practicing again. You are so focused on getting the choreography right you don’t even notice the tears coming out of your eyes. After your fifth attempt and also your fifth failure you just let out a loud scream and you start crying. You look in the big mirror in front of you and you stop crying when you notice someone standing in the doorway, you quickly turn around and he smiles at you. “Please leave me alone” you mumble to the stranger “I heard you scream and I just wanted to check if you are okay” he tells you shyly “well I’m fucking great, can’t you see?” You snap at him, you start dancing again hoping that the man takes a hint and leaves but he doesn’t and it makes you even more frustrated. You make a mistake but this time you trip over your own feet and you fall to the ground. The man that was standing in the doorway was now sitting beside you “Oh god, are you okay?” He asks worried “no, I am not okay” you cry. The man kind of looks uncomfortable and he really doesn’t know what to do so he just pats your back. “You dont have to comfort me” you mumble wiping away your own tears. “I’m sorry for being rude, I’m just really stressed because this one part of the choreography is really hard and I just can’t get the hang of it and it’s so frustrating. I’ve been practicing all day” you explain to him “you don’t have to apologize, I totally understand how frustrating it must be” he smiles “how would you know?” You ask with a frown “I’m also a dancer, why don’t you show me the choreography and maybe I can help you?” He offers with a soft smile which makes you blush “I’d like that” “I’m jimin by the way” he introduces himself “my name is y/n” you tell Jimin. You show Jimin the dance and he actually has some very useful tips that really help you master the dance. It’s morning when you two are finally done and you both exchange phone numbers because you quite enjoyed his company.

Kim Taehyung » You were enjoying yourself with some beautiful art in a local museum near your house. It was you day of and you were feeling really stressed because of work and just looking at art made you feel relaxed. You stand in front of your favourite piece just taking every detail in. You decide to sit down and enjoy the painting. You notice someone sitting down next to you. You don’t bother looking up because you are to focused on the painting in front of you. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” A husky voice ask, you look up and you look in the direction where the voice came from, it’s the person sitting next to you. “yes it is, it’s my favourite painting in this museum actually” you tell the stranger. “It makes me feel relaxed, I can look at it for ages and every time i look at the painting I discover a new detail, pretty amazing to be honest” you explain smiling at the man, he nods in agreement. “Do you have a favourite painter?” He ask curiously and you nod “I really like Monet but Van Gogh is also pretty good” “I totally agree, so you’re a pretty big fan of art?” He asks “yes but not just paintings, I like all kinds of art, music, poetry and photography” you tell him shyly noticing how beautiful the man sitting next to you actually is. He just looks like a piece of art, and you can’t stop staring at him. Luckily he doesn’t notice it because he is looking at the painting but you think the man next to you is way more interesting than that painting hanging on the wall. “You shouldn’t be staring that much it’s rude” the man smiles cheekily and you feel your cheeks turn red “I-I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help myself” you blush “it’s okay, I’ve been staring at you for like ten minutes before I had the courage to sit next to you” he confesses. “Oh really?” You ask raising an eyebrow “my name is y/n” “nice to meet you y/n, my name is Taehyung” he introduces himself with a boxy smile, the most beautiful smile you have ever seen and it makes you want to squeeze his cheeks. “Is it okay if I take you out for some coffee, or something?” He ask nervously “I’d love that” you smile

Jeon Jungkook » You were bored so you decided you might as well log back into your old gaming account, due your busy work schedule you barely had time to game and you kind of missed it. You had finished all your work so you had finally time to pick up where you left. You start up Overwatch, getting pretty excited to start playing again. Once the game is loaded you start gaming and it feels like you never left. After the game is finished you get an invite from someone to play again, you frown but accept. Obviously you keep beating his ass and your not even sorry, you are enjoying this way to much. After a few hours you decide it’s been enough, you’re about to close the game when you receive a direct message from the person who keeps inviting you to play again. To curious to wait, you open the message and read it. “Hey there, you are really good! Do you might wanna game while talking over headset? If you don’t mind of course :)” you reply that you don’t mind. You search for your headset and you connect it with your computer. Your connection is really crappy and it takes a while but after a few minutes you hear a manly voice coming through your headset. “Hey there” you greet the man. It stays quiet for a while, you frown for a second but you keep your attention focused on the game. “Hello? Are you still there?” You ask a bit annoyed “U-Uh yes I’m still here” the man replies softly. “Are you alright?” You ask the man. “Yes I am, I just didn’t realize you were a girl” you roll your eyes “Is that a problem for you?” “No! It’s not” he yells “I-I was just debating with myself whether i’m disappointed that i got by ass kicked by a girl or if I’m really turned on because of how good you are” you roll your eyes but you can’t help but giggle “well I see both options as an compliment, so thank you. And I really hope you’re not an old pervert” you smile. “No I’m not old, and I’m Jungkook by the way” “I’m Y/n” you introduce yourself “well Jungkook get ready to get your ass kicked again” you giggle “I was going to be soft on you, but now get ready to get your ass kicked” he threatens “pffft, I’ve been kicking your ass almost every game, are you sure you’re not gonna cry?” You tease him. After beating him in many more games, you still keep in touch and after a while you both decided it’s time you two meet in real life, and you couldn’t be more nervous because you had no idea what he looked like, you only know him by his voice. You decided to meet up in a local coffee shop. So now fifteen minutes early you are waiting for him. After a while you see someone walking into the coffee shop, he looks nervous and he keeps looking around, after a while you make eye contact and you smile, his eyes grow wide and you blush. He slowly walks towards you. “Y/n?” He asks when he stops in front of you, you can only nod because you are captivated by his beauty, you can’t stop staring at him. “It’s really nice to meet you” he smiles shyly. You nod and stand up to give him a hug. “It really is” you agree with a big smile.

[penmansparadise]

Steve Harrington Imagine Request- My Little Buddy

*I DO NOT OWN ANY GIFS POSTED* *CREDIT TO GIF OWNERS*

Hello everyone!!  I promised an imagine and here it is!  This was a request from like forever ago, like LAST YEAR (lol bad dad joke I know) that I finally had the chance to write.  I apologize now for how long this imagine is lol I got a little carried away.  Anyway,  I mentioned some great songs, one is my all time favorite song like ever, can you guess which one??   I hope that you all enjoy it and feel free to send in requests or send in asks!!  Xx.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Warnings: Mild language 

BEEP! BEEP!  “Good morning Hawkins, Indiana!  It is another beautiful August morning on this sunny Monday.  What a way to start the week!  Here to start off your day is Tears For Fears with their hit song, “Everyone Wants to Rule the World”.

You rolled over yawning and stretching out your limbs.  The remnants of the heat from your husband was still present on the sheets next to you.  A small smile pricked at the corners of your mouth as you let your fingertips graze the warm surface.  As you lay there, your eyes lifted to see a picture from your wedding day standing proudly on the nightstand.  A tingly feeling traveled from your toes to your pink cheeks.  That was the day you officially became Mrs. Harrington.

You and Steve met in high school when you moved to Hawkins in 9th grade.  He was the one who approached you.  Being the new kid meant you had no friends which also meant you ate lunch alone.  You sat by yourself, awkwardly eating your peanut butter and jelly sandwich, before Steve made his way over and confidently took a seat next to you.  He gave you a toothy smile, complimented your Styx shirt, and the rest was history.  Throughout the course of freshmen year, the two of you grew closer and closer.  As friends at first, but slowly the tides began to turn.  It started with lingering stares and shy smiles before progressing to soft “accidental” hand touches.  The summer before sophomore year, Steve finally built up enough nerve to ask you to be his girlfriend to which you happily said “Yes”.  The rest of high school went by in a blur as you and Steve did everything together.  You went to every single one of his basketball games and he, begrudgingly, went to every single one of your debate matches.  Midway through senior year, Steve surprised you with a beautiful promise ring.  He slid it onto the finger that, today, holds your ravishing two carat diamond wedding ring.  By the time the both of you graduated high school, you knew Steve was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.  Unsurprisingly enough, three days after your graduation, Steve got down on one knee, professed his love to you, and asked if you would marry him.  With tears in your eyes and excitement in your heart, you said “Yes”.  Fast forward three years later, you and Steve are still happily married.  The two of you bought a house on the outskirts of Hawkins.  Steve, after obtaining his bachelor’s degree, began working as a math teacher at Hawkins Middle School.  You went straight into the work force after high school and started working at the local grocery store as the general manager.  Simple living and the two of you couldn’t be happier.  

You smiled as you chronicled your relationship in your head.  Your eyes moved to the alarm clock sitting next to the picture and you nearly screamed.

“Shit.”  You whispered under your breath as you quickly fumbled out of bed.  Practically falling into the bathroom, you pulled on your khaki pants.

“Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck.”  You said in aggravation as you yanked your forest green polo over your head.  As you stood in the bathroom running a hair brush through your hair, you noticed the calendar hanging in your room.  A big red star was drawn under last Monday’s date.  You let yourself ponder over it for a moment, but quickly forgot about it when you realized you were already ten minutes late.  Grabbing your purse and keys, you frantically made your way out the door and into your car before peeling out of your driveway.  

Five minutes later, you pulled into the parking lot with a nagging feeling that you forgot something.  You tried to push the feeling to the back of your head as you walked inside, but for some reason you couldn’t shake it.

“Good morning Mrs. Harrington!”  One of the cashiers called as you walked past.

“Mornin’ Stacy.”  You mumbled hardly loud enough for her to hear.  When you reached your office, you plopped your body into the chair behind your desk.  As your eyes took in all the papers scattered on your desk, they fell onto the calendar spread across the wood top.  Just like the calendar at home, a large red star was present under last Monday’s date.  A puzzled look played on your face when your co-worker, Suzanne, walked in.  

“Jesus am I glad you’re here.”  She huffed rolling her eyes before sitting herself on top of your desk.  She began pulling at her cuticles as she continued speaking.

“Ugh,” she grunted, “this morning was insane.  Brenda dropped a whole basket of tomatoes on the floor resulting in a huge mess; Gary apparently doesn’t know how to use his hands because he dropped some guy’s bottle of soda and shattered it right there in front of him; and to top it all off, the shipment didn’t come in today.  Oh, and Shelly called out which means we’ll have to stock today.”

She finally lifted her eyes from her perfectly manicured fingers and noticed your distressed look.

“What’s wrong with you?”  She asked in confusion.

You shook your head in an attempt to clear it, but failed miserably.

“I don’t know.  I just feel like I forgot something today.  Something is just...missing.”

Suzanne gave you a sympathetic look, “I’m sure you’ll remember Y/N.  And what better way to help you remember than stocking shelves?”

You chuckled before taking a basket full of items and wheeling it out onto the floor.  You began opening boxes and let out a small laugh.  Of course your immature co-worker was too embarrassed to stock the condoms and tampons.  You hummed along to the radio quietly playing “Take On Me” by A-Ha as you stacked boxes of tampons on the shelf.  Your movements were smooth and second nature.  You began to lose yourself in the music when you stopped abruptly.  Still holding a box of tampons, you took in a sharp breath suddenly remembering what was missing.  Your eyes moved slowly to the box of tampons in your hand and you began to get nauseous.  The red star on the calendar in your room, and the same haunting red start on your office calendar, signified something very important was missing.  A voice from behind you pulled you out of your trance.  

“You alright Y/N?  You look a little pale.”  Suzanne said as she placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.  You jumped back to reality scaring her a little.  She stared at you waiting for you to explain.  You shakily lifted the box of tampons:

“I know what was missing Suzanne.”

Suzanne gave you a questioning look, “Tampons?  Why didn’t you say so?  I have like a whole box in my purse.”

You shook your head furiously, “No Suzanne, my period!  I’m late... a whole week late.”

Suzanne’s eyes widened, “Oh goodness Y/N.  Hang on, stay here.”

She trotted off into the next aisle before coming back with a box of pregnancy tests.  She handed you the box:

“Here.”  She began, “Go home and take one of these.  I’ll handle the rest of your shift.”

You took the box of tests, gave Suzanne a gracious smile and pulled her into a tight hug before heading home.

Driving home was as if you were on autopilot.  Your mind was reeling and not at all focused on the road.  When you pulled into your driveway, you were happy to see that Steve was still at work.  You quickly ran inside, threw your belongings haphazardly onto the coffee table, and made your way to your bathroom.  With your hands shaking, you opened the box of tests and took one.  You had to wait ten minutes before the results would show, so you placed the test on the counter and sat down on the bathroom floor.  Your knee jumped up and down in anticipation.  The clock hanging in your room ticked loudly with every passing minute making your anxiety build even more.  When the tenth minute finally passed, you wearily stood up and took the test into your hands.  Two bold blue lines appeared in the tiny gray window.  You let out a breath as you brought your hand to your mouth.

“I’m pregnant.”  You said quietly to yourself.

Because you were trying to process the news, you didn’t even hear the front door open and close. 

“Y/N?  What are you doing home so early baby?  You usually don’t get home for at least another hour or so.”  Steve shouted from the other room.  You didn’t say anything as you could hear his footsteps getting closer.  You heard him come to a stop in the open bathroom door.

“Honey?  You alright?”  He asked, his voice laced with concern.  Your hand was still resting on your face and the test still in your hand as you slowly turned to face him.  Steve saw your face and quickly moved to you.  His hands immediately grabbed your waist.

“What’s wrong baby?”  He asked moving one hand to wipe away tears you hadn’t realized had fallen down your cheeks.  As he moved his hand back down your back, he noticed the test in your hand.  He gave you a confused look:

“What is that?”  He asked quietly.

You sniffled:

“I’m a week late Steve.”

Steve cocked his head to the side trying to understand what you were telling him.  A small smile curled the corners of your lips:

“This is a pregnancy test and I have the results already.”  You said turning the stick to show Steve the two blue lines.  Still, Steve was oblivious to what you were saying.  You chuckled at his oblivion:

“Steve, I’m pregnant!”  You said pointing to the two blue lines for emphasis.  Steve’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped before he pulled you into a tight hug.  You let out a little yelp when he lifted you off the ground and began to spin you around.  

“You’re pregnant!?  I’m gonna be a dad!?  Finally!  Oh my gosh Y/N this is great!”  Steve shouted before placing you back down on your feet.  Tears sprang to your eyes when he got down on his knees and gently placed his hands on your tummy.  He lifted your shirt and placed a soft kiss on your bare skin sending chills up your spine.

“I’m so glad you’re here and I can’t wait to meet you.  Daddy loves you so much already.”  Steve whispered quietly to your belly before leaving one more soft kiss.  

It wasn’t long after that day when you began to get a bump.  It was small at first, but soon grew bigger and bigger.  Everyday tasks that were once easy started to become tiring quests.  Getting out of bed was no longer a graceful and swift movement.  Instead, with your growing baby bump, getting out of bed became a struggle to make sure your feet were stable before pulling yourself up.  Putting your shoes on was no longer as simple as slipping them on.  Instead, with your new larger tummy, putting your shoes on became a series of jumps and stomps before the shoes finally slid onto your swollen feet.  Being pregnant was a lot harder than you expected.  However, luckily for you, you had Steve by your side the whole time.  

Steve, unsurprisingly, was the husband every pregnant woman wanted.  When he saw you struggling to roll out of bed, he would gently place a hand on your back and help push you up.  When he saw you having troubles putting on your shoes, he would get down on his knees and swiftly slide them onto your feet.  Steve was always asking if you needed anything and was constantly telling you to sit down.  Every day Steve would talk to your belly as if the baby were sitting in front of him.  Every night he would kiss you goodnight and tell you he loves you before leaning down and doing the same to your tummy.  His adoration shined proudly on his face when he smiled at you.  His excitement radiated off of him when he would talk about his soon-to-be-child.

Steve went to every doctor’s appointment with you sitting next to the bed holding onto your hand tightly.  He nearly jumped out of his chair when the doctor said you were having a boy.  That night Steve rambled on and on about everything he was going to teach him:

“I’m gonna teach him now to play basketball and throw the football with him.  I’m gonna teach him how to treat a woman right, we aren’t going to have a jerky kid.  I’m gonna help him with his math homework and teach him everything I know.”  Steve exclaimed to you as he lay next to you that night caressing your large baby bump.

Steve happily went shopping with you when the months turned into days until your baby would be arriving.  He even gave his opinion about clothes to get him:

“We have to buy the plaid because if he’s anything like me, he looks pretty decent in plaid.  But, if he’s anything like you, he’ll look absolutely adorable in it.  It’s a must.”  Steve said throwing a plaid onesie into your basket.

Day’s were turning into hours as you and Steve completed your baby’s room.  A crib in the corner, a rocking chair next to it, and a changing table stocked full with diapers, creams, and wipes.  Your heart would flutter anytime you walked by the room on your way to yours and Steve’s room.  That night, you did your best to cuddle into Steve’s side and smiled.

“He’ll be here soon, you know?”  You asked into the dark room.

Steve gave you a squeeze:

“I know.  I can’t wait.”

“You’re not nervous?”  You asked.

“Hmm,” he hummed, “maybe a little, but I’m more excited.”

You smiled to yourself:

“Have you been thinking of names?”

“I have and I have one picked out.  It’s perfect.”

You propped your head on your hand and looked at his outlined silhouette:

“And what is that?”

Steve turned to you and you could just barely see a wide grin playing on his lips:

“Dustin.”

Your heart skipped a beat as tears sprang to your eyes:

“Why is that the perfect name?”  You tried to ask with a steady voice.

Steve sighed contently:

“Because,” he began, “Dustin is the second most important person in my life.  He is a friend, a brother, and I want to name my son after someone special.”

You quickly wiped away a stray tear before cheekily saying:

“Our son.”

“Right.”  Steve chuckled, “Our son.”

The next morning as you were attempting to roll out of bed, it happened.  You were pulling yourself up to go to the bathroom, when your night gown and the sheets beneath you became wet.  Suddenly a sharp pain emanated from your lower abdomen.  You let out a loud shriek:

“Holy shit Steve!”

Steve slowly rolled over and yawned.

“Sorry, I ate at Mario’s yesterday for lunch.”  Steve said groggily.  Another stab came and your hand flew to your stomach as you took in a sharp breath.

“What!?”  You shouted in annoyance, “No Steve, my water just broke and I’m having contractions!”

Steve sat up so quickly he nearly fell out of the bed.

“What!?  Oh God, okay let’s get you up and ready to go to the hospital.”

Steve sprang into action quickly helping you out of bed and into some street clothes.  He led you to the car and helped you into the passenger seat before going back inside to grab the hospital bag you had prepped the week prior.  The entire car ride Steve was constantly asking if you were okay and your only reply was a groan and a head nod.  Steve sped through Hawkins running every red light and stop sign until he arrived at the hospital.  He jumped out and ran to the passenger side helping you out as gently as he could.  Although he said he wasn’t nervous, you could see his hands shaking when he grabbed the bag from the trunk.  The nurses quickly sat you in a wheel chair and rushed you down the hall into a room.  Everything was happening so fast your vision was starting to blur.  The contractions were two minutes apart and as you were groaning in pain, nurses were swiftly attaching wires to you.

“You’ll only feel a little pinch, okay?  Everything is going to be just fine.”  You heard through all the cacophony.  A small pinch and burning sensation came from your hand as a nurse hooked you up to an IV.  You moaned in pain:

“Somebody please help me.  This baby needs to come out!”

Metal clinked against metal as doctors and nurses arranged their tools.  You began to cry from the pain and loudness of the room.

“Where is the doctor!?  I need a morphine or something, please!”

Beep.  Beep.  Beep.  An incessant beeping was chirping in your ear as the pain continued.  Your vision was blurry from your tears and the sweat that was beading on your forehead.  Your breathing felt shallow from the discomfort you were feeling.  Your mind was moving a mile a minute and confusion began to set in when a familiar and comforting hand landed on your shoulder.  Finally, it felt like you could breathe again.  You looked up and there he was, like an angel coming down from heaven, starring down at you with pure affection.

“How are you feeling baby?  It’s almost time, the doctor says your dilated to seven centimeters, whatever that means.”  Steve said with a small chuckle.  You gave him a weak smile before letting out an agonizing groan.  The lights were so bright, you felt like a deer in the headlights.  You could hardly see anything and it felt like it was at least 95 degrees in the room.  Your breathing began to quicken as another contraction came.  You felt Steve take your hand in his.

“It’s time baby.  I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”  He said, his voice floating gracefully over all the noise.  You nodded when you heard a clear deep voice come from the foot of the hospital bed:

“Okay Mrs. Harrington, it’s time.  I’m gonna need you to give me a big push, okay?  One big push and we’ll take a break.”

You took in a couple of small breaths before giving a big push.  A loud groan emitted from you through gritted teeth.  Sweat and tears mixed on your cheeks as you gave another push accompanied by a shriek of pain.  You could hear the doctor and nurses coaching you, but the clearest voice was right next to you.  Steve, quietly and soothingly, spoke directly into your ear:

“You’ve got this baby.  Only a little more, okay?  I know it’s painful, but it’ll be so worth it when you get to hold our little Dustin in your arms.” 

You let out a cry and gave one last push before you could hear the wailing of your son.  A sigh of relief escaped you as you looked to Steve who had tears pooling in his eyes and a look of pure joy on his face.

“Would you like to hold your son Mrs. Harrington?”  The doctor asked you.  You nodded before the doctor handed you your swaddled and howling son.  Tears of joy began to spill over as you wrapped your arms around your baby.  When he nestled into you, his crying stopped, his breathing grew steady, and his tiny little eyes starred at you in wonder.  You smiled through your tears:

“Hi baby.  Are you better now that mommy’s holding you?”  You asked the curious child.  You looked to Steve who was simply watching his son cuddle you.

“Do you want to hold him?”  You asked Steve.  Your question caught him off guard, but he smiled and nodded.  You carefully handed the baby to Steve and began to tear up again as you watched your husband snuggle his son.  Steve wiggled his finger in front of the baby’s face until he gently grabbed it.  He placed a soft kiss on his son’s head:

“Hey Dustin, I’m your daddy.  You don’t know it yet, but we’re going to be best friends.  I love you so much my little buddy.  Mommy and daddy love you so so much.”

Your lips curled up as you continued to watch Steve coo and snuggle your baby.  Steve may not have known it then, but that was the beginning of a wonderful father-son relationship.   

[whatifididsomethingnew]

Take Your Medication

I’m a college freshman in my second semester. I’ve been struggling with depression and ADHD for who knows how long, but I was diagnosed(i think? idk if it was official) in my freshman year of high school and given medication for it sometime in my senior year.

I didn’t take the medication very often. I started off strong, taking the ADHD medication especially to get me through classes and make sure the dosage lasted me to sixth period, my worst class at the time. But over the summer I stopped because I decided that the positive effects didn’t make up for the side effects: a lack of appetite and dry mouth.

Below the keep reading is my experience with mental illnesses and medication. It’s long. tl;dr If you have access to medication, take it. It helps. And make sure the dosage is right for you

 I’ve never been a bad student. Aside from failing algebra 2 in freshman year (ive never been good at “advanced” math, it was an IB class so even worse, and even better students agreed that the teacher was awful), I’ve gotten at worst 1-2 C’s per year. But since middle school I’ve found myself unable to pay attention, preferring to think about the book I want to read or the game I want to play or even just something else I started learning about. I figured out how to get by with finished homework and average tests. But I took about 6 AP tests in high school and only passed one, because I couldn’t study well enough to retain all the information I learned and forgot over the course, or pay attention to the exam to finish the multiple choice, or have enough foundation in the subject to write an essay that mattered at all.

This point in my life has almost certainly been my worst, depression-wise. I only live about twenty minutes away from my parents’ house, and I go home every weekend so I’m not just alone in my apartment for three days straight, but I’m still isolated during the week. My friends that are still in high school are busy with classes and extracurriculars and meeting with friends they still see everyday and very few of them have their own cars to drive up to visit me, and my friends in college are all busier than ever, all going to school anywhere from 15 minutes to like four hours away. My bad days are worse and happen more often and can span into bad weeks. I tend to write at best 1 page of notes after about 2 1/2 hours of classes a week, and drain my phone battery down to the sixties because I don't pay attention in lectures on subjects I’m not interested in. 

In high school I couldn’t wait for college, because I could choose my classes and the times and had the opportunity to make friends! But I realized I’m bad at making friends; I made one friend in kindergarten, when times were simpler, and all my lasting relationships (aside from my online friends, whom I treasure dearly) can be attributed to that one friendship. (I actually made a flowchart during class when another student was presenting, and I had the energy and motivation because I actually took my meds today!)

All this personal information about my Bad Times™ is to make you understand how much I needed to take my medication. But I don’t have classes everyday, so I didn’t think that taking ADHD meds everyday was worth it, and I (incorrectly) recalled that taking the depression meds didn’t help me enough to validate taking it everyday, instead only when it got really bad, but that plan didn’t work because when my depression is bad I don’t even have enough energy to text back or walk like four steps total to get my laptop, let alone walk to the bathroom and get the pills. 

So I didn’t take it, besides from when I worked my first 8-hour shifts at my first job. And those side-effects were extreme, because my body wasn’t used to these meds that were incredibly high in dosage because that’s what I need. I felt nauseous and dizzy enough to faint and went to the back room like four times an hour for a drink of water and it was still way less than I wanted. And I still didn’t learn my lesson about how the side-effects would get easier to handle if I took them more, but worse if I only took them on worst-case bases. I was thinking more in the moment about how bad I felt then, rather than about how I could feel better in the future if I pushed through.

I had a series of awful days, just last week. I cried several tears with no clear cause, only my own thoughts and boredom and depression, which means a lot in relation to me because I don’t cry. I watched Dear Evan Hansen and The Prom live, both with the original cast, and only cried a total of five tears at most, despite how these musicals and their subject matters are very dear to me. It was a bad week that came out of nowhere, nothing extraordinarily bad happened. I did the same thing as always, if not more. But still, it was a very bad week, because I was experiencing the heavy depression and it didn’t go away after I fell asleep. I don’t have classes on Wednesdays this semester; I have a lab on Mondays, and three lectures in a row on Tuesdays and Thursdays because I learned last semester that having enough leisure time to chill in my apartment for several hours between classes only makes going to the later class way more tedious. I usually get picked up by one of my parents on Thursdays while whichever of them it is drives home from work that day. That week I was lucky to have my Thursday classes cancelled, so I got picked up a day early. 

Being home is good for my health, adding it all up. It makes me a bit insecure about being independent, but fuck that I’m only 18 and I love my parents, I don’t need to be completely independent yet. Being home only improved when @pointlessoressential moved in with me; having someone so similar to me in regards of being content sitting and doing our own thing without the expectation to have something to Do™  all the time. It’s good for me, to have someone around me so I don’t get too isolated, but also not too overwhelmed. I’m usually pretty open with my mom, too, so being with her during the weekend and being able to talk with her or watch some easy TV together is good. I’ve never been very good at opening up to people; my main characterization with friends I’m not as close with is sarcasm and puns and whatever other humor to distract both of us from personal issues. I’ve been trying to get better, with help and reminders from the aforementioned bee and mom, as well as my best friend (who yes my meeting of and bonding with can indirectly be connected to that kindergarten friend, if you were wondering) who is much more skilled at telling me about her feelings than I am. But I’m trying. So I told my mom about how I had been having a bad week, once I got home.

My mom has dealt with depression her whole life, too. Most of her life she thought she also had anxiety, but when I was diagnosed with ADHD, the psychiatrist who had prescribed me the medications I take explained to both of us that ADHD in afab people (I'd say women bc my mom is cis but I'm nonbinary, so afab people) can be misdiagnosed as anxiety bc it’s different from what TV shows it to be, and the reactive anxiety (as opposed to constant, causeless anxiety from an anxiety disorder) is a symptom of ADHD. She’s dealt with the same issues all her life, so I go to her often when I hit the wall.

She told me to take the medication. I said I didn’t like the side-effects. She bought me mouthwash that helps dry mouth and a box of Rice Krispies Treats so I can eat something small but filling when I lose my appetite. She reminded me that the side-effects would improve if I took the medication more often. I am privileged in that I had the opportunity to see a doctor for my issues and be able to afford (even if barely) my medication, and I should take advantage of that instead of taking it for granted.

This is a long post, sharing my personal story about having mental illnesses, and how medication helps. It may not feel like it took effect, but then it’ll wear off and you’ll realize the difference. It’s better to feel stable, to feel “normal” for most of the day, than to get used to feeling awful. I took my medication this morning before class; I’ve taken about five hours to write this whole thing, due to having begun it before one lecture started, then continuing it during another while also listening to my professor review the first five chapters of Return of the King and discuss it with us. And now I’m in my apartment, on my laptop, switching between ending this PSA and checking on due dates and reviewing my calendar and just being 10 times more productive than I ever am.

I don’t know if anyone will need this advice. I don’t know how many will even click the read more. But this is a blog site, and this is something I’m trying to learn and have it remembered. It’s something I needed to put into words, and now it is.

[theangriestpea]

Mercy Killing

TW/CW: sexual assault mention, violence, trauma, victim blaming

A/N: You'll see victim blaming from both SP and Lav. Remember they are both teenagers that have never been in the situation before. Have likely never been taught how to handle this kind of situation either. While they both seem to think it is Lav's fault for what happened, I want to reiterate that that is not what I think. It is not her fault. It is never the victim's fault, I don't care what the circumstances are. 

Chapter Two: Ugliness

Lavender hurt. She hurt a lot. So much that Fangs practically carried her to her trailer once she was discharged. Lorraine had to help her get dressed and that was a slow process. She knew she’d need help putting clothes on, taking clothes off, hell even taking a bath. Luckily she figured she could ask Toni on the really rough days and just take some of the Oxy the doctor had prescribed her on days she was alone. FP let her know that he called her job to let them know that she’d been in an accident and the extent of her injuries. She had a doctor’s excuse as well for two weeks. The doctor even mentioned that if she didn’t feel healed up enough after that then he’d write her another one. That was just when her follow up appointment was.

“Alright Lavie, we have to go up the stairs.” Fangs said, easing her out of his truck. It was awkward as hell sitting between him and Sweet Pea, luckily she was small enough to fit between both broad shouldered boys. Lav groaned, the prospect sounding horrible. “Do I have to?” Sweet Pea rolled his eyes. “Would you rather I throw you over my shoulder?” Fangs asked in a fake sweet voice. “I have three broken ribs!” Lav bit back, “You’ll crack them even more!” Fangs laughed, “Which is why you need to go up there yourself. It’s four steps.” She looked up at the daunting set of stairs. “You’ll stay by my side…?” She heard Sweet Pea snort behind them. Lav looked over her shoulder to glare daggers at him. She looked more like an angry raccoon than a threat with her black eyes and swollen nose.

“Yes, I’ll be right here. I’ll even unlock the door for you.” Fangs said sweetly, she wondered briefly why he wasn’t named Sweet Pea instead. Sweet Pea was agitated. He tried to understand that she was in a lot of pain but he also didn’t get why she didn’t just work through it like any other Serpent would. He felt like she was fully taking advantage of Fangs’ kindness and that didn’t sit well with him. She had done nothing but whine since they got out of the hospital. Of course he always had a feeling she was an entitled princess, now he just had evidence of it. He clenched and unclenched his fists to keep from snapping at her.

Pea felt sorry for what had happened to her, he really did, but this was just too much. He dreaded the thought of being alone with her which he knew was going to happen eventually. They had agreed on shifts throughout the night although Fangs seemed reluctant to agree to it. Sweet Pea just knew that he had to help his mom take care of his little sister on the nights that she worked late. Tonight was going to be one of those nights. Lavender and Fangs made it up the stairs without much trouble. She had to stop to breathe through the ache of her bruised and cut thighs. The tension on the stitches she had on a few of the gashes there seemed to increase tenfold whenever she put weight on her legs. Worst of all she knew she couldn’t take anything for pain for another four hours. Fangs managed to get her inside and Sweet Pea reluctantly followed after them into the single wide. He’d never actually been inside before. The layout was similar to his own, which wasn’t surprising. There were only so many ways to arrange a small trailer.  He had seen the house she grew up in on the Northside. It was two-story, spacious. It was made a brick. Sweets didn’t know much but he knew that her mother had left, selling the house and taking the money to live elsewhere. Lav was forced to live with her father here on the Southside. This had been his trailer before he passed. Rhodes had been one hell of a Serpent. He taught Sweet Pea everything he knew about switchblades. Made him wonder why Lav didn’t have one on her when the Ghoulies attacked her. Come to think of it, he had never actually seen her carry one.

Fangs got her to the worn pleather couch where Lavender heaved a somewhat over-dramatic sigh. Her eyes lost focus as she stared at the wall with a frown on her face. Both boys glanced at one another, sharing a confused look before Fangs waved a hand in front of her face. “Lavie, come back to the Earth, alien princess.” Her gaze focused in on his moving hand. A pout formed on her lips as she looked at him. “Is Toni working tonight?” “Yea, why?” Fangs asked, wondering why his answer made her look so crestfallen. “No reason.” She said, though in truth she had wanted help in taking a bath. She felt so fucking dirty, like she’d never get clean again. The memory of the sensation of Ghoulie hands roaming over her body made her want to heave. Lav had hoped that she’d be able to have some help in getting some of the dried blood off of her. She needed fresh bandages put on and there were places she did not want Fangs or Sweet Pea – God, especially Sweet Pea – to see. He felt his eyes boring into her like two well-aimed lasers. Cutting away at her already ripped skin. “Take a fucking picture, Sweet Pea.” She finally hissed out. Sweet Pea scoffed lightly as he looked away from her, “why? I know what a wounded raccoon looks like.” He said coldly, earning an elbow in the ribs from Fangs who looked less than pleased. Lavender steeled her features to keep her hurt from showing. She knew she looked ugly, hell she felt even uglier. The last thing she needed was for him to tell her that. The amount of physical pain was considerable, but it didn’t match the fractioning pieces of her heart that only splintered more at his comment. Not that she even cared what he thought. Fuck him, he was just an asshole. “How about Sweet Pea goes and picks us up Pop’s for dinner?” Fangs offered. Lavender hadn’t felt like eating. Since she hadn’t been able to brush her teeth, she could still taste vomit in the back of her throat. Despite knowing food would help with her medication, she didn’t want to eat. Didn’t want to even think about food. “No thanks, Fogarty. I’m not hungry.” Fangs’ face fell slightly. He had hoped a milkshake would cheer her up a little, make her feel better. “You need to go anyway, Fangs.” Sweet Pea reminded him, “Your mom is working tonight.” “Oh shit.” Fangs muttered, “I totally forgot.” The girl’s eyes narrowed at her friend, “you’re not staying?” She was already feeling nauseous from the thought of being alone with Sweet Pea. First Toni couldn’t come help her and now Fangs? She was dreading just being alive at this point.

Fangs gave her a sympathetic look, “I have to watch Gingersnap for my mom. Don’t worry, Sweets will take care of you. That really nice nurse wrote down everything we need to do to make sure you feel better.” He dug through the bag they had gotten from the hospital to show her neatly handwritten notes. “When to take your meds, when to change your bandages. Everything!” He grinned at her, praying that it would be contagious. It wasn’t. “I’m not excited about this either, princess.” Sweet Pea drawled, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. He still wasn’t looking at her. She wondered for a moment why he hated her so much. What she had ever done to him to deserve the treatment she was getting. Whatever. She’d do this without him. Fangs checked the time on his phone and cursed. “I’ve got to go. I’ll text you to make sure you’re still alive, okay? And as soon as my mom gets home I’ll come right back. Keep the door locked and listen to Sweet Pea, okay?” “Why do I have to listen to him? He’s a jerk.” Lavender grumbled, holding her ribs as she stood up. Her legs shook under here and both boys were sure she was going to fall right back down. She looked like a fawn just after birth, ready to collapse at any moment. After a moment she steadied herself and did her best to stand up straight, stretching to full height as if that would do anything to help her case. She was still shorter than both Fangs and Sweet Pea, but hell everyone was shorter than Sweet Pea. Even Lucifer himself, Lavender mused silently. Fangs like out a tired sigh. He had hardly slept at all last night and it showed. Lav only slept thanks to the sedatives they pumped her full of. She was wishing she had some more just to help cope. “Because you can barely stand on your own.” Lavender let out an offended huff. Her jaw clenched as she willed herself to brush past both of them and to her room. “Screw you!” She spat before walking into the room and slamming the door. Once by herself tears pricked her eyes and she had to put a hand over her mouth to keep the sob from coming out. She had always been independent. Even as a little girl. She would be damned if she started depending on anyone now. Her back was against the door as she steadied her breathing to keep from crying. A few rogue tears went down her face as she made her way to her bed. Slowly she eased herself down to her soft mattress, laying down to bury her face into her pillow and finally cry.

*~~~~~~~~~~~*

Hours later the alarm on Sweet Pea’s phone went off. He hadn’t heard a single sound from Lav’s bedroom, and he wondered if she was even still awake or if she had actually gotten hungry. He was but the only thing he found in her kitchen cabinets were spaghetti noodles and Little Debbie Swiss rolls. How did she not have any fucking food? He grabbed the gauze and medical tape that FP had bought as well as the antibiotic ointment from the pharmacy. This was going to be like pulling teeth and Pea knew it. Still, it had to get done. The giant went to her door and knocked on it three times, waiting a beat before opening the door. He flipped on the light switch by the door, a lucky guess on his part, and looked over at her. She was awake, staring into space again with that far out look in her eyes. They flickered to him for a moment and he could tell she’d been crying. It made him feel awkward. He never knew what to do when girls cried. He was shit at comforting them, unlike Fangs who always seemed to know what to do or say. Perks of having a little sister, he guessed. Sweet Pea walked over to her. The floor creaked under his weight and her eyes snapped to him suddenly hyper focused. “What are you doing?” She asked, her voice low but not hostile. The fight had been beaten out of her and the pathetic look she was giving him sent a pang of guilt through his chest. It only lasted a moment before disappearing. “It’s time to redress your cuts.” He said, “And time to take your medicine.” He set down a bottle of water on the bedside table next to her face. Lav struggled to lift herself up into a sitting position. A groan of pain left her pink lips as the movement caused strain on her worn muscles. Everything ached, especially her ribs. Lying so incredibly still hadn’t been so bad, though breathing did cause a dull throbbing in her torso. Her expanding lungs seem to press against the fractured bones painfully which made her resort to shallow breathing. Still she wanted to wash herself but that was out of the question. There was no way in hell she was getting naked in front of Sweet Pea and having him help ease her into the bath tub. Not that she even thought he’d agree to that. It occurred to her that she had to have been in a state of undress when Fangs and Pea found her last night. The thought sending a sickening feeling through her. If only she hadn’t looked so weak in front of them. How was she ever going to prove her strength now? It shouldn’t have bothered her. She was in her underwear in front of all of the Serpents the night she did her initiation dance. It was different when it was voluntary. Sweets was boring holes into her yet again, aggravating her. “I’m not going to do it with you in here…” She mumbled to him, her voice hardening again. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. I’ve already seen all there is to see.” Sweet Pea said, not really trusting her to be able to handle herself. A horrified look past over Lav’s face at his words. Then she chided herself for even thinking he’d look at her like that. “You can barely sit up, how are you going to do this by yourself?” Her head turned away from him as she started to slowly undo the buttons on the grey and green flannel she was wearing. She could feel his eyes on her as she slipped her shirt off and she quickly hugged herself with her arms, feeling way too exposed. “Your pants.” He reminded her when she didn’t move from her position. Lav shot him an annoyed, defiant look which honestly amused Sweet Pea more than anything. Lav still didn’t move, “I’m not taking off my pants, you can forget it.” Sweets took an intimidating step towards her, suddenly making her feel very small. “The worst cuts are on your thighs.” He said, having known because he had seen them. He also overheard the nurse telling FP that she had the most stitches there. She was lucky they didn’t hit an artery. She almost crumbled before him in humiliation, “I can’t…I need help.” She muttered. He had barely heard her.   He rolled his eyes and got down on his knees in front of her, setting the bag with the medical supplies down. His hands moved to the waistband of her black sweatpants and Lav felt tears come to her eyes. She tried to swallow them back, tried to remind herself that this was Sweet Pea. He was a total dick but he wasn’t going to hurt her. Not on purpose. “W-wait.” She stammered as his fingers brushed against the bare flesh of her hips. He looked up at her with what she could have sworn was tenderness in his eyes. It was gone for a moment before dissolving into two brown pools devoid of emotion. Sweet Pea waited until she was ready. He knew this had to be hard for her and FP had warned both him and Fangs not to push her too hard. He wanted to get this done and over with but at the same time…there was a small part of him that didn’t want to send her over the edge so soon after the attack. Lavender took a few shallow breaths. She leaned back on her good hand and lifted up her hips for him. “Okay.” She said softly and he slowly slid the fabric down to just below her knees. Her entire body was shaking and Pea thought that maybe he should say something to try and calm her down. Except, he didn’t know at all what to say. He slowly took off the bandages around her thighs, unwrapping the gauze and setting it to the side of him. He dug through the bag to grab the antibiotic ointment for her. Once it was open, he broke the seal and put some on his large index finger. Lavie braced herself for pain, figuring Sweets was going to be as rough as he usually is in how he does everything. To her surprise he used every ounce of restraint in him to softly glide the ointment over the stitched up gashes along her thighs. It would have been something close to erotic if it had been anyone other than this giant jerk. She studied his face, his lips were pressed together into a hard line and his eyes were focused on the task before him. He couldn’t help but look over the finger-shaped purple bruises that marred her pale skin. His digits lingered on her for only a second before he pulled away from his work. Lav let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. His eyes finally glanced up to meet hers. There was anger in them. Burning like simmering coals in a dying fire. She wondered what she had done to piss him off so suddenly when just a moment ago there was nothing but apathy in his gaze. “You’re a dumbass.” Sweet Pea said, fury still sizzling in the back of his mind. His voice was harsher than he had intended, but he needed her to know. But Lavender didn’t need the blame placed on her by someone else right now, she had been doing that enough herself. A tear escaped her blue-green eye and stumbled down her cheek. “I know.” She choked out, hating to say out loud that this was her fault. She put her own self in this situation. Sweet Pea didn’t have a response to that. His eyes flickered to the lip that she was biting hard to keep from giving in to her emotions. He picked up a gauze pad and placed it along her biggest cut. He taped in into place before moving to some of the small ones. He only looked back up at her when he was finished. Lavender leaned back once more, lifting her hips again and he carefully pulled her pants back up for her like he had done the night before. He ignored her sigh of relief when they were secured in place. With her legs wrapped, he moved to her stomach. Repeating the process of taking off the old bandages, putting the medication on them, and rewrapping them all with a softness that she had never seen from him before. At least, not towards her. Maybe towards Toni or Fangs but definitely not towards her. Luckily there were no actual cuts on her ribcage itself so he didn’t need to undo the thick cloth bandages that were wrapped around them. He took the bandage off the cut on her left breast. Luckily he could access it without her having to take her bra off. That would have been a hard no for her. She winced when the adhesive of the tape pulled on her sensitive skin, and she could have sworn that she heard something akin to an apology leave his mouth. She couldn’t be sure, his voice had been so muted.   Once again he found his fingers tracing over the mixture of black, purple, and pink bruising across her skin. It looked almost like a galaxy etched into her soft flesh. Lav stared hard at the frown on his face. She mistook it for disgust. Of course she looked disgusting. Her skin wasn’t the right color, it was swollen, sensitive, and cut to ribbons in some places. Pea made quick work of the bandages on her breast. Her right one had been untouched. He found it odd that the Ghoulies didn’t try to do something with her tattoo which he could mostly see on the exposed part of her chest. The bottom tip was covered by the pink fabric of her bra. He realized now why she wanted Toni. She didn’t want him to be touching her like this and it was easy to guess why. He was oblivious sometimes but he wasn’t a total idiot. Lavender pulled her shirt back up onto her shoulders and started to button it back up again. She was trying to ignore his presence and was doing a fairly good job until he felt his hand cup the wounded side of her face. He gingerly peeled back the medical tape that secured the gauze pad in place. She watched him with another baited breath. Four cuts disfigured what he begrudgingly thought was a beautiful face. Her freckles hidden by the vast collection of bruises.

With a touch even lighter than before, he dressed the cuts on her face before applying another pad and taping it into place. Once done he slammed down the pill bottles onto her bedside table from inside the bag. “Take these.” He practically growled out before storming out. He was so volatile. Tender in one moment and rough in the next. It threw her for a loop as she played with the medicine bottles. She managed to open them with much difficulty since one wrist was in a cast. Once she got the lids off she took the prescribed dose and swallowed it down with a splash of water. Her stomach growled in protest but she ignored it. All she wanted to do was sleep and forget all about the volcanic serpent in her living room.

[averymessyxmas]

Chapter 3: The Dinner

(No, POVs in this chapter)

 Everyone was sitting at the dinner table, passing food and making small talk. It had been 10 years since everyone had come together for a meal, but it was still extreme tension in the Richards house. MJ decided to break the ice and ask what probably was on most people’s mind. “So, Vi, what you been up to? we haven’t seen you in like 10 years” MJ said. Vada looked around the table at everyone, the spotlight was on her. “Well after I left Atlanta, I moved to New York and got myself enrolled at NYU. I graduated in Fashion in 2012, got my first job as a Fashion Merchandiser for a little-known boutique called Fashion Forward Inc. I was then approached by Denise Wilburn to be an intern and assistant at Essence Magazine, then I was promoted to personal stylist for photo spreads in the magazine”.  She smiled, because she was happy to brag about her successful life. Janessa felt a hint of jealousy being that she is on the verge of struggling. “Vada I’m so proud of your success, I always knew you be okay, because you’re a go-getter like your old man” Malcom Sr. said. Janessa picked at her biscuit and looked at Vada and Michael smiling at each other. “So, Michael how did you and Vada meet?” She said looking sternly at Vada. If looks could kill Janessa would be dead. “We met our freshmen year in College, we had met at orientation, we both had trouble finding our History class” Michael said smiling at Vada. Sharice sipped on her wine, feeling more of a buzz than before. This was her 5th glass. “MJ, I’m so proud of the family that you have, your children are beautiful” Vada said. MJ smiled looking over at Danielle, who was still pissed at him. She lightly smiled at Vada. “Janessa what about you, no man?” Vada asked. Janessa chugged her wine looking around at everyone, Vada was smiling ear to ear. “I’m actually been very busy in um L.A. actually” She said keeping it short. “What do you do there?” Vada asked eating her mashed potatoes. “I um, I work for a telemarking company, I work from home” She stated. Vada smirked, she knew she was living better than her sister and that made her feel good. “Ding, Dong” The door bell rang. Malcom Sr. got up and grabbed the door. “Umm Narkim, your girlfriend is here” He said. Everybody looked as Denisha walked in. She had on thigh boots with a crop top sweater and booty shorts with fishnets and a crop bubble coat. Sharice mouth was agape. Damien and Nylah started laughing silently. They knew Sharice was already not fond of Denisha. “Hey yall this is Nisha, my girl, Nisha this is my mama, my dad, my sister and her boyfriend Mike, my brother Damien and MJ, and his best friend La-La, MJ’s wife Dani, there kids over there at the kid table and My sis Nessa and you know Nori”. She smiled slightly and waved at everyone. They all said their hellos and waved. She took a seat next to Nori, “Hey girl” She said smiling at Nori. Nori and Nisha were good friends. Everyone was waiting for Sharice to say something. She kept looking over at the couple. Narkim was fixing Nisha a plate. “So Denisha right? How did you and Narkim meet, he hasn’t mentioned to us he had such a pretty girlfriend?” Danielle asked. Denisha smiled and looked around at everyone who was all curious. Narkim was nervous, and Nori could sense that. “Thank you, so are you. We met a year ago, at my job”. Danielle smiled and nodded, she really jus was trying to break the silence. Sharice was still not intrigued by Denisha. She reached for the pie that was on the table and started cutting into it. “Where do you work?”. Sharice asked. All eyes shifted to Denisha. Narkim was praying she wasn’t going to say she was a stripper. “I work at Blue Flame” Denisha said confidently. MJ started coughing on his beer. Damien and Nylah got their phones prepared.  Narkim’s leg was shaking from nervous ness, causing Nori’s leg to tap. Janessa just shook her head, she knew this wasn’t going to end well.  Sharice nodded. “I heard of that, it’s like a club, are you a waitress?” She asked. Denisha shook her head. “No mam, I’m a dancer”. Narkim palmed his face. Nori just pretended like she didn’t hear anything. “Jesus, help her” Vada whispered to herself. Sharice gulped down her wine. Malcom Sr. just shook his head. Damien tried to hold in his laughter. Denisha peeled at her chicken, she wasn’t ashamed. “Narkim, your dating a stripper?” Sharice asked, at this point she was drunk and was about to say what was on her mind. Narkim looked up at his mom. “She’s a dancer mama not a stripper”. Sharice bust out laughing. “A dancer huh?” Denisha was starting to get annoyed. “Yes mam, I dance for money because I got to do what I have to do to support myself”. She stated. Vada was never a stripper, but she understood. “No judgement here” Janessa said. Everyone nodded. Sharice was not having it. “Yall may not care but I do, you come to a family dinner looking like Blac Chyna, it’s 30 degrees outside young lady, you couldn’t wear anything else? I’m sorry but I don’t want my son dating a stripper”. Denisha stopped eating and looked at Sharice. “I’m grown, I can wear what I want to, I strip because it pays my bills, I don’t care what nobody got to say about me?”.  Denisha put on her coat and stood up. Sharice rolled her eyes. “My son is in college about to be somebody, he doesn’t need no hood rat to trap him and make him a baby daddy, I know how yall operate, you see rich college boy and see him as a way out, I’ll be damned”. Sharice said. Malcom Sr. stood up and grabbed her arm. “Your drunk Rice, enough”. He said to her. She snatcher her arm away. Denisha was about to leave when Narkim grabbed her. “Baby wait”. Narkim looked at Sharice. “Mama that was wrong bruh”. Sharice grabbed at Narkim. “Narkim sit down”. Narkim was embarrassed and mad. “I’m not going to pop off cause your Narkim’s mom, but Ima pray for you, I love your son, I’m far from a hood rat”. Denisha stormed out. “Nisha! damn it mama!” He said. Sharice looked at him crazy. “Let her ass go, you really thought it was okay to bring some hoe up in my house?” She asked. Danielle got up and went over to the kids table to take Leiana and Christian upstairs, so they wouldn’t witness the drama.  Narkim shook his head. “Mama please chill off him” Nori said. “Mama you can’t be telling me, who I can’t be with, I’m grown”.  Narkim said. “What your mother is trying to say is son you can’t be messing with no girl that will not benefit your future, your trying to get your PHD, she will only distract you”. Malcom Sr. stated. Narkim sighed loudly. He wanted to tell his parents he dropped out so bad. “Sharice no more wine tonight”. Malcom Sr. said grabbing the glass from her. “See this is why I don’t come home” Vada whispered to Michael. “It’s fine” He said. Janessa was having flash backs of when he father spazzed on her for bringing Dylan home. Nori started to feel nauseous “I got to go to the bathroom”. Nori ran off. “Malcom stop trying to tell me how to act in my own house! You don’t live here anymore so you don’t dictate shit!” She yelled. Everyone looked at them. “Mom what you mean Daddy don’t live here?” Janessa asked. “I guess since we’re all here, it’s time to let yall know we are getting a divorce, I have moved out already” Malcom Sr. said. “What?!” They all said. MJ looked at Damien. “You knew?” He asked. Damien nodded. “They wanted to tell yall in person, I been had the talk 7months ago” He said. MJ started laughing. “You talk shit about my marriage but you out here divorcing mom and shit” He said. “Watch your tone Malcom Jr. your still are my son, and you need to respect me”. He said. “Psshhh” MJ said waving him off. MJ went upstairs. “Well this is my family” Vada said to Michael.  He just nodded. Damien just palmed his face, Nylah played with her fingers. “Well I’m out, I got places to be and my relationship to fix”. Narkim said grabbing his coat. Nori came back from the bathroom. “Wait! Where are you going?” She asked. She followed Narkim outside. “Man, I got to go talk to Nish, and I got to meet with some friends really quick, I’ll be back man”. Nori nodded and went back inside. “Welp, dinner was nice”. Vada said sarcastically. Vada and Michael excuses themselves. Nori was looking at everyone confused. “What happened?” She asked. “Daddy and Mom are getting a divorce and Daddy moved out” Janessa said. Nori sat down in shock, although she knew it would soon happen. “Wow” Malcom Sr. sighed loudly. “Regardless of the circumstance, were still having Christmas as a family, and it won’t be any different, now I expect everyone to make the most of it”. Malcom Sr. sternly said. “I’m to tired to clean up, Damien, Nylah help Janessa and Nori straighten up please”. Sharice stumbled to her bedroom. “Ding Dong” The doorbell rang. “Bruh who the fuck here so got damn late”. Damien said. Malcom Sr. who was watching the football game in the living room answered the door. “Kristen…I forgot about tonight” He said to the women at the door. She smiled, “It’s fine, I assumed you got my message about me running late”. She said. He smiled and shook his head. “I um it’s not a good time”. He said. She nodded. “I understand, it’s late”. He wanted Kristen to meet his family but after the dinner he knew not to even dare to do that. “I can fix you a plate really quick, I know you are starving come on inside” He said. Kristen smiled, and walked in. The kids were cleaning the kitchen when Malcom Sr. walked in. “Hey um kids, this is my friend Kristen” He said. Everyone stopped to look, Damien turned around to see his dads’ friend and his heart dropped. “Ms. Madison?” Nylah said. Damien dropped his mom’s fine china plate. Kristen’s eyes widened, and Damien was in shock. “Damien!” Nylah yelled. Everyone looked at Damien. “I sorry man, the plate slipped”. Nylah helped Damien pick up the pieces, “Are yall like dating?” Nori asked. Malcom Sr. nodded. “Yes but were just friends until the divorce is finalized”. Damien helped Nylah throw the peices away and walked out of the kitchen. He walked into the bathroom and put water on his face. He was in shock that his dad was dating, and dating his teacher, who he was also sleeping with. “What the fuck”.He opened up the door and Kristen was in front of his face. 

[dittolicous]

god today has been fucking horrendous

first i wake up at 5:30 and realize i got my schedule mixed up, and that my shift starts in 40 minutes. then, i realize that i forgot to wash my uniform, so i was forced to wear my old one thats a lil chewed up and has sleeves that are falling off. then as i go to leave, i found out my phone for some god forsaken reason didnt charge and only had 5%. and my extra battery pack only had enough juice to charge my phone to 48%. and as im walking to work, not even a half mile from my house, i trip and bash my knee on fucking concrete. i straight up thought i fucked my kneecap up. its wasnt very bloody but fack yall ive been limping all day its so swollen. so then i had to speed-limp to work and use their first-aid to clean my leg up. and thanks to all that, i never got the chance to have breakfast, so i spent the first half of my shift getting dizzy everytime i blinked. and i then remember to take my meds... but because i didnt eat, they made me so nauseous i thought i was gunna throw up in one of the aisles.

im fucking finally home and my knee. is killing me so fucking much. i can hardly bend it. and i have another 8 hours shift again tomorrow....

im so fucking tired and sore 

[differentworlds-fiction]

30

HILL

A pair of slender lips greeted me, followed by a meek ‘good morning’.

Amid a plethora of pointless decorative pillows propped up against the cream tufted headboard, Tarin sat upright with her legs crossed, wiping the sleep from her eyes. Barefaced and all, her beauty never radiated more than it did at this very present moment. Much to her chagrin, she apologized for her current appearance. She reached upwards and pulled off the colorful paisley headscarf, allowing those loose ringlets of hers to fall past the nape of her neck. Amusement flickered in her eyes reminiscent of the hue of rum.

Her nose scrunched up at its narrow bridge.

“Did I wake you?”

“Mhm, but I needed to get up anyway.” she yawned and stretched. The strap to her thin camisole grooved down her skin, no hint of a bra in sight.

She fixed her mouth to speak, but sucked her teeth instead and grabbed a hold of the loose strap. “Hill, it’s way too early for you to be a fuckin’ perv.”

“It’s,” I pulled away from the phone, “Seven minutes to eight over here, which means that it’s almost eleven in New York.  I thought you’d be leaving the office for lunch at this time. Yesterday must’ve been awful.”

“You don’t even know the half. Yesterday was a day from Hell. Truly.”

“Did that nail polish launch thing go over well?” I queried.

“It went over well -- so well that the guests didn’t want to leave. Randoms started poppin’ in from off the street wanting to see what the hype was about, which conflicted with the schedule. The launch was initially scheduled from one to four o’clock p.m. That time was specifically stated in the mass email sent to all the social media influencers invited. Could you believe the party didn’t end until eight o’clock? I wouldn’t have cared about her having to pay for the allotted time if I wasn’t expected to stay there longer than I should’ve. My grandmother ended up having to pick my kid up from day camp and keep her overnight, all because that washed up reality star with bad injectables wanted me to stay there and ‘man down the entire operation’.”

“And where was Cara when all this was happening?”

“Getting her nails done. She might’ve helped put out the supply of polishes for the nail technicians, but that was it.” She huffed. “On top of that, she left halfway through the event. Like, who does that? Mind you, putting together this event was joint. We were splitting the commission percentage right down the middle!” Her anger could easily be detected through the video chat application. Her eyebrows knitted together; deep ridges emerging across her forehead. “I had to check the inventory and I had to make sure there was more than enough wine for everyone coming in, on top of that.” An aggravated sigh escaped her. “I know it doesn’t sound all that hard to handle, but when you have to deal with middle-aged trophy wives who’re under the notion that they’re always right and you’re in the wrong, then it becomes pretty difficult. Something like this wouldn’t have such a negative effect on me. I would’ve let this shit roll off my shoulders under any other circumstance. I think my lack of sleep had something to do with it. I, uh, I had this weird dream that kept me up most of the night before. I had a dream, about my daughter’s father.”

My back relaxed against the car’s plush interior after turning off the car’s engine. Beads of sweat still coated my body; my heart still racing after the routinely morning run.

“I had a feeling he was coming to see me. Most times -- whenever I dream of him, it’s never expected. But this time was different. It felt different. It was weird. I just knew he was coming.  But, it wasn’t like my other dreams. In my other dreams, we meet on Fulton street. For some odd reason, I dreamt about the night he was killed.” She murmured, her voice deadpan; Tarin’s eyes, though wearisome, harbored an ample amount of emotion that I couldn’t seem to distinguish. “It was still summer. He was wearing these baggy jean shorts. He walked me home that night wearing the same shorts. It was so hot out that night,” she reminisced, “like, unbearably hot, Hill. Blackout hot. Still sweatin’ in the shade hot --”

“I get it, Tarin.”

“ We’d spent most of the day together so it was definitely time to part ways. I wasn’t feeling all too well that day, to begin with. I’d been nauseous on and off for over a week.”

“You were pregnant by then, weren’t you?” I asked in an attempt to piece these significant occurrences in chronological order.

“Sure was. I thought my poor eating choices were to blame. You should’ve seen me that summer. I ate a bunch of shit I had no business eating. Greasy Chinese food, chopped cheeses from the deli -- you name it, I ate it, and then some!” Tarin laughed. “Um. Where were we before I got sidetracked? I forgot.”

“Your dream, baby. Your dream.” I laughed myself at her recent spell of absent-mindedness. Often she mentioned she fell victim to losing her train of thought whenever she was dwelling on something greatly significant.

She let out a timid giggle and quickly reined it in with a low ‘oh’. “It was as if it were any other night and I was sneaking back out the house. My grandmother was sleeping and my mother was probably working back to back shifts. So, I left out the back door to my grandmother’s house, hopped the fence and met Richie up the block. Our meetup spot was always in front of this beige paneled house with a rusted iron gate. He was there waiting for me. I saw him from far away and I was expecting him to get on my case about him having to wait for me, but he didn’t. He didn’t suck his teeth or groan, or anything like that.” She placed the phone on the bed; the camera capturing her bedroom ceiling. “His t-shirt was white, but there was this small dark spot that kept getting bigger the closer I go to him.” Tarin rushed out. “By the time we were face to face the spot had spread across the whole lower half.” There was a pause, followed by her taking a deep breath in an attempt to control the sudden shakiness in her voice. “He told me he loved me. In my other dreams, all his ‘love you T’s’ were rushed. He took his time, this time. And I appreciated that.”

“And?”

“And, what?”

“What happened afterward?”

“He left me standing in front of that beige house. I kept calling his name, over and over again. But he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t turn around. He just kept on walking up the street towards this bodega we frequented...without me…”

We hadn’t resumed our usual forms of communication since she cut the video call short Tuesday morning.

Whether accidentally or purposefully my calls during the dismal forty-minute plane ride were ignored and sent directly to voicemail, causing me to dread heading to Vegas altogether.

Bria, my parents, and two of my cornermen were either bracing themselves for all that awaited us in a matter of hours or busying themselves with their phones through the uneventful travel. Craig, on the other hand, decided to peruse the swank loaner the chairman of the Showtime network had given us access to so we could ‘ride in style’.

Whatever the fuck that meant.

“Impressive jet,” Craig murmured, adjusting his seat, “Do you have any idea how much this bad boy runs for? Just guess.”

“I don’t know, maybe forty mill’.”

“Close, but no cigar.” He retained an inward laugh. “Sixty-five, and that doesn’t include maintenance, kid. That Kyser fella at the network told me that yesterday. Could you believe that? Spending almost a hundred millions dollars on a goddamn private plane? These people are bat-shit crazy, I tell ya.” Craig let out a deep, raspy chuckle; the whites of his eyes disappearing when his eyes narrowed into thin slits. “So where ya flying to after this? Victoria wants me to go with her on her family vacation this year. He sounded as shocked to say it as I was to hear it. Though they’d grown closer over the years for the sake of Madison’s upbringing, Vickie and Craig were a bit estranged. There were no or ill feelings or bad blood between them, as far I knew, but unless it was a birthday or around the time of the holidays, they hardly kept in touch. “You ever been to Aruba?”

“Not yet.”

“Me neither. Apparently, that’s where her, the hubby, and little Maddie are going -- where they want me to go. That little prick she’s married to --”

“Language, Craig!” My mother blurted out, lifting the satin mask up from around her eyes.

With a push of a button, Craig sat upright in the plush leather recliner; his elbows grazing the small table between us. “That little prick she’s married to rented out this villa in the northern area of the island.”

“You going?”

“Damn right I’m going. There’s a casino not too far from there.” He guffawed. His boisterous burst of laughter settled within seconds. “What about you? Where do you plan on going once this thing is finished and over with?”

I had no intention of fleeing out of the country for a week-long vacation this time around. My sole intent was to meet back up with Tarin.

That is if she ever answered my calls.

After arriving at McCarran International Airport, the seven of us dispersed into two separate vehicles. Bria, our parents, and I packed into an SUV parked closest to the hangar while Craig and two of the cornermen rode with security personnel to locate the other service car. Once nestled inside the silent black Chevy Suburban, my mother and Bria ensued with aimless conversation as my father listened on, adding in his two cents to let them both know he was paying attention. They attempted to include me in the comical banter by questioning whether or not I was still plagued by the same pre-match jitters I had as an amateur, but I refrained from answering due to the fact that my mind was on other things.

Without putting forth much effort, my hand patted along the seat, searching for the cobalt blue encased smartphone and idly checked Tarin’s social media activity.

She may not have been acquainted with social media prior to becoming Cara Santos’ apprentice but her online following increased in the matter of a few weeks. Part of it having to do with her association to Cara Santos, but most of it having to do with her professionalism and execution. On Monday she revealed the alias of her newest client; a child actor turned crossover crooner by the name of Haneef Parker. The masses, women generally, were enthralled by him and his singing abilities for as long as I could remember. Since childhood Smith had been in the spotlight, gaining moderate success from the various TV-sitcoms he starred in. He managed to strike gold in the music industry after signing a lucrative recording contract with a major label.

He was like a teen idol a decade go, Tarin brought up during her instance of fangirling. With high regard, she mentioned the copies of his albums she had in her possession, the J-14 posters taped onto her bedroom walls and the college-ruled notebooks marked up with the playful moniker ‘Mrs. Smith’ on them. I had it bad back then. He used to perform on 106 & Park all the time but Marjani’s parents would never let her go to Harlem without any supervision. We came pretty close to sneaking off one time, but we were never successful.

Of all the women Smith was linked to -- talented songstresses with whom he collaborated with, ditzy socialites the media often linked him to, and the frequently exposed video models who threatened to expose him on Twitter -- he ended up settling down with a registered nurse from his hometown.

Him and his girl are expecting, Tarin spoke lowly into the phone as if she weren’t within the confines of her own apartment. She mentioned how fortunate the opportunity was on account of him finding out about her through Instagram’s Discover tab.

Realizing Tarin hadn’t been active on social media since our last interaction, I proceeded to stuff my phone back into my pocket.

“Trouble in paradise?” Bria queried, lifting up her massive sunglasses for dramatic effect.

“What?”

“I watched you call the same number three times while we were on the tarmac.” She mentioned, reaching inside her knapsack’s unzipped compartment, retrieving a handheld mirror. The sight of her using holding the regal-esque mirror just to slab another layer of lipstick. “And now you’re scrolling down Tarin’s Twitter page like a stalker.”

“I’m not stalking her,” I made clear, “I’m worried. There’s a difference.”

“Worried my fucking ass.”

“Bria!”

All eyes darted towards the front of the truck. Seated beside my father who happened to be entirely engrossed with finishing the final pages of Nigger: An Autobiography of Dick Gregory, my mother mussed with her bangs angrily.

“What ma?” Bria peered over at her.

Raising an eyebrow, mother raised her hand, wagging her finger as she did. “Don’t be cussin’ in front of me! You know better than that.”

“Your mother’s right. Show some respect, Bria.” My father chimed in, pushing the e-reader aside.

“Sorry,” Bria said apologetically before turning to me. “You’re still a creep.”

“How exactly does this translate into me being a creep? By all means, let me know.”

“What you should be focused on is tonight’s final weigh-in. You have a lot riding on tomorrow’s fight, son.”

“And I’m aware of that, pops”

“Act like it, then.”

For the remainder of the commute to MGM Grand located right on the Las Vegas Strip.

As if it were her very first time experiencing the wacky Elvis Presley impersonators donning differentiating versions of the infamous studded jumpsuit or the old folks peddling off the shuttle buses and hurrying for the casinos.

“Act like you’ve been somewhere, please.”

She waited until my parents were mere feet away before advising me to ‘pull the stick out of my ass’.

Courtesy of the networks close relationship with the hotel, the family, Craig, the cornermen, and I were provided complimentary rooms of our choosing for the duration of our stay. Staying throughout the entire weekend wasn’t in the cads for Bria and my parents, being that they were heading back to their home in Florida Monday morning. With the assistance of a hotel staff member, the three of them were led through the main entrance. Craig and the cornermen followed close behind as bellhops unloaded every bag from the service trucks.

By the main entrance, a lone woman stood nearby equipped with a clipboard, extending her hand to acknowledge me. “Mr. Dawson, it is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Valerie,” She pushed her glasses upward by the bridge as they grooved down, “and I will be making sure your stay here at MGM Grand Las Vegas will be a remarkable one. I’m aware that you frequent the hotel quite often but it’s been brought to my attention that you’ve never visited our diversions.”

“I can’t say that I have, Valerie,” I answered truthfully. Aside from the matches being based out in Nevada and a few last minute meetings held inside of a restaurant or two, sticking around in the city of sin just wasn’t my thing. After matches, I allowed my body time to decompress and checked out at dawn.

“Well, If you’d like to reserve the best table at any of our ten restaurants or acquire tickets to any show of your choosing, please do not hesitate to call the skylofts’ private lobby and ask for me personally.” She said, pressing her hand against my back. “Now, if you don’t mind, the head of hotel security would like to escort you through the VIP lounge. There, the three of us will take a private elevator to your loft where we can check you in.”

I figured the extraordinary service I was currently experiencing was due to executives at the network pulling out all the stops to make sure the networks and I were all on the same page.

I’d be a fool to believe there wasn’t a proposal of a potential partnership in some capacity impending.

In the skyloft, at the elaborate dining room table complemented by chairs draped in yellow fabric, Valerie walked me through the hotel’s preliminaries and procedures; a document that I’d signed many times before. “If you’ll just sign right here and here, Mr. Dawson.” Valerie pointed to the bottom of the document. She leaned over the table’s edge. The deep V-neckline shifted, unintentionally granting me unwarranted peaks of her lacy bra.  “Alrighty then. Here is your keycard.”

“I was never good at keeping up with keycards.”

She rested her hand on my shoulder but slowly pulled it away. “In case you happen to misplace your room’s keycard, a staff member will be happy to help you recover another one.” I nodded, indicated that I had heard her. We sat in a prolonged silence until Valerie the concierge took the hint that I wanted to be alone. Grabbing her clipboard along with the preliminary and procedures document she made a beeline for the door, muttering ‘good luck tomorrow night’ prior to closing the loft’s door.

My mind ran rampant.

Not with thoughts of tomorrow night or what I intended to do once I headed back to California.

At the forefront of my mind remained thoughts of Tarin and the longing for her to alright with whatever she was up to.

TARIN

Roberta Flack’s “Feel Like Makin’ Love” poured in through the recording studio’s powered speakers connected to a white oak turntable.

Records suited in tethered jackets remained scattered across the state of the art soundboard; audio from the likes of Teddy Pendergrass and Donny Hathaway were two of the few I’d been able to identify from their covers alone.

My time was limited, I reminded Haneef once obliging to meet at the last minute.

Considering that evening was steadily approaching and my hunger was getting the best of me, I still found time to schedule a last-minute meeting with Haneef Parker to come to a general agreement about the event, its budget, and the non-negotiable commission percentage I expected for my services.

“Could you tell me a little about -- I’m sorry. What’s the mother of your child’s name again?” I queried. The fact that she wasn’t famous was making it all the more difficult to remember her name.

“Marissa,” He answered quickly as he sorted through a crate containing hordes of records. D’Angelo’s Voodoo album had been pulled out and placed over Bilal’s 1st Born Second and Erykah Badu’s Mama’s Gun.

A boyish grin tugged at the corner of his mouth; one that instantly put me in the mind of the one he sported on the cover of Essence’s annual Men’s Issue.

He scooted back in the swivel chair, lifting the turntable’s needle carefully before swapping the Roberta Flack record for D’Angelo’s.

The opening track was slow and taking its time to build up with a succession of hand claps and layered vocals, luring me to sway along to the song infused with jazz and funk.

“You like that?” He inquired, his voice low.

“It’s easy on the ears.” A moderate screech hollowed out the song Haneef referred to as “Playa Playa”. “Drawing inspiration, by any chance?”

He twiddled his thumbs. “Every now and again I always seem to hit a dead end. It never fails.That’s when I take a breather and dig in the crates. Creatively I’m burned out. My mind’s on other things.”

“You’re about to be a father. It’s be expected that music isn’t your main focus.”

His mouth hung slightly ajar in an attempt to form some sort of rebuttal, but he paused, looking to be in deep thought as he bopped his head to the beat of “Devil’s Pie”. Rather than giving forth an audible answer, Haneef nodded his head in agreeance.

“I’ve always wondered whether men freak out over parenthood as much as women do.”

“I can’t speak for all men, but I’m a lil’ nervous. I ain’t gonna front.” Haneef admitted, running his hand down the length of the fitted, distressed jeans he donned.

“The fear will go away. Trust me.”

“How you know? You’re speakin’ like you know. Like --”

“-- I’ve been where you are. Well, not exactly where you are. You’re a multi-millionaire having his first child in his late twenties. I’m not saying I was when I had my kid, but I didn’t have a ton of cash at my disposal, either..”

“Wait. You have a kid?”

I nodded.

“You lyin’!”

“No, I’m not. I’m serious!”

“Bullshit,” His laughter came out a low, gruff roar, “you can’t be no older than --”

“-- I had her young.” I retorted without thinking much of the revelation. I turned forward, taking in the isolated room ahead equipped with bass drums, a microphone, and an electric guitar. “I wouldn’t have had it any other way. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. The same way your child will be the best thing that’s ever happened to you. And despite the fame, the money, and all your accolades, they will be your greatest accomplishment ever. Enough of all that, though. By any chance, do you have a theme in mind?”

“Nah.”

“What about a color scheme?”

“Nah.” He repeated.

“Do you know what you’re having?”

“Nah Rissa,” He called her for short, “wanted the baby’s gender to be a surprise.”

“Haneef,” I huffed, “Haneef. You’ve got to give me something to work with here. Something.” I stressed, easing my back against the chair. “Now, since the baby’s gender is unknown, it’d be best if we stick to a gender neutral color scheme. This leads me to ask you whether you’d be content with the use of yellow.”

““I’m not put off to it being used’.”

“Alright. Yellow is a possibility.” I nodded. “How about I look into some potential venues and follow up with you sometime next week? If you’re available we could schedule another meeting Monday morning.”

“Tomorrow’s my only free day.” He mentioned.

“Eh, tomorrow’s no good for me.” I spoke sheepishly, “I’m gonna be outta town.”

“After tomorrow I will be, too.” Haneef expressed with a head nod. “I’ma be in Miami until next week doing a few intimate shows. From an artist’s standpoint, I haven’t garnered enough attention leading up to the release of this album --”

“Which is why you’ve considered doing these performances.”

“See, you get it.” Haneef scooted in the chair up to the soundboard, carelessly fiddling with the buttons and knobs. “My management said those bastards at the label want me to put forth a bit more effort this go around. I’m booked all month for radio interviews and segments for morning talk shows. They even got me doing those interactive Q&A’s with the fans so I could seem more attainable.”

“You have to put in more of an effort now than you’ve probably had to before. I’m no music industry guru that knows all the ins and outs of the biz but album sales are definitely not as high as they used to be. You had it pretty easy back in the day, Haneef. You were the sangin’ pretty boy with the big hazel eyes --”

“'Was the sangin’ pretty boy’?" He scoffed. "I still am!”

I pursed my lips together, fighting the urge to tell him he’d handed over the title of reigning supreme the moment he decided to chase musical fads and cross over. A former label A&R and longtime mentor of Haneef introduced him to a duo of producers responsible for the reemergence of EDM in mainstream music. Working with two of the hottest producers of the moment earned Haneef concurrent chart-topping hits and favorable co-signs from the mediocre pop stars who conquered radio airplay day in and day out.

No longer was he the Haneef Parker record executives pitted against other rivaling act, nor was he the same Haneef Parker who critics regarded in the same class as the talented luminaries who had come before him. On the heels of his crossover success music aficionados referred to the R&B golden child as nothing more than a sellout who sacrificed true artistry for mass-notoriety; a man who disregarded his core audience.

I took a moment to ponder how I could break the silence that loomed over us, witnessing him looking at me with intent the moment my stare drifted to the True Believer tattoo cascading down his right forearm.

Either the bold marking was a new addition to the throng already coating his arms, torso, and legs or I was officially disinterested with all minor things Haneef Parker; the latter rang true the longer the singer and I occupied the same space.

“Um. So...conference call it is, then. And if I can’t get a hold you that way, I will send photos of venues within the budget directly to your email.”

“Damn. You on it, ain’t you?”

“It’s pretty much essential to be.”

Reaching for the slouchy tote bag that had been grazing my exposed ankles, I rose from the swivel chair, stopping per Haneef’s request; his rendition of the Roberta Flack record he played previously.

“Couldn’t let you leave without hearing his version.” His hand fell to the knobs again, feathery croons matching the tone of D’Angelo’s tone fluttered into the air as Haneef sung along, merging with the track’s infectious bass.

“I like this one, too.” I murmured as the studio’s door opened. I assessed the group of people; a collective of both men and women, passing through the entryway, dispersed into groups and occupied the two leather couches. A man holding a guitar case ambled towards Haneef and proceeded to give him dap before inquiring about the audio engineer scheduled to be present for the session. As they engaged in conversation, and the trio of women behind me began belting out rehearsed verses they’d read off sheets of papers, I bid my farewell to Haneef and slipped out the studio.

It was nearing six when I finally arrived home.

Silence greeted me on the way inside the darkened apartment.

Traces of Ayla were present throughout the furnished space complemented by teal or orange decorative accents. Small shoes idled the cubby space by the door. In the living room, toys that she failed to put away as well as a box of misplaced crayons and a coloring book rested atop the coffee table. Releasing a huff, I tossed my bag and keys on the bare kitchen island in passing and proceeded to gather her belongings and return them to their rightful spots.

Before peeling off the frayed denim dress and slipping out of the mahogany rose Vans I hurried to hook my phone up to the charger port plugged in beside my nightstand, dreading to reply back to the inquisitive text messages from Marjani that I’d already skimmed over or hearing the voicemails Mama Sarah had left prior to my phone dying while on the way to meet with Haneef. With the dress puddled at my feet, I shrugged out my bra and shimmied out of the matching hip-riding panties, making a beeline for the master bathroom soon after. A backpack containing a change of clothes, travel size toiletries, and an alternate satin scarf hung above a change of comfortable shoes that were lined neatly against the bathroom’s wall.

I doubled back into the bedroom simultaneous to a resounding blare emitting from my cell phone. I figured it would be Mama Sarah calling to coax me out of leaving tomorrow afternoon, but I was wrong.

For what seemed like an eternity I watched my cellphone continuously dance from left to right and back again on the nightstand, a zoomed-in picture I’d screenshot one night during a facetime call appeared before a notification stating that Hill had left a voicemail, popped up. I contemplated on calling back but decided against doing so.

As soon as the voice on the other end greeted me the plan itself would be botched.

I had to remain focus and act accordingly.

Bria and Vickie would have my ass if I didn’t.

****

I was in over my head.

I’d come to that realization thirty-thousand feet in the air.

The flight scheduled for two remained stagnant on the runway due to the pilot being a no-show.

My mind instantly resorted to the worst.

Perhaps he was at someone’s bar getting sloshed prior to risking the lives of all the passengers or cooped up in a private bathroom somewhere snorting bumps of coke off a bathroom counter. As if harping on that horrific possibility wasn’t troubling enough, I grew frantic from feeling every erratic motion the alternate pilot who’d been assigned to fly the plane at the last minute determined was turbulence.

In a matter of minutes, I’d lost feeling in my limbs. The violent churning in my stomach commenced when the short-haired Asian woman sitting beside me commanded my attention. Since accidentally bumping into each other during my frequent trips to the bathroom, she’d been itching to start up a conversation. On more than occasion, I’d caught staring at me out the corner of my eye. I couldn’t even browse through Twitter in peace without spotting her take unwarranted peeks at my phone’s screen.

Heaving a heavy sigh I shifted against the window, closing the application after retweeting photos Cheyenne had uploaded from the recent nail polish launch onto CS Event Planning & Productions’ user account.

*Nervous?” The woman sitting beside me spoke up. With the hand that wasn’t cradling the latest issue of The New Yorker, she brought it upward to toy with her blunt ends. In contrast to her pale skin, her hair was dyed blue-black which complemented the reddish brown matte color staining her round lips.

She didn’t bother waiting for an answer.

It was as if she’d picked up on my timidness.

I mean, we were sitting directly next to each other.

“Relax. Sit back, and breath. Ditching the caffeine always helps too.” She nodded in the direction of the venti ice coffee cup that was now empty.

“This is my first time flying.”

“Shocking,” the woman muttered, laughing a little.

****

Often I wondered how it would be to see him again. To share his presence. To succumb to that familiar embrace and settle against his chest as his arms enclosed around me. He’d left an impression on me long before this moment. Long before our dinner at Buddakan. Long before our heated kiss at the bar. I wanted him more than I’d led on. More than I had ever predicted if I was being honest with myself. The wracking emptiness that lingered within me due to our purposeful strain in communication, attested to my developing sentiments. That, and the fact that I’d left my obligations in New York behind to simply be alone with this man for a few hours.

With the help of Bria snagging Hill’s keycard out of his pants’ pocket when he changed into his match attire, I entered the swank loft suite moments after the third round began. A series of alarming text messages and corresponding voice notes from Victoria stating that the fight had come to an end when Hill’s gloved fist connected with his opponent’s jaw, idled my notifications.

By unanimous decision, Hill had defeated his opponent by way of knockout.

Sports journalists wasted no time rushing to various social media platforms to discuss the bout that lasted four rounds.

In an attempt to allay the nerves afflicting me throughout the excruciating wait, I passed through the beautifully decorated suite more than once, finding myself in awe of the art bedecking the walls of the sitting area. Atop a checkerboard carpet positioned by the floor to ceiling windows was low-lying furniture paired with intricate additions of red and oranges. Hues of creams and browns were used avidly throughout the bedroom and master bathroom. Per Bria’s rather rigid request, every touchscreen tablet control panels were left untouched being that Hill hadn’t yet altered the settings himself.

When perusing every inch of the suite began to bore me I retreated to the ottoman positioned against the bed’s footboard. With my phone as my sole source of entertainment, I scrolled through my Twitter feed and stumbled upon a link to the post-match press conference. Both Hill and his opponent stood at adjacent podiums with their respected trainers behind them. It took an hour and a half for them to get through every question members of the press had asked, most of which were recycled inquiries concerning their training regimens, their diets, and each side’s honest opinion of the other. Much to my disappointment, the distorted live-stream was cut short just as Hill uttered a heartfelt expression of gratitude to Craig.

With haste, I sent a series of text messages to Jani with whom I failed to respond to earlier on account of being escorted to a black Chevrolet by a driver Victoria arranged to meet me at the airport. Our conversation that consisted of her urging me to let loose while in the city of sin placated momentarily until the commotion filled the air, followed by the opening and closing of the door downstairs. Instinctively, I shot to my feet; a voice belonging to Bria Dawson approached and grew closer as footsteps padded up the stairs.

“You have your own room for a reason, Bria.”

“I’m aware of that,” she scoffed, “I wanted to use the bathroom.”

“There’s a bathroom downstairs. It’s right by the door.”

“Why do I have to use that bathroom? Am I not good enough to use the one up here?”

“Look, I’m not about to argue with you about no stupid shit. I’d appreciate it if you’d go back to your room --”

With a slight push, the bedroom door swung open, unveiling a stoic Hill standing in its entryway. His eyes drifting from me to Bria; doubt present in his expression.

Grinning, I muttered a low ‘surprise’, receiving a boyish grin I’ve had the longing to witness face to face since his previous stay in New York.

Standing before both Hill and me in a satin top and matching wide-legged pants the color of champagne, Bria’s tongue ran across her top row of teeth; a triumphant look spread across her face.

I didn’t know whether to acknowledge her efforts with a comforting embrace or with an acknowledging head nod.

Coolly she strutted to me, her oversized blazer draped over her shoulder, adding to the awe of her tantalizing gait. She oozed every bit of confidence. Everything I wished I was at nineteen. “Well, Tarin, I have to hand it to you,” her breaths jagged, “I’ll be the first to admit that when Victoria ran the plan by me I wasn’t too sure you’d be able to pull off ignoring my idiot brother until the weekend. I figured you were just as sprung over him as he is over you. But, you stuck with the plan. Good job, girl!  Mission a-damn-complished!”

“It was the easiest task.” I confessed, my eyes meeting Hill’s once again. He pressed his lips into a fine line, dropping a large Under Armour duffle on the swing-back armchair. He moseyed in more, skirting by Bria who stood just mere inches from me.

Her glossed lips parted into a goofy grin. Unrestrained laughter escaped her, settling once she took our non-verbal communication through fixed stare. “I’ll think I’ll be headin’ to the bathroom now.”

“And leaving afterward, I hope.”

“Do you see this Tarin? This the thanks I get for helping bring this plan to fruition. You’re an unappreciative ass, Hill. Where’s the gratitude? Where’s the appreciation? I’ve yet to hear a thank you!”

“Jesus Christ --”

“Thank you, Bria.” I butted in an attempt to keep the peace.

She shifted in her stance, elongating her right leg which showcased the nude strapless ankle-wrap sandals.

“I know you’re thankful,” forcefully, she nudged Hill right on his shoulder, “but I wanna hear this jackass say he is. He doesn’t seem to be!”

“Knowing you, a ‘thank you’ isn’t all you’re looking for.”

She snickered, “It it ever?” A series of pats were landed on Hill’s cheek prior to Bria making her way towards the bedroom’s door. “You owe me big for this one. We’ll talk later. Okay? Until then, have fun.”

Just as she was about to make her departure, Hill’s hand found its way to her shoulder, restricting her from moving any further. Without expressing words, he enveloped her in a hug from the side. At first, she tried shooing him away, but settled into the embrace, smiling although the moment was short-lived. Per Bria’s request, they separated, following up the endearing moment with an elaborate handshake consisting of two turns, three consecutive hi-fives, and a knuckle pound. Slips of laughter escaped me as I stood nearby witnessing the two siblings carry on lovingly as if they weren’t acting like a pair of bickering children moments ago. After she used the bathroom and Hill phoned hotel security to escort Bria to her room, he returned into the bedroom, discovering that I took a seat on the bed. He joined me; a hand rested on my thigh, putting me at ease.

“I’m usually not one for surprises.” He admitted lowly.

“I’m usually not good at keeping surprises. Anyone who knows me knows that I couldn’t keep a secret of this caliber. In the past, I tended to talk a secret right outta me.” I spoke faintly, reaching for his hand. His long, narrow fingers intertwined with mine. “I couldn’t ruin this one. I just couldn’t.”

His lips found their way to my neck, peppering my skin with kisses. I relaxed against his touch yet I desired nothing more than for his arms to surround me and for his lips to be on mine.

Fortunately for me, my earnest desire was met.

In seconds, his mouth collided with mine. His tongue slid inside, eliciting a stifled moan from me. Rather than gently running my hand up the side of his face, my left hand found its way to a spot just above his brow bone. The pads of my fingers traced over the thin, white bandage concealing a minor cut.

“How was the fight?” I asked in between fervent pecks.

“I won.” He retorted blankly, seeming somewhat disinterested in the topic.

“I know that.” I mentioned. “It doesn’t seem like you were hurt too bad.”

“You should see the other guy.” He responded, removing his lips from mine.

Impassioned kisses were left on my collarbone; the scent of sandalwood combined with another subtle manly scent wafted into my nose. My back came in contact with the sheets that felt expensive to the touch. He paused, assessing the ribbed hunter green mini dress that fit snug against my frame. At hem gathered at my thighs, Hill pushed the ribbed material up; a devilish smirk settled on his face upon realizing that I was pantiless, his grimace wholly manifesting into a look of mischief.

My dress was carelessly thrown to the floor.

The plunging triangle bra I donned was the next to be discarded after Hill’s struggled effort in unclasping the final row of hooks. Succeeding, he tossed the bra onto the armchair, basking in my naked frame and all its supposed glory. He regained footing when arising from the bed, unbuttoning each button stitched onto the mosaic-printed button-up he wore. He went on to remove his dark-wash jeans, but, I quickly shot up, wobbling on the heels I loathed wearing altogether.

“Let me.”

Somewhere in between Hill stepping out of his loafers and his belt producing an audible when his pants hit the floor, a ball of nerves flourished right in the pit of my stomach.

We stood before one another exposed. Face to face, chest to chest. “Hey. Hey,” he called out, halting me from any sudden movement, “we don’t have to --”

“But..I..want to.”

My hands aimlessly ran down his torso, patting over the deep-set grooves and contours of his abdominal muscles

We retreated to the bed, then.

I anticipated the moment our lips reunited.

For a moment I watched on with intent as he roughly parted my thighs. To his knees he sank and buried his head between my thighs, coaxing me to moan out his name. Nipping at my flesh as my thighs quivered -- tickling the smoothness of my thighs with his the minimal stubble coating his cheeks. Solace was found the moment I planted hand atop his head, raking my nails through the low heap of coarse locks he’d yet to trim off and down towards the scalp. A drawn out guttural mewl sputtered from my lips, prompting me to undulate my hips against his face.

I pushed further -- relentlessly, nearing the brink of my peak.

Goosebumps coated my fervent skin.

Shivers cascaded down my spine.

Warm tears settled at the lower rims of my eyes from the thought alone, thickening while they trickled down the sides of my face. Subsequent to removing his head that was recently situated between my legs, Hill rose from the bed and made a beeline for the slate grey sports duffle, leaving me aching for him; He searched through the two smaller compartments located on either side, retrieving a black leather wallet.

A condom or two -- perhaps maybe three rested inside the slip compartments.

“C’mere.”

Despite the sudden hoarseness detected in my voice, he happily obliged.

In quick movements he labored over me, gently caressing my cheek. With erratic haste, we eased down his boxer briefs together, only for him to rear back to rip one of the condom’s wrapping open. Our eyes locked shortly afterward. My expression was assessed for the slightest hint of hesitancy -- any inkling of uncertainty. Beats of silence pervaded the air thick of unspoken lust that became almost dire to be acted on.

“I want you.” His head lowered, granting me the opportunity to run my tongue over the fullness of his lips. “Do you want me?”

“Of course I want you.” Hill asserted firmly; the throbbing between my legs became unbearable the longer I continued to ache for him. “Of course I want you.”

The words reverberated into my skin. Within seconds, he was inside me, producing slow, marginal strokes that quickly progressed into deep thrusts. I panted his name until words were no longer comprehensible. My worrisome thoughts -- tasks that I knew had to be handled as soon as I landed back in New York, were subdued by warm breath cooing onto my skin. Repeated remarks of my beauty were made amidst struggled groans. Beneath him, I cursed and met his urgent movement with an eagerness of my own. My hips rose, prompting my thighs to anchor around his waist entirely. He reared back, supporting my trembling thigh as it started to ease down his torso; lust evident in the eyes of the man shuddering above me.

Curses bellowed from his parted lips, the very same succulent pair I latched onto and kissed tenderly, reaching the ascent to another climax. He plunged harder then, releasing a harsh, throaty groan onto my lips simultaneous to his body tensing up atop my quaking frame. I fastened my arms around him, asserting that I was unwilling to let him go.

In my grasp he stilled, his head resting on my breasts.

Still, plunged deep into my depths, his manhood pulsated.

“Don’t move. Stay right here.” I begged.

His large, taut hand ran over the tops of my breasts, kneading them softly until Hill decided to get off the bed and amble into the bathroom.

I rolled over, feeling the freest I’d felt in years.

[storyteller15]

Chapter Five: The Prince and The Mage

My heart wouldn’t stop beating so fast, and I can’t blame it.

After all, I’m the one that’s going to be in deep trouble if I don’t find a way to get back up to the tree branch to retrieve my irreplaceable picture. What’s worse? My crush is down there, aware of my presence. Damn, all this trouble for my picture? I asked myself.

“I-I’m fine, Your Majesty,” I managed to answer him, even though I just stuttered. “Just ‘hanging’ around, loving the view up here.”

I hear Asriel laugh at my dumb pun. “Ah, so I guess I wasn’t wrong when I heard something up there.”

“Nope, you guessed correctly.” I try my best to pull myself up slowly, but it only made it worse by making my fingers loosen their grip.

“Do you need any help, miss?” He asks, filled with concern. “I can come up there and help if you want.”

I felt my cheeks flushed red, I'm surprised my magic didn't even spin out of control.

"I think I'm good, I'm only three feet away from getting it."

I can't believe this is happening, but this is definitely wrong. I wasn't suppose to see him until tomorrow. Great, another rule I've broken so far. What could be worse?

"Well then, I guess I have no choice but to stay here then." He says, with a hint of humor in his voice.

Oh crap! I changed my mind, that’s MORE worse.

"Wait what?! Oh, no, no, no! You don't need to do that, Your Majesty!" I felt my stomach flipped in different angles.

He chuckled at my response, hearing the grass rustle under me. “I have a name you know, you can at least call me Asriel.”

“But I can’t do that,” I moved my arms upwards, still holding on as I moved my legs up too. “It’s not my place to even call you by your normal name. Especially for a commoner like myself.”

“Well, if you can’t do that, then I’ll have no choice but to climb up there and help.”

“Okay, okay! I’ll call you Asriel! Just don’t come up here!” I said, giving up already.

“As you wish, Miss.”

I sighed softly in relief, thank goodness. To be honest, I’m actually surprised that Asriel didn’t bother asking for my name or who I am. Perhaps it’s best if he doesn’t. Once this is over, I'm going to call Bryn sometime tomorrow about my encounter with Asriel. She'd be thrilled about it, telling me that it's 'fate'. I shook my head giggling about the idea on how fate can be so unexpecting.

"Not to sound too nosy, but what are you doing out here in this windy night?" Asriel asks, filled with curiosity.

I was hesitant to respond at first, but he will find out eventually. “The wind blew away my picture, and I wanted to get it back.”

“A picture?”

“It’s made by a polaroid camera. You know, the ones that can print your pictures out faster, turning it into an instant picture. I’m actually fond of those kinds of pictures.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of this kind of camera that can print out an instant picture before, why not save it in your--”

“Phone? Yeah, I know I can, But . . .” My words trailed off, feeling my eyes well up with tears.

“But this instant picture is something you can hold and cherish forever, while a phone can easily break and lose your data forever?”

I chuckled softly, wiping my tears away with my free hand. “Yes. And let me guess, you’re going to explain on how much of a weird person I am to feel this way over a picture.”

“No!” My body flinches from his loud sudden outburst.

“You’re not weird at all for feeling this way. And besides, I would do the same if my picture really meant so much to me. And judging the way you sounded about your picture, I’m a hundred percent sure that this picture is irreplaceable.” He says, suddenly sounding a little sad as I heard his body shift against the tree.

I felt so moved from his words, it’s no wonder I adore Asriel. The sounds of the night started to make me feel uneasy. I continued to concentrate as I inch my way towards my picture, but with Asriel no longer talking is now making me feel distracted. I think for a moment to find something else for us discuss, until I found the right question to ask him.

“What about you, Your Maj-- I mean Asriel,” I quickly corrected myself. “What brought you out here?”

There was a long terrifying pause, before he finally answered me.

“I came out here for a walk. To clear away the things that were clouding my mind. You see, this is the first time that I’m experiencing my own Selection. And with thirty-five young ladies staying in my home, it suddenly made me overthink with terrifying thoughts.”

“Like what?” I asked, suddenly afraid of what he will say.

“Wondering if I’m ready to go through my Selection,” He confesses, hearing him let out a harsh breath. “Don’t get me wrong, I do want to go through it, it’s just . . . It’s just . . .”

“Overwhelming?” I asked, finishing his sentence for him.

“Y-yeah, exactly.”

I gasped softly, surprised that he too was overwhelmed about the Selection; his Selection. And to think I was the only one that doubted myself of being worthy of competing. I guess Asriel is a little afraid of going through something that carries a lot of responsibilities. And I can’t blame him, picking one potential girl out of thirty-four is a big decision to make.

“I guess that makes two of us.” I breathed, closing my eyes.

“Huh? Did you say something, Miss?”

My eyes shot open, realizing what I just uttered. “N-nothing, it’s nothing.”

Suddenly, I felt nauseous. Perhaps I’ve been hanging upside down for too long. If I don’t get my picture quickly, the only outcome I’ll ever get is falling.

“What I meant to say was, that it’s okay to feel nervous,” I began to speak again, hoping it’ll ease Asriel’s worries. “Everyone gets nervous over something that carries a lot of responsibilities. So, it’s okay to feel this way. Try to think of The Selection as if you’re making new friends.”

“Making friends?” Asriel asks, his voice sounding puzzled.

“Yup, that’s right. Your Selection is about choosing your bride right? And because your worries are clouding your judgment, you’re a little afraid of finding the right girl among them. The one thing you can actually do to make things easier for yourself, is to get to know your Selection candidates. That way, you can at least find out if you’re into girls that likes eating snails, reading books, or maybe the ones that love to venture out in nature.”

“Huh, I never thought of it that way,” He responds as if he’s thinking about it. “That actually makes a lot of sense. I guess I forgot about something like this. Thank you, Miss. Your advice helped me eased my anxiety away.”

I paused myself, feeling my cheeks flushed red. I’m so lucky I’m at least sixteen feet up high, with the beautiful leaves concealing me away from Asriel. My heart was skipping a few beats again, feeling my stomach flutter.

“Anytime, Your Majesty.” I said, earnestly.

“Ahem,” I hear him clearing his throat. “I thought I told you to call me Asriel, remember?”

“Sorry! It’s a force of habit!” I giggled happily, feeling my sadness disappear as if it never existed.

“That’s a lovely sound.”

“Huh? What sound?”

Asriel chuckled as if I was a naive child. “Your laugh, it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard in my entire life. It’s full of life and happiness; it’s very contagious.”

My entire face heated up from his comment, feeling my heart race faster than before. “Hey now, is this what you say to all the ladies that you meet?”

“W-what?! No! I don’t at all, I actually mean--”

“Asriel, I was just ‘kidding’ you around.” I cut him off, teasingly.

“Hey! ‘Wood’ you mind if you stop using your puns? I’m feeling a little ‘stumped’ about it!”

We both ended up howling in laughter, at our dumb puns. I quickly took note that Asriel loves jokes and puns. Nanny used to tell me that his mother really loves to tell jokes and puns. I guess that’s where he gets his puns from. To be honest, I don’t use puns at all because not many people find mine funny.

Just then, I realized that I was one foot away from reaching my photo. Yes! I’m almost there! I thought to myself. Just a few more inches, and I should get it at arms reach.

“You really are a funny girl, Miss,” He comments me, hearing him sigh in relief after laughing too much. “But there’s something that’s been bugging me this whole time.”

“Oh, what is it?” I asked as I crept closer enough for me to try and reach for my picture.

Come on, just a little further! I thought to myself. I scooted my body upwards a little, with my arm stretched out. The corner of my picture brushed against my fingertips, trying so hard to grip on it.

"About earlier," Asriel says, his voice sounding puzzled.

"Yes?" I placed my other hand over a sturdy twig, keeping my legs crossed around the branch.

Fuck, come on! I growled under my breath, stretching my arms more. The wind blowing my hair onto my face isn't helping at all. I just need to reach just a little more.

"Since you know my name, I've been very rude for not asking yours in return. So, may I ask your name?"

"Oh, it's Zaf--”

Suddenly, a strong gust of wind blows against my face. The twig I was hanging on to snaps apart from the wind’s force, feeling my body fall as I screamed loudly. All I saw were blurry visions of the tree and leaves. I tumbled against a branch and leaves, feeling the vines coiled part of my body and feet tightly. Feeling lightheaded, I groaned in pain as the adrenaline pumps throughout my body again.

As I opened my eyes, I gasped, finding myself hanging six feet upside down, a few inches close to Asriel. He was just as I remembered him, looking handsome like the first sunlight of spring. He was wearing a light green sweater with yellow stripes and black pants. Around his neck is his treasured gold heart shaped locket; his eyes glimmering emerald green under the moonlight, looking surprised.

“H-howdy.” Asriel says, his voice shaking a bit.

“H-hi there,” I replied, even if I’m upside down.

He chuckled, looking at me in the eyes. “Are you alright? You’re not hurt or anything?”

I shook my head giggling. “I’m fine, Your Majesty.”

Asriel frowns at my response, sending cold chills deep into my bones. “I’m sorry, I mean Asriel.”

“That’s not what I’m upset about,” He gestures with his head, showing that I’m wrapped in the tree’s vines. “The vines; they look pretty painful coiling around your body like that.”

I chuckled nervously, trying my best to break free from the vines, but they refused to shatter. “I-I can’t move, they won’t budge. Will it be any trouble if I asked for your assistance?”

“I would, but I can’t.” He smirks at me.

“Wha?! Why?!”

“Isn’t it obvious, Miss?”

I stared at him feeling puzzled, making him chuckle once more. “You never gave me your name.”

“Why does it matter?” I narrowed my eyes.

“It matters, because I want to know the name of the human girl with exquisite lavender eyes that I’m about to save.” His green eyes sparkled like the stars above, staring at me intently.

I blushed from his response and gave him a gentle smile. Just as I was about to answer, the sudden wave of dizziness begins to take its toll on me. I moaned, feeling lightheaded as my vision becomes blurry. I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. How embarrassing, I thought to myself. I’m about to pass out in front of Asriel.

I hear Asriel gasp, quickly summoning his fire magic above his hands. Just like his parents, they glowed in an orangey gold color; beautiful and dangerous. I gasped and squeezed my eyes shut, hearing the flames crackle against the vines that held me captive. I felt so weak, forcing my body to prepare for the impact of my fall. Instead, I fall into a pair of strong arms as my head leaned against their chest.

I opened my eyes slowly, looking at Asriel through half lidded eyes.

“Zafrina, Zafrina Alban,” I answered, my voice sounding tired. “But everyone calls me Zefie.”

“Zefie, Zefie.” He repeats my name as if he liked the way it rolled over his tongue.

I sighed heavily, placing my hand weakly over his chest. “You can set me down, Your Majesty.”

He shook his head again. “I won’t do it.”

“Why?”

“The vines left an abrasion over your left ankle, you’re bleeding, Zefie,” His voice was stern, making me close my mouth. “I have to take you back to your room, your maids must be worried sick. And I can’t let you walk in an injury like this when you meet me and my family tomorrow.”

My eyes shot open, finding his head towering over mine. What the? How the hell did I end up being carried by Asriel?! Panic ran throughout my body, feeling embarrassed about the fact that I’m wearing a tank top and shorts, exposing my bare arms and legs. What’s worse? I can feel his soft white fur tickling against my skin. I just want to cry and crawl under a rock to hide and live there forever.

“H-how did you know--?”

“Did you really think that I didn’t hear you say ‘that makes two of us?'” He chuckles, holding me close as he began to walk away from the tree. “What gave your appearance away immediately was the strange fact that you knew who I was from the sound of my voice; you didn’t bother a quick glance at me to know if I was the real deal.”

I gaped at him, covering my face with my hands. Was I really that obvious? I didn’t think he could hear me. Now I know that I’ll be in so much trouble. My lips quivered, swallowing hard to keep myself from crying.

“I’m so sorry. I disobeyed the rules just to get my picture back . . . And I’m sure you’ll send me home right away once I’m escorted back to my room.” I croaked.

“Now why would I do such a thing? There’s no reason for me to send you home.” Asriel responds as he continued to walk slowly.

“B-but I--”

He tuts me, looking deep into my eyes. “Don’t worry about it, I’m the Prince. And I am pardoning you for leaving the second floor. After All, you did what you had to do, going after something that no other valuable things in the world can replace.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but I was at a loss for words. My head still felt nauseous as it bobbed side to side. I need to rest my head.

“Your Maj--”

“Use my name, Zefie.” He teases, cutting me off.

“Err . . . Asriel, do you mind if I lay my head over your chest? I still feel lightheaded after being upside down for who knows how long.”

He raises his eyebrow at me as if I just asked him for the moon. “N-no? I don’t mind at all. Go ahead and rest, I’ll let you know when we reach the back doors of the palace.”

I leaned my head on the crook of his neck, trying to not mind the soft prickly ends of his fur brushing over my ear. Shit, shit, shit! I cursed to myself as I felt my cheeks flushing red again. I took a few deep breaths, closing my eyes.

In the background, I can hear the wind blowing against us while the crickets continued to chirp. The grass rustling under Asriel’s feet was starting to make me question myself on why it was taking so long to get to the palace. Could he be walking slow on purpose . . ? No, I doubt it, why would he?

“I don’t mean to bother you at all, but may I ask where you came from?” I opened my eyes, finding Asriel looking at me, waiting for my response.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you until tomorrow.”

“That’s a fair answer.”

The pain on my ankle was starting to throb, making me feel uneasy as it burned painfully. “You feel it, don’t you?” He asks, noticing the way my body winced against him.

“Y-yes.” I confessed.

“Don’t worry, I happen to know a guard around here who can perform healing magic. He’s actually on duty right now.”

My entire body went still, a guard? “W-what? Who?”

Just then, Asriel stopped walking as we hear footsteps approaching us. I turned my head slowly and gasped, finding the same skeleton who was working at the sentry post. Like earlier, he was wearing his blue zip-up hoodie over his white shirt, though he seemed a wee bit shorter compared to Asriel. He’s got a wide grin spread across his skull-- err, face.

“That would be me, kid.” His voice was low and raspy, making my body flinch against Asriel’s hold on me.

“It’s okay, he’s laid-back.” Asriel reassures me.

The skeleton examines my ankle, letting out a whistle. “Geez, kid, you injured yourself pretty badly. How’d ya get that?”

“I-I fell off the tree, and I guess the vines held on to me too hard.”

“Heh, can’t blame them for being too clingy,” He joked, watching the lights from his eye sockets focusing on me. “Don’t worry, I’ll heal ya. Just need your permission before I touch you. I know humans like you are sensitive.”

“N-no, go ahead.”

Suddenly his left eye began to glow in a rather cool, but terrifying electric blue color before his bony hand laid over my wound. I can only gasp, feeling how warm his magic was against my skin. It didn’t take him long, before he moved his hand away.

“That should do it, try wiggling your ankle around, kid. I wanna make sure that you didn’t hurt yourself on the inside.”

I do as he says, moving my feet up and down, then sideways and around. “No, nothing seems broken. Thank you.”

“No problem, kid,” He shrugs his shoulders, grinning at me.

“Thank you, Sans.” Asriel says, feeling relieved.

Just then, I realized that Asriel was still holding on to me. Oh.

“Okay, I’m healed up now. You can put me down now.” I turned to face Asriel.

“O-oh, y-yeah sure of course.” He stuttered, watching his cheeks flushed red over his fur before he sets me down on my feet.

For some reason, my heart throbbed painfully when he did. Deep down, I wished that I didn’t ask him to. No, I won’t be the clingy type. I won’t take advantage of him, just because he was kind to me.

I turned to find Sans standing in front of me. “Hey now, don’t you know how to greet a new pal?” He extends his arm out, waiting for me to shake his hand.

“O-oh, I’m sorry! Hello there, my name’s--” I stopped talking, hearing a rather loud farting sound escape when I placed my hand over his.

I couldn’t help but make a blank expression, flabbergasted from the prank the skeleton just pulled on me. From behind, I can hear Asriel snickering, trying his best to not laugh. He failed miserably as I can hear him fall over to the ground, howling with laughter.

“Uhh . . .”

The skeleton was laughing too, before he spoke again. “Ah, the old whoopie cushion in the hand trick. It’s Always funny.”

“Pffft, that was pretty good,” I said, laughing my ass off. “You really got me.”

“Heh, I like your attitude, kid. Anyway I’m Sans, Sans the skeleton.”

“Zafrina Alban, but you can call me Zefie.”

Out of breath, Asriel got up and chuckled nervously. “Sorry Zefie, I forgot to tell you that Sans is very good at pranking everyone.”

“Now you tell me,” we laughed again, straightening my hair. “It’s getting late. And I think it’s time that I head upstairs.”

“Oh, yes. That’s right.” Asriel scratched the back of his head nervously.

“So, hey, what I said about your Selection; I mean it. Start off slow, get to know your candidates. And since I’m the first candidate to have met you, even though we weren’t supposed to, well . . . Maybe we can start off as friends?”

“Y-yeah, I’d love that very much,” He smiles at me, getting all flustered all of a sudden. “Hopefully our friendship grows into something better, like the golden flowers my father planted.”

we smiled at each other before Asriel spoke again.

“Oh! Uhm, Zefie?”

“Hm?”

“If it’s not too much trouble, will you promise me that you won’t mention this to any of the girls about our encounter? I know it’s a lot to ask, but I don’t want them being upset about it, thinking it’s unfair. I don’t want them to be angry at you for it.”

I looked at him, pretending to think about it. “Of course. I promise, Your Majesty.”

“Call me ‘Your Majesty’ again, and I will make you the first person to go on a date with me. First thing tomorrow.”

My face went pale, feeling speechless about his teasing threat. I didn’t think he was that serious on having me call him by his name instead of being formal to him. In fact, I didn’t think his threat was going to be a date with him!

“You can be formal with me around everyone. But if we’re alone, I expect you to call me Asriel. Are we clear, Zefie?” He spoke again, smirking at me teasingly.

I groaned, putting my hands over my face. “Okay.”

“Good. Now then, Sans?”

“Way ahead of you,” Sans turned to face me. “Come on ,kiddo, I’ll escort you back to your room. I know a shortcut.”

I felt puzzled from his response. Shortcut? How is he going to get me there without being noticed?

“Zefie?” Asriel calls out again.

“Yes?”

He gave me a warm smile, his fangs visibly showing. “Goodnight, I hope to see you soon again.”

If it weren’t for the strong breeze pushing the clouds to cover the moon, he would have seen how red my cheeks really are.

“G-goodnight to you too, Asriel. I will see you again; pretty soon.” I promised, smiling genuinely at him.

Finally, I turned away from Asriel painfully, following after Sans. The shortcut he was leading me to was confusing. We walked towards the far end of the palace, hearing the crickets chirping again and the sound of the grass rustling under our feet.

“You might want to hang on to me, kid,” Sans extended his arm out for me.

“W-what for?”

“Just trust me, the shortcut we’re about to head to will only make you dizzier than before.”

I quickly held his arm as we continued to walk until we suddenly appeared into my room again.

I gasped, putting my hands over my mouth. He can teleport? For a monster that has the ability to do that are considered pretty strong. Possibly stronger than King Asgore himself.

“My lady?!” Lesley cries out.

“Ah, Lesley, h-hi.”

“Where have you been?! We were so worried that you got lost!” Barbara runs towards me, wrapping her arms around me.

“I’m so sorry,”

“Ah, don’t worry about her, guys. I took care of her.” Sans spoke, reassuring my maids.

“Oh! Sans! I didn’t know you were on night duty.” Lesley was surprised, noticing Sans’ appearance.

“Eh, I had to. Paps insisted that I have to.”

“'Paps?' You mean Papyrus?” I asked him.

“Wait, you know my brother?” Sans turned his gaze towards me.

“Y-yes, I do. We met this morning when I came to the palace. He was the one that helped me get to the room where the other girls needed to go. He was very helpful and I was glad to meet a nice guard like him.”

“Yeah, he really is. He goes far and beyond to help anyone out. I’m sure you made his day kid.”

“Well, thank you for escorting Zefie back, Sans. We appreciate it.”  Barbara says to him gratefully.

“No problem, jus’ doing my job,” He shrugs before begins to walk away. “Welp, see ya later, kid.” He winks at me before he vanishes in a blink of an eye.

“Goodness! He sure has a funny way of exiting the room.” Lesley spoke, getting my attention

“I agree.” Barbara nodded her head, preparing my bed for me.

Suddenly, my whole body went still. My picture! I forgot to pick it up when I fell off the tree! All this trouble for nothing. No, not troubling, it was more of a good and bad kind of trouble. I ended up meeting Prince Asriel too early even though I was supposed to meet him tomorrow.

“Are you alright, my lady? You look like you just saw a ghost.” Lesley analyzes my face, using her white handkerchief to wipe off the smudge off my face.

“I’m fine, Lesley, don’t worry.” I reassured her.

“Not to be so nosy, my lady, but what were you doing out in the palace grounds?”

I uttered a small sound, deciding to either tell my maids the truth or to not say anything. I promised to not tell any of the Selected girls about my "accidental" meet-up with Asriel. But, my maids don’t count, right?

Finally, we all sat over my bed, discussing about it. I told them that my picture flew away and I somewhat fell off the balcony and landed on the bed of golden flowers, then I explained about me climbing the tree that stood near the corner of the palace grounds, nearly falling off when I heard Asriel hearing the noises that I was making.

Barbara and Lesley leaned a bit closer, intrigued about my story as I continued to discuss the part about Asriel using his fire to burn the vines away to get me down. They both giggled as their cheeks flushed rosy-red, fanning themselves when I told them the part when he pardoned me for leaving the second floor, until we had to part just for tonight.

“Wow . . .” Barbara places her hands over her cheeks, giggling like a schoolgirl. “That’s so romantic of him~!”

“I agree,” Lesley sighs, tutting to herself.

I nodded, stretching my arms out yawning. All of what just happened to me earlier has made me all tuckered out.

“Oh! Goodness me, you should get to bed, my lady. You wouldn’t want to meet the prince again in your tired state.”

“Lesley’s right,” Barbara gets up, tucking me into bed. “A goodnight’s sleep is all you need to freshen you up first thing tomorrow.”

“You’re both right, thank you for your concern.”

Lesley walks over to my bed table, switching my lamp off before she joins Barbara at the door. “Sleep well, my lady. If you need anything, just press the yellow button on the left side of your bed and we’ll come to you right away.”

“I will, but please promise me you won’t tell anybody about this?”

They smiled at me before Barbara answered me.

“Not a single soul or monster.” She winks at me as she closed the door.

I sighed in relief, placing my arm over my eyes. This was the bookend to my day. I watched the curtains of my balcony doors flowed up and down from the wind’s gentle breeze. I smiled and giggled to myself as I fluttered my eyes slowly, letting my sleep take me into a peaceful rest.

[panandfelix45-blog]

Chapter 1

Lost and Scared I ran. And I ran.

I looked back every once and a while, to see if they were still after me. I still seen the faint red and blue flashing lights and growing sirens blaring behind me so I kept running. I seen a small barn up ahead, it seemed to be abandoned. So I ran into it, I looked around it looked so old. There was holes in the walls and ceiling, but looked stable enough to keep me dry and hidden. It was my new home. For now…

I walked around a bit admiring the little things inside. Running my finger across an old book shelf, leaving a streak from where my finger was in the dust. My curiosity led from one thing to another, scanning through the books and found one that looked older than anything in the entire barn. ‘Neverland’ was the title, flipping through the pages, one page caught my eye.

'The Shadow’

'Peters shadow brings lost children to a place where they will feel loved and safe. Neverland. The only way to call the shadow is to believe, And say you believe in peter and all magic.’

I chuckled to myself. “that’s bullshit!” I laugh to myself.

My laughter slowly faded as I read more And more, the shadow had a master. His name was Peter pan, the leader of the Rouge Boys. I was deep in thoughts. I start to think what if this was real, taking in the little details As I kept flipping The pages in curiosity. As I Turned The last pages more and more dust started covering the writing. After finishing the book I didn’t care to close it before grabbing an unfinished Water bottle from my bag. A few small. Droplets fell to the last page if the book, letters started to appear On the page in black ink. Confusion. Runs throughout my head and more letters Formed creating The scariest thing in the entire book. “Sarah all you need to say is 'I believe’.” 'I am lost, and in the story it sounded Wonderful. I have no one, and there would be plenty Of boys to call family, For sure, I’m alone. If this is real this could be my way out of my miserable life now. Sure I would be stranded on an island, with people I don’t know. But it’s better than this.’

Sadness and Anger took over as thoughts of my parents came flooding through. 'God why did you have to Take her away from me?’ 'why her? Of all people Why her?’ These questions swirled around my mind. Warm tears fell down my face. I wiped the first few away, but soon realized they weren’t stopping anytime soon and gave up. I sat alone next to my bag hugging my knees and crying silently, As I drowned my self in my sorrow.

The sun set and darkness filled the barn. I walked out side of the barn and sit in the grass looking into the sky. One star was brighter than the rest. I stared at it for a few minutes and seen something dark with blue glowing eyes. My eyes widen and I darted back into the barn. Rummaging Though my bag to find the book, flipping Though The pages trying To find the right one. Looking At the pictures of the shadow before Glancing Up, Only to find the figure in the barn hovering over me.

“Just say the words and I’ll take you 'Home’” the figure spoke in a low voice extending a hand towards me.

“I-I ….believe” I said, as the figure grabbed my hand starting to fly away from the barn. I closed my eyes and before I knew it my feet hit the ground, I was on a beach.

I look around and stare out at the ocean. God was it beautiful! I turn the other direction to face a forest. It looked too dark and scary to go into, so I stay on the beach and watched the waves. It was so peaceful. The wind blew but it felt nice, it wasn’t cold and it wasn’t hot. I could hear the trees sway in the wind and waves hit the shore, it was so relaxing. The faint sound of hollering boys caught My attention, I started to walk closer to the sound being met by the bright light of a bon Fire. I stay out of the open so that I wouldn’t Be seen, I sat behind A tree And watched the young Boys dance around The blazing Fire. I was clearly One if the oldest, seeming How the rest looked between The ages of 3-15. My eyes grow heavy With sleep, and a sharp pain in my left Side. The sound of the boys starts to fade, and my body grows limp.

~Morning~

The sun shines on making my eyelids a bright red. My eyes flutter open to the sound of walking, as my eyes adjust a sword is swung words my face the sharp edge barely Penetrating my skin.

“Mm fuck!” I hissed as a slight sting runs through my cheek.

Opening my eyes to see who was doing this, only being met by a tall, lanky, blond who looked amused By the pain her caused me. I try to move my arms to find out they are tied behind My back, and my chest is held tightly By a rope stung around me to keep me to the tree. My breathing Is rough and dry as I hadn’t had a drink for a while. I swallow trying to get moisture Back in my throat. Moving my face from the blade To my cheek in annoyance, a small grant if frustrations leaves my mouth. I look up to the blond And try getting His attention.

“hey, dude. Hey. BLONDIE!” I raise my voice in an annoyed tone.

He looks at me in frustration.

“what!” he spoke.

“Um I was wondering If uh I could ha-” I was soon cut off by a quick and short answer.

“No.” he says in a low tone his face no expression as he looks back to the younger boy and continued His conversation. I let out a small grant as I look over my body, seeing The small lacerations on my legs from the walk through the forest. The boys leave and I’m All by myself. Hours go by while the sun beats Down on my petite Body. I had A splitting Headache, making me feel a bit nauseous from Dehydration. I lean my head back as I grow weaker and weaker. I haven’t Seen anyone in hours giving Me the feeling They forgot about Me.

~Next Morning~

No one has shown up in a while, I still have A horrible Headache and I’m hungry. My stomach Growls, looking Around For anything To eat. To my right is a small Berry bush, trying shift my body towards it only caused more problems Because The rope started digging Into my wrist.

~3 days later~

My body is too weak, I can barely Stay sitting up. My skin pale and my stomach growling In Hunger. I drift back and forth From awake And consciousness. Slowly my eyes shut and the quiet sound of gravel being Kicked Up could be heard. A small gasp then one of the boys take off running I finally Go unconscious. Once more.