#and I'm just this empty piece of trash scraping by

[rubenesque-as-fuck]

Just got an invitation/registry link to my oldest family friends' baby shower and it's got me feeling like a real bitter old cunt

[jinxedbychaos]

Echoes of Insanity Ch. 2

Bound by Chaos

No summary as I'm not good with those

Jinx (Powder) x Twin sister

Past-

Playing by the canals of Zaun, I chase after Powder, her laughter coming out as she zigzag around me, trying to stay just out of reach. The clouded water glistens in the dull light, the distant sound of Zaun's factories a familiar sound in our daily lives. Vi sits on a rock nearby, her eyes never leaving us, a small smile on her face as she observes.

vi's in charge while our parents are at work, and even though she tries to put a tough front, she cares about keeping us safe.

Suddenly, Powder darts behind me, determined to catch up to me. I try to run faster, but my foot catches on a rock hidden in the dirt. making me fall to the ground. pain stings through my knees as I land hard, scraping them raw. tears start to fall off my eyes, and I can't help but let out a chocked sob.

Powder gasps, immediately scared that she might have hurt me. "Ash! I-I didn't mean to, I was just tryin to catch you!" She speaks in a shaky, panicked voice.

Vi already besides us "It's okay, Pow. Accidents happen" Vi says, glancing at her, then back at me with a reassuring smile. "besides some scraped knees wont stop Ash, right Ash?"

you sniffle, wiping away the tears and nodding slowly. Vi grabs a piece of tissue out of her pocket an gently starts cleaning the blood off my knees. She leans in blowing some air on the scrapes like our mom does when we get hurt. "See? all better".

Powder shuffles closer, still looking guilty. She reaches for my hand, her lip quivering. "I'm sorry, Asha. I didn't mean to…" Her eyes shiny with unshed tears, and i can see how guilty she feels.

i squeeze her hand, giving her a small, watery smile. "I-it's okay , powder" I mumble, trying to reassure her. feeling a little more steady now that Vi's taken care of me.

Vi stands and offers her hand to us. "come on, why don't we go home. I'll teach you a new game on the way" she says with a smile, her tone light, trying to lift our spirits.

I grab her hand, already feeling the excitement bubbling inside me at the thought of learning something new from Vi, Powder clings to the other hand.

The scrape on my knee long forgotten, as I follow my sisters, even in the bad times, being together makes everything feel just right again. Vi squeezes our hands, pulling us gently along, and I can't help but feel safe and loved, all the pain fading away under the warmth of their presence.

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

Present-

Vi uncovers a large garbage pipe hidden in the ground and quickly scans the area for enforcers.

"Oh, man, not again! I just got this shirt-" Mylo whines, but he's cut off as Vi shoves him into the pipe with a swif kick. Claggor follows, then Powder and me, with Vi coming last.

We slide through the dirty, narrow pipe, letting out startled yelps as we descend. At the end, we tumble into a pile of garbage in an underground disposal area.

"Thought last time was the last time we were gonna do this." Mylo grumbles, pulling a piece of trash out of his hair.

"Well, this time's the last time." Vi replies

"Guys, what was that? What the hell happened back there?" Claggor ask, still looking a bit shaken.

everyone suddenly turn to face powder and me. surprised by the accusation, we both try to defend ourselves.

"We didn't do anything!" Powder blurts out. "We didn't touch anything!" I quickly add.

"you could fill a damn library with all the things you didn't do" Mylo snaps, glaring at us.

Just as I'm about to fire back, Vi cuts in.

"Guys, we just emptied a Piltover penthouse right under the enforcers' noses" She climb out the pile of garbage "so, if you're done beating yourselves up, let's get this home"

We walk thtough the dimly lit disposal area until we find a trapdoor in the ceiling Vi drags some boxes with the help of Claggor an climb up, pushing the door open. she helps Powder and me out first, Then follows.

We step out onto the streets of Zaun, unaware of the two boys following us. As we pass by a boy casually rolling a barrel back and forth with his foot, he smirks. "nice haul?" he asks.

"you could say that" Mylo replies, looking smug.

Vi shoot Mylo a disapproving glare.

"I heard there was some action across the river" the boy continues, flipping a coin between his fingers.

"is that so?" Vi replies, about to move on, but two boys suddenly appear in front of us, blocking the way.

"But now you're, you're tracking this mess of yours through my streets." the boy says

"your streets? what makes you think-" Vi starts to snap, but Claggor quickly interrupts

"listen, we don't want any trouble, okay?" Claggor says, trying to defuse the situation.

One of the boys smirks "hear that, Deckard? They don't want any trouble."

"you know, in my experience trouble finds you" Deckard say, signaling toward Vi. "There's no reason this has to get ugly. How about you share a little taste of your treasure there, and we'll call it even?"

"No, no, no We worked to hard to-" Mylo starts, but Vi cuts him off, placing a hand on his shoulder before stepping forward to face Deckard.

Taking the bag off her shoulder, Vi asks "just a taste?"

"just a taste-" Deckard begins, but before he can finish, Vi swing the bag into his face, knocking him to the ground.

I jump, startled, and I can feel Powder do the same. suddenly, Vi tosses the bag at us, Powder grabbing it.

"huh" Mylo and Claggor grunt in unison, snapping into action and getting ready to fight.

Deckard groans and pushes himself up, his expression turning fierce. one of his friends rushes to Mylo, shoving him to the ground and starts landing punches.

Powder and I watch in shock, taking a few steps back, trying to distance ourselves from the chaos.

Claggor quickly moves in, shoving the boy off Mylo, but on the other side, deckard lunges at Vi, throwing wild punches. She fights back, each hit landing with brutal force.

Powder and I stand frozen, watching in horror as the fight unfolds. I see Powder fall to the ground, sitting back in fear.

Claggor punches one of the man in the face, throwing him back. he crashes to the ground right in front of us, his eyes locking onto ours and then the bag. Panic floods through me, and I grab Powder's arm "Run" I shout. Powders puts the bag around her and we run down an alley, the thug chasing after us.

back in the street, Vi, Claggor and Mylo are still fighting. unaware that we've taken off. Vi manages to knock Deckard to the ground, while Claggor is shoved against a wall. He grabs a handful of dirt and throws it to the face of the thug. The boy stumbles, and Claggor takes the opportunity to bring him down.

Meanwhile, Mylo is struggling beneath another thug, taking punch after punch. Vi rushes to his aid, grabbing a wooden plank and smashing it over the guy's head, knocking him out cold. the three of them stand, bruised but victorious, ready to leave the scene.

As they begin to walk away, Deckard, clutching his side, stumbles to his feet and pulls out a knife. "wait!" he says in pain.

Vi turns around, stepping closer to him. she leans down, staring him dead in the eyes. "wanna se how that ends?" she asks, her voice low and dangerous.

Deckard meets her gaze but says nothing, staggering back as he decides against pushing further.

Vi straightens up and glances around, realizing something "Where's Powder and Ash?" she asks her voice tense.

Meanwhile, Powder and I sprint through the narrow alley, not daring to look back, our breath coming in ragged gasps as we keep running, fear driving us forward.

We threw some crates in the way, desperately trying to slow the boy chasing us. "Oh! You little…" he grunted as he stumbled but kept running.

We darted through the cluttered alley, our breath heavy and frantic. When we reached a dead end blocked by boxes, we quickly hide behind a wall, trying to quiet our panting. Powder clutched the bag tightly, just we it seems like the boy might turn the other way. we accidentally knocked over a wooden plank.

"No, no, no, no!" I whispered, trying to grab the plank before it fell but it hit the ground with a loud bang.

Making the boy tur toward the noise.

Panic flooded me as I searched for any scape. Powder, clutching Mouser, quickly started loading it with nails, her hand shaking. A few nails falling to the ground. "Come on, Mouser, I need you!" she whispered urgently, her voice trembling.

I glance back at her, heart pounding, as she throws Mouser toward the boy's feet. We both held our breath, watching, hopping for a miracle. The parts turning and clicking together… then pink smoke burst out with a small pop.

disbelief crossing our face as the makeshift bomb failed. The boy smirked and started walking toward us, his eyes locked onto the bag.

We back away scared, our backs hitting the railing. In a split second decision, I unclipped the bag from Powder and I throw it into the river, the boy goes to grab it but fails and watches as the bag sinks.

As the boy is distracted, I grab my sister's hand and we bolted, weaving through the alleys, running as fast as we could until we finally reached the meeting spot. Vi, Claggor and Mylo were already waiting for us.

"Powder! Ash!" Vi called out when she saw us, and we ran straight to into her arms, hugging her tightly.

"Where's the bag?" Mylo ask, looking around, concern quickly filling his face as he realized it wasn't with us. Vi glanced at us too, frowning.

Still catching my breath, I stutter "He… he was following us" "He was going to catch us." Powder ads.

"I-i threw it into the river." i say with guilt.

"You did what?!" Mylo yelled, his frustration boiling over.

"we're sorry" Powder and I say in unison, both of us felling the weight of our mistake. Powder looked down, her voice small as she speaks "I tried to stop him with Mouser, but… it didn't work."

"Who saw that coming?" Mylo shots back, putting his arm up.

"doesn't matter. The stuff's gone" Vi interrupted "at least least you two are okay" she said softly, putting a hand on our shoulders.

Vi walks over to the building's door and pushes it open.

"Okay? what about us?" Mylo complained. "I get my face bashed in, and the just get a pass?" He continues as well all stepped inside.

"yup" Vi replies flatly, closing the door behind us.

We crowded into the old elevator. Vi lowered the lever, turning the flickering lights on as we began our descent into the Undercity.

Powder and I leaned against the railing, the weight of guilt heavy on our shoulders. Mylo still fuming.

"Every time" Mylo grumbled, glaring at us "Every time they come, something goes wrong." he pointed at our direction "They just jinx every job"

Powder and I are about to defend ourselves when Vi cuts in.

"Just drop it Mylo" Vi says, starring straight ahead as the elevator slower to a stop. The doors cracked open, and she pulled her hood up, stepping out into the streets of the Undercity.

We follow her, weaving through the crowded streets filled with vendors and people. At one of the stalls, Mylo steals some fruit from a sleeping merchant, stuffing it into his pocket with a smirk.

we continued down the streets until we reached The Last Drop. without a word Vi pushes the door open, and we all slipped inside.

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Ch. 1 - Ch. 3

There should be another chapter by Sunday.

Don't forget to leave likes and to repost

[fraugwinska]

Chapter 10 - Showstopper

Showstopper (noun) 1. a song or other performance receiving prolonged applause from the audience 2. an obstacle to further progress 3. computing: a bug that needs to be fixed before a piece of software can be used or released

Tags & Warnings: Sexual Harrassment If you see this symbol ♫ I highly recommend to listen to the song "Take a hint (Demo from Victorious)" by Meghan Kabir (https://open.spotify.com/intl-de/track/1TOT8O90bvTp81n2N4XjzW?si=b73d3f9d435446ea)

“Gotta give it to 'ya, sugarjugs - Your tail is damn squishy.” Angel was lazily lounging on the ground, his back settled against his bed and his pig in his arms. It took you over an hour to get him manageable and down enough from the high of the weed cookies. You had done anything you could think of – put him in a cold shower (you would never ever talk about the things you saw to anyone), made him drink water (“I don't drink 'ya stupid watah, I'm not six.” - “It's not, it's ...vodka, the expensive kind, the one that doesn't burn.” - ���Uh! Gimme, gimme!”)... you even let him play catch with your tail for twenty minutes while he laid in his bathtub, eyes full of childish glee. Once he got coherent enough and the typical foggy eyes cleared up, you dragged him out of the bathroom and, frustrated with tip-toeing around, started to tidy up the floor – sans the colorful, abhorrently shaped toys. The trash was packed with empty cardboard, plastic bags and greasy wrapping papers as well as the rest of the space cookies, which you buried down deep enough for Angel not to notice. You had piled Angels clothes next to his dresser and folded away, huffing.

“You'd know better than me, I had to spray you with roomspray to let it go once you got a good grip at it.” Angel snickered, caressing Fat Nuggets back. “Ah, that's why I smell like a russian whorehouse.” He stretched, bones cracking, and yawned. “'Ya know that whatcha' doing right now is useless, right? In a day, it'll look the same again.”

You untangled a very complicated black harness...dress...bodysuit...something as you glanced back at him, ears flicking. “Fat Nuggets might be a sow, Angel, but that doesn't mean you have to live in a pigsty.” You gave up with the... whatever, and just rolled it up, shoving it in one of the drawers.

“I prefer the term 'eclectic maximalism', thank 'ya very much.” He tickled the piglets nose, it squealed happily in response. “While you're at it, that black dildo has it's own case, right over there.” “I'm not touching that.”

“Oh sure, get picky now. You folded my kinkiest BDSM-slave-harness but draw the line at a friggin' dildo.”

“Your what?”

Angel burst out laughing at your disgusted look. “Chill, Rocky. Man, you really are a vanilla girl.”

Angel stood up, picking up the toy and threw it in a bejeweled box. “But.. 'ya know, thanks for the effort. Niffty doesn't come in to clean anymore since the 'Electro-Play-Wand'-incident last month.”

“... I won't ask. And I certainly don't want an explanation. Please.”, you sighed. He butt-nudged you, winking. “Fine, I'll spare 'ya delicate sensitivities. But only if 'ya tell me if I'm right.”

“With what?”, you asked, relieved to pick up the last item of clothing – a white, fluffy sweater with pink hearts.

“Being a vanilla girl.”, he smirked and wiggled a ball gag he picked up at you. You rolled your eyes, closing the drawer. “I couldn't tell you, even if I wanted to.”

His eyes widened. “Shaddup, don't tell me 'ya a virgin. Rocky, no one with an ass like that is that prude.” “I'm not.” He continued to stare at you, eyebrow high, arms crossed and tapping his foot. “Let's just say, the men I was with were not the types to have around long enough to really find out what flavor I am.” “Really bitch, sounds like you scraped the bottoms of some barrels then.”

You looked around the room, pleased to see the floor was visible again, and while it wasn't sparkling clean it was a massive improvement. Angel came to your side, all four hands on his hips, and grinned at you. “Now what? 'Ya wanna learn a few tricks to bump you up to chocolate?”

You dramatically shuddered, giving him a strained look. “Please, I've seen enough from you for one day.” “HA! I knew 'ya were lookin, 'ya sicko!” he clapped, snickering, then, in a spur, he quickly gave you a surprisingly gentle, quick hug. As he released you, he scratched his neck, still smiling.

“Seriously tho, thanks Rocky... for 'ya know... dealin' with me. Staying.”

You stilled for a second. His smile reminded you of something, or someone, you just couldn't place a finger on it. But you felt a sentimental twang, like some kind of deja-vu, making you almost smile. Almost.

“Don't mention it. I'm just glad you're okay.” You butt-nudged him playfully like he did before. “Now, we'll have to start getting ready. Charlie has an evening out planned. Weekly teambuilding at a bar, the 'Lava Lounge... and thanks to these damn cookies we only have an hour.”

“Aw, shit, that's today?”, Angel groaned, clawing his eyes. “Fuck. Okay, okay, we can make it. Whatcha' gonna wear?”

Odd question. You move your hands, presenting your work attire with a confused frown.

Angel looked horrified. “No.”

“Yes?”, you say, still confused.

“No. Nope, Nu-uh! Over mah dead body you ain't. Bitch, it's a night out in a bar, not 'ya great-aunts church picknick, by satan's left ass cheek.” You rose your brows, a little offended. Angel scoffed, a dangerous glimmer in his eyes. Oh shit.

“Let's doll 'ya up and give these sinners some eye candy to chew on tonight, yeah? I have just the thing.”

He had settled himself on one of the plush sofas in the foyer, a little away from the bar where Husk had filled his silver flask with cheap booze ten minutes ago before he, too, had retreated to his room to prepare for the evening trip.

He hadn't seen her since he came back, just sent an eager Ozul to catch him up with what she's been doing.

On his way home he had stopped at the antique store in Cannibal Town, buying Rosie a new set of china to be delivered to her.

Alastor had summoned a book to read – he was always dressed for the occasion, unlike the silly residents of the hotel and even though he had no real interest in these weekly boondoggles of the princess, today he was more than willing to participate.

Rosie had given him a lot to think about. The walk back to the hotel had been used to contemplate whether she had been right in her statement that he was bending his own moral code too much. Truth be told, she had been right that he never used something like lust to wring something he wanted out of one of his subjects – and he could proudly say he had many subjects under his beck and call. But that was because one, he never had to, as his victims without a fail feared him and the things he could do to them too much for him to resort other means. And two, Alastor never had any interest or desire in these indulgences. He had his fair share of offers, men and women alike (the ladies in cannibal town were especially persistent), lowly sinners and powerful demons, even the poor souls he made deals with, mostly looking for an easy way out of their bounds. He faced it all with cool disinterest paired with mild disgust. He was above them all, above the whole subject matter. So why did he decide to use it on his gem? And the more urgent matter was: Why hadn't he felt the expected disinterest or disgust when he did it, riling himself up so much he even lost grip on his neatly maintained 'harmless' form instead ?

When Ozul came back to report, he had to smirk in amusement at the state of him. The shade was clearly agitated, and reported hurriedly.

“I am not putting it on, Angel.” “C'mon, you barely see the nipples in it.”

With a scoff at your defiance, the spider threw the silver washcloth with strings on it back into the drawer. “Why even have tits if you're not showing them.”

“Because I'd lose balance.” you deadpanned, crossing your arms. “No to this... thing. End of discussion.”

“Fine, but I'm all out of nun costumes. So stop being an uptight bitch and meet me halfway here, Rocky.”

Angel threw up two of his hands and ruffled through the neatly folded clothes with the other two. The vein on your forehead was dangerously pulsing. He pulled out a close-fitting burgundy red skirt, holding it up in contemplation. It was short, but not skimpy, crushed velvet, with gold buttons along the front. He held it to you with outstretched arms and a challenging look.

“Tame enough for 'ya?”

You sighed and nodded, catching it as Angel threw it at you, his head back in the drawer.

“Thank fucking god. Now for the twins...”, he bickered, all four arms now rummaging through the clothes. “You are so lucky I keep a lot of Cherri's old clothes here, you'd practically burst my outfits shoving 'ya booty in there. AHA!”, he shout out in victory. The top was almost boring compared to the silver abomination from before, just a black neckholder top with a heart cutout at the neck, but you shook your head nonetheless.

“OH COME the fuck ON! It covers your boobs, it doesn't even show cleavage. Give me one good reason why not.”

Your tail swished nervously, and you bit your lip. For a moment, you wanted to stay silent. But you decided to explain, reminding yourself of the rules. Be vague with information.

“Because I don't want people to see my scar.”, you calmly say and open your blouse, pulling it loose wide enough to show the perplexed demon the bite scar on your neck.

“Oh shit, Rocky...”, he just said, eyeing the mark, his look became instantly softer. “What did 'ya do?“

You thought for a second, “... I was bitten and eaten by an animal, that's how I died.” Not a lie, technically. You were getting good at this

Angel put the top away without another word while you closed your blouse again. The next thing he chose was a formfitting, simple black turtlenecked shirt with long sleeves. The top section was made out of black mesh, covering the chest in a sweetheart neckline, shoulders, and upper back. A compromise, and definately his way of being considerate of your revelation. You held your hand out, and he grinned as he put the shirt in it.

The thought of stepping out of your room in the outfit Angel provided took every ounce of courage you had, even though it fit you well. You had paired it with the only other pair of shoes you had, the ones Alastor had gotten you for special occasions – simple, T-strapped black leather heels, a similar style you had worn in jazz dance classes, which had you feel a little more comfortable. Still, this was... a lot to take in. You felt like you were wearing a costume, a skin you once shed and now tried to fit back into again. Too personal. Too human. The skirt felt so short, even though it barely rose above your knees, and it hugged your thighs tightly, allowing little space for your nervously flicking tail. At least the shirt was relatively modest, the mesh on top was soft and opaque enough to conceal your scar. BUT... Was this okay? Were you even allowed to dress like this? What the fuck would Alastor everyone think?

How mad would Angel be if you just changed back into your work ensemble?

You were still panicking in front of your mirror when you heard Angel knock on your door for the third time, threatening to pick the lock if you wouldn't come out on your own. To your absolute horror, another voice joined him. “Now what seems to be the problem here?”, you heard Alastor muse on the other side of the door, a slight mocking edge to his tone. “Everyone else is downstairs, waiting to depart.” “The problem is 'ya stubborn, self-conscious play doll, Smiles.” A few more bangs on the door. “Rocky, I swear to god, I didn't give 'ya a makeover for makin' sweet eyes at 'ya shower head tonight!” Two softer knocks. Him. “Come now, kitten, open up, let's see the damage.”

With your eyes on the floor and shaking hands you reached for the handle, unlocking the door and opening it in defeat. “Finally!” Angel moaned, smirking at you, his gold teeth glimmering. “I don't see the problem, dollface, 'ya look bomb. You're welcome.” He crossed his arms and gave you a triumphant giggle. Alastor took you in, his heavy-lidded eyes wandering from your open hair down over your figure to your shoes. You felt his static cracking around your ankles, like sparks on your skin. “Well, I've never thought I'd see the day where I actually have to compliment you for a job well done, my frisky friend.” Your head shot up and you stared at them both, Angels' smile almost as wide and smug as Alastors' at this compliment. All the way down to the foyer you felt his gaze fixated on you, only disturbed by the rumble of the crew ready to take the short walk through town to the bar. Charlie and Vaggie lead up front, deep in conversation, Angel prattled along, talking with Niffty and Husk shambled behind them, you and Alastor followed last. When he offered you his arm with a mischievous sounding “May I, darling?”, Husk threw an ugly look your way, taking his silver flask out to take a chug and turned his back to you quickly. You took it nonetheless, idly aware of the feeling of the fine cotton of his suit under your fingers and trying to ignore the closeness for the sake of your composure. Alastor had other plans – with a snicker, he suddenly tugged on your arm, making you stumble and almost falling into his side. He laughed, and rose a brow, smiling non-nonchalantly down at your flushed face. “Relax dear, tonight, you'll be off official duty. You certainly earned a bit of fun, don't you agree?”

You caught your step and wondered if you did.

Staying with the theme, the 'Lava Lounge's interior was draped in hues of burnt blacks and molten oranges, mimicking the fiery heartbeat of a volcano, casting a warm and oddly inviting glow. In between the carved, obsidian booths, suspended fixtures resembling actual molten lava cascaded from the ceiling, acting kind of as a divider or privacy shield, providing a soft, ambient light that flickered like glimmering ember. The air was thick and hot with the hum of the sinners around, broken in between by laughter and the occasional clinking of glasses. Other patrons had fled the booths on the whole side of the one where you went to sit in, and you found yourself nestled in between Alastor and Niffty. You eyed the bartenders and waiters curiously, each and everyone seemed to have flaming heads, or at least fiery hair. Behind the sleek, onyx bar a bulky female demon with piercing green eyes in blue flames and a LOT of tattoos was mixing cocktails that seemed to erupt with hot ash as she poured it out of the shaker. “Me and Charlie are doing drink duty first.”, Vaggie said, glaring at Alastor. You looked at him questioningly, watching him chuckle with delight. “I tend to scare the poor waitresses away, dear, that's why we take turns in getting drinks. Whiskey, no ice, if you may.” “Yeah, that's real funny, buckboy. Love that, doing their job every fucking time you decide to get jiggy with us.” Angel groaned, ordering a “Drunken Lover” from the cocktail menu. A few minutes later the two girls came back with their drinks on a tray and news of tonight's program. “They canceled the band that was supposed to play tonight.” Vaggie said with an eye roll, handing you your ordered “Persephone's Passion” (an overly-fancy name for plain pomegranate ice tea). “Apparently, the lead singer got in trouble with loan sharks. They are still searching for several limbs.” Charlie grinned cheerfully and waved a bright orange binder. “Buuuut they decided to have a spontaneous karaoke night instead! Yay!” “If 'yo going to sing 'Walking on sunshine' again, I'm leaving.” Husk growled. “Third time's not the charm.” You were torn between genuine excitement – you always loved singing your heart out at karaoke bars – and unsettling worry. You didn't want to make a spectacle of yourself again, in a packed bar, on your first time outside, in front of.... everyone. Sure, everyone... “Oh I know I'm gonna bring Britney, bitch! Yo Rocky, you up to it?”, Angel asked, playing with his swirly straw. His white face has already gotten pink around his cheeks... what the hell did they put in these drinks? ”Um, we'll see, maybe if they have the right song...”

Charlie was nagging Vaggie to sing a duet with her, and while the others were distracted Alastor leaned over to you, his voice low and teasing. “I wouldn't mind hearing you again, little gem. Just don't play too much on your heartstrings this time, yes?” You opened the binder and pathetically hid your smile in it, but you were sure he saw it, as he flicked your ear tufts and leaned back with a sneer.

“AH! That was amazing! Am I glowing? I feel like I'm glowing!” Vaggie had caved, and her and Charlies performance of 'Time of my life' had left Vaggie embarrassed, Charlie overjoyed and the whole bar befuddled. Your ears shook with inner laughter as you congratulated them both. Vaggie shot you a tortured look.

The lounge was buzzing as as the winged demon girl who moderated the songs called for a demon named Travis to sing “Tequila” with a clearly pained face, resulting in a collective groan and various boo's from the patrons. “Alright, that's the cue I needed to get another drink.”, Angel said and grabbed your hand. “We're getting the next round, on-the-rocks, come on.” You were pulled from the table in a swift motion, but you didn't miss the tightened corners of Alastor's lips as he watched you were weaved through the crowd. Angel rattled down the list of drinks, then he turned to you. “Hey, I'm just gonna powder my nose quick while hot stuff over there”, the spider shot a wink at the lean, blue-skinned bartender,”mixes our drinks, just wait here for me and make sure they don't skimp on the good stuff!”

Even if you wanted to protest, Angel was too quick, slithering through the crowd to the bathrooms. You sighed and leaned your arms against the onyx bar top. You let your gaze wander over the busy bar, trying to remember when the last time was you went out like this.

Out with friends. Having fun. Or something like that. The whole atmosphere was lighter this evening. Of course you still felt the tenseness of the past day, and you still had to deal with whatever the... experiment had let loose in you. But right now, you felt not as numb and exhausted as you usually did.

“Hello there, sweetheart.”

A slippery-smooth voice ripped you from your thoughts, and you turned to head to come face to face with... a screen? A slender, yuppie-type demon with a flatscreen for a face and a tailored electric blue suit stood beside you, an empty glass in hand and a sly smile on his... lips? You hardened your face and blinked. “Hello.”, you answered politely, but regretted that instantly when you heard his next line.

“What's a cute thing like you standing here all alone?”

The demon put his elbow near you and leaned casually into you. Too near, you shuffled yourself slightly away. He reminded you too much of the former... clientele you had to entertain for cheap money. Overly confident, overcompensating, overly touchy. A big fat walking ick with too much money. But in contrast to before, you weren't paid to deal with those kind of men now.

“I'm waiting for a friend, actually.”, you said coldly, hoping Angel would return soon.

“Well, what a friend to leave you stranded. Why not ditch them to join me and my friends?”, he nodded to a raised plateau, separated with red, thick rope on golden barrier cords and a sign “VIP”. Several other, expensively dressed demons lounged there, you saw a girl in a black pant suit snapping photo after photo on her phone. You rose a brow, and he added with a suggestive wink “Free booze and a nice warm seat all night, baby.” “Tempting,” you dripped of sarcasm. “but I have to decline.” This guy was getting on your nerves. Fucking sleazeball.

“Mh, a feisty feline. I like a little fight in a girl.”, he laughed, slowly, deeply. Fake. You scrunched your nose, but then you heard Angel calling out to you. Thank fucking god. “Hey Rocky, are the drinks... “ Angel froze, wide eyes on you and your unwanted suitor. “Wait, wait, wait.”, the demon snickered loudly. “Angel Dust is your 'friend'? Well, that makes it much easier, then. Name your price babe.” You furrowed your brows, anger pulsing in your temples. “Excuse me?” The spider next top you awoke from his paralysis and quickly scanned the VIP section before stepping in front of you protectively. “She's not a hooker, Vox.”

Oh shit.

OH SHIT ON A STICK.

“Not? Ah, my bad, but can you blame me? What are the chances?”, Vox mocked with a sneer, pushing Angel away and caging you in his frame. You cross your arms defiantly, steeling your eyes even though you're boiling inside. “Listen, Roxie - that's your name? You should really choose your friends better. Why don't we have a little private chat, get to know each other a little. Maybe I can even offer you a position under me.” he chuckled at his poorly delivered ambiguous phrase. The air around you sparked with the familiar feeling of static. Fan-fucking-tastic, now the doomsday clock was ticking. From the corners of your eye you saw your saving shade slither around your feet, like a snake ready for the bite. You took a deep breath, monitoring your venomous tone to be as steady as you could be. “I think I can decide best which company to keep, and I am fully and extraordinarily satisfied with my current employer.” As if on cue, Ozul slithered up to your shoulder and hissed, making a few bystanders jolt in surprise and fear and Vox stumble back, freeing you from his presence. Angel snorted, quickly hiding it behind a cough, and grabbed the tray full of drinks for your table while Vox's eyes darted over your shoulder. He blue screened for a second, then he burst out in bellowing laughter. “The Radio Fucker? That's rich, now I know you are both underpaid and underfucked.” His look was murderous, even with the plastered smile on that stupid monitor of his. You turned to leave but he caught your wrist, gripping it firmly in cold, metal claws. His other hand wandered into his suit and pulled out a small, digital business card. “Tell you what, sweetcheeks. Call me when you're ready for the future, or when you're choking from the dust off that fossil. Whatever happens first.” Before you could react, he shoved it in your back pocket, intently pinching your ass. For a moment, your vision turned red, but he was already gone and you heard Angel pressing a strained “Motherfucker!” through gritted teeth. You were seething as you practically shoved Angel through to your booth, letting yourself falling onto the bench with a loud thud. “Classless prick.”, you hissed. Charlie immediately hovered over you, worry in her eyes. “Are you okay? Did he do something? Oh man, (Y/n), I'm so sorry. He never came here before.” Alastor was silent, his eyes dark and his lips pressed in a tight smile. Threatening. Oh yeah. He was mad mad. “Fucking Cheese on a cracker, Rocky. 'ya got big balls for a girl.” Angel breathed, absent-mindlessly pushing back his white headfluff. “Vaggie glanced over her shoulder, glaring at the dimly-lit silhouettes on the pedestal. “I can't stand that dick... Should we go?” she looked at you, eyebrows furrowed. “But kitty didn't sing!”, Niffty pouted, completely oblivious. You scoffed. “Ha, have just the right song in mind to sing to that TV-asshole.” Then, you sighed. “But that would only cause trouble, I guess.” “Why not go for it, dear?”, Alastor said suddenly with a melodic voice, a revived glint in his eyes. All eyes turned to him. “Why should we let this... insignificant loudmouth spoil our wonderful evening? Let's dare a little, what better time than tonight?”

Vaggies mouth dropped open, Husk and Angel just looked at him like he lost his marbles. Charlie and Niffty were the only ones who seemed to eagerly agree with him. “You know what, he's right, (Y/n), it's your first day out, that sucker wont ruin this!” You looked at Alastor, for the first time today, really looked at him. There was no trace of maliciousness, it was almost... challenging. A look as if to say: Show me what you got. You stood up and felt your lips bend into a smile.

You walked up to the winged demoness as she shuffled through her laptop. She looked up, curiously eyeing you. “Hey girl, you wanna sing something? Slow crowd today... I'm Lola, by the way”, she gave you a crooked smile. “(Y/n), and oh, you bet I do. Can you do number 403?” She quickly typed on the keyboard, raised her brows and laughed happily. “Oh my god. Girl, I love that song. I'm hyping right now, get on that stage, let's see if you can burn the house down!” she giggled, grabbing her headset.

“Hey Lava Lounge, get ready for some really hot stuff. Give it up for (Y/n), cause she's got a big fat fucking message to tell 'ya.”

You stood on the stage and took the mic. The intro began, louder than any song you heard this evening, and a quick side glance to Lola giving you thumbs up while singing the background girls and bopping her head told you why. Fuck yeah.

You shook your hair back and let the music take over your body. It moved to the rhythm like you had trained it to do for so long, and it felt like a starved dog getting a steak. Your hips dipped just the right amount to stay classy, and you reveled in your anger.

♫Why am I always hit on by the boys I never like I can always see 'em coming, from the left or from the right I don't want to be a bitch, I'm just try'na be polite But it always seems to bite me in the♫

You looked straight to the VIP section, the display of the TV demon shining through the dim indirect light. He was watching, and it brought you a sense of impish glee to see the picture glitching.

♫Ask me for my number, yeah, you put me on the spot You think that we should hook up, but I think that we should not You had me at "hello", then you opened up your mouth And that is when it started going south♫

Pure energy filled you when you heard Angel shouting to you, his “Fuck yeah, Rocky” clear in your ear through the music, and you gave him a wink as your body moved like it had a mind on it's own. Charlie and Niffty hollered at you, and many other patrons started to clap to the rhythm, bopping their heads.

♫Oh!

Get your hands off my hips, 'fore I'll punch you in the lips Stop your staring at my hey! Take a hint, take a hint No you can't buy me a drink, let me tell you what I think I think you could use a mint Take a hint, take a hint ♫

If the song would've allowed it, you would've scream-laughed when you saw more and more glitches. The heels were perfect to dance in, you felt powerful and full of chaotic energy. You've always had the tendency for theatrics, and you relished in acting the next verse out, imagining yourself back at the bar, saying all the things to the flat-faced idiot who sat across the room, furious.

♫I guess you still don't get it, so let's take it from the top You asked me what my sign is, and I told you it was "stop" And if I had a dime for every name that you just dropped I'd be buying everyone a shot Oh!♫

The next chorus was filled with whistles and voices of girls from a few booths joining with the background singers. You felt something hard on your back, and remembered the stiff business card in your back pocket. And you remembered his filthy claws on your butt. The lounge was tinted in a red hue. You were already at it, why not make an unmissable statement?

♫What about "no" don't you get? So go and tell your friends I'm not really interested♫

You pulled the card out of the pocket, fanned yourself provocatively with it before you wrapped your fingers around it and crushed it into glass shards and metal wires, shrugging your shoulders as you fixed your gaze on Vox, a derisive smile on your lips. The girl in the pant suit stood next to him, holding her phone as if she filmed you while giggling, clearly knowing you were addressing Vox and highly amused by it.

♫It's about time that you're leavin' I'm gonna count to three and Open my eyes and You'll be gone♫

You stood at the edge of the stage lifting a finger. Alastor's static crept up your legs, making you shiver.

♫One Get your hands off my♫

Another finger. The prickling feeling rose to your waist, tingling over your skin like ice rain.

♫Two Or I'll punch you in the♫

The third finger went up as you were fully enveloped, feeling every inch of your body with an intensity you've never felt before.

♫Three Stop your staring at my hey! Take a hint, take a hint♫

You broke from your stance and danced with the last lines of the chorus. Every note and word was like a punch, like a release of your temper. Your ears were filled with the singing of the girls, with Angel wooing, with the bangs of each claps and the beat from the music.

♫I am not your missing link Let me tell you what I think I think you could use a mint Take a hint, take a hint Take a hint, take a hint♫

♫Get your hands off my hips, 'fore I'll punch you in the lips Stop your staring at my hey! Take a hint, take a hint T-take a hint, take a hint♫

When the music stopped, the lounge erupted in applause and more whistles, your face hot, you could only nod. You had caught sight of Alastor, head tilted with intense glowing eyes and a satisfied expression, leaning deep into the back of the booth, clapping.

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[sirthisisa-wendys]

Punica granatum: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

synopsis: a short snippet of a story you all know and love.

wc: 1.6k

tw: none

masterlist

"Are you hungry?"

"No." You cast an angry glance at the monster who is holding you captive. "Leave me alone."

"Perhaps you're thirsty?"

"No." A protective covering of shrubs shields you away from the stench of oakmoss and belladonna emitting from the entity across from you. "Go away." His green eyes shift from your hunched-over figure to the stone-cold floor in front of him.

"I..." His words falter, but you look away from him, focusing on some point in the distance. The hulking god across from you stands suddenly, storming off in the face of your resistance as you call out,

"I'd rather die than live here with you."

But that wasn't all true. Death is so final, so permanent. And you could never bring yourself to do the unthinkable and commit yourself to such an act. However, you did not want your captor to feel any reassurance from your presence.

Discomfort.

You want him to avoid looking at you, avoid talking to you, avoid you completely. Maybe then he would let you go back home to your goddess mother and your life as a humble farmer to the eternal beings of this world.

Maybe then he'd see you were of no value to him among the various others he could have stolen that day.

But Toji Fushiguro is a patient god, you learn, and your hunger strike withers in the face of his persistence.

"You must be hungry," he murmurs, leaning over the couch you're perched on and looking at you curiously. "I have fruit if you want it. And it's fresh."

Fresh fruit. Your stomach grumbles furiously at the offering, but you mask your hunger with a look of disinterest.

"No, thank you." You place your book in front of your face again, the words blurring together as Toji moves around to sit next to you, his black sweatshirt pulled taut over his chest.

"Not even some juice, huh?" You don't reply, still pretending to read the book, when he finally sighs. "Well, I'm going to go to a meeting. I'll be back shortly but in the meantime, my... friend... will be watching over you. In case you try to escape." Again, you offer him no response, and Toji leaves you alone on the couch; the invisible "friend" no doubt just the cameras placed around the property.

You've scoped them out and know where you can hide should you need a place to do something secretive. Three blind spots. That's all you had to do what you had wanted to do for some time now.

You walk into the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of water before looking over the offerings in the fruit bowl. Bananas, oranges, apples... a pomegranate.

Perfect.

You pluck the ripe fruit from the bowl with ease and retrieve a metal spoon from a drawer. All the knifes had been replaced with notes like "thought you could use one of those, huh" and "not in my house". Little shithead.

You open the fruit and scrape the seeds from inside while you stand between the pantry and the laundry room, right in the blind spot of two cameras. You devour the fruit in record timing, then dispose of it as quickly as you can before downing the cup of water you poured earlier, placing it in the sink, and in full view of a camera.

"I knew you were hungry."

The voice behind you makes your skin crawl, and you turn to face Toji again, eyes wide.

"How did you--"

"Does it matter?" he wonders, taking his hands out of his sweatpants pockets and rubbing them together briefly. "Between the fruit and the books, you're easy to predict. You haven't considered I've planted everything here for you so you'll be more inclined to--"

"You tricked me."

"And?" Your stomach lurches, and you grip the sink edge behind you, vision blurring.

"What the hell have you done to me?" Toji gives you a toothy grin, approaching you slowly and placing both hands on either side of your body. His head dips, the scar on his lips separating as he speaks gently, deliberately.

"You consumed my property. You ate one of the many fruits I grow in the fields of my domain, little goddess. You're mine... at least until I say you're not." Your knees buckle slightly, but you still manage to keep yourself upright, clutching the sink for all it's worth. "Six sections of the pomegranate. Six months out of the year. That's what you owe me."

"Fucking asshole--"

"Careful, y/n," Toji touches your chin, but you snap your teeth at him with the little strength you have left. "It's a shame you didn't eat the orange. But I bet you wish you would've eaten the banana instead..."

His voice fades to black as you slump forward, your body giving out and no longer supporting you.

_____________________________________________________________

You awake in your bed, like most mornings, staring out at the barren landscape of your new home.

"There's no life here," you whisper to no one, eyes blinking slowly. "There's nothing here."

Toji takes his respite in his own room, choosing to remain away from you, especially because you cry. You cry every single day. And when you're not crying, you're laying somewhere, sniffling into your sleeves as you dig deeper into the despair and sorrow of your predicament.

The first time you cried, he didn't know what to do. Toji started with trying to get you to eat something - which was rebuffed with a nasty retort - and ended up watching you sob into your hands, unsure of what he could do to make it better.

"You could let me go," you huffed, but he recoiled, frowning at you as if you had just requested the world stop spinning.

"You ate the fruit," he said, crossing his arms over his chest and squinting his emerald eyes. "I'm sorry, but them's the rules."

"You're not sorry."

"No, I'm actually not."

And from that day on, you vowed to see less and less of him until finally, you remained in your room, huddled under the comforter and staring out of the window from dawn until dusk. You don't know how many days had passed like this, but it doesn't matter.

There would be a time when you would be allowed to go home.

You don't want to be here.

Or so you think.

_____________________________________________________________

The first day you're coaxed out of bed is entirely by accident.

A barking noise draws you out of your trance, and you almost fall out of bed at the sound of something other than another person in the house.

You throw open the door and rush toward the yipping, finding Toji sitting in the living room on all fours and staring down at the little white dog. The tiny thing is staring back at him with wide blue eyes, wholly focused.

"Speak."

The dog barks twice, then a treat is produced from Toji's hand and deposited in front of the canine. When Toji sees you staring from around the corner, brows furrowed, he offers you a look of recognition. The white dog walks up to Toji and licks his face, then sits and waits patiently.

"Throw hands," Toji commands the dog, and it backs up on its back legs, raising its front paws before jumping toward Toji. "I taught it a few tricks." You approach the two carefully, the dog facing you with a wide smile and a wagging tail.

"Hey, little buddy..." you whisper, picking it up carefully.

"His name is Six Eyes."

You and Six Eyes become fast friends, running around the house and terrorizing Toji on occasion. But the best days are spent with Six Eyes in your room, both of you laying out on the bed with a book or something to take your mind off of the punishment you must endure.

Toji rarely bothers you, and you the same. Unless, of course, Six Eyes needs to pee and he can't take him out due to "work", or you need Toji to get his dog food.

But in taking care of the little dog - who is much smarter than he would have anyone believe - you find a softness in Toji you hadn't seen before. Countless times, you find him and Six Eyes napping on the couch or playing "soccer" (which is just fetch with a tennis ball), or sitting together and watching some science fiction show. Your hatred of him doesn't quite wane, but you allow yourself to see him in a different light. One that isn't so bad.

_____________________________________________________________

"Tomorrow," Toji announces while you're sitting with Six Eyes and watching a telenovela. "You're going home tomorrow."

"Wait, really?" He notices the lift in your tone, the way you straighten up and your eyes regain the hint of the familiar glow they had before he stripped it away from you. In his heart, there is deep envy, a deep desire to know what it's like to be thought of as desirable. But he ignores that part of himself, stuffing it down as you hold Six Eyes in your arms and watch him carefully.

"Yeah," he answers, tossing the pieces of junk mail into the trash in the kitchen. "For six months."

"Can I take him with me?" You hold up the dog and the animal stares at him with that stupid "head empty, stomach full" look. Toji clicks his tongue against his teeth and turns away, shrugging.

"Whatever." You respond by placing a few kisses on the dog's head, returning back to the telenovela with a cheerfulness you can't quite contain. And Toji notices it, growing ever so distant with each hour that passes, until he's fully retreated into his room and sulking while reading the volume you had first picked up when you arrived, trying to find a deeper meaning within the words he had never read before.

[castielific]

Title: Fancy and the tramp

Story status: Complete, 8 chapters

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Dean/Castiel, Alternate Universe, Fake boyfriends, pretend relationship, homeless!Dean, rich!Cas, family, angst with a happy ending, temporary breakup, getting back together, coming out, past!homophobia, self esteem issues, Dean Winchester has a sexuality crisis, first time, homelessness, bed sharing, pining

Sex tags: anal sex, switching, bottom!Cas, bottom!Dean, first time, frottage, marking, blowjob, fingering, barebacking

Special warning: Contrary to what the title may presage, there are no spaghettis in this story. 

Summary: 

"Okay, let's be clear on one thing from the start. This is not a lifetime movie and I'm straight, so no falling in love, get it?"

"I get it, Dean," Castiel nods.

Well, that's it then, apparently Dean is going to a fancy engagement party with his new fake boyfriend. What a weird day. 

Link to AO3

Chapter 1 under the cut:

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

"Come on Ricky, you owe me that money!" Dean says on his phone, taking a step forward when the line of the coffee shop shortens. 

"I don't owe you shit, Dean. You still owe me the last three months of your rent," his ex landlord says on the phone.

"And I'll pay you, you know I will. But to get the money, I need a job, and to get that job I need some new clothes and-"

"Yeah yeah, I know the deal. You think no one has told me that one before? No bueno, man, I'm keeping your deposit," Ricky grumbles. 

Dean groans in frustration. "Come on, all I need is fifty dollars so I can buy a pair of pants without any holes in it. You give me fifty, I get the job and I pay you back, how does that sound?" he tries to negotiate. 

"Like a fucking lie," Ricky spits just before hanging up.

"No Ric-fuck!" 

The woman in front of him in line sends him a dark look. Dean rolls his eyes at her. Like she hasn't heard worse before. 

Ricky was his last shot. It was a long one, he really does owe that bastard some serious money. Guess he can kiss the job interview at two goodbye. It's some kind of assistant job. It sounds easy enough, buying coffee and picking dry cleaning and stuff. It was still a long shot anyway. Dean's only real job experience is being a bagger boy when he was seventeen and it lasted about two months before his dad decided to move them further east. 

So far, he'd always managed to get by doing repairs or cleaning at gas stops and motels. The older he gets and the harder it gets to find that kind of random job. People are more willing to give a few bucks in exchange for manual tasks to a kid than they are to a nearly thirty years old guy. Now they just tell him to fuck off. 

And since it's always been casual and off the book, the only official work experience he has is the bagger thing. He doesn't even have a high school diploma because he dropped out long before that. Not exactly a stellar resume. Which explains why he hasn't found work in eight month and is currently living in his car. Thank God he has Baby. 

He had been too ambitious thinking he could get his own place. It could only pay rent for about five months before he went broke. He's never had a home before, and had no idea that having an apartment cost so much. In motels, you don't exactly have to pay for water or heat or utilities. There was a bunch of stuff he hadn't planned for that ate up the last of his meagre savings. Ricky threw him out after three months when Dean couldn't scrape up enough money to pay rent anymore, putting a violent stop to Dean's pipe dream of living a normal life. He hoped it would be simpler to get a job if he had an actual address, had even thought about scrapping up enough to maybe get his GED. He's not sure what he's going to do now. 

He's always wanted to be a mechanic. If his dad ever taught him anything, it was how to take care of the Impala. John taught him all the basics and Dean got the knack of it. As a teen, he spent days reading car magazines and working on the Impala, trying to learn as much as he could about how cars worked and how to repair the different parts. He knows enough by now that he could easily work in a garage, but he's got no diploma, and hasn't found anyone willing to hire him on faith alone. 

The line of the coffee shop shortens again, the barista asking her order to the goody-two-shoes in front of him. Dean looks regretfully at the display of sandwiches. He searches his pockets and only comes up with three dollars. Of course, the cheapest piece of food cost four dollars. Dean sighs. Guess just a coffee will have to do today. 

He won't have another choice but to go to the soup kitchen tonight. He hates it there. The food is crap and he wants to punch the prancy people serving it. They always try to give him some Jesus bullshit with his food, like Jesus is ever gonna put a roof over his head and find him a decent job. Neither Jesus nor God nor whatever gives a crap about him. Not that he blames them. Hell, if they exist they're probably not big fans of the guy that used to slip into church as a kid to pick the lock of the donation box

"Just an americano, please," Dean says regretfully when the barista asks for his order. At least it will keep him warm and fill his stomach for a short while.

Halloween just went by and the weather is becoming really cold. He should use the last of Baby's tank to go as far south as he can before winter really hits. He probably won't get farther than Wichita though, and the thought makes him shiver. No one wants to get stuck for a winter in Wichita. Maybe he could go and see if he can make a few bucks at the nearest motel, that kind of place always needs a handyman's help. He hasn't tried the one on Corn Street yet. He's noticed only two lights are still working on their sign, he could offer to help with that. If he makes fifty bucks, he might be able to reach Austin. 

Dean stops on the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop, pondering if he should walk to the bar a few streets down or the motel. Sometimes Benny, the owner of the bar, lets him use the sink in the back to wash up. If he's lucky, he'll even get some leftovers from last night. It's generally just some stale pretzels, cold fries on good days, but it's still better than nothing. He's got two cans of beans and a car with an near empty tank to his name right now, so he's not picky. 

Dean takes a look at his watch. It's eleven thirty already, the leftovers are probably already in the trash at Benny's. The motel is probably his best bet. 

"I'll give you a hundred dollars if you pretend to be my boyfriend." comes a hoarse voice, way too close to his ear. 

Dean jumps, nearly spilling his coffee on himself. He spins to the right to face the man who just talked and is met with a pair of clear blue eyes. Way too close again. He waits a second for the man to take a step back as he realises as close Dean turning brought them, but the guy just continues to stare at him, head slightly tilted to the side. He's wearing an oversized trench coat over a dark blue suit that looks expensive. He's so close a gust of wind makes the bottom of his coat brushes Dean's shin. 

"Dude, personal space," Dean reproaches, taking a step back. "And fuck off, I don't swing that way," he adds, not meanly. It's not the first time he's getting hit on by a dude. Sadly, not even the weirdest. He's strictly into chicks though, so no dice.

"Two hundred bucks," the man insists. He looks ready to fall on his knees and beg, eyes going wider and wider as he throws a panicked look to the right of Dean's shoulder. "It won't take more than ten minutes and all you have to do is nod along," he begs, making Dean wonders if he's in danger somehow. Maybe he has a stalker or an abusive ex? 

Dean follows his eyes to a woman coming closer. She's very elegant in a grey pantsuit and a long white fur coat as she walks straight toward them. He can feel her eyes judging him even from thirty feet away, looking at him from head to toes. If he wasn't already self-aware of the number of holes in his jeans, he would definitely be under that gaze. 

"Five hundred dollars," the other man whispers just as the blond woman reaches them. 

"Castiel, dear, you should have told me we would have company, I would have notified the restaurant," the woman says, sending a clearly disapproving look toward Dean as she deposits a kiss on the other man's - (Castiel, apparently, what kind of name is that??) - cheek. 

"Mother, let me introduce you to my boyfriend," Castiel says, looking ill at ease. He's obviously not a very good liar. 

Dean blinks a few times as their attention turns toward him. Castiel seems to be trying to communicate something with his eyes, and Dean frowns in incomprehension for a moment before he gets the hint. 

"Huh. Dean. Winchester," he finally says. "Ma'am," he adds when she just continues to stare at him like he has grease smeared all over his face. He's pretty sure that she wouldn't want to touch his hand if he were to offer it to shake, so he doesn't. 

"Naomi Novak," she introduces herself. "What a delight to finally meet Castiel's new companion," Naomi says, her deadpan tone contradicting her words. "Of course, I would have preferred not to be ambushed by such an announcement. Castiel, you know, that Le Délice hates it when we change our reservation last minute. Who knows if they will even have a table for three," she declares, already composing a number on her phone. 

"It's okay, mother, Dean won't be joining us for lunch."

"Oh, is it because your attire isn't appropriate?" Castiel's mother asks, looking at the holes in Dean's jeans and the big leather jacket that used to be his dad's. "I assure you they won't say a word about it if you're with us," she reassures. 

Dean squirms a little, wondering what the hell is even happening. Ten minutes ago he was buying a coffee and going at his day like a perfectly normal person (well, albeit a homeless and jobless one). Now, his fashion sense is being criticized by the mother of a man who is pretending to be his boyfriend. Did a piano fall on his head or something? Has he finally lost his mind?

He looks to the man beside him. He's scratching the side of his neck in nervousness. The move makes his coat fall a little over his wrist, revealing a freaking Rolex watch. Dean looks back to the woman, eyes sliding on her diamond earrings and the huge rock around her neck. 

You know what? That's not okay. His stomach has been crying for food since last morning, and he's what? Supposed to help this stranger by saying no to free lunch at one of the most prestigious restaurants in town? Fuck no. He's gonna eat like a king and make a few hundred bucks off the back of those rich assholes. 

"In that case, it would be my pleasure to join you," Dean announces with his most charming smile. 

"What?" Castiel can't help but bark. "But y-your work thing?" he tries, sweating. The round panic eyes are back. Dean sends him his best shit eating grin. They both know he now either has to invite this stranger to lunch or reveal the lie to his mother. The guy is trapped and may as well continue to play along.

"It's not as important as a chance to finally get to know your mother, honey," Dean answers. "He's told me so many nice things about you, Naomi. Can I call you Naomi?"

"Of course, dear," Naomi says. She looks a little wide eyed too, probably thrown by Dean turning on the charm to the max.

"Perfect! We shall go now, we don't want to miss your reservation. I do hope it won't be too much of a bother for them to add a chair to your table," Dean says. He should probably tone it down with the pompous tone, because he nearly added an English accent here. 

Naomi leads the way, and Dean is going to follow when a hand grabbing his arm makes him fall a few steps behind. 

"What the hell are you doing?" Castiel hisses.

"Acting as your boyfriend?" Dean says innocently. By Castiel's glare, he's not fooled. 

"I asked you to nod silently for ten minutes, not to do method acting for a whole meal," he reproaches. Naomi sends a look behind her shoulder and Castiel smiles at her like there is no worries, indicating for her to lead the way, 

Dean shrugs. "I had some free time."

"I'm not giving you more money than planned, if that's your goal," Castiel says with a suspicious squint. 

"I'm fine with the five hundred as long as you're also paying for lunch," Dean says, wiggling his eyebrows as they walk toward the restaurant. Something passes on Castiel's face that Dean can't quite identify. The other man stares at him for so long that it's a wonder he doesn't trip. He finally relents with a long suffering sigh as they enter 'Le Délice'. 

Apparently, Naomi Novak is prominent enough that they don't mind changing her reservation after all. They're seated at a table near a legit indoor fountain. Dean is looking around, trying not to let show how impressed he is by the place. The walls are made of stone and covered in frescos that he always thought you couldn't see outside of a church or castle. A waiter gives him a leather covered menu and Dean opens it eagerly. After a few niceties to Naomi, they're asked what they want to drink. Dean has an inkling that he probably shouldn't ask for a beer in an establishment like this. 

"Same for me, please," he says after Castiel ordered some wine with a name Dean can't pronounce. At least, he hopes that's wine. Who knows. Hell, in this place the bottles of water are probably more expensive than his usual brand of beer. 

Dean starts to second guess his decision when he realizes that the menu is in french. What is it with rich people and France? He just wants a damn steak, how do you say that in french? Is there even steaks here or is it just frog legs and snails? Oh god, he hopes not. 

"I think I'll take the duck today," Naomi notes. "Nobody cooks it better than chef Francis. How about you Dean? Have you ever come here before?" There is a mean glint in her eyes that says she knows perfectly well he hasn't. Hell, from the side eyes he got from everyone as they crossed the room, everyone here knows he's not from their world. There are three holes in his jeans, threads hanging from the bottom and his dad's leather jacket probably should have ended up in the trash about three years ago. Even now, it's still too big for him and the sleeves are so scruffed that they're nearly paper thin. The original dark brown color has turned to a light beige in most places from wear. His scruff is just the bad side of too long now, and he hasn't had a haircut since April, strands starting to fall into his eyes. At least, he's wearing his best plaid shirt and managed to wash up last night, so he's not smelling too rank. Why would Castiel pick him out of all the people in the street at that moment to play his boyfriend? It makes no sense at all. From the guy's obvious discomfort as he hides behind his menu, he probably realizes it. 

"Actually, Naomi, duck sounds like a delicious idea," Dean says, voluntarily ignoring her question. To be honest, he’s never even eaten duck before, but it's poultry so it probably taste like chicken. You can't go wrong with chicken, right? His stomach certainly likes the idea, gurgling so loudly that he has to hide it behind a cough. 

Castiel ends up ordering some fish and soon their drinks arrive. Dean barely has time to sip at his red wine before Naomi pounces. 

"So, tell me everything, how did you two meet?"

Dean nearly chokes on his drink. Castiel seems to gulp down his whole glass. 

"We met at a coffee shop. Dean was in line in front of me and we started to talk," Castiel explains, not quite meeting anyone's eyes.

"How quaint!" Naomi exclaims, clasping her hands in delight. "I'm just sorry that you didn't tell me about it sooner, Castiel. How long have you been keeping this charming man a secret?"

"Not-," Castiel clears his throat, "-not long."

"Well, it's nice to finally meet you Dean. I sure wish this luncheon will give me the chance to learn everything about you."

Luncheon? Who even talks like that outside of Downton Abbey?

"I do hope I'll get to keep some mystery, we wouldn't want this guy to lose interest," Dean says with a wink. He pats Castiel's hand on the table. Should he hold it or something? How open on PDA are gay people those days? Not that he knows more about how heterosexual couple act in public anyway, especially in those crowds. It's probably safer to keep the PDA to a minimum here. 

"You have to at least tell me some things. For one, what career path are you on?" She looks like a shark circling her prey. 

"I'm a mechanic," he lies. He'd rather stay as close to the truth as possible. It's a little unfair that Castiel is letting him do all the talking when his initial demand was that he stayed silent, especially since it's his skin that Dean is apparently saving, but the guy looks like he's swallowed a potato whole. 

"Oh, that's...interesting," Naomi says in that insincere tone of hers. She looks like he told her he was fucking children’s corpses every full moon. He's two seconds away from telling her that he's actually jobless, penniless, and homeless, just to see her face, when Castiel intervenes. 

"How is Anna's engagement party coming on?" 

Thankfully, this seems to be a subject Naomi loves because she tells them about every aspect of the future party all the way through their meal. 

Duck, as it turns out, is actually very good. It's more like red meat than chicken, which is a great surprise. Although, Dean isn't a fan of the way rich people put tiny quantities of food in very large plates. He eats all the dinner rolls and scrapes every single bit of sauce out of his plate, yet he's still hungry by the end of it. He nearly starts crying when the waiter asks them if they'll take dessert and Naomi declines. He's starting to wonder if that little piece of duck was worth sitting through lunch with her. 

"That sounds like you're turning this into a wonderful event, mother, Anna must be delighted," Castiel compliments. 

"Oh, you know your sister," Naomi waves it off. "It sure feels like a nice opportunity to introduce your new beau to everyone."

Dean frowns. What's a beau? Is that him? That's not him, right?

"I wouldn't dare take any attention away from Anna," Castiel tries to refuse. 

"Don't be daft, you know your sister won't care. Everyone will be so happy that you've finally found-" she passes a long look, over Dean, like she's doubting anyone would actually approve of him. She certainly doesn't seem to, "-someone," she finishes lamely. 

"Oh shoot, I don't think I'm available that night," Dean tries to play off. 

"I'm not sure I've told you the date of it yet."

"Cas did," he says. The other man perks up at the surname, but whatever, 'Castiel' is a mouthful. "And I have this huh work thing, you know? Bummer," Dean says with a fake pout. 

"What kind of 'work thing' can a mechanic possibly have on a Saturday evening?"

Dean tenses up, pursing his lips. "One he can't get out of?"

"Nonsense, you're coming," Naomi brushes off. And that is that apparently. Shit. There is a vein about to pop on Castiel's forehead. "Castiel, dear, you look a little white. Was the fish okay?"

"I-Yeah-I-Actually, do you think we could possibly cut our lunch short? I am indeed feeling quite unwell."

"Of course, my dear," Naomi says, leaning forward until her hand touches his forehead. "You're as clammy as a fish. I should come home with you, and make sure you're okay," she announces, taking her napkin off her lap and deposing it on the table, ready to stand up. 

"No!" Castiel stops her, a little too brusquely. "I-Dean will take good care of me, don't worry," he says, getting up and grabbing Dean's arm so he does so too. Dean follows his lead, all too happy to get out of here. "Stay and enjoy your tea, mother."

"If you say so," Naomi says, sending an unsure look at Dean, obviously upset at being brushed off in his favor. "Call me this evening, or I'll worry all night."

"Of course, mother," Castiel acquiesces, kissing her cheek. Dean hovers behind him. Is he supposed to kiss her too? Wave hello? Shake her hand? 

"Dean," she says as what is apparently a sufficient goodbye. Thank God. "I'll be sure to see you on Saturday," she reminds just as they're walking away. 

Cas turns on him as soon as they're outside the restaurant. 

"What was that?!" he asks, not quite yelling. He starts pacing, rubbing a hand through his already pretty ruffled hair. 

"You owing me five hundred bucks? Dude, you're lucky I don't charge you more for the fresh hell I just lived through."

"You went through hell? You?!" his pacing gets faster and Dean has an idea that if he stops pacing he might punch him in the face. 

"That's what you get for asking this kind of stuff from a perfect stranger," Dean shrugs, pushing a pebble with the point of his shoe. His red sock is peeking out from a tiny hole near his big toe. It's such a contrast to how grand everything and everyone looked in there. It's making him feel like shit. He's maybe feeling a tiny bit guilty for trapping Castiel like that too. He doesn't seem like a bad guy, albeit one with a psycho mom.

Cas turns on him, eyes glaring and mouth open in what will probably be a flow of reproaches. He stops himself before he says anything though, seeming to deflate. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breathe instead, shoulders falling. "I'm sorry. You're right. I should be thanking you. I have no right to make you any reproach when I brought this on myself."

"It wasn't so bad, though, was it? I mean, I think I sold it?" Dean asks, a little hesitant. He even used pedantic talk and everything. 

"You did as well as could be expected."

"That's not much of a compliment…". 

"I shouldn't take more of your time," Cas apologizes, taking his wallet out. Dean goggles at the amount of cash in there. 

"You really shouldn't have that much cash on you, that's, like, asking for trouble."

Castiel squints at him like he's wondering if that means Dean is gonna rob him for a moment, before he hands him a wad of cash. 

Dean's eyes bulge out, "That's way more than five hundred dollars."

"There's also an advance in there to buy some clothes for the engagement party."

"The what now?" Dean blinks dumbly for a second until his brain catches up to what is happening. "Dude, no, I'm done!" 

"You were the one to push it so far in the first place," Castiel reminds. Accuses, really. 

"I just wanted to eat fancy food, okay! Not, like, go steady."

"There will be lots of food at my sister's engagement party," Castiel tries to persuade. Badly. 

Dean gives him a nonplussed look. The cash feels heavy in his hand. He's never had so much before. This could help him get a new start. What's a night of playing Downton Abbey compared to the many many nights he might not have to freeze his ass off in the backseat of his car thanks to it?

"Why are you even doing this anyway? And why would you choose me? Do I look that desperate for cash?"

"No," Cas says after what's definitely a too long pause. Dean scowls. "You were in front of me in the coffee shop line. I heard you talking on the phone. You said you needed some cash to buy a new outfit for a job interview. Begged, really."

"Where the fuck do you get on listening in on other people’s conversation?" 

"I didn't listen, I just heard."

"You know, what? Fuck you," Dean spits, "I don't need that bullshit in my life right now." He has enough cash to get to Austin and replenish his stock of food, even buy some new clothes. At least this way he can keep his dignity rather than being insulted by a bunch of rich assh-

"Please," Castiel begs, following him as Dean storms away. "You don't understand…"

"Oh I understand perfectly," Dean says, stopping and turning around so brusquely that they nearly bump into each other. "You think you can shit on other people from your high horse and that they'll still do your deed for a few hundred bucks. Well, I'm not your freaking puppet, man."

"I have never shitted on any-" he stops himself with a frustrated groan, before turning on the puppy dog eyes. "Dean, please. Listen to what I have to say at least?"

"I know what you're gonna say. I've seen that movie before, Cas. You're going to bring me to that party, so you can parade me around like I'm some earned price or some shit. Meanwhile you get to appease mommy dearest and the clan of hyenas putting pressure on you to find a husband, while still having the satisfaction of giving them a huge fuck you by bringing a guy like me instead of the golden boy they're dreaming of."

"I-" Castiel stops himself, pursing his lips. "That's actually not that far from the reality."

"Of course it isn't. Told you, I've seen that trope before. Except this is real life and your plan sucks, so you can keep your money and I'll keep my dignity. Just grow a pair and tell them all to fuck off, will ya?"

"You sure do like saying that to people," Castiel sulks. "Are you sure you can't do it for me?" 

"Oh believe me I would love to tell your mom to fuck off, but I like my balls attached to my body, so that's a hard pass."

Castiel laughs slightly at that and Dean can feel his own anger start to abate at the sound. "Good self-preservation instinct on your part," Cas mumbles. The puppy look is still there, except now it's making him feel like he's kicked the puppy.  

"You know, we're in the 21st century, right? You shouldn't feel pressured to the point of inventing a boyfriend. Who gives a shit about that nowadays?"

"My family does," Castiel answers in a long sigh. "You don't get it, how could you... I have three brothers, Dean," Castiel explains. "Two sisters. My little sister, who is just nineteen, just got engaged. I was already seen as the irremediably unwed one and now I…," he pauses, sending a nervous look at Dean, looking ashamed.

"Oh come on. How hard can it be? You're rich, objectively good looking. Do you have weird kinks or something?"

 "I-I wouldn't know. I've never even been in a relationship before," he confesses, looking at the ground.

"When you say 'relationship', you don't mean you've never…" Dean inquires. Cas' cheeks redden, and Dean blows like he just got punched. "Wow. That sucks."

"Yes, it's very pathetic."

"What? Eh no, it's not pathetic. Surprising, yeah. But, to each their own, you know?"

Cas inclines his head like he's not sure he does know. 

"I'm sorry I tried to drag you in all of this. You seem like a good man. You don't deserve-"

"-to be served on a platter to your family?" Dean asks, searching Castiel's gaze until they exchange a smile. 

"Yes. That." The man is still looking dejected. The money is still in Dean's hand. That duck really was good. Damn it.

"The food better be freaking awesome," Dean relents with a frustrated grunt. Castiel seems instantly relieved. "And you're not pretty woman-ing me," he warns, pointing a finger at the other man. "I'm choosing my own clothes and I don't give a shit if I don't know which fork to use for fish."

Castiel's head is tilted and he's blinking owlishly, like he doesn't understand a word that Dean is saying. Figures. He's not sure how he could convince anyone that he's this dork's boyfriend, honestly. Naomi certainly looked like she wasn't fooled. 

"I'm sorry for the way my mother behaved toward you. I assure you, being yourself will be amply sufficient to the task."

"Dude, the way y'all talk, where do you come from, Victorian England?"

"I-I don't think I have English ancestry, no. Why?"

They blink at each other for some time. 

"I must be a freaking masochist."

Cas' face scrunches up even more in incomprehension. 

"Okay, let's be clear on one thing from the start. This is not a lifetime movie and I'm straight, so: no falling in love, get it?"

"I get it, Dean," Castiel nods. 

Well, that's it then, apparently Dean is going to a fancy engagement party with his new boyfriend. What a weird day... 

You can read the rest on AO3

[everafterkeiji]

Song: Squeeze by Fifth Harmony

Summary: When Shoto finds the safest place to be in was your arms.

Pairing: Shoto Todoroki x fem! reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: slight mentions of his past, twinkle of angst

Quirk: Telepathy and telekinesis

A/N: Hi second imagineee, feedback/reactions will be very appreciated!!

End of the night, looking at me, what do you see?

Wish I could read your mind

All this powerful man craved was touch. A touch that can ease his mind. Ease his guarded heart. He was well known as Endeavors masterpiece but behind closed doors was less than a work of art as people visualized it. He was trained for years not even having the chance to live his youth with such joy and happy memories. Growing up he was restricted from talking to any kid that came his way, his father looking down on every child that wanted to become friends with his son thinking that no one can ever be enough for his Shouto. Shouto was above everyone else and Endeavor made sure to remind him that throughout the years.

When the incident of his scar came, he didn't hesitate to escape the house he lived in. No sibling could have ever prepared for that moment that changed his life.

Dimming the light, here in the dark, going by feel

Only the moon to guide

As he ran with tears in his eyes, he tripped on a rock making his knee scrape the ground leaving an ugly wound to it. The rain poured, even the skies cried for the poor boy who only wished to be normal and to be loved. Shouto hugs his knee letting his sobs echo through the empty street.

Rain stopped pouring over his head and he looks up with hurt eyes. His bi colored eyes land on a girl in a yellow rain coat hovering an umbrella over the two of them.

"You look really cool. Whatcha doing here? Mama says raining gets you sick." He sniffles as he looks at the girl with e/c eyes. Her head tilted as she wonders about the random boy. She looks at the boy who was hugging his knees when she finds an unpleasant wound on his knee. Her eyes widened as she grabs his hand dragging them to a corner where rain couldn't reach them. He was being dragged by a rather cute stranger and he had no choice but to follow her because he was lost in the thought of a girl holding his hand.

"You hurt ya self. What's the your name?" She asks removing the raincoat exposing her beautiful hair. He wiped his eyes turning around, scared that this interaction would cause him a consequence from his father.

"Stop talking to me, n-no one likes me. Go away." He says with sadness. He stands up with his head hung low. He was scared of talking to her. He hasn't interacted with anyone who sounded like an angel. He starts to walk away when the girl ran up to him, surrounding him in a hug. His eyes widened, his arms frozen, time suddenly stopping as he was focused on the tiny girl that was hugging him.

W-what is this feeling? A h-hug?

"Mama says when someone is hurt we should give them a big ole hug! I hope this makes you feel better! Mama always does this to me!" She cheers continuing to hug him. He sobs in her shoulder finally allowing his arms to reciprocate her embrace. They sit on the floor. To her it meant nothing, just a girl comforting a boy who was sad. To him, it was everything. Finally someone comforted him and she didn't push him away or scold him for crying. She was hugging him. Letting him know that crying wasn't weak like his father told him.

"I really think you look cool, pretty boy. I like your hair. Oh and your eyes! How did you make them like that?" He laughs at her questions wiping away his tears as he pulls away from the hug. She touches his hair and squeals at how cool the colors were and he softly smiles at her.

"What's your quirk? Can you change colors?" She asks with a lifted brow and he shakes his head no. She tilts her head at his movement looking at the cool boy with her curious eyes.

"No. My quirk is ice and fire. My dad says I shouldn't use it outside though." He pouts but she shakes her head. She grabs her by the shoulder looking at him with her big eyes.

"THAT'S. SO. COOL. Can you show me? Pleaseee?" With every word she shakes him as his face showed his shock with tight lips and wide eyes. He sees her pouting and sighs before removing her hands on his shoulder as he raises his left hand emitting a small flame from his palm. He touches the ground softly with his right hand making the ground frozen. She lets out a gasp as she rapidly claps her hands.

"YOU'RE SO COOL!" He smiles shyly at her.

"What's your quirk then?" He asks while she opened her mouth, his arm was harshly pulled. He was faced with an angry Endeavor.

"Father-"

"You! Get away from my son! A weakling like you should never come near him again. Shoto, come with me this instant." He says and you gather your raincoat, glaring at the man who hovered over you. Shoto looks at you, hoping this wasn't your last meeting.

"Please father-"

"NO! You are coming home leaving this rat. She doesn't deserve you, Shoto. Let's go." He says and as he drags his son who was trashing around desperately trying to reach the girl.

"Don't worry cool boy! I hope I helped! We'll play soon!" She screams, waving at him happily and this brings a slight smile onto his face. The words of his father blurring out as he was focused on the girl that brought him happiness from a single embrace.

I didn't even get her name.

Now that he's in UA being praised by his peers, his mind still lingers on the girl that made him feel safe. He wished he could've gotten her name, just something to remind him that she made him feel that way even if she was a stranger.

He sits at the back while he admires the girl that was laughing at Denkis English accent. He swears she was familiar. Mina leans her head on the sweet girl while she continues to laugh at Kaminaris poor attempt to flirt with her. Y/N turns to Shoto who already had his eyes on you. You simply blush at it but chose to look away ignoring the butterflies that surrounded your mind.

Despite him being a friend of yours, you couldn't hide the feeling of your heart when he walks by. Avoiding to sit beside him whenever you had lunch, scared to let him see your flustered cheeks. He always asked you if he wanted to half with his soba, noticing it was his favorite you decided to say no every time. Your friendship began when the annual Sports Festival came when you managed to land a battle against Bakugo. You and the hot headed were friends since you hang around Kaminari. But he didn't back down, even if he was fighting a friend. In the end, he won. But he regretted seeing your passed out state. Todorokis hands form a ball as he leaves his seat rushing to go to Bakugo.

"How could you do that to her?" Todoroki asks him as Bakugo rolls his eyes.

"What does it matter to you half and half? It's a battle. I had to win. " Todoroki glares at the blonde in front of him.

"I'm her friend too, shit head. You think I don't feel like shit seeing her like that." Todoroki rolls his eyes.

"Some friend you are then, Bakugo." He spat but Bakugo only shakes his head with a sly smirk on his face.

"And you're one protective ass boyfriend." Todorokis cheek warms at the thought but before he could defend himself the door creaks open to you sleepily rubbing your eyes with bandages.

"K-katsuki.. Todoroki?" You saw the two of them while Todoroki rushes to your side.

"Hey are you okay?" Todorokis tone softens as he sees you covered in bandages. You nod at him before looking over at Bakugo.

"You did good their, dumbass. You're boyf-" Todorokis eyes widen as he closes the door leaving a chuckling Bakugo behind.

"What was that?" You ask tilting your head as he stops in his motions. He takes in your expressions and his brows furrowed at the similarity.

Where do I remember that from?

"Expect nothing but nonsense from him."

He didn't mean to protective then but he couldn't hide the similarities of the young girl to you. You mirrored an angel in disguise in his eyes. He sees how you enjoy protecting people giving them your perfect smile. He only wished that it was you so it made sense to him when he started to like you. Once he's gotten all the pieces together, he could never let you go again.

And you wished the opposite.

The minute you saw his hair when he entered Class 1A. You knew it was him, the boy you had comforted when his father took him away before you can even get his name. He had grown into a handsome and powerful man, much reserved and guarded now. He also took in your presence but you hoped he wouldn't recognize you. You hoped that you were a forgotten memory. When you were a child you came back to where you had met the boy telling you're parents that you two were gonna play again. After a week of his disappearance you were broken at the thought of the cool boy never meeting you again.

But now you two were in the same room everyday.

Even after school.

There were moments when you would visit his room along with the others for a study. You would be the one to be left behind still answering a few questions you skipped, anxious to ask him a bunch of questions when him and the others were already finished.

"You sure you really don't need my help?" He asks with a chuckle seeing your stressed state as you just twirl the pencil in mid air, your focus long gone.

"I just couldn't catch up with you guys, I understand it- I really do. You guys are just too fast and I barely understood half of the things you said with the way Izuku kept rambling the equation." He laughs before getting behind you, his chest pressed against your back as he grabs the pencil you were toying with before pointing the pencil at the equation you've avoided. Your breath hitched at how nonchalant he was being this near to you.

When we're alone, I get so close

Give me your warmth I've never known

"I understand the Midoriya part, he was very confusing but I will help you." You couldn't even understand half of what he said while his head peaked on your left side, cheek to cheek with yours. Your telekinesis loosing control as some of his pencils were circling behind you two, your eyes wide and your stance tense. Your cheeks flushed red when he turns to look at you. Your heart literally screaming, beating so fast.

"I really hope you're not searching for the answer on my face. Oh well is there anything on my face? You've been staring at me for a while." He says monotone but his bluntness only brought you more trouble when he noticed you staring.

Please help me. You thought.

"N-no really there's nothing there you're just really pretty- t-the uh equation is pretty hard sorry I just keep getting distracted-" He laughs at you before pulling away from where he was positioned earning you the time to breathe.

"Now you do sound like Midoriya. Why don't you head back to your dorm? I'm happy to continue this equation if you're having a tough time with it." You shook you're head trying to reach the paper in his hand but he only lifts it higher considering he was way taller than you. You roll your eyes at his tease but he only smiles more.

"Please, I'm volunteering. Get back to your room and sleep well. I'm not asking for anything in return. "

"But-"

"Quiet, Y/N. It's really okay." You sigh in defeat as you step back. "Fine, thank you Shoto. Good night and you sleep well too. " You say to him and he gives you a nod.

"Goodnight, Y/N." As you close his door, you nearly couldn't walk back to your room at how nervous you are. Still in tact with your quirk as his pencils, pens, and notebooks were all in mid air twirling continuously. As he takes a sit to finish your equation, he jumped slightly at the sound of things falling beside him pressing his foot to the floor freezing it. His eyes widened at his stationary were all laid out on the floor, silently thanking that it wasn't some sort of bomb.

The moment he realized he needed you close to him was when the training camp incident began. Scared of the thought of you getting hurt without his protection. He knew this wasn't because he was your friend, he wanted to be more than your friend. At that moment, love blossomed in his heart thawing the ice that protected it.

When training camp began, none of you expected to be ambushed by villains. There you were seperated from him when blue flames surround the area. Villains came and attacked the students. As you were running to reach the building you were faced with Toga as she gives you a wave.

"My! You're so pretty~ I would love to borrow that sweet face of yours. Seems like I can't be your friend, deal with her for a while." Toga scurries away when your back came in contact with a Nomu. You ran away as he chased after you, you flew before removing a few trees and send their way to the Nomu. You're eyes glowing purple with the use of your quirk as you flew to the others helping them while gathering rocks and wood to be your weapons.

Shoto can see you from above as you gathered countless of rocks. He watches you as you raised your hand with a scream when you threw all of them to the villains that circled the Pussy Cats. Your purple aura circling around you like a fire but what you didn't notice was a man with a hand out directed to you shooting blue flames in your way sending you off, screaming at how painful the flames were as they touch your skin.

"Y/N!" Todoroki screams trying to run to the direction you flew off but he was stopped by Midoriya.

"Todoroki-san we have to save Kacchan. Y/N-chan can handle herself." Todoroki only agreed knowing Midoriya was right.

When Dabi had his hands on Bakugos neck, you flew heading straight for Bakugo but he disappeared before your eyes. Your eyes glowing more than usual as you sunk down to your knees feeling helpless that you couldn't save him.

When you turn around to see Todoroki who you have yet to seen for the entire night and you flew to him wrapping your arms around him as he quickly reciprocated your sweet embrace. You gripped his shirt, feeling overwhelmed to see the boy safe. Your mind easing at the sight of him without any wounds.

Face to face, caught in a wild embrace

"You're okay.." he whispers, thanking the stars she was safe and sound. Hugging her tighter before tears dampened his shirt.

"I c-couldn't save him-" You tried to reason but he only shushes you before you can say anything else.

"I know, I know but what matters right now is that you're safe here with me."

Since then his goal changed from being a hero to being your boyfriend who can always protect you. You also became more open with him as you come by his room whenever nightmares would surface and you did the same whenever he was at rage with his father.

Only you know how to save me

Now, you're all sat in the common room watching TV while you flew around trying to escape Bakugos wrath. Meanwhile, Kirishima was mindlessly switching channels he stops when he sees Endeavor and Hawks on the TV.

"I didn't know Endeavor and Hawks were friends- SHIT A NOMU! " Kirishima shouts averting everyone's attention to the TV. Shoto came running to watch. As the battle began, you bit your lip with worry as you watch his expressions. You didn't get want to use your telepathy to see what he was thinking, knowing you'd be pushing some boundaries if you do so. Everyone was tenses and cheering for Endeavor. When Endeavor was shut down you can feel his heart ache. Everyone else turned to him but soon came to turn back to the TV.

For the past minutes, all you could feel was how his heart was breaking with every blow his father receives but when his father raises a fist to the air while Todoroki falls to his knees, panting and sweating. Everyone was commanded to give him some space. He runs to his room, closing the door with a slam, his heavy breathing surrounding the room. Covering his face in his hands as he tried to calm his self.

You flew right to his room ignoring the screams from the others to let him have his space knowing that Todoroki needed more than space and silence. You opened the door to see him in his bed, knees to his chest as you hears his sobs. You immediately wrap your arms around him, running your hands through his split colored hair that you fell in love with. You used your telepathy to avoid him from replaying the moments in his mind.

Put your arms around me, baby

"It's okay, Sho. I'm here we're all safe. He's safe and he did amazing. You don't need to worry, I got you." He hugs you tighter as you comfort him caressing his back. You pressed a kiss to his hair. He hugged you tight, finding your arms to be his safe zone and he never wanted anything more than to be held by you all the time.

And squeeze

"Breathe for me okay?" He nods before leaning his head on your shoulder, closing his eyes taking in your words.

Remember the night talking to me

Saying the words I wanna hear the most

He was reminded of the angel that fell on his path when he was a kid but now his breathing calming down knowing the same angel that saved him before was here in his arms.

"Its always been you, Y/N." He says pulling away from your embrace as he places a hand on your cheek before pressing his forehead to yours making both of your cheeks flushed red.

"That night- when I was a kid. It was you. I found you." He says and you smile at his words.

"I found you too, pretty boy." He smiles at the nickname before pressing his lips to yours. You smile before kissing back your hand finding its way to his cheek pulling him closer. The stars were more than happy to see you two finally found each other. You both pull away as you look at each other. He hugs you again smiling to himself and you embraced him with all the love you had for him. With his heart happy and filled with love finally finding the girl meant for him he only thought to himself.

I've found my home.

[artificialqueens]

Gimme Love, 6/9 (Miz Cracker/Blair St Clair) - Grinder

AN: Welp, I'm back from travelling! For anyone interested to know how it went; it was great (if you love stress). Liverpool is a lovely place but I've destroyed my bank account :D

Anyway! We got 4 more chapters of this fic! This is where the conflict begins. I hope yall enjoy.

TW for this chapter: Homophobia, homophobic slurs

2020

The cake was in the fridge. We'd be seeing him later. For now, we settled for some spaghetti. It had become a sort of tradition for Jujubee and me for moments that needed celebrating. But we hadn't done it in so long, what with the stress of work.

"So, Juju, as you can see, I've labelled the pages you're allowed to read, so don't go looking at other shit, OK?" I asked, chopping up a red bell pepper.

"Why? If I do, am I gonna find some porn-y shit?" She quipped, running a hand along with the butterfly print book.

"Honestly, you know all of those details anyway." I gave her a smirk, taking a piece of pepper and throwing it over to her.

I almost expected it to fly past her head, but she caught it in her mouth. Skill.

"OK, but what's in the box, though?"

I almost forgot what she was even referring to. But following her gaze, I saw it, sitting on the kitchen counter beside the fridge. "Oh, that?" I scraped the peppers into the saucepan, "That is my memory box."

"Ooh, that's even more exciting." She beamed.

"No. We're not opening it." I moved on to an onion.

"Aw, why not?" Jujubee whined.

"Because I made my Mom promise me she wouldn't give it to me until I turned 50. But I was weak and begged her to give it back. So now, I've promised myself to not look inside until I turn 50." The air was no longer clean, poisoned with the acid from the onion. My eyes were beginning to sting.

"Aw, Brie, you don't need to get all emotional about it." She had to go and joke about the tear now trickling down my cheek.

"Girl, this is torture," I wipe my eye along my wrist, pretty sure my eyeshadow has been fucked up. "Did I fuck up the smokey eye?"

"Nope." I knew she was lying to me, but she couldn't take her eyes away, "You look absolutely gorgeous as usual."

"Not as hot as you, though." I sniffed. I needed her to focus on reading so I could finish chopping the onion as soon as possible. "Anyway, you wanna read something in there?"

Jujubee opened the book and immediately laughed, "Jesus Christ, Brie, bit dark."

She showed me the first page, childlike scribblings read 'Brianna's Diary. DO NOT TOUCH! Or this will happen to you!' An arrow led to a picture of a grave.

"I never even noticed that before," I chuckled.

"With a warning like that, I better find some crazy shit in here." she cleared her throat, "So starting in 1994, 'Diary Diary, Today, I had a fight with Jujubee. She really upset me, but I upset her too. I should say sorry. That's all. Bye.'" Jujubee lowered the diary, "you bitch, why did you upset me?"

"I have no idea, girl. I mean, didn't we do that a lot back then?" I shrugged.

"I bet you started it though," She lifted the book again, a coy smile on her face. "OK, moving on to 1995," she cleared her throat, "'Dear Diary, today Mommy and Juju's Mommy took us to see Pocahontas at the movies. It was very good. Goodnight.'" Jujubee paused to giggle, "God, I love how detailed this is. You could have added so much more."

"Girl, I was 8 years old. Writing more than 4 sentences was like writing the bible to me." I countered, finally scraping the onions into the pan with the peppers.

"Yeah, but we did so much more that day. We went to McDonald's after, we found that little frog pond in the woods." She pointed out.

I hadn't even remembered that. Now I kind of wished my younger self would have pushed herself to write more.

I was too busy rifling through my messy cabinet for oregano to notice Jujubee just flicking through page by page.

"But, you wrote 3 pages worth of poetry to Blair St Clair?"

Once I found the spice, I spun around to look at her, "Juju, I told you to only look at the pages that were labelled."

She held a hand up, "OK, I'm sorry." She closed the book.

I felt bad, thinking maybe my harsh tone brought the fun to a grinding halt. Squeezing my eyes shut, releasing a sigh, I said, "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."

She took a sip of her water while I added the oregano to the saucepan.

"So, did you text her back?" She played with the glass in her hands.

I pursed my lips and shook my head. "Why? Do you think I should?" I asked quietly.

"Nah, not really."

"Well, why not?"

Jujubee shrugged her shoulders and went to look at her nails. "Don't know."

I clicked my heel, my tongue running along the top row of teeth behind my closed mouth. "Well, I've been thinking about it. I mean, maybe that's the problem. Maybe I could be a bit more responsive."

She made a humming sound. I was unsure what it was supposed to mean.

"OK, what's going on?" I put both hands on the counter.

"I don't know. I just think…" she paused, trying to find her words, "I don't see the point because the same shit will just happen again."

"The same shit?" I repeated, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, her speaking all but 10 words to you and then completely ignoring your existence." She put a hand under her chin.

"Well, maybe that wouldn't happen if I actually spoke to her like I wasn't terrified for once," I suggested.

She squeezed her eyes together, "Oh no, Brie. I knew this was going to happen."

"What was going to happen?"

"The whole Blair thing. I thought you were over it. Well, until she messaged you recently, I had a creeping feeling that it was all gonna come back."

"Juju, listen to yourself. You're talking like this is an actual problem."

"I hate to say it, but it is. Do you remember the time she hung out with you in the library? You were so excited the next day. I hadn't seen you so happy in so long. You wouldn't stop talking about how she would probably be there again." She paused, "But she wasn't. And you were so disappointed."

"Yeah, but things could be different now."

"And how's that?"

"Well, I'm a different fucking person now, that's one thing. I'm successful, I'm smart, I'm hot as fuck, rich as fuck - -"

"And you think that's gonna be the game-changer for her? That she's gonna come running into your arms? Because if that's the case, that says a lot about her." Jujubee rolled her eyes.

"Well, I'm a big girl, now. If it happens again, I'll just get on with things. I'll move on.

"That's a lie."

I squinted my eyes. "Why are you being like this right now? You're so salty just because I fucked wrote a private letter to her as a child."

"This isn't about the letter, Brie. You know why I'm being like this. You shouldn't need to ask." But she continued, "You've never dealt with never having parents. You think that if Blair was to suddenly be truly interested in you, you'd get over the feeling of being unwanted. Yet you're surrounded by people who love and support you, who'd stick with you to the end. But right now, you don't give two fucks about them because you're too busy panicking about some girl from high school."

I lift my head again, putting one hand on the desk and the other on my hip, "Well, congratulations, Juju. Sounds like you got me all figured out. Hey, you wanna talk about my Grandpa next?"

She only reacted to that with a scowl. And she spoke again.

"You remember the prom? Do you remember what happened? Do you remember how she didn't do anything to stop Trevor?"

My eyes shifted away, just for a second. "She told him to stop."

"Which did nothing."

I wanted to argue how she was unfair. How it was so wrong to blame Blair for the prom incident. But I was distracted by a burning smell. Only now did I notice the onions and peppers blackening.

I quickly moved the saucepan off the heat, feeling it only radiating in my own face. I put a hand on the counter, the other on my hip. "OK, Juju, maybe you should leave."

It was safe to say Jujubee was taken aback. She remained still for a second before pushing her stool out. "So that's how it is? Kicking me out when you're faced with the truth?"

"Juju, just leave, please." I felt my hands clench around the edge of the counter, my nails digging into my hip.

"I am!" She grabbed her coat and stormed from the kitchen. I flinched upon hearing the door slam shut, and only then did it sink in - the dread, the feeling of regret.

I looked at the hob, the burnt vegetables unsavable. So they went in the trash. My stomach grumbled. But I couldn't bring myself to start over again.

Opening my fridge, my eyes were immediately on the cake. And I glanced over my shoulder, looking where she had sat, now feeling a sense of emptiness. Not in me, but the room. Like I was alone.

I was alone.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." I repeated as my hand clenched on the door. The cool air from the fridge felt nice but not enough to stop my panic.

I looked at the cake again, feeling the urge to throw it out the window. Or maybe just send it back to her.

Bitchy, I know. But I couldn't help it. I wouldn't be feeling like this if she hadn't acted the way she did.

I slammed the door shut, kicking it for extra measure. And in my heels, I almost tripped.

Filled with more anger, I paced around for a few minutes, aggressively cussing to myself.

Don't get me wrong, one part of me said she was right about Blair.

No. She isn't. I was going to prove Jujubee wrong.

I picked up my phone from the counter, found the message and began to type with trembling fingers.

"Blair…" I panted, "So sorry...for getting back to you so late... I'm a busy woman, as you...probably already know...Look... I'm just gonna say it...I really like you...I always have...You make me feel so confused...yet so happy at the same time...I feel a connection between us...I always have...I don't know whether you ever felt it or not...but I do hope so...I would love to meet up with you sometime soon...and maybe have a coffee...I don't know...maybe even some wine, if you want. I look forward to hearing back. Brie x"

My thumb hovered over the send button. The only sound I could hear was the ticking of the clock. Not even my own breathing.

I pulled my thumb away, closed my eyes and breathed out. "Brie. You sound fucking crazy. You sound insane. You can't just send shit like that." I repeated words of the same nature to myself, trying to usher myself off the edge before I could do something idiotic.

"Jesus Christ." I opened my eyes again, which were now glossy with tears. I wouldn't blink. I wouldn't let them fall.

Big mistake.

I thought I tapped the chat bar, going to delete the message. But my blurred vision said, "haha, no."

I tapped the button next to the chat bar. The send button.

The little noise my phone made as it was sent may as well have been the same as a gun clicking.

"Oh, God." My eyes couldn't tear away from the small screen. My heart rate increased. "No, no, no, you fucking idiot!" I pressed my thumb down on the message.

There was a delete option.

I clicked it.

'Are you sure? The recipient may have already seen the message.'

I backspaced to check.

There it was, the tiny version of her profile picture falling to the bottom of the screen. She was reading it.

"Fuck!!" I blurted.

I put the phone down on the counter, began pacing for a moment, and looked back at the phone. This went on for a few minutes. I wanted to be as far from my phone as possible. But also needed to know if she had replied.

This was it.

Blair was going to know how I was weirdly obsessed with her.

She was going to know I was checking her out in the library that one time.

She was going to know that I had fingered myself so many times at the thought of her.

What were my options?

Suicide - Not gonna happen.

Running away - But the project.

Reply with 'Hey, sorry! My friend took my phone, haha' - did anyone ever believe that excuse?

Block her before she could reply - then she'd think I was even more crazy.

Call up her place of work and somehow get her phone confiscated - why, though? That would involve Facebook stalking her again, trying to think of an excuse. Even if I did so successfully, she still saw the message.

All of the options just lead to cons. It was hopeless.

With shaky fingers, I switched my phone off and practically threw it onto the counter.

My body sank to the ground, now holding my head in my hands.

What do I do? What do I fucking do?

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

2004

I was shaking. Only slightly.

There was something about the prom that made me feel so on edge.

Maybe it was all the people, all together in one room.

Perhaps it was the fact the chess boys asked to make out.

Or perhaps it was the fear of missed opportunities. Opportunities that involved a certain someone.

I watched from the side of the room as Blair took pictures with her friends on her pink digital camera. There was a feeling of regret causing my stomach to twist, my fists clenching onto my purple dress.

That could have been me.

I felt a hand moving a curled lock of hair from my shoulder.

"Just think, girl; we're almost there," Jujubee appeared in front of my vision, "College is just around the corner."

"I can't wait to be out of here," I spoke quietly.

Everyone turned their attention to the stage as Rosé appeared, announcing it was time to crown Prom King and Queen.

"Well, it's pretty obvious who our queen is." Jujubee crossed her arms.

I knew who she was thinking of. To be fair, it was pretty obvious. But I wasn't complaining.

Trevor was our Prom King, not my King anyway. I scoffed as he cheered, being pushed up to the stage by his team.

"Jesus Christ, who would have thought." Jujubee took a sip of her punch, spilling a drop on her lilac puffy-sleeved dress.

"And your Prom Queen is…" Rosé paused, pulling the result from the envelope.

3...2...1…

"Blair St Clair!"

I smiled for the first time since walking into the place. I applauded her victory as she walked up onto the stage.

Blair hugged Rosé and whispered something in her ear. I had no idea what it was, but I was too distracted as Trevor just stared.

"You wanna make a speech, girl?" Rosé joked into the mic.

Blair laughed, covering her face with embarrassment. She turned down the offer.

"OK. Everybody," Rosé held a hand to Blair and Trevor, "You're King and Queen of 2004."

Blair looked slightly uncomfortable as Trevor put an arm around her waist. Why couldn't he get the hint she was done with him?

The two got down from the stage, Trevor's gaze following her in confusion as she moved far away from him.

"Aren't they supposed to do a dance now?" Jujubee asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know, Juju. I've only seen proms in movies, and they're quite obviously exaggerated."

My eyes landed on Blair once more. Trevor was whispering something in her ear, and she shook her head, rolled her eyes and walked away. Yikes, he was desperate.

"Jesus, I'm fucking nervous." Rosé was approaching us now, well, the punch table we stood beside. "Getting up on stage gets my body shaking, you know?"

"Wish I could do that." Jujubee replied.

"Yeah, well, sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do." Rosé replied.

I eyed her suspiciously. This was odd; she'd never really spoken to us before.

"But of course," she looked left, then right, before pulling a flask from her bra and pouring it into a cup, "this helps. You ladies want one?"

"Nah, I'm good," Jujubee made a stank face.

Me, on the other hand, having never drank alcohol in my life, piped up, "Actually, yeah. Could you just pour me a shot of whatever that is?"

"Yeah, of course," and she didn't lie. She poured me a shot of vodka. No spitting in the cup, no adding anything sneakily, no hostility.

She passed the cup to me, giving a mischievous wink.

Tossing it back, I was totally shocked by the burning sensation it caused to my throat. I began to cough and splutter.

"Girl, chill out, or you're gonna draw attention to yourself." Rosé looked around.

I placed the cup down on the table, the plastic practically crumbling in my hand.

"This is it. The beginning," Jujubee joked, dabbing the corner of my mouth with her pinky. I didn't even know there was a drop of liquid there.

And I didn't know there was a hair out of place either. Because she was stroking a soft hand down my temple to my cheek.

"Brie, do - -"

"Juju, I'm gonna ask her to dance with me," I said all too loud.

The hand dropped instantaneously, her smile falling in a matter of seconds. Of course, I expected this shocked reaction. Even Rosé had nearly choked on her drink.

"For real?" Jujubee asked after a silent moment.

"Yep," I answered proudly, putting my hands on my hips.

"I guess you've never touched a drop of alcohol in your life, loser." Rosé leaned close to me.

"Something like that." I felt slightly uncomfortable now that she was dangerously close to me.

She snorted a laugh, holding up her hands as she walked away, "I'm not responsible for this."

So this was what they called liquid courage. Yeah, it was one shot, but it was my very first. And I was already feeling it. The buzz.

I turned to make my way to the girl I loved when Jujubee grabbed my hand, "Brie, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Yes," I replied too quickly, tugging to pull away.

"Are you sure?" Her brows knit, "You're not gonna be upset if she says no, right?"

One final strong tug was enough to release her grip on me, "No, Juju. I'll be fine, just...stop questioning me, OK?"

She was silent, her arms dropping by her side.

But I continued on in my mission, vision slightly blurred, insides warmed.

Everyone around us was gone like they had just stepped into another world, leaving Blair and me in this reality. Or maybe it was the two of us who disappeared, somehow falling into the wormhole and ending up in the other world.

Or maybe it was just liquid courage.

There were only a few metres between us now. "Blair?"

She had been taking a sip of her coke when she looked up and noticed me. Wiping the corners of her mouth, she put the can down.

"Brianna!" She beamed. Her eyes looked me up and down, causing a brief moment of panic, "wow, look at you. You look great."

"Yeah, right, compared to you." I stifled a laugh.

"Oh, shut up." She smirked.

"So, um…" I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, looking away and to the ground, "I was just...wondering...if you'd wanna dance with me?"

I didn't lift my gaze. Only now did I understand what Jujubee meant. The girl hadn't even said no yet, and my heart was already sinking.

"It's just...this song is so good, and it's the end of the year, and we may not - -"

Before I could continue rambling, she cut me off.

"Sure. Yeah, I'll dance with you."

I lift my gaze to see her glittering smile. Like in the library, time didn't feel real anymore, and I needed to remind myself to breathe. "Really?"

"Yeah, of course." She briefly knit her brows like it shouldn't have been questioned. She took my hand in her perfect french manicured one, "Come on."

As we made our way to the dance floor, I was only now reminded that there were people here. So, we didn't slip through a wormhole. This was real. This was reality.

Blair found a spot on the floor, turned to me and wrapped her arms around the back of my neck.

For a moment, I was unsure of where to put my hands. I glanced over her shoulder, noting the couple also slow dancing. She has her arms around his neck. He had his arms around her waist.

I was hesitant at first but eventually gave in. Blair didn't mind. And I felt myself relax.

She just stared at me, the sweet smile still on her face. The music echoed around us. The lights were low. Pink tinted.

"So, how does it feel winning Prom Queen?" I asked. Of course, it felt amazing for her, but I needed to find an excuse to speak. Anything to avoid the somersaults my stomach was doing.

"I mean, it's nice, I guess. But, it's all bullshit anyway?" Her smile faltered, "Not something anyone in the future will give a fuck about, right?"

I disagreed. If I were to win prom queen, I would feel validated. And I would make sure I'd bring it up to everyone I ever met. Pathetic, I know.

"Well, I can't think of anybody better," I admitted. "Maybe they could have chosen a better King."

"Agreed." She nodded. "You know, literally just now, he tried to use this whole King and Queen thing to 'try again'. Not even that long before you came up to me. Brianna, I've already given him another chance. And he blew it."

"During the Summer?" I recalled.

"Yep." She pursed her lips.

"What did he do, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Oh, he just had some major anger problems," her eyes widened for a moment, "He never hurt me, though. He just...got so angry over the dumbest shit. It was just too much."

She puffed out a breath, the frown on her face appearing.

"You don't have to tell me any more," I said quickly.

"Sorry, I don't wanna get emotional." She looked back at me. "It's just... it's hard not to. You're a good listener."

How should I have felt knowing that was her analysis of me from very little time spent together? She really trusted me. "Blair... I'm sorry about that time in the library. When you mentioned my Grandpa. I feel terrible now."

"Please, don't. You were grieving."

'Was I really though?' I held back from saying.

"I never really had a Dad," I smiled, seeing his stupid smile in my head, "But he was the closest equivalent to that."

"I know what you mean." She began, "My Dad…" she trailed off for a moment, "He wasn't the best. You probably remember that one time I ran away as a kid. When you walked me to my Grandma's."

I wasn't even tense in the first place, but my body felt like it relaxed. "You remember that?"

"Of course I do. It really meant a lot, Brie." Her thumb stroked the back of my neck. I don't know if she did this intentionally or subconsciously. Was she even thinking about it? "That day, I never went back. Ever. My Grandparents took full custody of me, and they became my second parents. The ones I always deserved."

I felt my body relax even more like this was normal. "Blair, I wanna carry on something my Grandpa started."

"What's that?"

"It sounds crazy," I pause, "But he wants me to find a parallel universe."

I paused to take in her reaction. She did look taken aback for a moment. Could you blame her? "Is it even possible?"

"I mean, at first I thought he was a bit out there asking me something like that, on his deathbed and all. But I've been studying really hard, and I think it's achievable."

"That's interesting." She nodded. "So, what are you gonna do at college?"

"Drugs." I giggled before the smile dropped, "OK, not funny. Bad joke."

"I'm laughing, though." She was.

"Um, no. I'm gonna do Astronomy and Space science."

"I didn't know that was a major you could do," Blair replied.

"Me neither. What about you, though? Something in theatre?"

Blair lowered her gaze for a brief moment, "I dunno, Brie. I honestly don't see college as a me-thing. I'm constantly torn between theatre, fashion merchandising, cosmetology, politics..."

"Politics?" I laughed and instantly hoped she didn't take offence to that.

"What?" She smirked. "What's funny?"

"I just…" I paused, feeling my heart skip a beat as a particular memory came back. "This is crazy. I can't believe I remember this. All I can think about right now is the day we met. Remember the first day of elementary? On the bus? I told you I wanted to be a politician when I was older, just 'cause they liked to shout a lot. And you couldn't say the word right."

"Oh fuck, now that you mention it, I do remember." Blair laughed, "That was such a long time ago. We were so little." She looked away as if her mind had transported her to that moment. Did she remember it like I did? Did she remember how she held my hand and told me she was my friend?

And then never sat with me ever again?

My eyes had drifted away, looking over her shoulder at nothing in particular. The bad thoughts were taking over. I didn't want them to. I wanted to enjoy this moment forever. Just swaying back and forth with Blair in the middle of the dance floor.

She stroked her thumb on the back of my neck again, causing a spark to course through me.

Blair's looking at me again. "Brianna, how come we never talked more?"

I don't know if it was just me fantasising again, but her face was moving closer to mine, ever so slowly.

I had the answer to her question. But it couldn't ruin this moment. "I don't know," I whispered.

She was closer now, head tilted to the left.

And I found myself doing the same.

This was another fantasy. This isn't real.

I felt her breath on the corner of my mouth.

It felt real.

It was.

There was a frustrated roar.

A tight fist clenched around my arm.

I was pulled back forcefully.

My feet gave way.

I was on the ground.

"Are you kidding me??" Trevor stood in front of Blair, his face red with anger, "You won't fucking dance with me, but you'll dance with her??"

Everyone around us was just standing there, too shocked to do something.

"Trevor, what the fuck??" Blair went to move around him, trying to get to me. He only pushed her back.

"Of all the people, why her??" He grilled Blair with more questions. She looked afraid now.

Why the fuck wasn't anyone doing anything??

I felt a hand on my shoulder, but looking around, I saw it was actually Rosé. "Trevor, what the fuck??"

He turned to look as if offended that anyone else got involved. How could they not? Seeing her helping me stand must hit a nerve. Because he's snatched a cup of punch from a bystander, "Why are you defending the dyke??" And he threw the cup forward, the liquid drenching my hair and splattering my dress.

That was the final straw. I could feel my chest heaving.

I ran to the nearest exit. Running from the school. As soon as I felt the cool air on my skin, I wrapped my arms around my stomach. I was bent over, throwing up all the panic. Sparks of the bile dotted the bottom of my dress and shoes. I didn't care. My dress was already ruined.

I heard the door open behind me and immediately began to move again.

I tried to run, but the heels made it hard.

The person was in front of me now, hands on my face, tears streaking her face.

I expected it to be Blair.

But it was Jujubee.

"Brie, it's alright. I punched him for you." She whimpered, her hands on either side of my face, holding me tenderly.

My breathing was rugged, trying so hard to listen to her reassuring whispers. But in my head was the sound of the crowd gasping and Trevor shouting.

No one was going to forget about this. I'd be reminded by the stares in the corridors, how they'd whisper to each other.

"Let's go to my house. You can stay over if you want." Jujubee's sweet voice brought me out of my thoughts.

Words still failing to surface, I nodded.

As soon as we got in, she ran me a hot bath. Whilst I cleaned myself of the sticky punch that covered my hair and face, she made chocolate mug cakes with ice cream.

Sitting there in her room, dressed in her fluffy pyjamas, eating her food, I should have felt better. I should have been happy. But I just stared at the mug in my hand, still thinking of Trevor's anger and Blair's distressed face.

Jujubee took the mug from me, set it aside along with her own, and enveloped me in a hug. "Don't cry, Bri. Please, don't cry."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know I was crying." I wept.

"Don't apologise." She shushed me, "It's OK. You're OK."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

2020

And even now, I didn't realise I was crying again. And as it was too late to stop myself, I remembered sobbing into Jujubee's shoulder, holding her tightly, like she was the only one who could get me through it. She was the only one who could get me through it.

The events of the prom left me scared, always so on edge when walking those school corridors. Just terrified that Trevor would round the corner and do something worse.

But Jujubee was there for me every time. She'd hold my hand, not giving a fuck about who looked at us weird.

I know I should have grown a backbone and defended myself, and what had actually happened shouldn't have been as damaging as it was. But, hey, I was only human.

Jujubee got in a lot of trouble for punching Trevor in the face. But she didn't mind. "Just as long as he got what was coming to him," she had said.

Hearing her retell the event, I wish I had been there. She had jumped on him, tackling him to the ground and punched him over and over again.

But as exciting as that all was, I didn't speak to Blair again. I didn't think about her. I didn't talk about her. I didn't even look at her. Blair wasn't the one to come after me that night. She never even approached me to talk about it. She didn't give a fuck.

So I kept my distance.

And just as life went on without her, she just had to go and message me. After years of silence, she couldn't have left well enough alone.

I finally lifted my head. I reached up and grabbed my phone. Turning it back on, I immediately deleted Messenger, hoping to never see Blair's response.

This would be the beginning of my journey toward happiness.

Yeah. That was it. That's what I would do.

[pompadourpink]

When I get depressed I'm overwhelmed and everything becomes too hard. Even brushing my teeth. Any tips?

Ha, I’ve been there!

Identify what’s really important: 

what’s absolutely necessary. Food, water, sleep, oxygen.

what makes you human. Hygiene, human connections, comfort.

what makes you stronger. Nature, working out, hobbies.

When the idea of something seems overwhelming, make it smaller. You’re not going to shower, you’re just going to stand up. Just stand up. And then, you’re just going to walk to the bathroom. Left, right, left, right. And then, etc.

Make things simpler:

You need food, alright. It doesn’t mean you need to spend two hours in the kitchen every day. When it’s really hard, just have a piece of bread and a piece of cheese, and an apple. When it’s a little less hard, make some scrambled eggs (takes two minutes) and warm up some soup. When it’s almost okay, cut up some vegetables, throw them in boiling water, have some yogurt.

You need water. Have a couple glass bottles in your place, and fill them up every morning. One in the bedroom, one in the living room. You just need to chug some when you get thirsty and try emptying them by night. Easy peasy.

You need sleep. Be in bed by midnight, no matter how you feel. Curtains drawn, no phone, no computer, no tablet. Read, or journal, or file your nails. Have your alarm ring around eight, and actually get up. Even if it’s to go sit on the couch. (I genuinely recommend you journal daily, that way you get to see your progress first hand and notice when something’s up.)

You need oxygen - fresh air. Right before you get on the couch, open the windows, even for five minutes. Poke your head outside. Listen. Look around. Watch people walking their dogs and parents carrying kids. Breathe, even if it stinks, or if it’s cold. It’s a clue that the world hasn’t stopped turning. 

This is what you have to do, every day. Remember that anything worth doing is worth doing poorly. If you had just one glass of water, even half of a glass, it’s still better than zero. You still did something. 

-

Now that you’ve survived, you might want to feel like an actual human being rather than some kind of swamp demon. This I got from Primo Levi’s If this is a man. He was a Jewish resistant and thrown into Auschwitz. At first, he is strong, hopes for the best, and then one day, as the men are being brought to the bathrooms, he gives up. Not doing that today.

Because, at this point, why bother? 

A cellmate sees him and frowns. You need to shower, he says, because that’s the last thing we have that separates us from beasts. They’ve taken everything away but that. So you get it together and take your shower. And he does.

‘…we still possess one power (…) - the power to refuse our consent.’

Brush your teeth and wash your hands at least once a day. If it’s too hard at night, use mouthwash and scrape your tongue. Wash your hair twice a week, even if you’re not going anywhere. Take showers as often as you can. If it’s too hard, too cold, too much effort, just take off your pants, step inside, and wash one half of your body. Maybe you can do the other half tomorrow. You don’t even have to step inside, you can also stand on the carpet, stick your leg in there and use a wet soapy cloth. To stay on the subject of hygiene, vacuum your place and change your sheets once a week. Change your underwear every day. Get the trash out when it’s full. That’s all. But do it.

Call or text someone you love. Reach out to an old friend. Send a DM to a tumblrian whose blog you really like. Loneliness is a poison and will try to make you think that people don’t want you around when really you were the one to push them away. Resist to that thought and reach out.

Take a moment to stretch every day, even if it’s five minutes, or two, or one. Your body is a machine, and machines need to be maintained. Make zeros with your neck and your shoulders, wrists, and ankles. Do the child’s pose to help your lower back.

-

Now, finally, let’s see what makes you stronger.

Try, at least once a week, even if it’s for ten minutes, to go outside. Put some music on, open the windows, get your coat on, and get out. Walk around the block. Look around, empty your mind, just focus on your steps. Left, right, left, right, and that’s all. Try finding a park, a lake, woods, the sea, flowers, whatever you can reach by foot. Sit down and look at the leaves, the waves, the runners, the dogs. You need to remember that the rest of the world is waiting for you to be ready to open your arms and embrace it again. Even if it’s for five minutes.

Finally, do what you like, what’s comforting. Draw, write a fanfiction, do your hair, make a beaded bracelet, watch Scooby-doo, have a piece of cheesecake while watching the Golden girls, dance with your pets, listen to Hozier. I’m mentioning the beaded bracelet and Scooby-doo specifically because your childhood most likely will inspire you peacefulness. Do kids stuff if that helps. No one is going to judge you. They just want you to feel something again.

-

I’ll give you one last tip that is super useful to me: surround yourself with positivity. Watch wholesome stuff online, feel-good movies, compilations of people getting reunited or pregnancy announcements, of dogs being silly, of cockatiels screeching, follow artists and museums on social media. 

My dad calls me and tells me childhood stories when he knows I’m not well. My landlord sends me a text once in a while when he happens to listen to Chopin or Satie because of one evening last year where he came to fix a light and then we talked about classical music for a couple of hours. All it took was me telling them. Find good people, let them know what makes you happy, and they’ll quietly feed it to you when you need it most. 

And, also, unfollow what makes you feel like shit. Whiny friends on Facebook, photoshopped models on Instagram, political trolls on Twitter, revenge subreddits on Reddit. You don’t need more negativity.

Love,

Mum

[forasecondtherewedwon]

I can I please get 22 and 20 for falice (this sounds like I'm ordering food from a drive thru)

It does indeed.

22. “That’s irrational.”

AND

20. “Just admit I’mright.”

For F.P., the puzzle had become less about trying to fit the pieces togetherand more about seeing how many he could flip into the empty chip bowl. WhenAlice had called earlier and told him in bedroom tones that she was bringingthem something fun for the evening, he’d thought handcuffs. Or maybe some sort of exciting lingerie she’d haveconcealed under a trench coat. Those fell into the category of ‘fun.’ A1000-piece puzzle of the 20th century’s 100 greatest novel coversmost definitely did not.

Another toss, another piece in the bowl.

“Quit it,” Alice snarled at him, elbows on the table and hands yanking backher hair as she stared at the partially-completed puzzle.

“I’m bored.”

“You could help.”

“I’m bored because I was helping.”

“Even then you weren’t helping,” Alice complained, digging the pieces he’dartfully discarded out of the bowl. “I’d rather not have this puzzle smellinglike Doritos forever.”

“You won’t have to smell it if you throw it in the trash where it belongs,”F.P. suggested, snatching another handful of pieces off the table and scrapinghis chair around so he could start flicking them backwards over his shoulder. Alittle variety.

Alice scoffed.

“It’s beautiful,” she argued,“it’s just… complicated.”

F.P. leaned back into her, making Alice’s arm slip as she moved to secure apiece.

“I’ve been saying that about you my whole life.”

“You know,” she said humourlessly, “I think you get funnier in the weehours. That explains why you’re so intolerable all day long.”

He grinned, unfazed by her insult. Taking pot-shots at each other was theirequivalent of cuddling.

“A lot of things about me can be more enjoyable in the middle of the night,”F.P. said lowly, trying to burrow his face into her neck. “Of course, I’drather be waking up to do them then staying up all night.”

He drew back and yawned loudly.

“What time is it anyway?”

“3:30, last I checked.”

“Fuck.”

“Oh, come on,” Alice baited him. “The former Serpent King is going to bedefeated by a thousand little pieces of cardboard?”

“’Course not. But maybe I’ll just―” he yawned again as he rose from hischair, “―go lie on the couch for a while and consider the puzzle from adistance.”

“I don’t think so.” Alice grabbed him by the waist of his jeans and yankedhim back to the table.

“Careful, Al,” F.P. warned. “You might actually turn me on after all thistorture.”

“Just give it another look, would you?” she pleaded. He could see thefatigue around her eyes and so, very reluctantly, swung his gaze back to thepuzzle.

“Jesus, this thing gives me an instant migraine.”

F.P. smoothed a thumb over Moby-Dickand A Passage to India, thinking―aswell as he could think when it was approaching four in the morning. Suddenly,an idea.

“We gotta turn the whole thing over. Get up,” he instructed, pulling atAlice’s shoulders.

“What? We can’t do that! That’s irrational! The pieces don’t interlocktightly enough and―”

Grabbing one edge, F.P. flipped the entire thing like the world’s crumbliestpancake. And yes, many pieces did fall out, but now the image was brown, wonderfulbrown! Flat, colourless, imageless cardboard backing.

“Just admit I’m right,” he counselled.

“If this doesn’t work, I’m going to murder you,” she said, staring in horrorat the remnants of their evening, night, and early hours of effort. “Call this fairwarning.”

“Shovel’s in the closet with the broom and the spare batteries if you haveto bury my body,” he muttered, beginning to collect pieces and lay them outacross his palm. “Get some quicklime, but don’t buy it in Riverdale. And don’ttake your usual route home.”

F.P. spied orange dust on a couple of pieces and covertly swiped it away.

“I was right,” Alice declared, “you do get funnier when you’re slightlydelirious.”

“Oh what fun we’ve had,” he emotionlessly replied, screwing a knuckle intoone of his bleary eyeballs.

Around an hour and a half later, their sand-coloured masterpiece wascomplete. F.P. would’ve promptly dropped his arm to the table and swept thewhole thing off the edge if Alice hadn’t been standing there with him lookingso exhausted.

“Go rest for a while. The sun’s not even up yet,” he told her, kissing hermouth gently and repeatedly.

“Come on then.” Alice grabbed his hand, her grip loose.

“Nah, I’m going to stay up. One of us needs to be awake to make sure you gethome by 7:30.”

He released her hand and watched it flop against her thigh. He sighed. Thosethighs. Those damn, jean-covered thighs. Stupid fucking puzzle.

“When will you sleep?”

“After you head out. Jughead’s always late getting home when he stays overat Archie’s. Fred won’t send him packing until he’s had lunch there. There willbe plenty of time for me to sleep.”

“If you’re sure.”

Alice hated to give in to anything, F.P. knew, but her eyelids kept plunginglike sinking ships. He could stay awake a little longer if it meant knowing shewas safe in his bed and not driving home totally wiped out.

She paused on her staggering way towards his bedroom.

“What are we going to tell the kids? Betty will never accept that Iwas here twelve hours doing a puzzle.”

“Maybe she’ll still be sleeping when you get in and you can pretend like youcame home earlier.”

They caught each other’s eye.

“Yeah right,” Alice said, making F.P. snort out a laugh. “She’ll be up. Thatgirl is a whirlwind of activity; you remember what I was like at her age.”

“Sure. You didn’t have the hobbies of an 80-year-old.”

Alice smiled the sleepy smile that was one of his favourites on her.

“Seriously though, what do we say?”

F.P. scratched his fingers through his hair.

“I guess… we tell them we had sex. They’ll never believe anything else.”

“Somehow, that is not one of the lies I ever thought we’d tell ourchildren.”

He grinned.

“Right. Next time, less interesting lie, more interesting activity.”

Alice walked back to him, letting F.P.’s slightly sluggish arms catch herweight as she sagged into his chest.

“Promise,” she said, kissing his heart over his t-shirt.

[jaz-rites]

Trash Prince Ch 2 - Collateral (Part 2)

Welcome back! I hope you're having fun reading Trash Prince. Here's the rest of Chapter 2 - Collateral. Enjoy!

Here's a link to read from the beginning

Here's a link to the previous part

-----

Riley's heart sank a little. "What more could he possibly offer?" she asked, in a whisper. The words felt small, and smaller still as the spirit of the Land turned to face her, her watery grip dripping away. The entire pillar of spring sank back into her riverbed, splitting open for a woman to step out onto the banks toward Riley. Her long, decorated locs covered her breasts, a trailing skirt of leaves and floral grasses around her hips. Melissa stood slightly behind Riley, her head modestly bowed.

The spirit of the Land leaned down, her arms out, and embraced Riley in a hug so tender she wanted to weep. She returned the hug, resting her head against her Mother's thrumming heart.

"Young Weaver, it's such a treat to see you here." She released Riley slowly, to turn and hug Melissa as well. "And Elder Fox? What a gift." The Land spirit stood tall, and her face became more serious. "Are you here to vouch for this man?"

Melissa placed a hand on Riley's shoulder. "I'm only here to vouch for her."

"And you, Weaver?"

Riley's eyes flicked to Andrius, who looked upon their exchange with an expression she didn't recognize. She took a deep breath, steeling her will.

"What are you, right now, without the rest?" she asked him.

His lips parted to speak, then closed. "Um... what?"

"Just answer!"

"Right now, I suppose I'm just a compass."

"...And what would you be whole?" she continued.

Andrius studied her from afar, in silence. Riley folded her arms, her brows sinking low. Finally, he answered, "That remains to be determined."

Riley returned her attention to the spirit of the Land. "Uhh, can I vouch for just this piece?"

A hundred thousand laughs bubbled from her. "Oh, my sweet, bright child," her warm palm cupped Riley's cheek, "no."

The young witch sighed. "So what's in it for me, Prince?"

"Name your price." he rumbled.

She thought for a moment. "You have to give the Land back to herself, all of her. And stop trying to 'own' her or 'tame' her or 'civilize' her, or whatever you think you can do to control her. She's not yours to exploit, she never was."

"That's not necessarily something I can offer on my own."

"That's my price."

Andrius looked away for a moment, pondering. With a resigned sigh, he met her gaze once more. "Consider it done."

"Fine." Riley faced the Land. "I'll take responsibility for him."

The Land smiled, the stars shining in her dark eyes. "Well, then, Butcher's Son, I suppose I could grant you a small Favor. But, what you need isn't something I alone can grant."

As though spilling down from the sky, a giant black wolf formed into the space, all light seeming to bend around its silhouette, save for a single bright star on its forehead. The Land stroked the wolf's voidlike fur as a welcome and it leaned against her side, her skirt of foliage withering on contact. Riley shivered at the sight of it, feeling as though she couldn't look directly at it or else she'd be pulled in. Even Melissa seemed off-put.

"But I can help." the wolf said in a voice that left empty space where it tread as a silence that was felt instead of heard. "What is this, three bargains at once? You must be serious, Child King."

"Deadly." Andrius's eyes narrowed. "Good to see you again, though I won't be going with you this time, either."

Ubiquitous wheezing laughter scraped like claws against the inside of their skulls. "I already like you. I will help! I get you all at the End, anyway, and our bargain has already been struck. I want to know, however," the spirit of Death moved silently to sniff Riley's hand. She felt the breath in her lungs whisk away.

"What will you give me as collateral, to ensure you stay motivated to succeed?"

Riley's voice had run away, her thoughts with it, undiluted fear taking their place.

"Her deal is with me," Andrius spoke up.

The wolf whirled on him, snarling, and pinned him to the ground with one paw. "And your deal is with me, boy, and she has vouched for you, which means I can collect a prize from her as well, should you fail." The spirit of Death snapped, then released the Prince to turn its full attention back to Riley. "Now, what could you lose? Your connection with the Land, perhaps?"

"Not a chance, dog." the Land growled.

"Fine, fine. Something else, then. What about one of your senses? You've got those to spare, don't you?"

"One of my senses?"

"Oh, you're right, that's much too low! How about we just make it an even trade? A soul for a soul. A piece for a piece."

Riley looked to Melissa for some type of reassurance, or guidance, or validation, something, but her elder's eyes were closed in prayer. It would be her own decision.

She brought her awareness inward, remembering Oskar, Matilda, Grim, and everyone asleep at camp, including herself. Her connection to the Land held her steady. "What does that mean for each of us?" She chose each word carefully.

"Well, your Mom and I set ya boy here up with a soul, just a temp, while he picks up all his little pieces. If he can get them all before his battery runs out, then the Land gets to do whatever she wants with him, as per their agreement, and you get to stay hers as well, I suppose. If he fails, I get him and all he's responsible for, as per our agreement, and I would get you too since you vouched for him! Your Voucher gets to live out her days knowing you all agreed to this. All I'm asking from you in the meantime, is some of your power, as a placeholder for the power I'm lending him to be able to go around like that. Just a little taste of what you could lose." The spirit of Death paced as it delivered its terms.

"Or what you could gain," the Land finally met her eyes, just for a moment.

"How long does the battery last?" Andrius asked.

"It'll give you 30 suns, if you're careful."

The spirit of Death cackled. "How generous! So, little Weaver, you've heard enough. Will you still vouch for Andrius to earn this favor?"

Riley breathed, weighing her options as two handfuls of sand. "Sure, yeah, those terms seem fair."

"Riley!" Melissa gasped.

"I believe we have an agreement." Deadly sat. "And I'm taking the collateral first."

-----

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[transitverse]

Eggshells: Chapter 5

WORDS: 2192 CHAPTERS: 5/9 CHARACTERS: Aubrey, Kaveh CONTENT WARNINGS: A little bit of weird eye stuff

Aubrey opens up... again. Kaveh is definitely not concerned at all.

Soundtrack: Twelve - tide/edit

It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that Aubrey is awake when you get up for work a few hours later--she did spend most of yesterday asleep, after all--but it does, a little bit. You almost forgot she was there, which means you jump when you open the living room door and find her sitting straight up, staring at the opposite wall.

“Jesus-- Hey.” Trying to look like you didn’t nearly just throw coffee on the floor, you wait until she turns to you, which takes a couple of seconds. “You’re up early.”

 “I’m always up early.” 

“Right. How are you feeling? Did you sleep okay in the end?”

She shrugs. “Yeah. I’m… fine.” This time, you decide not to question it.

“Good. Did you, uh-- Do you want a drink, or something to eat?”

“...Coffee would be nice.”

“Sure.” You zip back to the kitchen to pour a second mug for her and return to the living room, where you sit beside her with your own. She cradles the cup in her hands with her legs pulled right up to her chest. It strikes you as odd, initially, given yesterday’s admission about her lack of taste, but perhaps it’s just as much for her other senses as it would be for that. Going through the motions, the scent, the warmth, even if she can't taste it. It’s something to focus on.

“Are you gonna be okay on your own today?” you ask, taking a sip of your own drink. “You can always call me or something, if you need to.”

“...Yeah.” She nods without looking up from her coffee. “I won’t… trash the place, or  do anything stupid.”

You find yourself chuckling. “Good. I trust you. If you want anything from the store, I can swing by and pick it up on my way home later, so let me know.”

“What if something happens to you at work?”

The question takes a second to sink in.

“It won’t,” you say, once you’ve processed it. “I’ll be fine. It’s a low-risk job in broad daylight.”

“What if it does? And then I’m stuck here, on my own, after they said I shouldn’t be doing a lot, and--then you’re hurt, too--”

“Aubrey, Aubrey, Aubrey.” You reach over, pat her on the shoulder. She stops dead and stares at you. “Don’t freak out. It’ll be fine, okay?” you insist, squeezing her shoulder for emphasis. “Nothing’s gonna happen to me. And if it does, I know people who we can fall back on, who can come and help you out. It’s okay.”

She looks skeptical, but after a second, she sighs, nods, and relaxes back against the couch.

“Okay. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry. I get why you’re worried. I can check in with you over the course of the day, if it’ll help.”

“...Yeah. It would.”

“Sure. Okay. I’ll let you know when I’m off for lunch, or something, and whenever else I have a spare minute.” You’re already knocking back the last of your coffee at this point, and rising to your feet for a refill. “Alright, I’m hungry. Are you gonna eat now, too?”

She nods and follows you out into the kitchen.

Breakfast is quiet, but comfortable: you, flipping eggs in a pan; Aubrey, slowly pulling apart a meal bar in between sips of coffee; the radio on, but turned down low to provide some background noise without disturbing the peace. It's nice, actually, having the company. It's been a little while since you had a roommate, and Aubrey is content to just exist alongside you as you go about your usual morning routine. 

You point a few things out to her before you leave--how the coffee machine works, where you keep the tea, how to work the electronics manually if she can't tap into them. Knowing she has no need to use most of the kitchen is a weight off both your minds, you think. No risk of her accidentally setting anything on fire, unless she does something truly, astonishingly, spectacularly wrong mixing a fucking protein shake.

You keep your promise, and ping her a message every few hours or so, just to let her know you're still on your feet. You don't get a whole lot in response, but then, you don't really need to. She just needs reassurance that you're doing okay; you just need to know that she isn't in a panic.

(When you leave that evening, you consider picking up the pamphlets on psychiatric support for her, but decide against it. You said yourself that she doesn't have to think about coming back to work for a few weeks yet. It's too soon after her clash with the infirmary staff. She’ll get there. One thing at a time.)

***

You arrive home to find Aubrey in place on the couch, TV on, empty Soylent cup beside her. You notice, now, how much better she really looks since she left medical; hair washed, fresh clothes on, the bags under her eyes noticeably faded.

"Hey." You shrug your coat off, hang it up, and lean in through the doorway. "How are you doing?"

“Not bad,” she answers, smiling slightly as she cocks her head at you. “Better here than in a hospital bed.”

“Looks like.” You return the smile as you pull your shoes off. “Your side’s not giving you grief?”

She shrugs. “Not really. It’s fine.”

“Cool. Hey, I’m starving, so I’m gonna go make a start on dinner. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

You make yourself busy in the kitchen, and Aubrey joins you a few minutes later, bundled up in her blankets again.

"Do you mind if I watch?"

"Sure," you answer, nodding towards the dining table. "Pull up a chair, if you want." She does, and plops herself down beside you, watching--contentedly?--while you chop onions and garlic.

"You know, I ate an onion raw for ten nuyen one time."

"Seriously?" You laugh and look over at her. "I mean, I guess not being able to taste anything has its perks, huh?"

"Yeah. Helps when you've only got one set of working tear ducts, too." Your eyes linger on the cybernetic in her left eye socket. Your curiosity just keeps on getting the better of you.

"So… can I ask you about that eye?" you venture. "I mean, I know the deal with cybernetics, obviously, but…"

"You've never seen one like this?"

"Most people tend to go for something… subtle. Or cosmetic." Hers is certainly not the former, and judging by the distinctive scarring and--as far as you've been able to tell--lack of an eyelid, it's safe to say it's not the latter, either, unless she’s a woman of unusual tastes.

"Yeah. Well." Aubrey looks off at the wall for a moment, and you're concerned you've pushed the conversation too far until she turns back to you. "This is… It does other stuff.”

"What kind of other stuff? "

"Can I show you something? Promise you won't get grossed out?"

"O... kay?" Before you can ask any more questions, her left eye has popped clean out of the socket and zips around her in a loop, coming to a stop in mid-air a foot or two away from her.

"It's a drone," she explains, as you stare at the thing (and do your best not to stare at the empty eye socket; you catch the glint of light on metal on the interior and that’s plenty enough for you). "It works as an eye, does all the stuff you'd probably expect from a fancy cybereye, but I can pilot it around like any other drone, too."

"Doesn't that feel weird? Popping it in and out like that?”

She shrugs. "I don’t feel much around there at all. You get used to it. I used to feel sick seeing two places at once, but you get used to that, too." Well, you don’t know what the fuck to make of this. Your best guess had been that it was an archaic piece that was all she could access or afford, but it seems you were very sorely mistaken. For a drone, it’s tiny, and completely silent, on top of lacking any visible method of propulsion. This is not something she picked off the shelf at any old clinic.

"Where did you get that thing? Something like that can’t come cheap."

Aubrey looks down and sucks on her lip, as the drone slots itself back into place in her eye socket.

"I was moving with some bad people, before I got this job," she says, eventually. "I had to do some shitty things, and I had some shitty things done to me. I had to… make some sacrifices to survive in that world."

"Is that why you…" You nod vaguely in her direction. "With the arms, too?"

"...Yeah." It takes her a moment, but she nods slowly. "Look, I don't… want to get into it."

"Right. Of course." You hardly register what you're doing as you scrape the ingredients into the pan and push them around. She's said so little, but revealed so much. "I'm… sorry that you had to go through that."

She's silent, at first. Then:

"Thanks," she says, quietly. She props one arm up on the counter and leans her head against it. You glance at her, out of the corner of your eye, and you swear you see a tear roll down her cheek.

But you can't be sure. You're not looking properly. You shouldn't comment. You turn your attention back to cooking and start chopping chillies instead.

"How'd you find this job, anyway?" you ask, taking the initiative to set the conversation back on a more positive course. "It's a big leap, to go from… what, gangs--?" (You look at her, and she nods) "--from gangs to working private security overnight."

"A friend tipped me off that you were hiring, and…" She trails off and shrugs her left shoulder slightly, her gaze darting from you to the floor and back again. "Can I tell you something?"

"What?" Because that doesn't sound like this is about to get sketchy at all.

"They… called in a favour for me. They got my application in front of the right people, and… I don't know. If they did anything else, they didn't tell me. All I know is I passed through all the interview stages, and here I am."

"Aubrey…"

"I needed this job, okay?" She spits the words out with unexpected aggression, her expression suddenly sour. "You know where I'd be without this? Hanging out at some shitty, crusty bar, doing a ton of Bull and beating people around in the parking lot for fun, waiting for someone to drag me away to start gunning people down. Nobody ever treated me like a person. I don't want that. I don't ever want to go back to that."

Her voice cracks at the end, and you realise too late that your attempt at fixing the conversation has gone awry. Shit.

"Aubrey, no, I don't…" You sigh, go to pinch the bridge of your nose, remember you were just touching chillies and think better of letting your hands get so close to your eyes at the last second. "It's not-- I'm just--"

"Don't tell anyone." You glance down, and now her eyes are wide with the same primal fear you saw when she was threatened with an extended hospital stay. "Please. I don't wanna get in trouble. I need this."

"I won't, I won't. It's okay. You're not in trouble." You exhale hard and stare down at the chillies, like they might hold all the answers to the situation you find yourself in. They don't, and after a few seconds, you flick them into the pan.

"I guess there's nothing to be done about it now. I mean, I think you really are a solid candidate, regardless. You're good at what you do. And I'm glad it got you out of a bad situation. Nobody deserves to be stuck somewhere like that forever."

"So you won't--you won't tell, or--"

"Nobody else has to know," you assure her. "It's irrelevant now. You're here, you can do what the job asks of you, and you can do it well. Not everyone can keep a grown man pinned when they've got a bullet lodged in their gut."

You can see the fear fall away as she slumps against the counter again.

"I don't want to lose this."

"You won't. It's okay. I wouldn't… do anything that I thought would endanger you like that." You don’t know where you’d even take this, anyway, if she has someone on the inside vying for her. But you have no reason to chase it up, beyond rules-for-rules’-sake; nor do you have it in your heart when you look at her. Her intense fear every time she thinks her job is under threat is making more and more sense, and she’s completely won you over.

She’s trying to do better. She’s trying to break the cycle. And you would be a terrible, terrible person to sabotage that.