#don't treat a twelve year old like how you would a thirty year old.

[sunsetsmakemesad]

Hey ok adultifying brown children is racism. Treating children of colour like adults is racism. Treating Palestinians differently from white people is racism.

[scary-event2369]

Yandere CEO (One-Shot)

This one takes just a bit longer to get to the spicy scenes, but you get to see him in a more “dere” form before the “yan”. Word Count: 2560

Warning: Not proof read, very shitty writing ahead. (wrote this in one sitting again)

Content: Fem Body Reader (No gendered/pronouns used), age-gap (yan is 36 reader is 24), public sex, dub-con, minor hair pulling, breeding mention at the end, the yan is just a tiny bit aggressive

—

“Let me take you out for dinner,” my boss said, leaning on my desk looking down at me. His casually rolled up sleeves revealed well-defined, muscular arms. I greedily looked at them, trying not to be too obvious. Prying my eyes from his arms and my work, I looked up at him. His beautiful dark brown eyes met mine. The CEO, Daniel Li,  was the head of the largest security and protection company. He was extremely rich and extremely good looking. With his tall stature, sun-kissed complexion, an enchanting, pearly-white smile, and full lips, he exuded charisma. He was twelve years older than me, but it didn’t show in the slightest. He had that mature older look to him, but to think he was thirty-six years old was off to say the least.

“Why? What’s the special occasion?” I asked him slightly confused. I was trying to think if I missed any big sales he did, but nothing was coming to mind. “It’s been one year since you’ve became my secretary,” He said, still looking at me with those dark chocolate eyes of his. “We must celebrate.”

“Has it really been a year?” I asked him, a little bit amazed by how quickly time passed. “It feels like just yesterday you showed me my office,” I laughed a bit.

His gaze softened a bit as he kept looking at me, “Yes, already a year,” he said gently. “Please let me treat you to dinner.” I thought about it for a second. I really had nothing to do at afterwork, and I wasn’t in the mood to cook anything… 

"Sure, why not? I'm up for it," I replied. His eyes brightened, and he said, "Fantastic! I'll pick you up at seven. Make sure to dress fancy.” Dress fancy? Was working here for a year really that much of a special occasion? I thought. However, I kept this to myself and simply nodded, glancing at the clock. It was nearly five o'clock, almost time for me to sign out. “That sounds good,” I told him as I began to gather my things, “Are you going to tell me the restaurant or will this be one of your many secrets?” I joked He let out a deep chuckle, “You know me so well! It will be a secret for now, but trust me you’ll enjoy it.”

—

We arrived at the restaurant,and describing it as fancy would be the understatement of the century. It was easily the most elegant, posh looking place in town. I did as he said and chose the fanciest outfit I had, but I still felt underdressed. "Mr. Li," I uttered, my eyes widening as I took in the breathtaking building. "I know I said it was okay that you’re taking me out for dinner, but this place is just too… extravagant." Turning towards him, I realized that he was already fixed on me. His attire, usually professional, had been elevated to a whole new level. “Trust me my little assistant, you deserve this,” he said, parking the car. He quickly got out and went over to open the door for me, offering his hand. "You're truly the best assistant I've ever had, and it's only right to treat you to something extraordinary."

I sighed, knowing that once he set his mind to something, he was set. "Alright... but don't let this become a habit. I might get spoiled," I quipped, accepting his hand as I stepped out of his sleek black Aston Martin.

He gently squeezed my hand as he guided me toward the entrance. I could have sworn I heard him murmur, "I want to spoil you," but I might have been mistaken.

Then again, maybe I wasn't wrong at all.

The moment we stepped inside, I was completely overwhelmed. I’ve been to fancy restaurants for business purposes but this was a whole different level.  I wasn’t even listening to her as I was just so caught up by the interior before me.

Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting prismatic light across the room. Soft yet elegant classical music was playing throughout the building, it was mixed with the soft hum of conversations. The carpet beneath our feet exuded a deep, almost regal shade of blue, complementing the chairs that appeared to be very comfortable.

"Are you alright?" Daniel's concerned voice pulled me from my entranced state. I hadn't even noticed the hostess gesturing towards our table. My cheeks flushed as I replied, "Yes! I'm sorry."

His laughter accompanied us as we followed her to our table. Only when we were seated did I realize that we were still holding hands. I quickly let go. “I can’t be holding hands with my boss!  This is strictly professional!” I screamed at myself internally.

Daniel's expression dropped, his eyes revealing a hint of disappointment the moment our hands stopped touching. However, the hostess, who presented us with menus, diverted our attention.

“What do you think you’re going to get?” He asked, his disappointed look gone as he was going through the menu. It was hard, everything seemed so good it was seemingly impossible. “I don’t know, there are so many good choices,” I said, analyzing every single item listed. I glanced at the price tag and felt my heart drop out of my ass. “Everything here is so expensive! I really would feel bad if you paid it all.” He chuckled, his response laced with warmth and sincerity. "Don't worry about the price. I'll gladly treat you to whatever you want."

I was about to protest when our waiter approached. He appeared to be of a similar age to me and had a charming, welcoming smile. "Hello. I'm Zach. I'll be your waiter for this evening. May I start you off with any drinks?" I returned his smile, saying, "I'll just have water, thank you." Zach jotted it down and then turned his attention to Daniel, as did I. His blissful looking attitude was long gone, he had that cold and somewhat annoyed look as he glared at the waiter. “Water,” he said coldly. The waiter nodded, casting a wary glance in my direction, likely due to Mr. Li's intense stare. "I'll be back with your waters shortly," he said before walking off quickly.

I turned my attention to my boss who had a displeased look on his face, “Are you alright?” I asked him, my voice laced with concern. This seemed to be enough because  his face brightened up again. “Yes! I am fine, my little assistant.” I chuckled softly at his sudden change of mood, “That’s good! I thought I did something to displease you.” He quickly shook his head, “No! You could never do anything to displease me,” he said swiftly, yet sincerely.

Playfully rolling my eyes, I returned to looking at the menu. "Yeah, sure." Mr. Li chuckled, his eyes still fixed on me. "I really mean it. You're the most perfect person I've ever met. You're the only one who's ever met my standards." His compliment made my cheeks flush even more. "I-uh, well, thank you, sir." He was still smiling at me, “You can just call me-” Before he could finish his sentence, the waiter returned with our drinks, and my boss's mood soured instantly. “Here you guys go. Are you ready to order?” He asked, looking between us again. "I'll have the Steak au Poivre, medium rare," Mr. Li replied with an almost eager tone, as if wishing the waiter away. “Oh! I’ll have that also,” I told the waiter as I handed him my menu. He smiled at me and our hands brushed as he collected the menus. "That's a great choice; you'll love it," he said, still gazing at me as he walked away. I turned to Daniel, who appeared even more pissed than before. "He seems nice," I mentioned, taking a sip of water. This darkened his expression further. "Do you like him?" he asked, his voice low and threatening. Confusion overcame me as I met his intense gaze. "Uh, I guess so? He seems like a good waiter," I responded hesitantly. This was clearly not a good answer because, suddenly, he took my hand and basically dragged me to the male’s bathroom.

He quickly brought me into a stall, trapping me between the door and him with his big arms. He was glaring at me, his breathing heavy. “S-Sir?” I stammer out confused. He quickly shut me up by pressing his lips against mine in a  deep aggressive manner. He nipped at my bottom lip, causing me to let out a surprised yelp. This made it the perfect time for him to push his tongue in my mouth, wrapping it against mine. I groaned at the sensation, only then did he pull away, our swollen lips and the trail of saliva connecting our lips being the only thing. I was going to say something before he grabbed my cheeks, squishing them. “You’re good at riling me up,” he said, his tone deep and smokey. His breath was rigged as he peered deeply into my eyes, “The way you looked and talked at that guy… it seems you want to make me jealous.” I was confused, riling him up? “Sir, I don’t know-” he cut me off by connecting our lips again in another long and possessive kiss. My hands went to his chest clutching his jacket as he continued the kiss. I didn’t know if I wanted to pull him closer or push him away. After a moment or two he pulled away again. “You’re pretty eyes should only look at me. I must be the only one who you pay attention to,” his voice was still dark and stern.

He let go of my cheeks, trailing his hands down my sides. I shiver at his gentle yet aggressive touch. He bent down, pushing his face deep into my neck. “You’re intoxicating,” he murmured as he started to kiss my neck. “Sir, I don’t think-” he bit my neck causing me to stop and let out a small yelp. “Don’t call me sir,” he demanded, his voice was commanding “Say my name… call me Daniel,” he continued to pepper my neck with kisses and nibbles. My hands went from his chest to his dark hair, running my hands through it, completely messing up the put together look he had. “Daniel,” I whispered out, trying to hold back the moans. I felt him smirk against my neck as he pulled back, turning me around. “Put your hands on the door,” he commanded. I did just that and lifted up my dress, pushing my panties aside. “Good job,” he whispered in my ear, his hand gently caressing my ass before gently going up and down my soaking folds. “You’re so wet, just from my kisses?” he laughed momentarily. He then paused for a moment before he smacked my ass hard, causing me to whimper and my knees to weaken momentarily. “Unless it’s from that waiter… Did he make you this wet from a smile?” His tone filled with anger and jealousy. I shook my head, “N-no of course not,” I said breathlessly. He grabbed a handful of my hair as he inserted two digits into my greedy hole. “Better not be, because this body, this pussy is mine,” his tone was aggressive as he started to move his fingers hard. My knees weakened more as I let out loud moans. The empty bathroom filled with the noises coming from both lips. It echoed making the whole thing more embarrassing, yet exciting. “I can't take it anymore,” he growled as he took his fingers out of me, to unzip his pants. His shaft was twitching, rubbing against my entrance. “D-Daniel wait,” I whimpered, we needed to think about this! He was my boss and I was his secretary. This would never work. He didn’t care though, he shoved his manhood inside me. I let out a long and loud moan, he let out a couple grunts as well. “Shit, you’re tighter than I expected.” He gave me a moment to adjust to his size before he started moving.

He started off as slow, warming me up to the sensation of him being deep inside me, however it didn’t take him long to be ramming into me, hitting places I didn’t think was possible. I was moaning loudly from the pleasure, “What if someone comes in?” I managed to ask between the pleasure I was feeling. He laughed as his hands were on my hips, holding me in place as he thrusted over and over again. “If someone came in and saw you like this, I would strangle them with my bare hands.’ He kissed the back of my shoulder, “Only I'm allowed to see you like this.” I blushed, it was a bit scary since I knew he meant it, yet it turned me on more. “You clenched around me more when I said that!” he laughed between groans as he sunk his cock deeper into me. The force he was going at his balls smacked against my sensitive clit causing me to whimper and moan more. It didn’t help he kept pleasuring my g-spot, it was obvious he was skilled in what he was doing.

The force at what we were doing caused the stall door to open, luckily he was holding me so I didn’t fall. Instead of closing the door and continuing, he brought me to the sink. I put my hands on the cold porcelain. “What are you doing?” I moaned out as he started to pick up the pace. “Look in the mirror,” he demanded. I shook my head, too embarrassed to do so. He grabbed a chunk of my hair, forcing me to look in the mirror. “Look at yourself as I fuck you.” The expression I held was one of pure pleasure, my eyes were droopy, and my lips were parted open. He smiled as he could tell I made eye contact with myself, “You’re so fucking hot.” I closed my eyes as I felt the pressure building up, I wouldn’t be able to take much more. Daniel let go of my hair to grab my cheeks again, forcing my head up and my eyes open to look in the mirror once more. This time I got to look at his face, he was smiling, it was clear he was feeling just as good as I was. “Come on, look in the mirror as you come over my dick,” he growled, kissing my cheek. I moaned as I looked in the mirror, finally releasing all over his cock causing my knees to buckle and lean onto the counter more. My walls pulsated around him, causing him to come soon also. The thick white liquid reached me deeply. It seemed like he didn’t want to pull out. “You would look so pretty swollen with my kid,” he muttered as he slowly pulled himself out, kissing the back of my head. He fixed my panties before the mixture of our juices could leak out onto the floor. I was still panting as I looked in the mirror once more, meeting his gaze. He smiled at me, clearly happy and not in a mood like before. “Let’s go, we don’t want our dinner to get cold.” 

[eldragon-x]

Okay let's talk about how actually Bill is attached to Ford and genuinely sees him as a friend and maybe even likes him more than literally anyone else which was originally going to mainly revolve around Weirdmageddon, however I absolutely needed to add creator commentary and extra-canon in order to dig into Bill's mentality.

First, I'd like to point out this comment by Hirsch from the Sock Opera DVD commentary about how Bill views Mabel:

“Bill genuinely believes that Mabel’s kinda like him. He sees Mabel as a chaos agent. Like, Mabel has got a little bit of a seed of anarchy in her, she’s a little bit selfish, she likes to have fun at whatever cost. And Bill is all those things times a billion. So he thinks when he lays it all out for her like: ‘How about instead of being lame, you do something fun! And crush whoever you want in the process!’. He thinks that’s gonna go over. And he’s not wrong in seeing that side in Mabel but Mabel is a better person than Bill Cipher.”

as well as this bit from "Dipper's and Mabel's Guide to Mystery and Nonstop Fun" written by Bill:

Both which pretty much confirm that Bill likes Mabel and assumes they're alike based on a couple similarities, which adds up when you look at how he treats and interacts with Mabel in the show but let's not derail.

The point I'm trying to make here is that if Bill can get attached and relate to a twelve year old he's known for half a summer, it's pretty easy to imagine he probably feels similarly about a guy he's known for thirty years and is the character who by far has the strongest connection to Bill.

Of course for Bill to relate to Ford there has to be some similarity in the first place. And there are! You could compare Ford's willingness to build an interdimensional portal to gain knowledge and admiration to Bill's desire to reach beyond his own two-dimensional world and eventual attain of knowledge and power.

Of course, Ford isn't the first person to attempt to build a portal for Bill. But the similarities run deeper than that.

So you know how Ford's been ostracized for all his life and leaned into trying to be outstanding and special which was encouraged and made worse by Bill?

Because Bill namedrops the author of Flatland in the Bill Cipher AMA when asked about his birth dimension.

and on top of that, in Journal 3 Ford describes a dimension called Exwhylia which references Flatland and suggests Bill could have come from a similar dimension.

To keep it short for those unfamiliar, Flatland is a book about a place of that same name and describes it as a plane where three-dimensionality is incomprehensible, only the heads of society are allowed to know about other dimensions, the social system depends on a strict hierarchy, everything that risks deviating from the norm is shut down, may be worth mentioning here that triangles are near the bottom of the hierarchy too.

Yeah I don't think I need to really explain that Bill would absolutely hate it here and it's really jarring how much this place clashes with him.

Anyway do you see where I'm going with this? Bill probably being shunned by his world and Ford's whole deal?

About the leaning into being special thing, Flatland people are really just. people but shapes. So to me it implies Bill didn't always have his powers (on top of him literally saying "I wasn't always this way" in Weird 3 while talking about his newly gained powers and before talking about his old dimension). Can you imagine how much gaining those brought out the worst in him? I think he was already self-centered before but now he has more reason to see himself above others.

Now obviously, Bill just claimed Ford was special and called him his friend as a manipulation tactic, but it's significant to remember that we're talking about the guy who said this:

and is pretty much confirmed to apply this mindset to himself:

I think that while yes, Ford and Bill's friendship started out as nothing but manipulation on Bill's part, he really grew attached to the guy based on what they had in common.

Unfortunately, Bill does the same mistake with Ford as he does with Mabel and assumed he's more like him than he really is. I mean,

Bill wrote this into the Journal during Ford's paranoid era. And I don't think he's just rambling because he says "don't you understand" and "I ask you" which very much sounds like he's trying to be convincing.

Anyway, yeah I think this scene from Weirdmageddon 1 was really another genuine offer, rather than just plain and simply Bill mocking Ford.

Also Weirdmageddon 2 pretty much proves to me that Bill does see Ford as special. Just look at how he's always carrying golden Ford around in contrast to all the stone-turned townsfolk being built into his throne. Literally special treatment! In a bad messed up way.

Also a big fan of this episode showing that Bill does not care about the well-being of his so-called friends (which is even more outright in the uncut storyboard version of this scene)

really cementing the fact that not only does Bill see himself above mortals, but above everyone and really the only apparent reason they are friends is because they support Bill and he thinks they're fun.

So yeah it is absolutely possible for Bill to regard Ford on a similar level as them, maybe even above them. Finally, let's talk about the penthouse scene because I have a lot of feelings about that one.

-

After attempting to charm Ford, Bill's first move in trying to negotiate is talking about his old dimension and how restricting and narrow-minded it was. Already brought this scene up earlier but honestly the fact that he just drops that on Ford is wild to me.

Like, this is the same guy who, according to the Axolotl, yearns for his old dimension but denies to himself that he deeply regrets destroying it. Bill hates showing vulnerability. He hates even acknowledging it. He only cares for vulnerability if it comes from other people for him to exploit!

So him telling Ford that his dimension was awful and he was genuinely miserable there is huge. Not just him telling Ford that, but also just the expression? The tone? This is the most sincere Bill has ever been throughout the show and possibly the most sincere he's been in decades, centuries, millennia, God knows. Even if it's still filtered through a lie he's been telling himself for most of his life.

And yeah obviously, Bill was desperate and needed Ford to help him at this point but I think it would've been "easier" for Bill to just. Maybe try and solve the barrier problem himself. Ford figured it out, so surely Bill can at least try instead of, Idk, laying his heart out to the person who has dedicated his life to killing him.

I think Bill tried to make Ford relate to him in this scene for the sake of getting him to join but also maybe, just maybe, Bill craved connection? Dude's a lot more sentimental than he seems and lets on and spending an eternity only befriending people who you'll put below yourself after killing everyone you've ever known has got to get lonely.

Not that I think Bill truly saw ford as an equal, Absolutely Not, but I think Bill saw in Ford someone who could understand him. Someone who, at least for a short time, just simply enjoyed and appreciated his company as a friend. Maybe even a more naive version of Bill himself who hasn't yet realized what's good for him, which is really ironic because Ford is the one ended up stirring his life into a positive direction where he can be truly happy again, while Bill revels in his own misery.

Well. So much about this eleven second long scene I think about way too hard 👍

Bill then goes into his whole tangent about just trying to free the dimension of restrictions and making it into a fun and better world which is reflected in the Journal 3 messages from earlier and ends up on this:

Because this is what Bill believes to be Ford's ideal. He wants knowledge and admiration? Why here you go! Surely there's no reason Ford wouldn't agree to helping Bill now, right?? He's offering him everything he could ever want! He'd be part of his group! Everyone gets what they want!

And again, yeah Bill could've just made things up and immediately tossed Ford to the side as soon as he would've given him the equation to break the barrier, but that little scene where he talks to Ford about his old home dimension just. Really drives it home for me that he does in some way truly sees Ford as his friend. Y'know, on top of literally everything else I talked about here.

-

EDIT: Like the fool I am, I forgot to bring up a point about Bill keeping Ford alive during Weirdmageddon despite Ford posing a huge threat to him which is odd but uuh just read this, it pretty much covers it.

[bazpango]

Crack, cont'd: [aka the LightGojoverse, pt 3]

[part 1] [part 2]

Thursday

“Buddy, c’mon. Pencil moving.” 

“They’re still on the weather!”

“Oh,” Satoru says, ducking his head out of the kitchen, “so they are.”

It's not that the kid's a liar, but it just so happens that today is Thursday, December 22nd; Fushiguro Megumi is officially twelve years old. A lot slides in the Gojo house on birthdays, but not homework.

Satoru darts out of the kitchen. Two plates of tamagoyaki balance on one arm, a leather crossbody is tucked under the other. A toothbrush hangs out of his mouth. He looks positively rabid, and the toothpaste foam isn't helping. “Eat up," he orders, tapping the still-blank worksheet, "this is due today, right?”

Megumi answers with a groan. His head thuds into the kotatsu, and yes, so it would seem this is��due today. He is still in his pyjamas.

“I’m going to fail. Can’t I just skip?” 

“Not if you want to go to the arcade after school,” Satoru hollers, already running out of the room again.

It's one of those mornings where it feels like the sky is falling. They're only a little late, but those extra thirty minutes—as a treat!—have set them back forty five. When Gojo returns, it is with two slices of birthday cake and a plastic bag.

"This is a lot of food."

"You don't have to finish what you don't want, but make a wish before the wax gets everywhere," Satoru says, passing Megumi his slice of cake, lighting the candle as he goes. He tosses the small plastic bag on the kotatsu, directly on top of Megumi's unfinished assignment. The kid's eyes light up the second he sees it.

"S'that my birthday present?"

"That?" Satoru jokes, acting quizzical, "Better open it and find out."

Like a dog at the races, Megumi snatches the bag and rips it open. The bow, the box, and the manual go flying.

"Holy shit!"

"Language, buddy."

"Sorry," Megumi says, and no he is not sorry one bit. He pulls out a brand new, state-of-the-art, Moto RAZR V3, smiling like, well a kid ought to. He doesn't smile nearly enough, and Satoru remembers why they're having refined sugar so early in the morning.

"Complete with MP3 and MPEG-4 accessibility. Do you like it?"

"What's that?"

Satoru shrugs between bites of Megumi's cake, he finished his already. "Uhh. The kiosk lady said it was good."

"It has games!"

"It does, only a few. Don't download anymore."

"Ok."

"And don't use the internet."

"Ok."

"And I put my number in there for emergencies."

"Ok."

"Do you want me to show you how to find it?"

"Ok."

"Hey," Satoru flips the phone closed, hands enveloping Megumi's. Maybe he should have said this part first. Even though Megumi doesn't much act like one most of the time, he is still a kid. "It's important you know how to reach me, if you ever need me. I'll always answer, and if I can't for whatever reason, it has Nanami's number as well. Okay?"

"Ohkaaaaaaaaay."

Next year Megumi will be a teenager. His body is already hinting at manhood, and Satoru realizes that when they go clothes shopping he'll also have to pick up a set of safety razors for the peach fuzz just sprouting on his bottom lip. It's bittersweet. Satoru takes another bite of cake.

"Hey," he repeats, dropping his hands and squeezing Megumi's shoulders.

"If you want to go to a friend's after school—"

"Ugh, stop."

"—or bring someone to the arcade tonight, just lemme know."

"Gojoooo."

"Okay, okay, s'all good. We're cool, we're cool." Satoru takes his hands off Megumi like he's touched a too-hot pan. Five years he's been negotiating. He knows when not to push, and has pushed already. "Just don't text too much, yeah?"

"Yeah."

The phone is for emergencies. That is what Satoru will tell him on the drive to school. But the lady at the kiosk was so very nice, and when she offered a—frankly, ridiculously expensive—payment package that included unlimited SMS messaging, Satoru grew hopeful and a plan unfolded before his eyes. Megumi's growing into his independent phase, and there's nothing like a little reverse-psychology to invoke a twelve year old to rebel against The Man.

Satoru is smiling wistfully, until the lady on the television throws back from the weather and Megumi's head snaps up. "I need to write this down."

"What, exactly?"

"We have to do a group broadcast at school, like we're on the news. Step 1 is to break down a real one."

"Cool."

"Another attack in Shibuya this week in what the NPA is suspecting to be connected to a series of terrorist attacks."

"Woah." Megumi grabs his pencil. "Cool."

Satoru turns around to face the television. "Not cool."

He doesn't watch the news, or television for the matter, often—more of a movie buff. Crime prevention is an industry that in and of itself is usually corrupt, and therefore there is no need for sorcerers to cooperate with civilian law enforcers. It's a one-sided agreement by sorcerers that everyone stays on their side of the fence.

Now that he thinks about it, his opinions aren't flattering about a lot of civilian systems. The police, the press, the man in the ugly brown suit and orange spray tan, they're all—in their own, rotten little ways—technically making Satoru's job harder. If it bleeds, it leads. Money makes the world go round, and fear makes the money. Etc. They're generating fear, in turn, making more curses. Hurting more people.

For a minute, Satoru thinks maybe it is better to just let the kid fail civics.

The ugly orange man throws to Cindy, a less ugly woman, and she is doing a live hit in some sort of conference room. Satoru, realizing that they're now running quite a bit more late than intended, buttons the last remaining of his shirt in a frenzy.

"We are just waiting for the Chief to take the podium…"

Megumi won't be attending Jujutsu Tech until he's of age, which is another year and a half of civilian school. The change will be disorienting, and there's a fear that Satoru's poisoning the well by letting him watch this stuff. He just had to let the kid's homework slip, and they just had to analyze a terrorist investigation. Maybe his teacher will award points for flair, if she's cool.

"Gojo?"

"Yeah, buddy?"

"Isn't that—"

"Yagami Light, Chief of the NPA is taking the podium now."

Holy shit.

Satoru's hands are stuck, frozen on the top button of his shirt.

"You need to brush your teeth. Get a move on."

"But my assignment?"

"Go brush your teeth," he orders, more stern than is deserved on one's birthday. He makes up for it. "I'll take care of your assignment."

"Fuck yeah."

"Language!"

"Sorry!" Megumi hollers, racing out of the room. Nearly bouncing off the walls with his new phone and newer found freedom. Fortunately, he is seemingly unfazed by the sudden outburst, even though it makes Satoru's chest clench.

He stares. Fixated. The man smiling back is Yagami Light, or someone wearing his skin. His smile is so big and white and foreign in its fakeness. It's fascinating.

He is wearing a dark gray suit (very, very well). His hair is pushed back into something professional and understated. Satoru can't quite believe this is the man who's bruised his prostate.

"What's wrong with the tv?" Megumi asks, brushing in the hallway.

Satoru picks up the remote and flips to another channel and back again, shrugging at Megumi. The more Yagami Light talks, the more pixels die in the operator's camera. He hadn't noticed. It gets so bad they have to cut the live hit short.

So, Yagami is the Chief of the NPA.

Looks like they both got a present.

---

Friday

"Find anything?"

"Light," Matsuda sags into his chair, hands anxiously stroking his thighs. He's wearing blue jeans. "I can't find someone with only one name to go on. I just can't do it."

"Sure you can," he counters, and Matsuda wilts. Eight days a week, he's useless, but it's when Light says he's capable that he really flounders. So much for positive reinforcement.

"Well, maybe I could conduct some interviews and build a profile, but you haven't even told me what kind of crime this guy's committed."

"It's complicated," Light says, "not impossible."

Today is Friday, and Matsuda is wearing blue jeans. Everyone is wearing blue jeans, except for Light. Friday is, by far, the most stressful day of the week, and today is no exception. The Monday-through-Thursday grind always lags until there is a comically large pile of shit to sort through before end of day. Whoever decided to throw Casual into the mix ought to be castrated. There is only so much time in the day to judge the wicked and punish the damned, and adding 'investigate one supposedly uninvestigatable fuck buddy' to the mix is just too tall an order, so he must rely on Matsuda today.

"It started with an S."

"Yes, I know," Matsuda nods, frenzied. Like he ought to get a gold star for listening.

"Can't you get the ball rolling with that?"

"S…Gojo. In law enforcement. Innnn…"

"Tokyo. A private company. Security, maybe." Light waves his hand like he's listing off grocery store ingredients. "Start there."

"There has to be dozens of companies like that, hundreds of emplo-"

"-Well it sounds like you better get a move on, then."

"I dont know, Light…"

"And what's the plan for you and Misa Saturday?" Light taps at his keyboard, copying several files to a thumb drive. The screen is bright, and he didn't sleep well, which is going to set him back even farther than he'd hoped. He's going to have to take his work home with him.

"Light," Matsuda exhales, "that's terrible."

"What?" Light spins in his chair to face Matsuda when he doesn't answer, and he looks like a sad, orphaned dog. To think he's in any place to judge anyone. He's wearing a Timex for God's sake.

"…You're really not going to spend Christmas Eve with Misa?"

"One more thing."

"Light!" Matsuda exclaims, switching gears when it's clear Light isn't going to dignify his asinine question,"we've talked about this."

"Have we?"

“I can't be your assistant."

"Sure you can."

Matsuda exhales, "are you alright?" and with it, the last of his dignity for the day. He might as well clock out so Light can lead the manhunt.

Light is not alright. Light is fucking fantastic; he is the Chief of the NPA, he is wearing a Balmain suitjacket in charcoal, and he got sucked off by his girlfriend before Matsuda even gained consciousness this morning. Perhaps he still hasn't.

"If you don't like our current assistant we can hire a better fit. She is still on probation."

Light scoffs.

"Did someone call for me?" Takada asks, rounding the corner with a tray of coffees in hand like some comic relief in a prime time sitcom.

"Flowers," Light says flatly to Takada, "Saturday. Order flowers for Misa."

Does he have to do everything?

Lunch passes into late afternoon without consequence, and Light works straight through it. The rope of his esophagus whines and he has to physically restrain himself from gagging. His stomach feels like it is eating itself, but minimizing the amount of actual work for the weekend is paramount, here. Work hard. Play hard. Fuck the big dick blonde so hard he goes cross eyed.

"Um, Light?"

He turns in his chair to meet Matsuda. Sheepish thing, he's poking his head through the door like he's expecting a firing squad on the other side.

"Did you eat?"

"No, did you?"

"Yes, um," Matsuda shakes his head, "Listen-"

"-Good," Light says, a stack of manilla envelopes beside him. He gathers them in his hands, and flutters them in the air with emphasis. "These came in an hour ago. You need to sort them before day's end."

"U-um," Matsuda stutters.

"Why do you look so queasy?" Maybe he gambled again on a bad seafood boil at one of the new street vendors. He's always gambling in the name of adventure. Adventure, on a plate? Sad.

"I, um. Well. Gojo-"

Light brightens, rising from his seat. "Oh, you found something-"

"-Is in the lobby."

"What?"

Matsuda creeks the door open until, sure enough.

Lounging on the three seater Corbusier in the task force's lobby is Gojo. He's dressed in a black overcoat and has chosen Cartier sunglasses, a Montblanc briefcase, and a comically large scarf to accessorize. "Hiya," Gojo smiles, teeth blinding, and Light drops the stack of casefiles. "Have you had lunch, yet?"

"Oh no," Matsuda exclaims, darting to the mess. "Sorry Light, I'll sort these right away!"

"Okay," Light hears his mouth say, but he doesn't feel it moving. If he had a nickel for every time an obsessive blonde invaded his personal life, well.

Matsuda stands, a massive unorganized mess in his arms, and whispers, "should I arrest him?"

"What, no?" Light barks. "What are you doing here?" he asks Gojo.

"I owe you a proper lunch," Gojo says, shrugging. Like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"It's four thirty."

"No time like the present, right?"

"…I have a lot of work to get through."

"Oh, work!" Gojo bursts, rising from his seat. "I have a tip for you, regarding the KIRA case."

Matsuda gasps, spinning on his heels. Three sheets of paper flutter to the floor. He drops to pick them up.

"Do you?" Light narrows his gaze, lost.

He doesn't like this, not knowing the rules, or even what game they're playing. Gojo is a loose canon, and there's a not so slim chance he's going to follow Light home. Part of him wants to take Matsuda up on his offer to put the guy in cuffs and throw him in a jail cell. Peace of mind and all that.

"Yeah, I saw you on tv when I was getting Megumi ready for school, he says hi by the way." Sure, Light thinks. "And I have a theory about KIRA that I think really holds water."

"Light, isn't that amazing? It's been months and," Matsuda pants, practically slobbering on the proverbial tennis ball, "we haven't had a lead since Ryuzaki di—"

"Fuck! Matsuda!" Light interrupts, and for fuck's sake, he's losing it. He's fucking shouted in the office and it's all too late. He never shouts in the office.

Gojo's leaning in the doorway to the task force, head tilted curiously.

"That your partner?" Gojo asks, and Light feels like his chest is caving in.

"No, that's Misa-Misa," Matsuda says, and if Light can't find a way to fire him by Monday he'll at least make sure the denim wearing fuck is drowning in General Data Protection and Confidentiality in the Workplace training.

"Oh!" Gojo says, surprised. "Misa-Misa, the idol?"

"Yeah!" Matsuda cheers, and Light might actually die.

"Wow, that's…wow."

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see all the skeletons falling out of Light's closet in rapid succession. "Did Megumi have a good birthday?" Light redirects, sweating.

"He did, we made onigiri and watched the Saw movies."

"You had something to say about the KIRA case," Matsuda prods, and Light exhales, relieved. He never thought he'd see the day he'd be thankful that Matusda is the one asking the questions.

"Yeah. But I actually just realized I need to be somewhere." Gojo drops his head slightly and his glasses slide down his nose. He makes direct eye contact with Light and his are so pointedly icy blue that Light can feel his blood run cold. "Maybe I can come by tomorrow?"

Light's phone sits heavy in his pocket.

"Oh, it's Christmas Eve, we won't be here." Matsuda explains.

"I'd be willing to make a house call," Gojo volleys. "Any plans tomorrow, Yagami?"

"Well, if it's pertaining to KIRA…" Matsuda considers, looking at Light and tapping at the stack of papers in his arms. He then takes in a sharp breath, and Light knows he's got an idea. "There's no way I'm getting through all of this today. Why don't we take his statement tomorrow, We can do dinner at my place! We'll do KFC!"

"Sure." Light grits his teeth, caught in so many crosshairs. "Great. KFC. Your place."

"Takada can give you my address," Matsuda says, struggling with the loose leafs.

"Sure, it's a date," Gojo says with a wink. "See you Saturday."

 ---

Saturday

"You made it!" Matsuda cheers, opening the door. His apartment complex is painfully ordinary. So is his sweater.

"Don't sound so surprised," Light chides. "Sorry we're late."

"You're right on time! Gojo and Megumi just got here with the chicken."

"G-"

"-We brought chocolates," Misa interrupts, and Matsuda gasps. They're like two kids during Show and Tell.

"Ooh, chocolates!" exclaims the disembodied voice of Gojo, inside Matsuda's apartment, and Light's entire body stiffens. They'd made a plan, albeit a ridiculous one. He shouldn't sound so surprised, even though he is. His phone vibrates in his pocket.

Gojo: so when u said saturday Gojo: this wat u had in mind ?

They make their way into the foyer, and Matsuda seals them in with the heavy thunk of a deadbolt. "Shoes off, please."

Light wants to keep them on just to assert his dominance. Matsuda's never ordered him to do anything before.

"I don't want food to get cold, but, do you guys want a quick tour before we eat?"

"Please! I can't believe Light and I have never been over!"

"He has a life outside of work, Misa," Light says, playfully. Cool as a goddamn cucumber. He takes off his shoes.

"Not really," Matsuda jokes, smiling depricatingly at Misa. Yeah, yeah, get a room, why don't you? "At least not with KIRA out there. Right, Light?"

"Right," Light placates, smiling stiffly.

They take a brief, unnecessary tour of the two bedroom, and then Matsuda and Misa abandon Light with Gojo and the kid in the living room. Light falls into a sofa chair as far away from anyone as he can manage. It is a small apartment.

"Long time, no see," Gojo says with a smirk. "You remember Megumi."

"Megumi," Light acknowledges. Jaw off kilter. He couldn't have gotten a sitter? "Happy belated."

The child plays on a cell phone, gangly legs hanging over the couch.

"Megs," Gojo warns, "someone is talking to you. Be polite."

The kid lowers the cell phone a single half inch, says thanks, flatly, and then resumes whatever game he was playing. So, that's what passes for politeness in the Gojo house. Parent of the year over here.

"How's work been?" Light asks.

"Oh, great."

"Catch a lot of bad guys?"

"Liars, cheats, and scoundrels, it's what I do best."

"Sounds like a lot."

"This month's been pretty slow." Gojo says with a smirk. "I've just caught the one cheater, so far."

Light's cheeks burn. Gojo looks good. He always looks good. It's annoying.

"What's he talking about?" Megumi asks Gojo, and that confusion in is tone makes Light smile.

"Your not-dad, he works in law enforcement."

"What? No he doesn't."

"-Don't worry about it, Megs," Gojo assures, crossing his arms. He's all smiles, too. Not disappointed in the slightest that he's been outed as a liar.

They're both smiling. Then Misa walks in and ruins everything.

"Who's hungry!"

---

Light is dead.

There is simply no other explanation.

It is Christmas Eve, and Light is eating fried chicken with his wine-drunk girlfriend, least favourite coworker, illicit fuck buddy, and his illicit fuck-buddy's bastard kid.

For the last forty minutes, Matsuda has been playing detective while Gojo has been playing footsies under the table.

"Misa," Gojo says, deflecting. "An idol, what's that like? It must be incredible."

"Oh," she hiccups, "I don't want to bore you! It isn't all that glamorous, really." Her other arm is stroking Light's back. Her nails are long and they come to a point at the end. It's something new she's trying out. Light instantly pictures medieval torture devices and wonders how much it would hurt if she tried to claw his eyes out with them.

"Nonsense," Gojo debates with a smug smile, egging her on, and Matsuda steps in to boast about his managerial expertise. He's drunk as well, satisfied with his interrogation of Gojo that yielded, as expected, no new insights into the KIRA case. The more he waxes on about Misa's success and his minimal part in it, the more exaggerated Gojo nods. His foot continues to travel up Light's pant leg as he feigns innocent and curious above table.

Light checks his watch for the umteenth time that hour. If he found a way to get Gojo's wallet, he could have everyone here dead in the next two minutes. Faces slumped into their plates. Death by fried chicken.

Gojo's foot climbs up his leg and settles between them. Light coughs into his wine.

"Are you alright, Light?" Matsuda asks, "do you need a glass of water?"

"Nope, I'm-" Light begins, and then Gojo takes his foot off the gas, only to press even harder on his dick. "M'good," he chokes out, coughing harder. "M'just gonna use the restroom. Excuse me."

The chair makes a sharp sound when Light extricates himself, and he thinks if Matsuda ever gets the balls to woo Misa proper, he'll send him a cheque for the scuffs. No one is the wiser when he leaves the room except for Gojo, smiling like the village idiot he is.

When he makes it to the restroom, he collapses onto the lid of the toilet and exhales, long and shaky. His pulse has quickened and it's making his skin hot. He undoes the top button of his dress shirt.

Knock, knockknock.

"It's me," Gojo whispers, and Light curses under his breath. He wants to run.

"C'mon, lemme in," Gojo asks.

The bathroom feels like a coffin. Everything is telling him not to open the door, but Gojo is knocking again and Light stands, unsure how far the sound of it travels in Matsuda's apartment.

His hand shaking on the doorknob, turnlock heavy under his thumb. He doesn't want to open it at all. "Fuckingfuck," Light mutters. His free hand pulls at his hair. The walls are closing in on him.

"What's going on? You ok?"

You, you're fucking what's going on. Light wants to scream, and he just might if Misa weren't here to run to his rescue.

His pocket vibrates.

Gojo: lemme in :P Gojo: plz ?

He's sweating and it's ruining his shirt. There's no way out. Bested, he unlocks the door and silently ushers Gojo into the bathroom.

"You're actually a stalker," Light chides, and Gojo laughs. "What's so funny about that?"

He has to argue at a reduced volume, but the disdain is there. He hasn't drank much tonight—a lesson learned from their first meeting that he can't trust himself when he does. Still, his cheeks burn like he'd raided Matsuda's liquor cabinet.

Gojo is smiling like he's won something, and says "you and Misa make a cute couple." L was a sore loser, but Gojo's a sore winner, and Light hates that far more. His jaw tenses.

"I like her." Snide bastard, he's smiling like he actually does.

"No you fucking don't," Light seethes.

Gojo chuckles, and it's a laugh he hasn't heard before. "You're really one to talk, Light."

"I don't know what you think you-"

"-Does it ever get tiring, lying all the time?"

"I haven't lied to you once."

"You have a fucking girlfriend," and finally, finally there's some grit in his voice, too. Light can work with that. Gojo's favourite toy has been taken away; it's understandable that he's lashing out. Light is everyone's favourite.

"Oh, I'm sorry? I didn't think it bothered you," Light barks, "seeing as how you were foot-fucking me under the goddamn table."

"You loved it."

"I-"

"You love making her look stupid. It's mean." Gojo steps forward and his hand swiftly goes between Light's legs. They can both feel the half hardness in his pants that Light can't explain. "See? You're a bad person," Gojo says under his breath, eyes searching.

"…Why did you come to my work?"

"Well, funny story. Someone made Christmas Eve plans with me and then cancelled. So."

"Rescheduled," Light corrects.

"It isn't rescheduling if you don't follow up with the person."

"I was going to."

"I don't believe you."

"So instead of, oh, I don't know, taking the hint, ygh-" Light looks for the words, which is hard to do when your balls are in a vice grip. He gestures wildly to the kitchen. "You decided this is how you wanted to spend your Christmas Eve?"

"Well, not exactly," Gojo admits, tilting his head. "But I think Megs is having a good time."

Light's voice drops low. They need to get out of the restroom. "I just needed to tie up a few loose ends. I was going to call. I really was." He isn't sure if he's lying.

The loose end scream-laughs in the dining room and the sound travels all the way to the bathroom. Matsuda's own laughter chases it.

"I'm sorry I, I didn't explain my situation," Light placates, musturing his most sincere, apologetic tone. Mercifully, Gojo's grip on his sack loosens. Hook, line, and sinker. "I couldn't have you over."

"No shit," Gojo grits.

"I was going to book us a place."

"Book us a place?" He sounds insulted. "That's just sad."

It isn't sad. It is discreet. At least it was going to be, but now everything is far more messy than it was twenty four hours ago. "What do you want from me?" Light scoffs.

"I w-"

"-A boyfriend?"

"Please," Gojo laughs, proper, and doesn't that just make Light furious. He crosses his arms, and Light is, truthfully, a little insulted himself the assault hasn't turned into him facefucking Gojo to tears.

"I…" Gojo thinks, aloud, "I just wanted something fun."

"We're having fun-"

"-No, we're not. This isn't fun for me."

"So why are you here?" And the way Light asks it makes him sick. He doesn't know why his tone has softened so much.

"I…like you, I think. I hate it."

"Wow, thanks."

"I feel like, like I'm going to insane lengths to get to know you."

"What if I don't want you to?"

"Why?" Gojo asks.

"Because," Light says, soft, "this is easy. This is working. Isn't it? We both get what we want, don't we?"

"What do I want, Light?" Gojo asks like he's on a full on soap opera. All big doe eyes and melodrama.

He thinks about the day they met, the way he waxed on and on about Suguru. Suguru, who he still has a chance with. Who's still alive and breathing.

"Your kid doesn't need a step-dad," Light cooes, something small and hateful and heavy in his gut. The indignation in his voice is completely invisible. He brushes the hair from Gojo's eyes. "This doesn't have to get any more complicated, right?"

"It already is complicated," Gojo says, quietly.

There's a silence, then, in the small bathroom, so big it feels like Light's eardrums might shatter. Gojo's head drops and for a second Light thinks he's going to attempt to hold hands.

"That's a nice watch," Gojo says, deflecting.

"It was a gift," Light submits, too unsure of where they're going to take pride in it. "My Dad bought it."

The room is tense and he doesn't want to give Gojo a tenth of what he is asking for. His eyes are sad and sullen and he feels like he is so far away. Light supposes he is.

A part of him is jealous of the very air that surrounds Gojo. Another part is afraid he'll be followed home and killed in his sleep tonight.

"He's gone now."

"How do you know that?" Light whispers.

"Death follows you, Light Yagami."

And then something truly frightening happens.

Gojo grabs his wrist, gently. His thumb swipes over the watch face, slow, and then hovers on the quick release mechanism. Light holds his breath. A piece of the Death Note is millimeters away, hidden in the watch's false bottom, and Gojo's looking right at it like he has x-ray vision.

Gojo is not an idiot. Not by a long shot. He knows far more about Light than he's letting on, and it's like Light's been walking around blindfolded all this time, completely unaware. If Gojo isn't a PI, he's some sort of cosmic karmic stalker sent from beyond L's grave to give Light his comeuppance. He's sure of it.

"What do you actually do for work," Light, voice shaky, asks. Desperate to know.

"Law enforcem-"

"Don't fucking lie to me," Light snarls, hands coming up to shove Gojo. But his hands don't even reach him in time to deliver their first blow. In a split second, Light's body is thrust into the wall and the wind is knocked from his chest.

He's sandwiched there, his little rabbit heart beats thin. Trapped in the gaping maw of a wolfhound, his ribs feel like they might break.

For a second, this is the first time he's ever felt close to death, and then he coughs and Gojo immediately lets up.

"Stop running from me," Gojo pleads, his breath hot on Light's ear.

He imagines his corpse splayed out on Matsuda's bathroom mat in a pool of his own blood. Misa, on hand and knee, wailing incoherently. He doesn't want her scream to be the last thing he hears.

"Gonna," Light heaves, "hear us."

"And that would be just terrible for you, wouldn't it?" Gojo taunts. Light coughs, and Gojo seems to ease up a bit. "She loves you, you know. You don't even care."

Light says nothing—not like he could—and Gojo shoves off of him, sickened. When Light turns around to face him, Gojo looks at him like he's killed a litter of kittens. His eyes are darting between his chest, the watch, and the dinner table. "There's something wrong with you, Light."

Light still says nothing.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" Light says. "You'll have to be a little more fucking specific."

Gojo shakes his head, and leaves the bathroom. Light is finally alone. His head is swimming, sick from lack of oxygen, and he tries to wretch into the sink but nothing comes out. When he looks in the mirror, he looks the same as he did when he entered. But everything feels off, now. He's been staring at this face for too long, a word on a page that's lost it's meaning.

When he thoroughly dusts himself off and finds himself back in his seat, Gojo is telling a story that has everyone belly laughing except for the creepy kid. He always looks at Light like he's seen a ghost.

Misa wipes a tear from her prettily made up eye with a talon. "I'm sorry you don't have a special someone to spend Christmas Eve with," she says to Gojo, and apparently it's up to Light to use context clues to figure out what they're talking about since no one wants to fill him in. "I feel like I don't know any of Light's friends at all."

"Well now we're friends, too," Gojo says to her, and he smiles. It's such a sad, pathetic little thing. "How did you and Light meet, anyway? I'd love to hear the story."

She shrieks, elated, and Gojo flashes a quick look to Light, as if to rub the salt in.

"It isn't very noteworthy," she jests to Light, all teeth and smeared lipstick. This isn't the first time she's tried to display her cunning. He could fucking strangle her. She knows he hates puns.

But he keeps his mouth shut and waits for this absurd conversation to run its course while he fills his mouth with sawdust.

"Are the potatoes alright?" Gojo asks Light.

"Perfect," Light says, "thank you."

"You just made a face is all."

Light wants to punch him in the face. He didn't make a face. Like everything, he is far too in control to ever let that happen.

But Gojo tries. He takes every opportunity to draw attention to Light every time Misa makes a particularly sappy comment about their romance. The conversation flows like bad wine and, after a bottle of it, things should feel easier, should they not? Misa hangs off Light's shoulder, and every single sentence that comes out of her mouth seems to make Matsuda shoot wine from his nose.

Matsuda excuses himself to the kitchen to clean up, and when he returns, he's brought dessert with him. Great, another course.

It's angel food cake. Decorated with strawberries and drizzled honey. Matsuda serves up a plate for everyone, saving the biggest for the kid, who actually smiles when he sees it. Light didn't know him capable.

There's a brief moment of silence as everyone takes their first bites. "Is it okay?" Matsuda asks, "I'm taking classes."

"Fantastic," Gojo cheers. "Could you teach me, sometime?"

"I'd love to!" Matsuda sings, forgetting his allegiances, and Gojo beams at Light. Yes, everyone fucking loves Gojo. He plucks a strawberry off his plate with his thumb and forefinger and brings it to his lips and Light wonders what Matsuda would do if he flipped the table.

“Light," Gojo asks.

"Yes?"

"How do you like your cake. Didn't Matsuda do a great job?"

It tastes like sandpaper. But he wasn't going to say anything. That would be rude.

“Oh no! Is it not alright? I thought it was your favourite.” Matsuda asks, and Light can't understand for the life of him why Matsuda would think that-

“Or was that Ryuzaki?” 

“You keep mentioning him," Gojo notes, "who is he?"

From the uptick of Gojo's smirk, the colour has definitely drained Light's face. Strangely, the kid's head snaps up, then. He looks scared. What the fuck is going on?

“Oh, Ryuzaki's just an old friend of ours, he worked down at the station with us. Um, he," Matsuda explains, poorly, “he's no longer with us. We lost him in the KIRA case.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. My condolences.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet of you,” Misa assures, reaching a claw over the table to pat Gojo's hand. "Don't worry. It was a long time ago."

"Were you close?"

Matsuda waits for Light to offer an answer, and when he doesn't, steps in again. "Uhh, well. Light knew him better than the rest of us, but…But he was an all around great guy. Smartest I've ever met. Like, suuuuper smart. Amazing at tennis and chess and hacking and stuff. Just like, great at everything."

"Hmm," Gojo says, holding his dessert fork to his teeth. Light can't feel his fingers. "You guys play a lot of tennis?"

“Light doesn’t like tennis," Misa interrupts. Paranoid for God knows what reason. It isn't like L can just pop out of the grave and sweep him off to Wimbledon.

"Really?" Gojo asks, pivoting. "I thought you mentioned-"

“-I’m too busy for games," Light says, flatly.

"Are you now?" He says with more emphasis, suppressing a laugh. Eyes darting from left to right, thinking he's being subtle, or maybe not. It's good fortune everyone's had their fill of wine.

“I’ll say!" Misa steps in again, "now that Ryuzaki’s gone it’s like you live at the station.” She pours herself another glass.

“Misa."

“Yes, Light?”

The kid is looking at Light, no, looking at Light's watch, and something clicks. He doesn't know how, but he knows they know. It isn't paranoia. It's clarity. There is something very wrong with this family.

"Something isn't agreeing with me," Light announces, "I think it's time for us to go. Thank you for hosting us, Matsuda." He feels so sick. 

"Oh no! Sorry I can't finish the story," she squawks, halting her pour. "I'll get the keys. Um, can you drive? I've had a couple glasses."

---

Streetlamps paint his face in burnt orange as he makes the thirteen minute drive home. Misa is curled up in a ball, sitting in a way that would have her killed if they got into an accident. The seatbelt would take her head clean off, emergency brake locking it in place and potentially severing her at the torso, too. It wouldn't hurt her, though. It would all be over far too quickly. Her nerve endings wouldn't have even a full second to sprint to her brain in warning.

"You seem off tonight."

"I'm fine," Light mumbles.

"Okay."

A few minutes pass in almost silence.

"Gojo is nice."

"Yeah."

"I invited him over next week," she utters, softly. Her voice is sad. Like she's waiting to see if she's in trouble. Light supposes if he had the energy, she would be.

"That's nice."

"Yeah, I thought it could be nice. The three of us."

The whirring of the road makes him feel like he's floating. She won't stop looking at him.

"Are you okay?" Light asks.

"Yeah."

"Okay."

He contemplates turning on the radio. The silence is awkward in a way it usually isn't, ever. He's probably imagining it. She's had a lot to drink.

"I'm sorry we talked so much about Ryuzaki."

"That's okay."

"…Do you miss him?"

"No."

"It's okay if you do. He." Her voice is chalky in the way it gets before she breaks out in tears. "…I think I kind of miss him."

"Misa," Light warns, "rest your eyes a bit. We'll be home soon."

There's a moment where she's pondering, eyes locked on Light's profile. He can always feel it when she's looking at him. She bites on her thumb and Light doesn't know if that's a little jab. Her taking her rebellion in spades and hiding it under a girlish ignorance. Neither of them willing to say the quiet part out loud.

"I love you," she says, and closes her eyes.

"You too."

---

He stares at the ceiling fan, watches it spin around and around and around.

Rise. Judge. Execute. Around and Around and Around.

Misa sleeps soundly next to him, a safe distance away in her own twin bed pushed up against his. Within arms reach, but never reaching.

He could have asked her Gojo's name on the drive home, but then she'd know.

It's a mournful discovery, how much she doesn't let on.

Gojo has to die.

---

thank you @shydroid3000 for being the best beta reader on god's green earth, may santa bring you lots of strawberries and doomed yaoi fics <3

[narcoticwriter]

So this is how I break my Tumblr fast.

Dexerto: "This list has the speculative ages and heights for every Genshin Impact character so far based off of the canon storyline and respective character lore!"

Me: "You're joking."

Disclaimer: I take some creative liberties and personal interpretations into account as well as additional lore and speculation that wasn't taken into consideration in the initial list linked. I am not a canon authority nor should I be treated like one. And just in case, there will be spoilers concerning past limited events if you care about that.

Notes -

Before I start, I would like to say that I'm not slandering or clowning the person that came up with it nor do I feel the need to do so.

They likely don't have the same capacity to peruse the wiki as well as somewhat memorize a good chunk of it like me. They were probably just trying to write a fun, speculative article for a target audience and as such, I'm also having a bit of cheeky fun responding to it. It's all in good faith and fun, after all.

Feel free to share your opinions and thoughts on these as well, but like I said, it's not meant to be taken that seriously. I'm always down to consider other perspectives, but I'd appreciate it if I wasn't attacked for my own, thank you.

The List -

The following will cover every playable character up to 3.8, be in alphabetical order, and some will have little blurbs that explain why and how I came to those conclusions.

Aloy does not count as in Horizon: Zero Dawn, you'd likely find it in much more certain terms than Genshin Impact.

Also, we all know that the in-game models lie as we have Albedo's hair to prove it, so those will be ignored and I'll take from the story and basic anatomy instead.

Albedo -

Age: Presented as being in his mid-twenties, actually 300+ years old given his lore and the speculation about his master, etc.

Height: 5'7"-5'8"

Al-Haitham -

Age: Mid-to-late twenties, two years younger than Kaveh

Height: 6'1"

Amber -

Age: Late teens given the timing of the manga lore and definitive dates given, although manga lore being in tune with game lore could be questionable on occasion

Height: 5'5"-5'6"

Arataki Itto -

Age: Definitively in his mid-twenties

Height: 6'5" without the horns, 6'10" with them

Baizhu -

Age: Mid-to-late thirties, given his learned ways in medicine, how he carries himself, and the recent lore

Height: 5'9"-5'10"

Barbara -

Age: Early-to-mid teens

Height: 5'3"

Beidou -

Age: Mid-to-late thirties given chronology and lore, definitively younger than Ningguang

Height: 5'8"-5'10"

Bennett -

Age: Early-to-mid teens

Height: 5'6"

Candace -

Age: Late twenties to early thirties, seems to be older and less hotheaded given her character stories

Height: 5'9"

Chongyun -

Age: Late teens, a few months younger than Xingqiu

Height: 5'7"

Collei -

Age: Mid-teens, given the lore in the manga, but as with Amber's lore, it can be brought into some question considering other factors

Height: 5'3"

Cyno -

Age: Early-to-mid twenties, around the same age as Tighnari, but not definitively as the speculative lore can bring certain things into question

Height: 5'7"

Dehya -

Age: Mid-to-late twenties

Height: 5'10"

Diluc -

Age: Early-to-mid twenties, given manga lore and explanations for Amber & Collei respectively, six months older than Kaeya

Height: 5'11"-6'0"

Diona -

Age: Older child to barely a preteen, one or two years older than Klee

Height: 4'2"-4'7" (taking how one measures her feet with the height and different biology)

Dori -

Age: Anywhere from late teens to late thirties because being twelve and being this rich as well as having some good business sense? Nah.

Height: 4'6"-4'8" (she might not be twelve, but she's still short)

Eula -

Age: Early twenties, two years older than Amber

Height: 5'10"-6'0"

Faruzan -

Age: Presented as in her early-to-mid twenties, actually 100+ years old given lore and character stories

Height: 5'5"

Fischl -

Age: Early to mid-teens

Height: 5'6"

Ganyu -

Age: Presented as being in her mid-to-late twenties, actually 2000+ years old and possibly older

Height: 5'5"-5'7"

Gorou -

Age: Mid-twenties

Height: 5'6"-5'8"

Hu Tao -

Age: Late teens to early twenties, six months to a year older than Xingqiu

Height: 5'4"

Jean -

Age: Early-to-mid twenties given the respective comparisons to other characters in the manga lore, six months to one year older than Diluc

Height: 5'9"-5'10"

Kaeya -

Age: Early-to-mid twenties given manga lore, six months younger than Diluc

Height: 6'0"

Kamisato Ayaka -

Age: Late teens to early twenties, at least three to five years younger than Ayato

Height: 5'4"-5'5"

Kamisato Ayato -

Age: Mid-twenties, at least three to five years older than Ayaka

Height: 5'10"-6'0"

Kaveh -

Age: Mid-to-late twenties, two years older than Al-Haitham

Height: 5'10"-5'11"

Kaedehara Kazuha -

Age: Early-to-mid twenties, at least three years younger than his friend before his death

Height: 5'6"-5'7"

Keqing -

Age: Mid-twenties, at least a year younger than how Ganyu is presented as

Height: 5'4"

Kirara -

Age: Late teens given her unique circumstances

Height: 5'3"-5'7" given her biology concerning her feet

Klee -

Age: Younger child, one or two years younger than Diona (this can be disputed given her race and some lore)

Height: 3'6"-3'9"

Kujou Sara -

Age: Definitively in her mid-twenties, at least one year older than Itto

Height: 5'10"

Kuki Shinobu -

Age: Mid-twenties, at least six months older than Itto

Height: 5'4"-5'6"

Layla -

Age: Early twenties

Height: 5'3"-5'5"

Lisa -

Age: Early-to-mid thirties given the lore and speculation concerning her character stories

Height: 5'7"-5'9"

Mika -

Age: Early teens

Height: 5'0"-5'3"

Mona -

Age: Late teens to early twenties

Height: 5'3"

Nahida -

Age: Presented as a young child, actually 500+ years old

Height: 3'9"-4'0"

Nilou -

Age: Late teens to early twenties as I will choose to believe that the article's age is a typo

Height: 5'0"-5'2"

Ningguang -

Age: Late thirties to approaching forty given the chronology and lore, definitively older than Beidou

Height: 5'7"

Noelle -

Age: Early-to-mid teens

Height: 5'3"-5'4"

Qiqi -

Age: Presented as a young child, actually 1000+ years old given lore and chronology

Height: 3'6"-3'10"

Raiden Shogun (Ei) -

Age: Present as being in her mid-to-late twenties, actually 500+ years old

Height: 5'10"

Razor -

Age: Early-to-mid teens

Height: 5'7"

Rosaria -

Age: Mid-to-late twenties

Height: 5'9"

Sangonomiya Kokomi -

Age: Mid-to-late twenties, though some speculation might lend to her actual years being much more than that (100+)

Height: 5'1"-5'2"

Sayu -

Age: Preteen to early teens

Height: 4'5"-4'6"

Shenhe -

Age: Mid-twenties

Height: 5'11"-6'1"

Shikanoin Heizou -

Age: Early-to-mid twenties, at least one year older than Kazuha

Height: 5'7"-5'8"

Sucrose -

Age: Early twenties, at least a year younger than what Albedo is presented as

Height: 5'3"-5'5"

Tartaglia -

Age: Definitively in his early twenties

Height: 6'0"-6'3"

Thoma -

Age: Mid-twenties, one year younger than Ayato

Height: 5'10"-6'0"

Tighnari -

Age: Early-to-mid twenties, around the same age as Cyno

Height: 5'6" without the ears

Traveler -

Age: Presented as in their early twenties, actually incomprehensibly older than that

Height: 5'5" (Lumine) 5'6" (Aether)

Venti -

Age: Presented as in his late teens to early twenties, actually 2600+ years old

Height: 5'4"

Wanderer -

Age: Presented as in his early twenties, actually 500+ years old given the lore

Height: 5'5"

Xiangling -

Age: Mid-teens, at least two years younger than Chongyun

Height: 5'3"

Xiao -

Age: Presented as in his early twenties, actually 3000+ years old

Height: 5'1"

Xingqiu -

Age: Late teens, a few months older than Chongyun

Height: 5'6"

Xinyan -

Age: Mid-to-late teens, a few months younger than Yun Jin

Height: 5'7"

Yanfei -

Age: Late teens to early twenties

Height: 5'4"

Yaoyao -

Age: Younger child, at least six months older than Qiqi given the context of Qiqi's lore

Height: 3'8"-3'11"

Yae Miko -

Age: Presented as in her late twenties to mid-thirties, actually 500+ years old

Height: 5'9"

Yelan -

Age: Late twenties to early thirties

Height: 5'8"

Yoimiya -

Age: Late teens to early twenties

Height: 5'5"

Yun Jin -

Age: Mid-to-late teens, a few months older than Xinyan

Height: 4'9"-4'11"

Zhongli -

Age: Presents himself as in his late thirties to his mid-forties, possibly older than Teyvat as a landmass (6000+)

Height: 5'10"-6'0"

Final Thoughts -

If I missed a playable character (as of 3.8) somehow, I'll correct it when I get around to it. As characters from Fontaine come out, I'll consider doing this for them as well, but as of right now, this list is complete. The reason I compare certain characters to each other in terms of age is due to the closeness that they have in canon as well as the Genshin manga. Anything speculative is stated and should be treated as such.

Until then or whenever I'll see you when I see you.

[br1ghtestlight]

Trick or treat! 👻🍭😈

"After all that, they STILL wouldn't give my dad a refund. Anyway, that's how my family ended up living on a fishing boat for three months in the Atlantic Ocean. It wasn't all bad, though. I still keep in touch with that fisherman," Teddy rambled to Bob as he wiped down the counter. Linda was out running errands and his kids were at school, so he didn't have anybody to help him escape from Teddy's non-stop conversation and stories. Bob loved his friend, but that handyman LOVED to talk. It was exhausting for somebody who was as introverted as Bob. Social interaction was hard for him, even with his close friends and family.

"Huh. Teddy, I don't think you've ever told me about your dad before," Bob said. "I've heard hundreds of stories about your mom, uh, but I've never heard you talk about your dad."

"Oh, well… He's dead, so—You know how it is," Teddy said awkwardly. "Don't want to tell people stories about a dead person. Brings the whole mood down."

Bob shrugged and focused his attention on Teddy. He knew what it felt like to lose a parent, and how uncomfortable talking about that could be with people who didn't understand. He ignored that and questioned Teddy further. "How old were you when he died? I was, uh, twelve when my mom died."

Teddy took a second to count out the years on his fingers before he answered. "I was thirty six years old, I think. Maybe thirty seven. He had a heart attack and was in the hospital for a few days… I didn't visit him, because we hadn't really talked for a few years. Didn't even know what happened until he was already dead. He and my mom were divorced, and I didn't keep up with his side of the family. I still don't."

"I'm sorry, Teddy," Bob said genuinely. Losing his mother was the hardest thing that he'd ever gone through, but he couldn't imagine how he would have coped if it happened so suddenly and when they weren't on good terms. Teddy's relationship with his father was obviously a lot more complicated than Bob's relationship with his mother, but losing a parent was never easy.

"Eh. It's alright. I didn't really get along with him, anyway. I mean, I WANTED to get along with him, but he didn't really seem to… like me," Teddy's expression darkened for a moment before he continued, as if he was remembering something from his childhood that he'd long forgotten. "I don't really think about him all that often, especially 'cause he's been dead for such a long time. He's more like a weird uncle from my childhood than, like, my actual dad. Does that make sense?"

Bob grunted in response and Teddy continued talking.

"I don't really miss him, I don't think. I mean, he was my dad and I'll always love 'em, but… He was so mean, Bobby. He was an alcoholic, y'know, and he treated my mom like crap. Me and Dana, too. It's hard to think about him without thinkin' about all the bad things that happened when I was a kid. Most of them were his fault. My therapist says that it's normal to feel resentful of my parents for what happened when I was a kid and how they treated us, but I don't know. Daddy issues. We all got 'em, right?"

Bob nodded. "My relationship with my dad is, uh, complicated. He's… a lot to be around, but he was also pretty much all of my childhood. At least you still have your mom around, and you have your sister."

"Dana is amazing, Bob. I should introduce you to her at some point. She's going back to college and studying to be a dental hygienist. Can you believe that? First person in our family to go college," Teddy perked up at the mention of his sister.

Bob had never met Dana, but he knew from the stories that Teddy told about her that he was very proud of everything his younger sister had accomplished in her life. Bob occasionally wondered what it would be like if he had a brother or sister, especially after seeing how close his own children were to each other. His father told him that they'd never planned on having another child after Bob was born, but he couldn't help but wonder if their decision had been influenced by his mother's worsening health.

"Yeah, it would be great to meet your sister," Bob agreed. "And, uh, if you ever feel like talking to me about your dad or telling stories about him—that's not a problem. I don't mind. I mean, I know what it's like to lose a parent."

*

"Yeah, but they're my only family. I gotta love 'em," Teddy sighed.

"I mean, that's not entirely true."

"Whaddya mean, Bobby?"

"We're kind of like your family too, aren't we? Me, Linda, the kids… You've always been a part of our family. You've been with us from the start."

*

"Hey! We could try setting our parents up on a date. Then we'd be best friends AND brothers! What do you say, Bobby?"

Bob grimaced. Ignoring the fact that Big Bob hadn't gone on a date since Lily died nor had he shown any interest in doing so, and Teddy's mother's obvious preference for dating younger men, he really didn't think he would want to be Teddy's brother. He was a good friend, but he was not sure about being related to him for the rest of his life. That didn't sound fun. "I don't know about that, Teddy."

"Yeah, you're probably right. You'd probably be a really annoying brother," Teddy agreed. "And I already HAVE a younger sibling! Don't need another of those."

[nancypullen]

Sunday Evening

There are about ten different things I should be doing right now, but I am the queen of procrastination so here I am on the ol' blog. It was a very long week. I have such mixed feelings about the job. The people are absolutely wonderful. The work is interesting and beneficial. But the schedule is...unpleasant. Well, I say that as a person who doesn't really have a schedule. I had to ask several times if I could maybe know my work days/hours at least a week in advance. I'm there 8.5 hours but take a mandatory 1 hour unpaid lunch. So I work 7.5 hours most days, though I worked just 5 on Saturday. They are long days. I suppose I had the idea that part-time would be 20-ish hours a week. Looks like the plan is to work me just under the cut off between part/full time. Not having a set schedule in advance makes it really hard to plan any sort of normal life. For example, the Edgewaters have been asking me if I'm off on Feb. 10th to celebrate the grandgirl's 6th birthday. It's 12 days away and I still can't tell them yes or no. How can I make a doctor's appointment or even schedule a haircut? You don't call anywhere around here and get in quickly, so it would be nice to have, say, a month's schedule to reference when trying to make an appointment. I get the impression that it's not looked upon favorably if you throw a wrench in the works and request particular days off. I guess I'll ride it out and see if it gets better, maybe because I'm the newbie they're just seeing if I survive before locking me into the work calendar? Every time I asked, no one seemed to think it was a big deal. It's a big deal to me, I like to plan my life and get my ducks in a row - not knowing my works days/hours ten or twelve days out rattles me. Really hoping that part gets better.

.I'm a minimum of twenty yeas older than everyone at work, thirty years older than most of them. I feel like a fossil. Actually, the director is around my age, but she has put in her retirement notice. So I show up in my old lady glory and try not to grunt or groan when I get up from shelving books on the lowest shelf. I've had to move boxes, tables, racks of chairs, wood and glass bookcases and pretend that my sciatica isn't flaring up. There is a lot of ibuprofen involved. This is how I feel there...

but they're all nice to me because their mamas raised them to respect their elders. I was at the circulation desk one morning and talking to another employee who is not yet thirty. I realized that I could easily be her grandmother.

The eternal optimist in me says to keep plugging away and everything will settle into place and I'll just be the nice old lady at the library. The part of my brain that always yells, "FLEE! You don't belong here!" is screaming in my ear. Luckily, the eternal optimist occupies about 90% of my gray matter, so she usually wins. Onward, onward, onward. I mentioned that on Saturday I was off work at 2 o'clock. Shortly after that the Edgewaters came over and brought their pizza oven. That was a treat. They made gourmet pizzas for our dinner and we had a wonderful visit. Little Miss kept me busy with Barbies and books, and I plied her with cupcakes. They left today around 3 o'clock and the mister and I are sitting here now wondering if we even want to bother with dinner tonight. I'm ready for bed. The workweek is staring me in the face and I'm not ready. Have I whined enough? I swear I'm not unhappy, just tired. I'd give my right arm for 5 hour work days (like Saturday) instead of 8.5. Mickey has been amazing - actually cleaning and cooking! I have no reasons to complain. So I should probably shut up. That said, we're moving forward and starting to plan a 40th anniversary trip. I'm crossing my fingers that they'll grant me unpaid leave. As a part-time employee I don't accrue vacation days, so I guess we'll see how all of that plays out. Yikes.

I'm boring myself sick with this post and I can't imagine that it's been at all interesting or entertaining to read. I'll wait a couple of days and try to post something worth reading. There have been amusing incidents at the library, but I hesitate to write about any of it because this is a small town and my name is on the blog. I'll have to find my way with that. I certainly wouldn't name names or embarrass anyone. Oh well, I'm off to ready my clothes for work and pack a lunch. I'll try to keep a Mary frame of mind. No one I work with would get that reference.

I'm so old.

*sigh* Until next time - stay safe, stay well. Sending out loads of love. XOXO, Nancy

[jameui]

SPECIAL PRESENT 1

Requested

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

PAIRING: Sugar Daddy!Jung Yunoh x College Student!M!Reader (featuring: Bestfriend!Lee Jeno)

GENRE: Fluff, Smut

WARNINGS: Unprotected intercourse, huge age gap, a lot of IMPORTANT flashbacks (i think), daddy kink, sex toys, overstimulation

SUMMARY: You were a striving student in Resonance High and had perfect records. Besides your devotion to your education, you were also gifted with a talent. All these stuffs making your sugar daddy, Jaehyun, proud of you, so he decided to give you a night you won't forget.

(P.S. so i was fucking dumb to actually think that when you said performance, you meant by performing on a stage, when you actually meant, how male reader actually did good in school. I was too late to notice. sorry. if this didn't reach your expectations.

The school's foundation day is fast approaching and each student at Resonance High are all excited preparing for that certain day. During the school's foundation day, events such as competition in sports and performances like singing and dancing or spoken poetry. All sorts of event takes place in that particular, not only a day, but a week, that every students can take part in.

The school's foundation day does not only happen after a day. It's a week of celebration for the foundation and, of course, free from homeworks and projects that students have to worry about. All their focus must be on having fun on those days and be active in participation. Some students never liked the thought about celebrating a foundation day, but you on the other hand, thought otherwise as it's your first time celebrating it with a friend, since you never really get to do it with any due to you practically being locked up in your house for almost all years of your life.

Now, you were away from your family and you got to finally do anything you wanted. For example, having a sugar daddy who gave you all the help you needed. Sure, at first, you were just doing it out of mere fun, but you never quite expected to actually grow feelings for the older male. You didn't know when it started, but the first time you ever felt the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach was when he became worried and concerned when you got sick after a very excessive practice, the day prior. You wanted to tell him so, so bad, but you didn't know how to.

You were scared that maybe you were crossing the line or coming off too strong or maybe he'd walk away if you broke the agreement. It first started with just you only being up for it because of the agreement. Though, you never really went as far as you giving him a good blow or having a steamy bath with him. Either way, he was still someone you could trust and the only person you could rant about all your problems. The thought of losing all these scared you the most.

Unlike some other people, Jaehyun was smart and was a successful businessman, owning one of the richest companies in the industry. Jaehyun, when he's not busy, he'd help you out with your math homeworks or would just do it for you, since he found it fun and easy. Sometimes, you think he's Einstein, reincarnated.

Jaehyun, besides his brains, is also fun to be with. He knows about your passion and talent for singing and dancing and your once dream to be an artist, so he would sometimes play loud music in the living room through the speakers and you two would be singing along, him making up lyrics when he have no idea what the song artist's saying in their song. He'd sometimes call them drunk, because they sounded like they were slurring their words, which you would always laugh to. Also, he'd let you teach him a few dance steps you saw on tiktok and you'd record it together, only for the fun of both of you.

You were seated by your section's booth and couldn't help, but crack a smile from the thought. That was until one of your classmates decided to cut the moment. "What's with the smile?" Jeno, one of your friends, questioned with a smirk whilst carrying a case of bottled apple juice, placing it beside the stand of the booth.

"Here to tease me, again?" You scoffed at him, as he shrugged his shoulders. You rolled your eyes at him and stood up from your seat before heading to the school's gate where the rest of the important necessitated items are waiting. You skipped along the way and stopped by the pick up truck that was parked at the parking lot. "Anything I can help with?" You asked with a smile.

"Here's the last of 'em." He gave you two cases of the bottled drinks, one stacked above the other making you grunt.

"This is heavy." You muttered under your breathe, your thin hands barely holding onto the handles. "Th-thanks." You told them your feet wobbling from the heavy weight of the trays.

Jeno who came walking back outside saw you struggling, making him chuckle deciding to help you. "Need help with that?"

"Yes, please." You said before passing the trays to Jeno carefully, so it doesn't topple over. "Thanks." You smiled at him, cracking your knuckles and shaking it to reduce the pain you felt on your hands.

"Welcome." He said, then walking back to the booth, with you beside him. "Ah, M/n. By the way, are you attending the practice this afternoon?"

"Yeah. Of course. Why do you ask?" You chuckled, kicking on a pebble that came your way.

"Oh, I just thought you'd be busy sucking your daddy's—"

"JENO!" You yelled at him with an evident blush on your face cutting him off to avoid anyone hearing what Jeno had to say. It's always been like this. Since the day you told him about having a sugar daddy, he'd always tease you no matter where you are or what you're doing. He'd always use your excuses against you and now, you're regretting ever telling him.

"Okay, okay. Damn." He laughed at your reaction, you staring daggers at him.

Just as you were about to spat back at him, you heard a group of girls' voices calling out to you. "M/n! M/n! M/n!" They were successful in gaining your attention, while they smiled running up towards you. "M/n! You didn't tell us you have a handsome brother..." One of them said, while batting their lashes.

You knitted your brows in confusion. "I have?" You asked the girls, who looked like they knew better and nodded their heads. First of all, you don't have a brother, but you have three sister, two are older and one is younger. Second, you don't even know who these girls were and yet, they mysteriously knew your name and who you were. "Wait, who are you talking—"

"M/n-ah." You heard that sweet raspy voice of the man you loved, your head snapping towards him who stood by the side of your booth. You guessed he was on his break, since he was still in his suit and it was already past twelve in the afternoon.

"Jaehyun!" You giggled as you ran to him, all the while opening his arms for you to throw yourself in. You gladly complied and wrapped your arms around him, the lot older male doing the same as he hung his long arms on your waist. You snuggled into his chest before you looked up at him to see him already looking down at you with a smile that displayed his deeply carved dimples. "What are you doing here? Aren't you busy?" He made you giggle when he patted your head and planted a kiss on your forehead.

"I wanted to see my baby." Jaehyun replied, then pouting. "I've been so tired lately."

You furrowed your brows in concern and hugged him tighter. "Can't you take a three days off?"

"I want to, but I got to keep the company running if I don't want it to fail." He answered you, making you nod your head.

Once the girls saw these, they quickly felt embarrassed and walked off without making a sound, Jeno laughing at them.

"Then, why don't I treat you to something sweet? How's that?" You wanted to do something for the older and this was the only thing you could ever think of.

The pout was still glued to his face when he looked back down at you. "Angel, we agreed that I would do the treating."

"Well, you're the one who needs my help, right now, so I want to do something for you, other than..." You cleared your throat and mumbled, "...the other things I do for you."

Jaehyun chuckled, as he finally gave in to your offer while he ruffled your hair. "Alright."

You pulled away from him once he had loosened his grip from around your waist. You took him by the wrist and told Jeno that you'd be somewhere else, leaving Jeno with the rest of the responsibilities, promising him to make up to it.

You were leading Jaehyun to the canteen, before he gently pulled on your hand. You turned your head towards him, your eyes moving down to where he held you. You chuckled and smiled. "What's wrong?"

"Can... I hold your hand, M/n?" The question took you aback, only since he never really asks those type of questions. Ones he only asks are some that goes by the line 'can you suck my dick?' or of some sort.

"Sure." You managed to smile from the obvious shock that got Jaehyun a little red. "You didn't even have to ask." You added to which he nodded to shyly. It would be times like this when you would forget that he is a good thirty years old because of his cute personality.

You two finally made it to the canteen, the taller male receiving a lot of stares from all those present inside. Jaehyun was yet to spot the attention he was gaining, but you were already feeling iffy even though you knew that those heart eyes were for Jaehyun. But, you couldn't help the feeling that those eyes didn't like you being around Jaehyun. "J-Jaehyun..." You squeaked out silently, tugging on the sleeve of his suit, taking his attention whilst smiling down at you. His smile faltered upon noticing how you looked subtly shaken and cowered in fear. "I.. I think we should leave."

"Baby, what's wrong? You look so tense." Jaehyun asked you out of pure concern, cupping your cheeks as he gently tilted your head upwards, so you could face him, but you removed his hands from your cheeks that got him almost shocked since you'd never really let yourself move away from his grasp, instead you would usually just lean into his touch and let yourself succumb to the warmth he was radiating, but this. This was different and he knew exactly that something was bothering you.

"Can we go, please?" You sounded like you were begging for you two to quickly move outside, leaving Jaehyun with no choice, but to nod his head and let you drag him out of the place. Alas, you were outside, but he never received even a word from you nor a hum, a sigh, nothing. Just complete silence.

He grew more worried thinking that he might have done something that he shouldn't have or said something that made you feel so uncomfortable. He was getting anxious as you continued to keep your mouth closed and never said a word. "Baby, you know you can trust me, right?" Jaehyun caressed your thumb in a comforting manner, his eyes showing how much he truly cared for you and how genuinely worried he was. He was scared that he might have done something wrong to you.

He himself never knew how it got to this. At first, just like you, he had only intended to find some fun in the relationship you both had and not actually grow some feelings towards you, but the first time he ever met you, all he ever had thought in his head was to protect you at all cost and give you everything you wanted, spoil you with all his money and riches, give you forehead kisses and pleasure that can make you see stars. Since the start, he only thought of this as something platonic and that it was a part of the agreement you both had consent on, but as you two got to spend more time together, he always felt something blossom inside of him. He always looked forward to every day, mainly because he had you to wake up to. His usual stoic expression, completely turned into those that said 'sunshine' all spread out on his face. That's when he completely knew, it was not only the benefits he was up for, anymore. It was you and his love for you.

He was just your usual workaholic man, who had nothing in his head rather than work, work, and work. Not until the day he bumped into you on that one faithful day, when you were so drained from all the studying you had to do and decided to buy coffee. You were so intimidated by his face that he got you cowering in fear when you turned to look up at him. The only courage you could muster was so small that you were only able to give him a polite bow before you entered the coffee shop to buy your favorite cappuccino coffee.

He was so intrigued by you that the next day, during that same time, he waited for you in that same exact location, but you never showed up. Until later. You were so shocked from the sight of him. You feared he'd beat you into a pulp, so you hid your face with your hand, hoping he didn't see you, but luck wasn't on your side that day and decided to let Jaehyun notice your presence.

"Hey, I—"

"Sorry, sir. I'm quite busy, right now." You immediately cut him off and got inside the shop, Jaehyun following suit. Your eyes made its way back towards the older who was following behind you closely. You stopped in your tracks and turned around to look at him, retracting his body from looking through your shoulders, throughout the whole time smiling down at you with his dimples showing. "Excuse me, sir, but do I owe you with something?"

Jaehyun pursed his lips, thinking before smirking and leaning closer to your face, with you, all the while, pulling your head back. "Yes." He answered you with his hands shoved confidently inside his pants.

Your gaze averted from his mesmerizing eyes to the table that supported you and kept you from falling. You gulped and felt your lips go dry. "D-do you need money? I don't have much, but will 7,000 won be enough?" You fondled through your pockets and took out your wallet.

"What? No, no." He chuckled, one hand taken out from his pockets and scratching his eyebrows while he sighed. "I have an offer."

Your brows were pulled together looking up at him, curious. "What is it?"

"Give me your number and I'll tell you over the phone."

And that's how it all started. Of course, he told you about lying that you owed him something, either way you were thanking the God above that he created you as gullible as ever.

As of the moment, Jaehyun could only feel his nervousness rise as he continued to stare at your back. "M/n, please say something. You're making me feel so worried."

"Jaehyun..." You finally stopped walking and spoke, before throwing yourself into him, the impact suddenly taking all the air inside Jaehyun's lungs away. "Don't leave me... please." You pleaded, your arms around him going tighter.

Jaehyun softened and felt himself get blanketed over with relief. He raised his hand to put it on top of your head and caressed them softly and soothingly. "I won't, M/n. I promise you."

In the end, Jaehyun was the one who treated you with something to eat. You were sat at a bench near your class' booth, Jaehyun next to you, while you swayed your feet back and forth. "Hyunnie." You called out to him with a new nickname you came up with, Jaehyun choking on his burger letting out a few coughs while you patted his back, laughing. "How the hell do you eat a burger that it got you choking on it?"

His coughing finally stopped and looked at you with a surprised face. "The nickname. You never called me that before."

You pouted in reply and blushed in embarrassment. "Do you.. not like it?"

"No, of course not." He was quick to shake his head, then cleared his throat, looking away. "It's cute."

You were able to see the pink tint painting his cheeks that you always found cute, since it's a very rare sight to see. Teasingly, you peeked over and was able to confirm that he was, in fact, blushing from just the nickname you created. "Oh my gosh, you're blushing." You cooed and immediately, Jaehyun scoffed, facing you to land a small kiss on your lips that got you widening your eyes and wiping away the mocking smile you had on your face. Your fingers made its way up towards your lips, unable to speak.

"Now, tell me who's blushing." Jaehyun smirked.

You glared at him, but instead of feeling intimidated, he found it cute. "I'm just surprised, since you never really like to, er, kiss me on the lips." You whispered the last part, loud enough for only you and him to hear.

You two were so happy in each other's company, that you both forgot that Jaehyun had somewhere else to be. That being his work. He wouldn't have noticed the time passing, if it wasn't for the alarm he had set, knowing he'd lose track of time when he's around you.

You walked him to his car and saw him off, waving your hand at him, not leaving until he was finally out of sight. You put your hands back down and sighed happily, walking back towards where you should be: at the booth where you should be finishing the preparation.

"So, how was the quick date?" Jeno asked you with a smirk, the sleeves of his shirt pushed back inside the hole that connected it to the shirt, showing his perfectly built muscles.

"It was great! Save for the part where I received death glares at the canteen. That felt terrible." You shuddered at the thought, but smiled again. "That aside, it was great."

"Your schedule didn't change? Are there still room for practice later?" Jeno asked you for the nth time that day. He's been asking you since you entered the classroom.

"It didn't, Jeno. Why are you so eager with me being present in the practice?" You chuckled at him, deciding to help him pack the treat bags you will give out to your customers.

"I just can't be left alone there with people I don't know. I'm an awkward person." Jeno told you.

"Jeno. You're literally known by all the students here and you're scared because they're strangers to you? I bet they all even want to be friends with you." You said, but Jeno just shook his head, his hair moving along with him.

"No, M/n. You must and need to attend the practice, either way." Jeno demanded of you.

You rolled your eyes at him and sighed deeply through your nose in defeat. "Fine, fine." Jeno's eye smile appeared and let out a small 'yes' making you chuckle.

"Hey, M/n." A voice started from outside the booth and saw a girl with her arms crossed, looking down at you whilst you seated at the ground. You looked up at her, but she didn't look friendly. She looked angry than friendly.

Your eyes flickered toward Jeno, then back to the girl and smiled. "Yeah?"

"Don't give me that smile, you whore." She spat at you, all of a sudden.

Your eyes closed shut, your mouth wide open and your forefinger raised up while you pushed it towards her way and scoffing. Your eyelids tore open and you smirked at the girl. "Excuse me? Whore? Who you calling a whore?"

"Listen, midget—"

"No, you listen here, Barbie." You said, a mocking tone with the last word. "You full on plastic, bitch. Get away from my sight. You look like a parasite."

The girl gasped in shock and opted to pull on your hair, but Jeno held her by her wrist and angrily stared at her. "You heard him. Get away. I'm not afraid to punch a person, even a girl, if they're purpose was to mistreat and shame on an innocent person." Jeno threw her hand away like it was trash, sending the girl from moving two steps back before stomping her foot and turning on her heels to walk away.

You could still see Jeno glaring at the girl while you looked at him in shock. "Wow, wow. Look at you."

"Sh. I'm not done yet." Jeno hushed you, before he continued his work. "You were saying?"

"Nothing. Was just shocked you told that girl off. I could have handled myself just fine, but thanks to you, I'm saved from causing a ruckus." You said, Jeno huffing through the nose.

"Seriously, you." He sighed pinching the bridge of his nose and knitted his brows. "Stop making the problem bigger."

"No way. I need to put up a fight. If I don't, they'd see me as someone weak." You defended yourself.

"And you can't even handle death glares that's being sent towards you?"

You were about to speak and fight back, but he was right. "That's... that's a different matter."

"Sure, it isn't, M/n." He said rolling his eyes.

Later that afternoon, past 5 p.m., you and Jeno excused yourselves from the class, since you have a dance practice for your performance on the opening of the foundation day. Out of habit, you skipped beside Jeno who was happy that you got to attend the practice today. Again.

You never really liked the person who choreographed the whole song. It was under a genre you thought you could never pull off or fit in, so your confidence was at a very low level. During practices, though, you try your best not to make it obvious that you were uncomfortable for that certain concept, but you still had to be seen making a lot of mistakes, some of the other students who joined clearly agitated. You could only bow and bow and bow at the mistake you knew you clearly had done, feeling guilty for the reason why always had to start again from the top. The reason why you never really got along well with these students.

You have arrived at the practice room, taking quiet steps as you both entered the venue trying your best not to make a sound. The intense gazes you received from the other students didn't come unnoticed by you, the reason why you pulled your knees closer to your chest as you buried your face in it. Clearly, they were enjoying those two few days you were absent, since they got to finish practice early and with no interruption nor mistakes. But, now that you're around, they knew exactly what awaited them.

Jeno saw you curled up into a ball and eyes making its way up to the students who looked so angry with you making him frown. "M/n. Don't mind them. You're actually doing even greater than them." He tried to cheer you up, so you acknowledged it with a smile.

"Thanks, Jeno. But, I don't think that will change the fact that my uneasiness with the dance is the reason why we have to start over and over again." You sighed and placed your head back down on your knees, Jeno drawing circles on your back.

A moment later, the mentor came walking in, displeased to see you present. "Oh, welcome back... M/n." He stated before you could hear those loud snickers coming from the students. You and Jeno were the first ones to stand in position, the others following suit. The mentor's face lit up with an idea on his mind. "Can everyone please take a seat for a couple of minutes?" He smiled, then looking at you. "Except for you, L/n."

Jeno's eyes fell upon you, a worried look on his face, mouthing 'I'll be fine' to reassure him as he sat back down along with the other students until it was only you and the mentor left standing. "You think telling your 'boyfriend' about me would scare me?" He mocked you with your head still hung low. "You have to try better than that." He smirked, pulling a chair to seat on it. His legs were on either side of the chair, so his chest was pressed upon the back rest of the chair to face you. "Start."

You were startled by the sudden order and went into position, but you only started fidgeting out of fear. "Where... I.. sir.. Do I stand—"

"L/n!" He yelled at you, making you jump from the sudden raise of his voice. You knew telling Jaehyun was a bad idea. "Fix yourself, will you? The performance is due tomorrow and you're such a mess." The misery you were caged in were the happiness of the students as they started to giggle, your fist clenching hard until your knuckles turned white.

The music started, but you were still nowhere from moving your body. You just stood there, head hanging low while gnashing your teeth. You weren't angry at the mentor. You were angry at yourself. You were angry that you couldn't do any better. You practiced the dance so hard, yet it were still so far from perfecting it. You just wished some kind of spirit would possess you and lead your body.

The whole place started to laugh at you as they watched you shamelessly froze on your position. You felt a small jab on your ribs that made you open your clenched fists and saw Jeno standing right beside you with a grin on his face, your expression softening as he started to lead the dance. Slowly, you felt your own body move to the beat and rhythm of the song, being at the same flow with Jeno. The students only watched while the song ended.

A slow clap from your mentor was heard, a smile plastered on his face. "Way to impress me you two, huh?" He stood from the chair and waisted his arms. "L/n." His eyes moved to you, expecting yet another scolding. "I'm proud of you. Keep up that confidence and I just know you'll do great." You felt a smile creeping its way up to your face, before the mentor closed in on you and ruffled your hair. "Alright, everyone. From the top."

-----

The practice ended at exactly eight o' clock in the evening and you were already feeling drained, your sweat soaked shirt sticking to your body. Your forehead glistened with sweat, that ran down to the side of your cheeks. You panted heavily and flopped your body down on the polished floor.

Why that late you ask? Well, you and Jeno decided to stay for a few hours to polish the dance, him pointing out your mistakes and going back to the steps to correct you. You were grateful Jeno was a very patient guy, so whenever you made a mistake or wasn't executing the dance properly, he'd just chuckle and help you with your 'cute mistakes', at least that's what he called it.

"Finally..." You panted, Jeno settling himself beside you, his limbs sprawled all over the floor. "Done."

"You did so great, M/n! I knew you could pull this off." Jeno gave you a compliment that made you giggle, a hand on your chest to catch your breathe.

"And it was all thanks to you." You told him.

Jeno shook his head. "Ey. The only thing I did was help your body to loosen up."

"Exactly." The cute noises coming out of your mouth once more. "Do you think we should practice more?" You asked the older who moved his head to look at you.

"Still up for one more?" He smiled knowingly at you, while you nodded at him. You both stood up from where you both lied and you went to your position with Jeno moving to the speakers to play the song for the last time.

The minute you both finished, you were so exhausted that your knees couldn't hold themselves up anymore and you fell to the ground, groaning. You were panting heavily, starting to even your breathing at the same time laughing proudly at yourself for how well you've done. "When I get home, I'm gonna take a shower and then, throw myself on the bed and sleep."

Jeno could only laugh and you two were left with half an hour talking about all the things in life. You listened to him rant about how the mentor was being more harsh on you than the other students, but you only shook the topic off telling him that it no longer mattered and that he should already move on. You had also thanked him for helping you, during that time when you had to do the dance routine all by yourself. You really didn't know what else to do than to just stand there and sulk.

A few minutes later, both of you were now starting to pack, Jeno having to make a quick visit to the restroom, leaving you all alone inside the studio. You were changing into a dry shirt, when the voice of the janitress from behind the window made your body go tense as you jumped and turned towards her. "Oh, fuck." You sighed out in relief, holding your hand close to your chest. "You scared me, ma'am."

Her eyes turned into those that looked like crescents and smiled. "My bad. Probably shouldn't have passed by unannounced." She nodded and proceeded to mop the hallway floor.

You were about to ask her about a certain matter that was troubling you, but when you lifted your head to face the woman, she was not there anymore. "Uh.. probably left for something." You shrugged it off and went back to scrolling through your feeds, the certain feeling of being watched sending chills down your spine. The silence was so deafening that you started to whistle to a song you were currently into, just to help calm the unnerving feeling. You started to feel all the hair on your body stand on its end when a very harsh opening of the door sent you off flying, then to the ground your heart beating so fast. "Shit!"

Jeno was obviously confused why you got so scared by him just pushing the door open, but he was also laughing at your state which made you glare at him. He helped you stand back up to your feet, as you dusted your pants from any invisible dirt. "What the hell happened to you?"

"You scared the shits out of me. That's what happened." You scoffed at him, hitching your back higher onto your shoulders. "Let's go." You two vacated the room, making sure to lock it, but you told Jeno not to since the janitress was still yet to finish cleaning, but Jeno was greatly puzzled at what you had said.

"What in the world are you talking about?" Jeno laughed lightly before proceeding to lock the door and hung an arm around your shoulder.

"I saw her through the window." You added.

Jeno shook his head in disbelief and didn't fall for your trick to scare him off. "First, the school does not hire a janitress or a janitor, since they have working students. Second, so the dance major students don't get distracted, the window inside the room is tinted, so you basically don't see anything outside."

You felt your heart sink at the revelation as you felt all your blood get drained. "Are you... s-sure?"

"Yeah." Jeno answered your question. You slowly turned your head back towards the room, the windows and saw a black figure waving their hands at you that made you sprinting off to the entrance, leaving a dumbfounded Jeno as he followed behind you. "What the hell, M/n?"

"Shut... up! You were not the one left inside the dance room, so you wouldn't know how much I'm fucking scared, right—"

"M/n!"

"FUCK!" You screamed on the top of your lungs, stomping your foot and punching the air for no apparent reason. "Jaehyun, you... nevermind. Just take me home, please. I think I'm already fucking wasted." Jaehyun, who was on his casual attire, approached you and placed a kiss on top of your head.

[pluckyredhead]

For the ask game, how about jon kent and damian?

Jon:

First impression

I was read the Convergence issue where he was born when it came out, so my impression was basically "I can't believe they named him Dad Dad Kent." Naming him after Jonathan Kent is fine, but in the continuity Jon originally hailed from, Sam Lane literally committed genocide against Kryptonians including Clark's aunt (Kara's mom), so...no?

Impression now

HE IS MY PRECIOUS CHILD. THE GOODEST BOY. THE SUNSHINE OF MY LIFE. I adore Jon Kent with every fiber of my being. Lois and Clark are one of my all-time favorite couples in any media ever and I adore all Supers so I was already primed to love Jon, but then when it turned out he was a blend of Clark's sweetness and earnestness and Lois's dogged curiosity and love of speaking truth to power PLUS he's secretly a little shit? Heart eyes, motherfucker. If I could turn back time he would be twelve years old right now but he great up real good even if his current series is sort of bland. He's perfect and I would bake him a pie if I could.

Favorite moment

All of the original Super Sons run but also his very first meeting with Damian from just before it, where Damian KIDNAPS him and he wakes up strapped to a table in a cave and like thirty seconds later he's trying to befriend Damian and complimenting his cow. WHAT A PURE HEART. Oh oh oh and this:

That endlessly open heart, I weep! His first meeting with Kon was also very very good. And him earnestly telling the Legion that his dad's best friend is his mom and they're like "Gross." I JUST LOVE EVERYTHING HE DOES EVER.

Idea for a story

Oh I have nine million. The three topmost at the moment are: the DamiJon shifter AU that's the sequel to the JayRoy shifter AU that is fighting me tooth and nail (ha); the sprawling art school AU which has Jon as a new student at the Gotham Academy of the Arts as one of the main plot threads and which I'll probably never actually write; and a long heartwarming genfic that actually digs into the relationships between Jon and Kara and Kon and which again I will probably never write, alas.

Unpopular opinion

I don't know if I have an unpopular opinion, per se, but my two biggest pet peeves with how I see Jon treated in fandom are 1. removing or downplaying Lois's importance in his life, as if he isn't a little mini Lois as much as he's a little mini Clark, and 2. using him as some sort of emotional labor minion for Damian and never allowing him to be a fully realized character who can make mistakes and experience hurt.

Favorite relationship

I mean, Damian, obviously. I love how well they balance each other. They have all the opposites attract goodness of Clark and Bruce but they're much more fun. Jon brings out Damian's softness and ability to be better; Damian brings out Jon's little shit-ness, which is actually really important because Jon can be a bit of a pushover sometimes, and Damian's particular form of playful irritation encourages him to actually stick up for himself. They're also deeply protective of each other, even when they're very young - Damian LITERALLY made a solemn vow to Clark that he would always keep Jon safe!!! In canon!!! I'm losing my mind!!!

I also love the aspect of "my destiny includes you" in their friendship. Like, not to downplay the importance of Kon or the other Batkids, all of whom I obviously love, but from the moment Jon and Damian met, it was like "Oh, we are going to be Superman and Batman someday, we are going to be partners and teammates and brothers in arms for the rest of our lives, you are my destiny," to which Jon's reaction was "Well, we might as well be friends, too" and Damian's was "UGH." (And now Jon's reaction is "We belong together" and Damian's is "UGH but also you're mine." 😍)

Favorite headcanon

Jon's hair only has two modes, "slightly messy" and "extremely messy," even when he's an adult. There's something permanently boyish about him.

Damian:

First impression

I was deeply invested in Stephanie Brown as Robin and furious when she died, so when within two years they had brought back Jason and introduced Damian - replacing the only in-continuity girl Robin with not one but two more boys - I was even madder. Stupid Jason and Damian! Who needs 'em?

Impression now

It was actually Steph who made me fall in love with Damian half a decade later, in her Batgirl series. I was like "Ohhhh, this terrible murder baby doesn't know how to play" and I was done. Reading every single one of his appearances (I am...not a person who likes things by halves) just cemented it.

So yeah, I love Damian. I love that he's obnoxious and vain and petty and often cruel. I love that he dotes on animals at the same time and doesn't see it as a contradiction. I love that he's trying so hard to learn how to express himself, to love and trust others when he was taught not to. I love that his affection comes in sudden bursts of passion or grandiosity (see above re: his solemn vow to Clark). He is a tragic figure and an inspiring figure and a stone cold badass, but he's also really fucking funny, and all of that at once is a rare combination.

Favorite moment

All of the Jon stuff above. The moment he and Dick realize they're both not dead and he flings himself into Dick's arms. When he tells Jason he's going bald. As shattering as it is, Goliath's origin. When he frees his clones. But also:

And, like, Bruce is a terrible garbage father even within the context of this story, but this moment always gets me:

I'M GONNA CRY.

Idea for a story

All of the Jon stuff above, again, but also I would really like to write something long exploring all the various Batkids' relationships. I particularly want to write more about Damian and Tim, their dynamic is so fascinating to me.

Unpopular opinion

I tend not to agree with posts that are like "Damian thinks X about various Green Lanterns" or "Damian thinks Y about various Flashes" or whatever because I just don't think Damian thinks about other people that much? Which is kind of a joke but really, he's both very self-involved and very practical, so what does he care what Hal Jordan is doing?

Favorite relationship

Jon, obvious, but also his relationship with Dick is so beautiful to me (and I find Dick...pretty boring otherwise, so that's saying a lot). I'm loving his interactions with Connor in his current serious. AND GOLIATH!!!

Favorite headcanon

I don't think Damian trusts his own moral compass, because he was taught one thing until he was ten and then something completely different and it taught him not to trust his instincts. I don't think he refrains from killing because he's internalized that it's wrong, but because Bruce and Dick told him that's The Rule and he's very good at following rules (when he wants to). This is fine in the field but it's why I keep writing about him struggling with his attraction to Jon and sex and consent and any possible age differences, because Bruce and Dick didn't give him a rule about that and he doesn't trust himself to know what's right (and also Ra's does whatever he wants and Bruce never lets himself have anything he wants, so clearly if Damian wants something it must be morally wrong and the correct ethical decision is to deprive himself of it, right?). Oh, Damian.

Also, on a lighter note, I always hear his voice as just slightly British in my head, mostly because a child being imperious always sounds posh to me.

[mystic-deep]

"Whipped Cream" - Part 1 | Nanami Kento fem!reader

♡ ♡ ♡ description: Taking cooking classes seemed like a nice way to relax and sharpen your skills, too bad the teacher hates you.

♡ ♡ ♡ warnings: none, some mild swearing near the end, rating will go up due to explicit content in later chapters.

♡ ♡ ♡ notes: Chef Nanami anyone? Probably the only job that he'd actually enjoy haha. I'm not sure how many parts this will have but I'm not going to rush it, I pretty much have the plot and ending all planned out, let's see how fast we can get there haha. As always, didn't have time to proofread so please don't mind the mistakes.

♡ ♡ ♡ word count: 2.5k

“Happy Birthday!”

Sitting at a table inside a small restaurant, you looked at your best friend as she handed you a colourful envelop. Money? She wasn’t your mother. A postcard? Too cheap considering she only bought you a bouquet of flowers.

“Open it already!”

Like obeying a command, you opened it and peeked inside. A gift card? How original. You spent days preparing the gift for her birthday and she gets you a gift card. Seeing your disappointed expression, she quickly explained.

“It’s a cooking course! You always said you wanted to attend one but never got the time, I figured if I bought it, then you’d have no choice but to go.”

You took the card out and began to inspect it. The words VIP were written in a golden colour as well as the name of the school you’d be attending.

“It was the most popular course, apparently you have to book it months in advance. I was really lucky since someone dropped out at the last minute.”

“When will I have the time to-”

“Shhhh!” She placed her index finger on your lips in order to shut you up. “The group session is thrice a week and you have twelve lessons in total. It’s after working hours and if for some reason you can’t attend then they can schedule a private lesson for the weekend. Benefit of a VIP and all.” She flipped her hair in a proud way and you fought back the urge to roll your eyes. Who says money can’t buy a very expensive and needless cooking course?

The truth was, you loved to cook, it was the only time you felt calm in your otherwise hectic life. You were also pretty good at it but self-taught. You once joked that it would be fun to take some lessons and actually sharpen your skills but that was the point, you were joking. You remember the promise you made to yourself at the beginning of the year that you would go to the gym every day and get in shape. You bought a class pass for a year with a personal trainer and only ended up going for a week or two. You still received reminders weekly that you should be attending since it was already paid.

“Thank you, it’s a really thoughtful gift.” You offered her a smile as you played with the card in your hand. Well, one lesson or two might not take up too much of your time. You were also curios to know why this particular course was so popular.

“You’re welcome! Also, from what I’ve heard but nothing confirmed yet, the chef that’s going to teach you is really good looking.” Her eyes gleamed and you wondered if she was sending you out like a scout, to test the water and if it was good then she’d join as well.

“Wonderful, I can’t wait to be surrounded by an army of housewives.”

Monday afternoon you found yourself at the reception of the cooking school you’d be attending for the next couple of weeks. You had to admit that so far the building looked impressive. There were several classes from what you could tell and the lobby was already pretty crowded.

“Can I help you?”

The pleasant looking receptionist gave you a smile and you handed her your VIP card.

“Yes, I’m here to attend the course with chef Nanami Kento.”

“Oh, Nanami-sensei!” She gleefully took your card and began the registration. “You’re pretty lucky, this is our most popular class. It’s quite unusual for someone to drop out.”

“So I keep hearing.”

She gave you back your card as well as a small bag that contained several items.

“You have here your apron as well as your class schedule and several cooking accessories that you get to keep at the end of the lessons. The class is 10-A, the very last room at the end of the corridor. I hope you enjoy this experience!”

You smiled and thanked her before heading to the classroom. Upon entering you realized that your fears had been justified, the whole room was filled with women ranging from mid-thirties to some ladies that looked in their sixties. Only women, and they all seemed to know each other.

You moved to one of the islands in the back, taking out your apron and putting it on. You had to admit you kind of felt like you were participating in the Great British Bake Off. In terms of gadgets at your disposal, everything was modern and your island was well equipped with everything one might need for the cooking process. You had your very own oven and stove as well as a Kitchen aid and several other utensils. In one of the drawers you found a cutting board as well as a set of knives and several bowls. You were starting to realize why the fee had been so expensive.

“First time here?”

You turned around and nodded sheepishly at a group of older looking women.

“I guess everyone knows each other huh?”

“For most of us this is the second time we’ve taken this course, it’s quite lovely, you learn a lot of things.” You couldn’t help but wonder why they would need to take the exact same course twice. Either they didn’t manage to learn what they were supposed to the first time around or the chef really was thathandsome.

“I’m looking forward to it as well, I want to sharpen my skill and this one came highly recommended.”

“Are you married?” The question came as a punch in the gut and they all looked at you like it was the most normal thing one could ask.

“We didn’t see a ring on your finger.”

“Urm no, married to my work perhaps.” You offered a light chuckle but no one else found it funny.

“Then for whom are you sharpening your skills for? Any children?”

At this point you thought their questions were quite intrusive and rude. Were they perhaps thinking that you were a threat? A young new girl that was going to steal away the attention of their sensei? You were actually starting to get aggravated by their attitude. What happened to solidarity between women?

“I want to sharpen them for myself. No children, just a cat, pretty lucky I suppose.” Their eyes narrowed and you smiled to yourself. Teasing them was proving to be quite fun.

“Oh? Well, you’ll want them when you’re older. Although, you should probably hurry, not much time left to spare.” By this point your hand was itching to slap at least one of them. What an unpleasant bunch of old hags!

You were ready to give a sharp reply when the door of the classroom was opened and your teacher stepped inside. You hated to admit it, you really hated it, but he was indeed handsome. Blonde hair, light coloured eyes, build like a brick wall, sharp features and when he opened his mouth to greet the class, you fawned over his deep voice.

“I’m glad to see some familiar faces…and new ones of course.” His eyes landed on you and you shifted, feeling like a doe caught in the headlights. His presence was quite something, no wonder these women were ready to turn into harpies just for a bit of his attention. Still, it wasn’t enough to win you over. If anything, you felt an instant antipathy towards him-he seemed too arrogant for your taste.

“We’ll start our first day with a test bake. I want to see each and everyone’s level before we begin our lessons.” As he spoke, he neatly rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt and put his own apron on. You could actually hear sighs going around the room but he seemed unbothered.

“You can bake anything you like, something you’re comfortable and good at.” With that said, he gave you an hour and a half to see what you’d come up with.

You decided on your famous lemon cookies, they were pretty easy to make and every time you baked a batch your friends would fight over it. As you were creaming the butter with the sugar you felt a presence near your station and turned to look at Nanami that was peeking inside the glass bowl.

“What are you making?” Just like that, no introduction, no small talk, right down to business.

“Lemon cookies. They’re-”

“Quite a simple recipe, don’t you think? I wanted to see your level, this is something even a child could bake.” Your heart dropped a little. You weren’t great at taking criticism and you couldn’t stand how those old hangs from before were snickering behind you.

“You said to bake something that we’re good at.”

“So lemon cookies are the only thing you’re good at? Hmm.” With that he left your station and you just stared at his back as he went on to check on someone else. Your cheeks turned red with embarrassment and anger. You were going to shut him up, once he had a taste of your cookies he’d eat his words, as well as the whole batch.

It seemed, however, that the universe was working against you. The batter didn’t have enough time to chill and since you weren’t accustomed to the oven you over-baked them. You stared at the plate of spread lemon cookies, not one looking the same as the other, and chew on your bottom lip.

With your baking time coming to an end, he was walking from one stand to another, mostly complimenting the results. The other women in your class were a giggling mess, thanking him like he had offered salvation just for eating one of their treats.

When he finally reached your station, you felt his judging eyes burning holes into your very soul.

“What happened?”

“Well, the fridge is not set to the right temperature. The one I have at home is much cooler, and I didn’t have time to let the batter set. Also, the oven is different from-”

“A simple recipe but you couldn’t finish it properly. Everyone in class uses the same type of fridge and oven, no one else had any problems.”

You wanted to argue back, wanted to say how unfair it was since they were all well accustomed to their working stations because they had already taken this class. Instead you kept quiet and fought back tears that had formed at the corner of your eyes. If you wanted someone to look down on your work you would have stayed overtime at your office.

“Can’t be helped, since you’re at beginner level. You have to keep up with the rest of the class so please pay extra attention during lessons and don’t hesitate to ask your classmates for advice.” With that said he continued to stroll around the room, throwing nice remarks left and right.

When the class was finally over you grabbed your bag and dashed out of the room. You struggled to take off your apron as you walked through the main reception and into the elevator that led to the parking lot. When you finally managed to set yourself free you fished the phone from your handbag and dialled your friend.

“Hey little chef, how was your first-”

“Horrible! I’m never coming here again!” You practically screamed in your phone as the elevator doors closed. You were shaking with anger and as you stared at your reflection in the mirror from the opposite wall, you also realized you looked just as upset as you felt.

“He’s an ass! He didn’t teach us shit! Test bake he said, so I made my lemon cookies you know.”

“Oh I love those!”

“Right?! Too easy he said, even a child could make them! The damn fridge wasn’t working properly and I forgot to set the oven so they spread a little but they were still good! Then he just made fun of me in front of the whole class and ugh don’t even get me started on them-” You continued to vent as the doors of the elevator opened and you stepped inside the underground parking lot.

“All of them have taken the class before and they’re just here to drool over the teacher. I swear it’s a fucking joke, his class is only popular because every single middle-aged married woman there wants to fuck him!” You stopped from your raging rant to look for your cars keys that were nowhere to be found. “I swear they all have some sick fantasies with him! He’s not a chef, he’s just some thirty something guy that preys on naïve women. He probably doesn’t even know how to whip cream!” You huffed in anger while trying to juggle the bag you received at the reception, your handbag and your phone.

“Where the hell are my car keys?”

“They seemed to have fallen at your feet.”

You froze, feeling the blood draining from your body. You turned around in slow motion and looked up at the figure of your teacher who was only a few feet away from you. You didn’t realize just how tall and menacing he looked until now.

“Urm, I-”

“I’ll be seeing you on Wednesday. That is, if you want to attend a class taught by a guy who doesn’t know how to whip cream.”

The sweet embrace of death couldn’t have come faster. You picked your keys from the ground and tried to form some kind of apology but he quickly walked through the parking lot towards his car. He opened the door of an expensive looking Mercedes and drove away, leaving you standing there like a complete moron.

“Y/n are you still there? What happened?”

“Oh god, oh god, I’ve fucked up!” You began to walk to your car feeling like the worst person on earth. “I’m not sure how much he heard but he heard plenty.”

“Ohoho this is getting interesting!”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this.” You spat bitterly as you opened the door of your own car and stepped inside, throwing you bags on the empty seat. “Well, I shouldn’t bother with what he thinks anyway. He was mean to mean first and it’s not like I’m going again.”

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this one! I didn’t spend so much money just so your workaholic ass can come up with excuses not to attend! I don’t care if he likes you or not, despite what you may think he was highly recommended for his skill not for his looks.” You grumbled as you turned on your engine, really hating the fact that your friend was making a point. You loved to cook, you were good at it, you might have had a bad day and now your teacher hated you, but you shouldn’t give up on the opportunity to learn proper cooking skills.

“Alright, I’m going to try a few more lessons. It will be a miracle if he doesn’t kill me by the end of the week.”

“That’s my girl!” You rolled your eyes and hanged up the phone before driving off. You really didn’t like Nanami and now he had more than enough reasons not to like you, but you also weren’t a quitter. If anything, you will continue to go to classes out of pure spite. You’ll show him how skilful you actually were, far better than any of those hyenas from your class. You’ll whip that cream until you’ll turn it into butter.

[everyonesawhoregrace]

Shattered (1) discontinued

I think about him only in the dead of winter. His hands on my body and the smell of him. His perfect blue eyes and the way he would wrap his arms around me as if it were our last embrace.

I think about the way he said my name, Joanna, and the way he could smile crookedly after telling a terrible joke.

I think about Thomas Shelby during the night time only because I know he thinks about me when the sun is up. And I don't want the universe to ever put us back together.

I'm a Gypsy-Italian woman, who derived from a family of witches. I was born and raised in Birmingham, a few doors from the Shelby residence.

I was a cellist before I could even walk, and a good girl for the most part. My mother was a horse breeder, she loved to take care of the large beautiful animals. I was close with my mum.

Whilst at home, I met a boy named Tommy. He had a beautiful smile and eyes as blue as the summer sky. I was twelve at the time.

He was handsome even when he was young, so pure and kind. He treated my mum nice, always bringing her flowers in return for an hour of helping her with the horses she nurtured.

I remember poking my head out of the window, watching as this boy - who couldn't be more than three years older than me, take such good care of the horse.

I was flushed, and sold on the idea of wedding him one day. It was love at first sight for me, and shortly after, I'd learn that night that Thomas might have felt the same way.

He called me Anna, and he loved to make me laugh. Thomas and I were head over heels within a week of knowing each other.

I was at my happiest, and now, as a thirty-one year old, I can't help but admit that I still crave the happiness I once had so young.

My bed is empty, and I feel cold. I try to shut my eyes and throw away these bad thoughts, but I can't get rid of him.

He tells me he needs me back in Birmingham. That something has happened and he needs me. The man who haunts me at night needs me.

________

Th feeling of loneliness is unfathomably painful. It's a punishable act done by God, in attempt to hurt you. And Jesus Christ am I hurting.

My eyes flood with tears as I stand before a tombstone reading a name I can't pull my eyes away from.

Shelby.

The grave has been newly dug, as fresh soil fills my nose alongside the sent of flowers. My eyes scan the grave, reading her name.

Grace Shelby.

He lost her only after a few months of having her. A tear rolls down my cheek at thought of Thomas being left alone now. I put down the flowers I picked out and place them on her grave. I run my hand over her name and feel an energy corse through my veins.

My eyes move to the words left on her tombstone.

Loving mother, wife, daughter and friend.

My heart lets out a wince. I always knew he had a child of his own, a little boy who would speak to me in my dreams.

As if it's her tears, raindrops fall from the sky and thunder claps in disarray. An umbrella reaches me before a single drop touches me and I look up to see Pascal. He sends me a reassuring smile, one that says that he wants to go, but he'll happily stand here awaiting me.

I get up to stand, feeling the umbrella move with me. "I feel sorry for him," I mutter, wiping away another tear.

I look at my black gloves and take them off. "And I feel sorry for the boy." I add.

A boy without his mother? How in the world can that work out for anyone. I frown, feeling myself get emotional again. Oh goodness, not again.

"You've sent your condolences." Pascal tells me in a quiet voice.

We walk towards the car that sits a yard away from her gravesite. Grace. I want to say her name in my head, and allow it to linger.

Thomas must have been so infatuated with her, and I can only imagine how she felt about him. So foolish to ever find love in a man like that. Especially if you're as innocent as any other girl.

Thomas Shelby might come off as sweet and good, but inside that man is the devil just waiting to be freed from his chains.

"Does he still live here?" I ask, looking over to the mass amounts of graves. I was prepared to burry Tommy here, I thought the war would kill him.

Pascal walks slow, as I hurry up. He's a tall man who can get to car in two steps, whereas it takes me nearly thirty.

"Yes. With a son, Charlie."

I knew it. I raise my head from my heels and hear a buzzing in my ear. Someone is around us. I look around, making sure to not be seen and instantly locate the man who watches us a few feet away. A man in a black coat and hat stands a few feet away.

"Pascal," that's all I have to say as he looks around.

Pascal nods, "Harry Camden, he works for you."

"Why do I need two times the protection?"

"Because Birmingham isn't what it used to be, ma'am. Nearly every bloke has a weapon on them. It's dangerous."

"Dangerous," I nearly laugh. "If I'm to be shot in the town that my mother gave birth to me then so be it." I hiss. "I wish to be buried beside her, this you know."

He nods. "Right ma'am."

A smirk plays on my lips. "If someone has the balls to harm me whilst I stay here, I wish my assassin nothing but success in their life." I clear my throat. "The lord has tried endlessly to take my life, and has failed miserably each time."

Pascal hates it when I speak about the lord in vein but the truth is the truth. He goes silent and I walk with my head high, the car that sits beside mine is new. I raise an eyebrow, looking at it as I walk down a hill slowly. Pascal assists me, as I don't loose eye contact.

The door pops open and I continue to stare until seeing a man step out of the passenger side and look at me. He's tall and handsome, far too angelic to be the monster everyone gives him the title of. Rain falls over his head, and those eyes. Those eyes that have haunted my dreams countless times stares back at me for once.

Thomas Shelby.

///////

be gentle with me, do tip if you are enjoying this. thank you <3

[thewidowsghost]

Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 3

Percy's POV

Confession time: I ditch Grover as soon as we get to the bus terminal.

I know, I know. It was rude. But Grover is kinda freaking me out, looking at me like I am a dead man, muttering, "Why does this always happen?" and "Why does it always have to be the sixth grade?"

Whenever he gets upset, Grover's bladder acts up, so I'm not surprised when, as soon as we get off the bus, he makes me promise to wait for him, then makes a beeline for the restroom. Instead of waiting, I get my suitcase, slip outside, and catch the first taxi uptown.

"East One-hundred-and-forth and First," I tell the driver.

A word about my mother, before you meet her.

Her name is Sally Jackson and she's the best person in the world, which just proves my theory that the best people have the rottenest luck. Her own parents died in a plane crash when she was five, and she was raised by an uncle who didn't care much about her. She wanted to be a novelist, so she spent high school working to save enough money for a college with a good creative-writing program. Then her uncle got cancer, and she had to quit school her senior year to take care of him. After he died, she was left with no money, no family, and no diploma.

The only good break she ever got was meeting mine and (Y/n)'s dad.

We didn't have any memories of him, just this warm sort of glow, maybe the barest trace of his smile. Our mom doesn't like to talk about him because it makes her sad; she has no pictures.

See, they weren't married. She told us he was rich and important, and their relationship was a secret. Then one day, he set sail across the Atlantic on some important journey, and he never came back.

Lost at sea, my mom had told us. Not dead. Lost at sea.

She worked odd jobs, took night classes to get her high school diploma, and raised me and my twin on her own. She never complained or got mad. Not even once. But I knew I wasn't an easy kid.

Finally, she married Gabe Ugliano, who was nice the first thirty seconds we knew him, then showed his true colors as a world-class jerk. When I was young, I nicknamed him Smelly Gabe. I'm sorry, but it's the truth. The guy reeked like moldy garlic pizza wrapped in gym shorts.

Between the two of us, we made my mom's life pretty hard. The way Smelly Gabe treated her, the way he and I got along...well, when I came home is a good example.

I walk into our little apartment, hoping my mom would be home from work. Instead, Smelly Gabe is in the living room, playing poker with his buddies. The television blares ESPN. Chips and beer cans are strewn all over the carpet.

Hardly looking, he says around his cigar, "So, you're home."

"Where's Mom and (Y/n)?" I wonder aloud.

"Your mom's working," he says. "You got any cash?"

That was it. No Welcome back. Good to see you. How has your life been the last six months?

"I don't have any cash," I toll him.

"Here," comes a voice, holding out a ten to the man.

Instantly, a smile sneaks its way onto my face.

"Hey, Perc," my twin sister says with a smile.

(Y/n)'s POV

I grab my brother's suitcase and carry it into his room; I set it down on the bed.

"You wanna come sit in my room?" I ask and Percy nods, a smile still on his face.

I lead the way to my room and when I open the door, Percy sinks into my desk chair.

"Percy?" comes our mom's voice.

She opens my bedroom door.

Our mother can make me feel good just by walking into the room. Her eyes sparkle and change color in the light. Her smile is as warm as a quilt. She's got a few gray streaks mixed in with her long brown hair, but I never think of her as old. When she looks at me, it's like she's seeing all the good things about me, none of the bad. I've never heard her raise her voice or say an unkind word to anyone, not even me or Percy or Gabe.

"Oh, Percy," she hugs her son tightly. "I can't believe it. You've grown since Christmas.

Percy's POV

Her red-white-and-blue Sweet on America uniform smelled like the best things in the world: chocolate, licorice, and all the other stuff she sold at the candy shop in Grand Central. She'd brought me a huge bag of "free samples," the way she always did when I came home.

We sit together on the edge of (Y/n)'s bed. While I attack the blueberry sour strings, (Y/n) stealing a few pieces of candy from the bag, Mom runs her hand through my hair and demands to know everything I hadn't put in my letters. She doesn't mention anything about my getting expelled. She doesn't seem to care about that. But was I okay? Was her little boy doing all right? The whole time, (Y/n)'s eyes were sparkling with amusement.

I tell Mom she is smothering me, and to lay off and all that, but secretly, I was really, really glad to see her and (Y/n).

From the other room, Gabe yells, "Hey, Sally—how about some bean dip, huh?"

I grit my teeth.

My mom is the nicest lady in the world. She should've been married to a millionaire, not to some jerk like Gabe.

For her sake, I try to sound upbeat about my last days at Yancy Academy. I tell her I'm not too down about the expulsion. I'd lasted almost the whole year this time. I'd made some new friends. I'd done pretty well in Latin. And honestly, the fights hadn't been as bad as the headmaster said. I liked Yancy Academy. I really did. I put such a good spin on the year, I almost convince myself. I start choking up, thinking about Grover and Mr. Brunner. Even Nancy Bobofit suddenly doesn't seem so bad.

Until that trip to the museum...

"What?" my mom asks. Her and my sister's eyes tug at my conscience, trying to pull out the secrets. "Did something scare you?"

"No, Mom."

I feel back for lying. I want to tell her about Mrs. Dodds and the three old ladies with the yarn, but I think it'd sound stupid.

Mom purses her lips. Both she and (Y/n) could tell I was holding back, but neither push me.

(Y/n)'s POV

"I have a surprise for both of you," Mom says. "We're going to the beach."

Percy's eyes widen. "Montauk?"

"Three nights - same cabin."

"When?" I ask excitedly.

Mom smiles. "As soon as I get changed."

I can't believe it. Mom, Percy, and I hadn't been to Montauk the last two summers, because Gabe said there wasn't enough money.

Gabe appears in my doorway and growls, "Bean dip, Sally? Didn't you hear me?"

"I've got it," I offer, rising from the bed and walking out into the kitchen to make the dip for Mom.

An hour later, we are ready to leave.

Gabe takes a break from his poker game long enough to watch me and Percy lug Mom's bags to the car. He keeps griping and groaning about losing her cooking - and most importantly, his '78 Camaro - for the whole weekend.

"Not a scratch on this car, you two," he warns us as I load the last bag. "Not one little scratch."

Like we'd be the ones driving. We're twelve. But that didn't matter to Gabe. If a seagull so much as pooped on his paint job, he'd find a way to blame us.

We get into the Camero, me in the passenger's seat, and Percy in the back.

Our rental cabin is on the south shore, way out at the tip of the Long Island. It is a little pastel box with faded curtains, half-sunken into the dunes. There is always sand in the sheets and spiders in the cabinets, and most of the time the sea is too cold to swim in.

Percy and I love the place.

We'd been going there since Percy and I were babies. Our mom had been going even longer. She never exactly said, but I knew why the beach was special to her. It was the place she'd met mine and Percy's dad.

As we get closer to Montauk, Mom seems to grow younger, years of worry and work disappearing from her face. Her eyes turning the color of the sea.

We arrive at the cabin, open all the cabin windows, and go through our usual cleaning routine. We walk on the beach, feed blue corn chips to the seagulls, and much on jelly beans, blue saltwater taffy, and all the other free samples my mom had brought from work.

I guess I should explain the blue food.

See, Gabe had once told Mom there was no such thing. They had this fight, which seemed like a small thing at the time. But ever since, Mom had gone out of her way to eat blue. She baked blue birthday cakes. She mixed blueberry smoothies. She bought blue-corn tortilla chips and brought home blue candy from the shop. This - alone with keeping her maiden name, Jackson, rather than calling herself Mrs. Ugliano - was proof that she wasn't totally suckered by Gabe. She did have a rebellious streak, like Percy.

When it gets dark, we make a fire. We roast hot dogs and marshmallows. Mom tells us stories about when she was a kid, back before her parents died in the plane crash. She tells us about the books she wanted to write when she gets enough money to quit the candy shop.

Finally, it seems that Percy gets the nerve to ask about what was always on our minds when we come to Montauk - our father. Mom's eyes go all misty. I figure that she was going to tell us the same things she always said, but neither Percy and I ever got tired of hearing them.

"He was kind, Percy," Mom says. "Tall, handsome, and powerful. But gentle, two. You have his black hair, you know, Percy, and you both have his green eyes."

Mom fishes a blue jelly bean out of her candy bag. "I wish he could see you, Percy, (Y/n). He would be so proud."

Percy's POV

I wondered how she could say that. What's so great about me? A dyslexic, hyperactive boy with a D+ report card, kicked out of the school for the sixth time in six years.

"How old were we?" I ask. "I mean . . . when he left?"

Mom watches the flames. "He was only with me for one summer, Percy. Right here at this beach. This cabin."

"But...he knew us as a baby."

"No, honey. He knew I was expecting twins, but he never saw you two. He had to leave before you were born."

I try to square that with the fact I seem to remember . . . something about my father. A warm glow. A smile.

(Y/n) and I had always assumed that he had known us as babies. Mom had never said it outright, but still, we'd always felt it must be true. Now, to be told that he'd never even seen us . . .

I realize I feel angry at my father. Maybe it was stupid, but I resent him for going on that ocean voyage, for not having the guts to marry Mom. He'd left us, and now we are stuck with Smelly Gable.

"Are you sending me away again?" I ask her. "To another boarding school."

She pulls a marshmallow from the fire.

"I don't know, honey." Mom's voice is heavy. "I think . . . I think we'll have to do something."

"Because you don't want me around?" I regret the words as soon as they come out of my mouth. (Y/n) bows her head, looking at the ground and Mom's eyes well with tears.

Mom takes my hand and squeezes it tight. "Oh, Percy, no. I - I have to, honey. For your own good. I have to send you away."

Her words remind me of what Mr. Brunner had said - that it was best for me to leave Yancy.

"Because I'm not normal," I say.

"You say that as if it's a bad thing, Percy. But you don't realize how important you are. I thought Yancy Academy would be far enough away. I thought you'd finally be safe.

"Safe from what?"

She meets my eyes, and a flood of memories comes back to me - all the weird, scary things that had ever happened to me and (Y/n), some of which we'd tried to forget.

During third grade, a man in a black trench coat had stalked us on the playground. When the teachers threatened to call the police, he went away growling, but no one believed (Y/n) when she'd told them that under his broad-brimmed hat, the man only had one eye, right in the middle of his head.

Before that—a really early memory. I was in preschool, and a teacher accidentally put me down for a nap in a cot that a snake had slithered into. My mom screamed when she came to pick me up and found me playing with a limp, scaly rope I'd somehow managed to strangle to death with my meaty toddler hands.

In every single school, something creepy had happened, something unsafe, and I was forced to move.

I know I should tell my mom about the old ladies at the fruit stand, and Mrs. Dodds at the art museum, about my weird hallucination that I had sliced my math teacher into dust with a sword. But I can't make myself tell her. I have a strange feeling the news would end our trip to Montauk, and I don't want that.

"I've tried to keep you as close to me as I could," my mom says. "They told me that was a mistake. But there's only one other option, Percy—the place your father wanted to send you two. And I just...I just can't stand to do it."

(Y/n)'s POV

"Our father wanted us to go to a special school?" I ask, a little confused.

"Not a school," she says softly. "A summer camp."

My head starts spinning. Why would my dad - who hadn't even stayed around long enough to see me and Percy be born - talk about a summer camp?

"I'm sorry, (Y/n)," she said, seeing the look in my eyes. "But I can't talk about it. I—I couldn't send you two to that place. It might mean saying good-bye to you for good."

"For good?" Percy asks. "But if it's only a summer camp.

Mom turns towards the fire, and I know from her expression that if either of us ask her any more questions, she would start to cry.

I have a weird, vivid dream. It is storming on the beach, and two beautiful animals, a white horse, and a golden eagle are trying to kill each other at the edge of the surf. The eagle swoops down and slashes the horse's muzzle with its huge talons. The horse rears up and kicks at the eagle's wings. As they fight, the ground rumbles and a monstrous voice chuckles somewhere and beneath the earth, goading the animals to fight harder.

I run towards them, knowing I have to stop them from killing each other, but I am running in slow motion. I know I am too late. I see the eagle dive down, its beak aimed at the horse's wide eyes, and I scream, No!

I wake with a start.

Outside, it really is storming, the kind of storm that cracks trees and blows down houses. There is no horse or eagle on the beach, just lightning making false daylight, and twenty-foot waves pounding the dunes like artillery.

With the next thunderclap, my mom and Percy wake. Mom sits up, eyes wide, and says, "Hurricane."

I know that's crazy. Long Island never sees hurricanes this early in the summer. But the ocean seems to have forgotten. Over the roar of the wind, I hear a distant bellow, an angry, tortured sound that makes my hair stand on end.

Percy's POV

Then a much closer noise, like mallets in the sand. A desperate voice - someone yelling, pounding on our cabin door.

My mother springs out of bed in her nightgown and throws open the lock.

Grover stands framed in the doorway against a backdrop of pouring rain. But he isn't . . . he isn't exactly Grover.

"Searching all night," he gasps. "What were you thinking?"

My mother looks at me in terror - not scared of Grover, but of why he'd come.

"Percy," she says, having to shout to be heard over the rain. "What happened at school? What didn't you tell me?"

I am frozen, looking at Grover. I can't understand what I'm seeing, and I see (Y/n) looking at my friend.

"O Zeu kai alloi theoi!" he yells. "It's right behind me! Didn't you tell her?"

I am too shocked to register that he'd just cursed in Ancient Greek, and I'd understood him perfectly. I am too shocked to wonder how Grover had gotten here by himself in the middle of the night. Because Grover doesn't have pants on - and where his legs should be . . . where his legs should be . . .

Mom looks at me sternly and talks in a tone she'd never used before, and (Y/n) flinches: "Percy. Tell me now!"

I stammer something about the old ladies at the fruit stand and Mrs. Dodds, and my mom stares at me, her face deathly pale in the flashes of lightning.

She grabs her purse, tosses me and (Y/n) our rain jackets, and says, "Get the car. All three of you. Go!"

Grover runs for the Camero - but he isn't running, exactly. He is trotting, shaking his shaggy hindquarters, and suddenly his story about a muscular disorder in his legs makes sense to me. I understand how he can run so fast and still limp when he walks.

Because where his feet should be, there are no feet. There are cloven hooves.

Word Count: 3041 words

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Forty-Six

Table of Content or Part Forty-Five

Wattpad

Words: 3K

Warning(s): Explicit language, sexual situations, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of abuse

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"You bailed! You bailed on rehab, you bailed on sobriety and you bailed on me!" I throw at Nikki.

My shaky hand pushes the door of the guest bedroom open, seeing the outline of Nikki's body, in the dark, spread across the mattress on top of the comforter, probably reeling on a high.

I carefully step inside to the bed, my hand trailing over his bare chest.

He looks at me hazily.

"I've never bailed on you, Vivian!" He argues. "I have never--"

"I wanted to do this to fix our relationship, to fix us, and I was counting on you being sober in order to do so successfully and you broke out of rehab and loaded up the same night!" I bark. "How the hell can we fix--"

"--What's the point of therapy if you refuse to follow instructions she gives us?!" He points to Dr. Strun as she watches us go back and forth. "She gave us a rule of thirty days of no communication, no contact, unless it's an emergency, and no intimacy and I thought that would be pretty easy for you because you were down my throat about doing everything we could to make the work but no! We get home and twelve hours later you were like a fucking nymphomaniac all the sudden!"

On day one of therapy, Dr. Strun immediately recognized we needed a reset button, and so our "no contact" rule was set for one month. And if we failed to follow the rule, we started back at day 1. Even if the slip up were to occur on day 27.

I'd be lying if I said I followed the rule better than Nikki did.

"Because I miss you!" I tell him.

He gives out a sigh, knowing why I'm in here, about to blow our third shot at attempting no contact in the past week.

"I'm right here!" He says back, pointing to himself.

"You haven't been here since 1983!" I declare.

I gently kiss him, and his hand runs over my thigh, pulling me onto him.

"Okay, calm down." Dr. Strun says to us calmly, the two of us taking deep breaths. "Vivian, what do you mean by that?" She asks me.

I sit back down on the couch in her small office and sigh, holding back tears.

"He started heroin in 1983." I explain. "And he's slowly lost who he is in the past three years as his addiction has gotten worse."

"How does he act when he's under the influence?"

"Confusing. One minute he's having a good time, laughing and smiling and the next minute he's mean and abrasive to anyone who breaths the wrong way." I explain.

"And what was he like before his addiction?"

I peel my tshirt off, my chest against his as our tongues move together, his fingers in the ends of my hair as my hands fumble to get his pants undone and my panties off before he rolls onto me.

"Frustrating, aggravating, obnoxious, but it was always out of fun, easy to talk to, pretty understanding, nice to be around, caring..." I say a few things and she nods, and her eyes flicker to Nikki.

"How do Vivian's words make you feel, Nikki?"

"Like she's punishing me for being exactly what she married." He tells her.

"How the hell am I punish--"

"--Vivian, if you would please save your words for a minute, I want to hear what Nikki has to say, please." Dr. Strun says and I keep my mouth shut and nod compliantly. "Nikki?" She nods in encouragement and he sighs.

I'm hooking my legs around his hips, pulling him into me with each thrust, my fingers lacing through his thick black hair as his teeth tug at my lip.

"When we first got together she knew I drank and did drugs and she still wanted to be with me. When she agreed to marry me she knew I drank and did drugs. When we got married she knew I drank and did drugs but she suddenly started acting weird and distant because I incorporated smack into my routine and then aired out our issues in front of our friends and now blames our relationship issues on drugs, which is exactly what I've been doing since before we met." He laughs humorlessly. "And I know coke and heroin effect people differently because one's a stimulant and one's a depressant but if she married me knowing I do drugs, she should have considered the possibility I would eventually try heroin."

"Vivian?" Strun allows me to talk now.

My back arches, my body on edge as he utters "fuck" under his breath, his forehead against mine as I tighten around him.

"You told me you were only smoking heroin for your injured shoulder and then you would put it down. The fact you ended up shooting it and hid it from me for eight more months just proves you knew you weren't suppose to be doing it. So there is no 'she married me knowing...' because no, I did not know you would be so stupid as to think you could start something as additive as junk and then think you could put it down without professional help. I was obviously so very wro--"

"If anyone should be whining about not knowing they married a monster, it's me, because I didn't know I was marrying a physically abusive psycho--" He harshly interrupts me and my eyes bug at Dr. Strun raises her brows.

"I'm not abusive!" I argue, standing up.

"--So I'm sorry if I turn to heroin to cope with your outbursts!"

I try to catch my breath as I recover from my orgasm, my body bathing in euphoria as Nikki licks up a little drop of sweat running down my neck, continuing to fuck me.

"I abuse you?! All you know how to do anymore is beat me down, Nikki!"

He moves to pull out of me but I roll us over again, sinking down onto him, and he grabs at my hips and thrusts up into me, warmth spreading through me as he finishes into me.

"Woah, woah, woah!" He stands next, fury in his gaze. "I have never, ever, hit you, Vivian Sixx."

It was true, the only times he would put his hands on me out of anger was to wrap his hand around my throat, or my wrists or my shoulders, and despite his temper, he wouldn't really hurt me, it was just to prove a point, but I was trying to justify my abusive tendencies like he was trying to justify his drug addiction.

"Okay." Strun starts, probably afraid she's going to have to separate us like mad dogs fighting. "Firstly, there are different forms of abuse other than physical." She informs us. "There's sexual, emotional, economic and psychological. Now, Nikki, is Vivian actually physically harming you? Because I am required by the state of California to report domestic abuse to authorities." She tells him. "Which can result in your wife being arrested."

He stares at me, actually weighing his options before scoffing a little.

"No." He shakes his head. "She doesn't physically harm me. She just depletes me."

He sits down and I rub my lips together and wipe the tear that's dared to fall down my face.

"Well, that makes both of us." I mumble and he rolls his jaw.

"Bob warned me I was getting my degree's worth with you two, but I wasn't quiet expecting this." She tells us, tiredly. "I believe you both have incredibly reckless and unhealthy coping skills that have been manifested through your co-dependent relationship. You've both made it very clear early in these sessions that you can't live with or without one another and I personally deem the fact you," she nods towards me. "Solely depend on him and have since you were seventeen years old, and he use to depend on you but now drugs have taken your place and you don't know how to handle that reality so you lash out with abuse. And you," she now looks at Nikki. "Have deep rooted issues far beyond how Vivian treats you that are causing you to feel the need to turn to your addictions. She is not the reason you're on heroin, she's just an obvious choice cover-up that you lie to yourself with to avoid reflection on your life before you even met her."

Nikki and I don't say a word.

"How many days would you say it will take to completely reset things between you two?" She asks me.

"I don't think we need to be separated." I admit. "Just teach us a way to get along with each other, that doesn't require either of us to just bite our tongues and take shit from the other person, and we'll be on our way." I reply and has raises a brow and looks to Nikki.

"How long?" She asks him, he looks at me, then at her, sighing.

"Ninety days, maybe more?" He tells her and my eyes widen.

"Are you kidding me?" I chuckle although it's not funny. "Three months of not even acknowledging each other?"

"I think it's a fair amount of time." Dr. Strun agrees with him.

"Yeah, for him to do whatever the fuck he wants without having to answer to me for it." I shoot back.

"Vivian, the more you cling to him, the more he clings to his escape. I want both of you in a healthy place mentally, physically, and emotionally. That could start with you learning to be independent."

"I'm sorry, are you insinuating I'm as bad for my husband as heroin is?" I snap and she exhales.

"I'm saying, it typically takes ninety days to overcome addiction. You are addicted to your husband. You can't help him get sober if you aren't sober yourself. Ninety days of no contact, except this time we'll take it a step further. If one of you is able to get out of the house and stay with a friend for the duration of the separation, I suggest you do so."

"Nikki, we're not doing this." I shake my head, panic filling me as tears are now streaming down my face. "Nikki, please."

"You wanted to fix this. We're fixing it." Is all he says before I'm leaving her office as fast as I can to throw up as a wave of dread joins in with the panic.

I decided I'd be the one to leave the house, and ended up staying with...

"Mi casa es su casa." Steven tells me, smiling big behind his hat that's holding a can of beer on either side of his head, motioning me into their apartment. "The bedroom is your's, obviously, and Duff's sprayed it down again with sanitizing spray, so you're good." He explains.

"Thanks." I mumble, stepping into the bedroom with the mattress on the floor, sitting my suitcase down.

"So, are you guys separating?" He asks me cautiously.

"I don't know what we're doing." I confess, emotionally drained. "I'm gonna go to bed."

"It's only 6:00, Viv. The party hasn't even started."

"I'm all partied out, Stevie. Maybe I'll feel better in a couple days, I just really wanna sleep right now."

"Oh, okay...lemme know if you need anything." He tells me and I nod before he shuts the door.

I wake up after a few hours, hearing laughter flutter through the door from the living room, and I sit up, stretching, before switching on the lamp on the floor so I can see to get my pill bottle out of my purse.

My purse isn't in here, and I sigh at the idea of having to speak or see anybody else.

I take a breath and convince myself to go get my purse from out of the living room.

Opening the door, I'm met with Tansy, Duff, Mandy, Steven, Slash, Slash's fucking snake, Izzy, and a couple girls I've never seen before and probably won't ever see again.

They all go quiet when they see me. I'm probably one hell of a sight to behold: mascara dripped cheeks, eyes puffy and nearly swollen shut from crying, tangled hair, and a bright red nose with dried snot clinging to it.

"Hey, Vi--"

"--Shut up, Izzy." I cut him short the one time he isn't saying something to purposefully aggravate me. "Where's Axl? I need someone to scream at." I add, digging in my purse and opening up my pill bottle.

"Care to share?" One of the girls next to Slash asks, reaching her hand out.

"It's fucking antidepressant." I tell her and her face falls. "I need to pee." I say next.

"Uh, Axl's in the shower." Steven informs me.

"Great."

I step to the bathroom, opening the door.

"Hurry up, I need to piss." I yell over the sound of the water.

"There's a sink." He replies.

"I'm not using the sink."

"Well then hold it!"

I roll my eyes and snatch the curtain back, seeing a naked Axl in all his glory.

"It's not my fault you sickos completely uprooted your freaking toilet and I refuse to squat over a sink."

He just looks at me, completely unamused and probably considering strangling me.

"You have ten seconds." He steps out of the shower, and I take my pants and panties off, carefully stepping into the shower but standing at the very back and pulling my shirt up to avoid getting it wet before pulling the curtain closed. "One, two, three--"

"You're supposed to count by Mississippis." I snap and he groans.

"One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four miss--what're you doing?" He asks me as I toss my shirt and bra over rod of the shower curtain.

"Getting a shower."

"I thought you said you just had to piss?!"

"I did, and now I'm getting a shower." I tell him, wetting my hair.

"Well then I'm finishing mine!"

"I don't care!" I blare back and the curtain opens and he spitefully climbs back in, seething, and I grin.

"I'm not living with you for three months." He states, pointing his finger in my face.

"Switch." I say, and he shuffles past me so he can stand under the water and I can put shampoo in my hair. "Well then tell Nikki to stop being a little bitch. The only reason he wants to seperate is so he can spend time doing whatever he wants without hearing my nagging."

"So he sends you to us so we can hear it for ninety days?" He snaps.

"Oh, see, I told him I was staying with Vince and Sharise." I explain.

"...And what happens when he finds out you're staying with five guys?"

"He wanted to get rid of me for a few months. He's rid of me." I shrug. "Switch."

I rinse the shampoo from my hair as he runs conditioner through his.

"So, 'no contact' really means..."

"Ninety days of no communication, contact and intimacy."

"So you can't have sex for three months?"

"Nope."

"Dear God you're gonna be she-satan by the time this is over." He grumbles.

"Nah, Nikki can't go three months without pussy. He'll come find me in, like, eight days."

"Or he'll get it from someone else." He scoffs before realizing what he said.

"And I'm done." I flatly let out, not even bothering to put conditioner in my hair or finish bathing before getting out of the shower.

"Viv, I didn't mean--"

"--It's fine." I wrap their one towel around myself and shut the bathroom door as I leave.

Everyone gives me an odd look as I walk by them, quickly putting together I was just in the shower with Axl, but I do hope they know I'd rather sew my vulva together than ever fuck Axl Rose.

I shut myself in the bedroom, putting a hand over my mouth as a sob tries to escape my throat.

The next month was spent slowly deteriorating. I wallowed in depression, neglecting to take my Nardil for a few days at a time without realizing my antidepressant couldn't work if I wasn't taking my medication the way I was supposed to, even if I did just miss a couple days between each dose.

I tried to play like I was okay but the guys knew I was really down.

Steven got into the habit of sleeping with me so I wouldn't be alone, and I could tell what nights he hung out with Nikki because he would smell like our house.

By then Nikki knew I was staying with them, but at that point, unbeknownst to me, he'd begun to find solace for my absence in that of heroin, crack-cocaine and Vanity...or what I like to call "the trifecta that damn near killed me before it was all said and done."

"C'mon, Viv, it'll be fun." Stevie nudges me and I roll over in my bed and look at him, Tansy and Duff.

"What's the point of going out for my wedding anniversary when my husband can't celebrate it with me?"

"I talked to Tommy and they're celebrating it tonight. You should, too." Tansy says.

"I don't know..." I go on. "It just seems wrong."

"You're on a healthy break from one another. Not divorced. C'mon, babe, you gotta get outta this room." Steven points out.

"Fine. We can order pizza and celebrate in the living room." I state.

"No..." Duff chuckles, shaking his head. "...Just trust us, Viv. We're gonna have a good time."

I look at the three of them, going back and forth with myself.

"Fine." I let out a sigh. "Let's go out."

And so began our hellacious, but very fun, night out, that ended in the Los Angeles Police Department.

[locoluis]

Pam's visit to the doctor

DISCLAIMER: This is a fictional story. I have no medical knowledge, so the following is all artistic licence and stuff taken from the web. Please consult a proper medical professional if you experience any of the symptoms described below. Oh, and sorry for the sloppy writing.

It has been from bad to worse during the last weeks. I don't like summer, I get way too sweaty and dehydrated. I get sunburned easily. I am self conscious about my body and will need to wear less than the normal amount of clothing I usually enjoy wearing, which attracts the stares of people who look like they haven't seen a girl with more than a B cup in their entire lives.

Like they never get out of this town.

I like going to the city, even though the climate is warmer there than up here in the hills, because nobody bats an eye about my appearance there, or at least not that much. The city centre is a couple hours away by bus. Only a few, elderly people are joining me in this trip I absolutely need to carry out.

The local paediatricians are as useless as the painkillers they prescribe. One of them said: “ At this point, you should consider going to an adult's doctor. ” Madam, I'm only twelve, and you're supposed to be able to take care of people through their late teens. Don't come at me with such rubbish.

Then my PE teacher recommended me this children's hospital in the city, and I got an appointment. I got so stressed during the bus trip that the box of chocolates that I brought with me didn't last long enough. I hope this isn't as bad as it feels.

Even though this is the second time I've seen this particular lady, I immediately recognised her. Shorter than me, dangerously skinny, with a childish face despite being in her mid-thirties, and a brunette ponytail of ridiculous length.

— Pamela Evans. I remember you.

— Dr. Eliana Martínez. You were the lady who awarded me the gold medal at the swimming competition a few months ago.

— Indeed. That was… a random, unusual philanthropic gesture from me. I must confess that your victory caught me by surprise, as you looked like you didn't even want to participate.

— Well, Mum taught me to swim at an early age, and she really wanted me to participate. But I hate PE with a passion, and it was really embarrassing for me to be in a swimsuit with all those people around. You can guess why.

— Yeah, I can relate, having been pregnant once. Never again.

I couldn't quite hide my amazement. How does such a twiggy lady manage to have a child growing inside such a tiny belly?

— Indeed, I have a daughter. Her name is Violeta, and she will soon be bigger than me. I carried my baby through full term, with no complications, shattering all expectations. I guess I'm a woman after all, ha ha ha. But enough about me; please tell me what brings you here.

I took a long breath.

— Doctor, during the last few weeks it's been difficult for me to concentrate in class, to get asleep, to get enough rest. I sweat way too much. I feel a lot of anxiety, even to the point of paranoia. Sometimes I feel my heart beating too hard and too fast. Sometimes I feel a burning sensation in my chest. And I've been putting on quite some weight, though I'm not sure how much of that is just going through puberty.

— Well, body changes are normal through puberty, and girls grow and develop at different rates.

— I'm aware of that. All my classmates still look like children. I'm the only one with the shape of a grown-up woman at twelve.

— About that. When I was twelve, it was the exact opposite. The other girls were all grown up, while I still look like a ten years old.

— Well, you sure are tiny, even compared to my classmates.

— Yeah, yeah. Now that I think about it, you look a lot like one of mine. Blue eyes, a different hairstyle and nose shape, a slimmer waist, but otherwise she was a dead ringer for you.

— Even her breast size?

— Indeed. She was curvy and gorgeous, and all the boys were crazy for her, but she only had eyes for one boy… who just wasn't ready for a relationship. And it made me cringe that she didn't seem to feel pretty enough, that she wore more make-up than was necessary, plus her dangerously short, tight-fit school pinafore dress… she looked ridiculous.

— Oh, I have some classmates who are like that. Not me, though; I already get way too much attention without doing anything with my looks.

— Well, you seem more like the forbidden snack type, which ironically is more attractive for some men than the overly sexy type.

— … Ach-y-fi.

— … Excuse me? I'm not a native English speaker, and that's a word I haven't heard before.

— Oh, that's a local expression of disgust. Like, it seems like I can't avoid the male gaze.

— That's their problem, Miss Evans, not yours. Don't make it your problem. I've got nothing here, yet men still stare.

— Well, your body type is even more unusual…

— I know. But you have to excuse me, this is getting way off-topic. I don't usually talk to my patients about my own childhood, and I'm talking to you like we knew each other from long ago.

— Well, I don't mind. Yours seems to have been an interesting childhood.

— Indeed, but that's not why you're here. So let me get through this. Most of the issues that you describe are not necessarily associated with puberty, and no sign of pain or discomfort is worth getting glossed over. First of all, please stand on the scale to get your height and weight measured.

I do. To no surprise, I'm overweight. She also checked my heart rate and blood pressure.

— Now, tell me. Tea, coffee, carbonated drinks. How much do you drink each day?

— Not much, actually. I drink a couple cups of tea each day. Unlike the rest of my family, who just can't get enough of it. And they drink green tea, which tastes horrible to me.

— Hmm. What about chocolate?

She stopped talking when she noticed the sheer expression of horror in my face.

— What? Did I hit a nerve, Miss Evans? Please tell me how much do you eat everyday. Answer truthfully.

I started crying uncontrollably. She patiently bears with me through this.

— … Doctor. I have a lot of admirers. Every day I get several boxes of chocolate in the mail. And I can't control myself.

— Well, chocolates have a high calorie count due to their sugar and fat content. And the symptoms you've been experiences are consistent with an excessive chocolate intake.

— And now you're telling me that I have to eat less chocolates. As if my life wasn't horrible enough.

— Well, at least you don't have acne… yet.

— ACNE!? Oh my God! I need to stop eating chocolates right now!

— Well, acne is more of an issue with eating lots of carbohydrates and dairy products, and there's no consensus about the link between acne and chocolate consumption. But I still advise you to reduce the amount of chocolate you eat everyday.

— I understand.

— To prevent acne, you should eat more fruits, vegetables and fish. Drinking green tea is also good against acne, and it has many more health benefits. It contains caffeine, so it too must be consumed in moderation.

— Green tea. As I said, I don't like it.

— Add lemon juice and stevia to it. There are many types of green tea, you just have to find which one is better tasting for you. And brewing it correctly is quite important in order to get it just right, not too bitter or watery.

— Well, thank you.

— I'll prescribe you some medication in order to treat the symptoms you've mentioned. But you should follow my instructions in order to attack their root cause. Stop eating so many chocolates, and come back in a month or so, in order to check your progress. I most likely won't be around, as I travel a lot and I'm currently on a temporary contract, but Dr. Spencer is an experienced paediatrician who will be able to take your case.

— I'll do. Oh, and I have a last question. Do you think I should get a breast reduction? And how do I get it on the NHS?

— Well, first of all, I don't think it's advisable to get one while you're still developing, except in extreme cases of breast hypertrophy. Second, you should get down to a stable weight, and get an assessment with a psychiatrist or psychologist. Third, as there are many women seeking to get breast reduction surgery on the NHS, the waiting list can be up to several years, and a lot of women are being turned down as not meeting their criteria. Also, private treatment is quite expensive. And… would you like me to measure you?

— Yeah, sure.

Her procedure for measuring my breast size is a bit more complicated than what I knew. She then puts the measurements on a spreadsheet, which gets her a bunch of numbers.

— Wearing a good-fitting bra can alleviate many of the issues associated with large breasts. Also, I'm recommending you some exercises that can strengthen your core muscles, and some tips to improve your posture. But I wouldn't advise a breast reduction surgery on someone like you, as its risks and consequences certainly outweigh the possible benefits. They're not that big, actually; you just have a delicate body frame. Your ideal weight is lower than that of other girls of your age and height.

— I understand.

I need to make a lot of sacrifices in order to stop feeling like this. Mum is going to stare me down and tell me: “ I told you, Pam ”. And then I'm asking her what we should do with so all those chocolates.