#i'm trying not to bother her when she goes under my bed or into another room

[the-everqueen]

i should be prepping this guest lecture but instead i'm obsessed with the cat.

[ryoflix]

sukuna doing your grwm voiceover | f. reader, s/h prns., crack 'n fluff, estb. rl ؛ ଓ

the mic is a cheap little thing—one of those clip-ons with a long cord and a half-broken clip that you swore was “totally fine for tiktok.” it’s taped to the desk lamp now, swaying slightly as sukuna leans back in your pink gaming chair, arms crossed over his chest like it might keep the cringe away. the video is on mute.

thank god. he would’ve walked out if he had to listen to your chipper little intro and do this dumbass voice-over. but he stays—grumbling, snarling under his breath, but he stays.

“ugh. fine,” he mutters as he hits record, voice low and already irritated. “hi. ’m narratin' her dumbass makeup thing. let’s get this over with.”

the video starts with you holding up your moisturizer to the camera like it’s a sacred relic. sukuna squints at the label.

“this one’s got... snail slime or some shit. don’t ask me. she swears by it. uses exactly three pumps, like a goddamn ritual. see? one, two... three. mmhmm. told you.”

he clicks his tongue when the next product flashes onscreen. your sunscreen.

“this one’s white as hell when it goes on. looks like a clown for a sec. she always pats it in too fast—like she’s in a race. it dries down okay, i guess. not that i notice. or care.”

he very much notices. always does. he sits on the bed pretending to scroll while you do this routine every morning. he's watched it with the intensity of a warrior memorizing enemy patterns.

now comes the concealer. the applicator dabs under your eyes with practiced precision.

“yeah. this part. five dots under each eye. exactly five. you miss one, she wipes the whole thing off like the world’s ending. don’t know why she bothers—looks good without all this crap anyway.”

he pauses.

“…not that i say that out loud.”

the beauty blender makes its entrance and sukuna actually groans.

“this sponge. she squeezes it before every use like it’s stress relief. and then she taps. forever. for e-ver. just... tap tap tap like an annoying little woodpecker.”

he mimics the sound with his fingers on the desk—tap, tap, tap—lazily, almost fondly.

your bronzer palette appears, slightly cracked in the corner. he narrows his eyes.

“this thing’s been through hell. she won’t throw it away. i offered to buy her a new one and she called me ‘sweet’ like i wasn’t trying to end this makeup horror show. anyway, she goes light-handed here. no muddy cheeks. she’s precise. annoying, but precise.”

his gaze flicks to the lipstick you picked—a soft, bitten pink.

“her favorite,” he says a little too quickly, a little too softly. then he clears his throat like the sentiment offended him. “whatever. next.”

the video ends with you posing for the camera, smiling. sukuna stares for a second too long. you’d edited a heart transition, too—sparkly pink.

“gross,” he mutters.

he clicks the mic off and pushes back from the desk like it burned him. “we done? finally?”

you post it anyway. mostly because the internet doesn’t deserve to be spared this kind of comedy gold. and overnight, the comments blow up. thirsting. begging. 

"i'd pay to listen to him read an audiobook."  "who is he and where can i sign up for the cult??"  "he sounds like he could ruin my life and i'd say thanks afterwards."

sukuna glares at the screen the next morning, cracking his knuckles like he’s ready to teleport into the comments section and throw hands.

“who the hell is sexyslut69 and why do they want me to whisper them affirmations?” he growls. “block ‘em. block all of ‘em.”

you laugh. he doesn’t. but when you offer to film another one, he grumbles a “tch” and sits back down in your chair.

“fine. but next time, you're using the expensive mic. and none of that heart bullshit at the end. i'm not doing that sparkly shit again.”

pause.

“…and do not let them think i’m for sale, you hear me? i’m yours. yours.”

[earlysunshines]

downstairs neighbor

danielle marsh x fem!reader ; fluff

synopsis: in which you party so often that you get another complaint, but this time it's from a very pretty girl that really has you considering shutting the whole function down.

warnings: alcohol and weed mentioned ; readers an asshole at first but danielle is danielle so reader goes through a whole crisis ; yeah they're adorable, basically black cat and golden retriever trope sorry not sorry ; anything else i didn't mention ; not proofread

a/n: get it because usually it's the upstairs neighbor but i'm quirky so its not... ok nvm ill delete my account i gues ... anyways FIRST DANI FIC UNDER 10K! guys im so in love with her i need to be put into an asylum do u see these pics of her LOOK AT HERR!!! i need to die like rn

danielle has settled in quite alright into her new university. she's moved in with one of her close friends from high school, decorated her side of the room, and all of her professors are oddly sweet--much better than the professors from her old school.

she makes it to the first friday of the semester, deciding to settle in and watch a movie, maybe call her mom and dad later if she doesn't doze off. but when she hears muffled music and disturbing footsteps from downstairs, she pauses the show she's two minutes into and gets out of her bed.

hanni's on the other side of the room completely slumped, her headphones peeking out from the blanket sprawled on top of her with no care in the world as to what is happening downstairs. danielle purses her lips before getting out of bed and slipping the university sweatshirts over her tank top.

she looks back over at hanni, who’s still sleeping, before heading out into the living room area, past the kitchen, and out the door.

when she reaches the floor below, she follows the noise, it gets louder as she steps through the corridors, and then she stops in front of what she suspects is the source of all this disruption before knocking on the door—no response.

“hm.” she mumbles, knocking again in a little pattern—still no response.

before she can knock again, her fist in the air ready to hammer a little harder on the door, it opens.

a girl—probably her age—answers it, eyes narrowed at danielle. she’s slightly taller, but still, danielle feels a little small with how scrutinizing she checks her out. 

“did kazuha invite you? yujin? or was it jungwon?” the girl looks at her with raised brows, expecting an answer with a slightly bothered look. it seems like danielle had interrupted their little… event? whatever event it was, did they really need to have house music being blasted so loudly?

danielle rubs her thumb against her pointer finger, trying to steady her nerves. “oh, no, i um… wasn’t invited,” she says, her voice wavering slightly. the words sound even more pathetic out loud than they did in her head, but there’s no taking them back now. she pushes on, though it feels like her confidence is slipping away with every syllable. “i was just wondering if—well, if you could turn the music down? my roommate is sleeping and it’s just… really disturbing.”

the girl in front of her snickers, a look of disbelief crossing her face as she sizes danielle up. it’s clear she finds the request ridiculous, and danielle feels her cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“you know what, this isn’t even my party—hey y/n! come out here!” the girl calls over her shoulder, her tone dismissive as she waves danielle off like she’s someone else’s problem now.

you hear your name being called, and with a sigh, you push yourself up from the couch. the group you were sitting with whines in protest as you leave, but you roll your eyes—they’re all drunk, their complaints nothing more than the amplified nonsense of intoxicated minds.

“what is it, yunjin?” you call out, rubbing your eyes as you approach the entrance, the taste of the cheap beer sakura handed you earlier lingering unpleasantly on your tongue. “what—”

the words die in your throat as you spot the girl standing just inside the doorway. she’s probably, no, definitely new here—new to the party, new to the scene. you’ve never seen someone that makes you stop in your tracks like this. her long eyelashes flutter as she looks up at you, her big brown eyes sparkling with a mix of nervousness and something else you can’t quite place. she’s dressed in baggy sweats and an oversized university sweater, the logo stretched across her chest in signature block letters. there’s an air of innocence about her, something that feels out of place amidst the environment both of you are in right now.

you take her in, noting how pretty she is—adorable, if you’re going to be honest with yourself. she looks like a lost puppy, especially with those pleading eyes and the subtle bite of her lip—

you push the thought aside, telling yourself it doesn’t matter. you’re just here to deal with whatever minor inconvenience yunjin has decided to dump on you.

“who are you?”

“um, my name is danielle, i live right above.” she has an accent, something strong and similar to that girl yunjin’s been bickering with – was it lily? no, bangchan? hell no, she hates him and his little group. ah, hanni that short girl that came complaining during your second party of freshman year, yunjin still brings her up. 

“right, what do you want?” you ask, sensing yunjin’s departure when you feel her brush against your shoulder. “is there a problem or?”

“well, yeah, kind of…” she’s actually adorable, especially when she avoids your eye contact like that. “it’s kind of loud, you know. i was wondering if you could turn down the volume a bit? there’s a lot of thumping i can hear from above, i can’t imagine how it must be for the downstairs neighbors…”

“you must be new.”

“sorry?”

“you’ll get used to it.” you say simply, poking the inside of your cheek before starting to close the door. “i recommend a pair of some good noise cancelling headphones—and a signature study spot. see you around danielle.”

you feel a strange pang of guilt, something unfamiliar and uncomfortable twisting in your chest. you’ve done this before—brushed off people’s complaints, shut the door on them without a second thought. but there’s something about her that makes you hesitate, something that tugs at you. maybe it’s the way she looked at you, those big brown eyes wide with a mix of hope and desperation, like she was really counting on you to help. you give her one more glance, catching that puppy-dog expression that makes your resolve waver for just a second. but then, before you can think twice, you close the door on her, shutting out the sight of her pleading face.

–

danielle spends the whole night tossing and turning, the faint vibration of the music seeping through the ground and into her restless mind. it’s not loud enough to keep her fully awake, but just persistent enough to keep her from finding any real rest. she considers going back downstairs, maybe trying to have a proper conversation, coming to some kind of compromise. but every time she thinks about it, the memory of how things ended—the snickers, the dismissive attitude—fills her with embarrassment, making her shrink back into her bed.

the next morning, she’s awake before the sun, the lingering fatigue making her body feel heavy and sluggish. still, she forces herself out of bed, the need to talk to someone—anyone—pushing her into action. with a deep breath, she reaches over and starts shaking hanni awake, the clock not even close to ten a.m. on a weekend. hanni groans in protest, burrowing deeper into the blankets, but danielle is relentless, her fingers poking at hanni’s sides until her sleepy roommate finally stirs, blinking up at her with bleary eyes.

“what the hell man? the sun is still rising!”

“what do you know about the downstairs neighbor?”

“w-what?” hanni mumbles, rubbing her eyes as she turns to lay on her back and squint at her roommate. “y/n? is this about her?”

“the girl directly below us—taller, mean, arrogant, tattoo on her arm and wrist, kind of pretty, nice lips, and jawline… ugh! her!”

“that’s y/n, but you’re reaching with the whole kind of pretty part. petty? yeah, more accurate.”

“last night i went down and asked her to–”

“you went to her place? to do what, complain?” 

“yes!” hanni shuts her eyes and sinks her head deeper into the pillow, sighing softly again. her roommate is new, she can’t be harsh, and plus, it’s danielle. 

“dani… the ra is literally in love with her, and y/n uses that so she can party and get high in her fuckass living room.”

“what?”

“danielle, mo dani, please listen.” hanni sits up, blinking hard as she reaches out ot put a hand on her friends shoulder. “you’ll get used to it, you can use my old headphones and i’ll show you my favorite cafe.”

“you’re just going to let this slide?”

“well until y/n stops flirting with jiyoung; there’s nothing we can really do other than cope every friday—and sometimes saturday—night.” hanni explains, flopping onto the bed and returning to fetal position. “can you put the blanket over me, please? i’m tired and cold… please.”

danielle frowns before covering her roommates body with her weighted blanket, sighing before she returns to her bed, laying down and recollecting all her memories from the night before–of you.

—

you’re late. of course you’re late on the second week of classes, as if last weeks twenty minute surprise appearance wasn’t humbling enough. 

as you rush out of your apartment, you’re met with jiyoung standing right by the exit, as if she’s been waiting for you—she probably has. this has happened at least once a week last year. she greets you with her signature smile and a small piece of chocolate, a gesture that would be sweet if you weren’t in such a hurry. you force a smile and mumble a quick thanks, but you know what’s coming next. the compliments, the small talk, the forced out, cliché lines she always uses. it’s all part of her routine, but you really don’t have the time for it today. you need to get to class.

fifteen minutes later, you’re finally free from jiyoung’s conversation, but you’re also running dangerously late. again. you sprint across campus, your heart pounding in your chest as you mentally prepare for the inevitable stares and the professor’s disapproving remarks.

when you finally reach the classroom, you throw the door open a little too forcefully. the room falls silent as heads turn to face you, the sudden interruption catching everyone’s attention. you freeze for a second, cringing at yourself when you’re caught in the spotlight, before the professor’s voice cuts through the silence.

“late on the second week? what was it, kim… no, yang…” he trails off, squinting at you as if trying to remember your name.

you clear your throat, feeling your face heat up. “l/n, l/n y/n,” you correct him, trying to keep your voice steady.

“well, you’re lucky i’ve just started the lecture. please hurry and take a seat, you’ve already made quite the impression.”

“sorry, sir,” you mumble, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration as you scan the room for an empty seat. most of the rows are full, and the weight of all those eyes on you makes your skin prickle with discomfort.

finally, you spot an open seat in the fourth row from the top, right at the edge. you hurry over and drop your bag beside the chair, quickly unzipping it to pull out your laptop. your hands move with practiced speed, signing in and opening a page for notes before setting your bag on the empty seat next to you. you look up, hoping to catch up on what you’ve missed so far. 

and that’s when you see her.

danielle. she’s sitting just two seats away from you, her gaze locked on yours the moment you look up. her big brown eyes, framed by those impossibly long lashes, are full of recognition—and something else you can’t quite place, and why are they sparkling? your jaw tenses as you force yourself to look away, zipping up your bag with a little more force than necessary. three seats. that’s all that separates you from the girl who showed up at your doorstep last friday, the one you dismissed without a second thought. and now here she is, sitting way too close for comfort, her presence making the air around you feel heavier.

of course you blindly chose the spot next to her. the new girl who filed a complaint, only to have the door shut on her. it’s just your luck.

you catch her in your peripheral staring at you for a few more seconds before she redirects her attention towards the professor. you let out a breath of relief, now you just have to get through the next hour and fifty minutes near the cute girl you were an ass to.

–

as soon as the class ends, you’re out the door without sparing a glance at danielle. she watches you hurry out, noticing how you started packing up your things five minutes before class was even dismissed. it’s like you couldn’t wait to get away.

you make your way to the engineering building, where you know your roommate yunjin’s class ended a bit earlier. when you spot her in the lobby, you walk up with a bothered look on your face.

“good morning…?” yunjin greets you, her smirk showing she’s amused by your expression.

“you won’t believe who’s in my sociology class,” you say, still reeling from the encounter.

“everyone takes sociology, even the finance freaks,” she replies, shrugging as if it’s not a big deal.

“nevermind.” you roll your eyes, scoffing. “whatever, let’s grab a bite. i’m hungry.”

“you always are,” yunjin chuckles, stepping beside you.

the two of you end up at your favorite local thai place, sharing a large bowl of fried rice. it’s a familiar routine—since freshman year, you’ve known one bowl is more than enough to satisfy both of you. the memory of that first time, half-drunk and thinking the portions would be small, makes you smile despite your lingering annoyance.

as you chew on your second bite, glancing at a notification on your phone, yunjin’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “so, who’s in your sociology class?”

“danielle,” you reply, not looking up from your phone.

“who?”

“the girl from friday.”

yunjin frowns, trying to recall. “at our party? there wasn’t anyone i didn’t know–”

“no, no. the girl you made me deal with. she knocked on the door—big eyes, long lashes.”

“oh, her,” yunjin hums, finally understanding. “what about her?”

“i closed the door on her that night after she complained or whatever. i didn’t think much of it, but then i was late to class because jiyoung wanted to talk to me, and i picked a random spot… turns out it was three fucking seats away from her—danielle.”

yunjin laughs, thankfully before she can take another bite of rice. “seriously?”

“shut up.”

“that’s hilarious. you think she’s going to give you shit?”

“i mean,” you poke at your rice, hesitating, “she doesn’t seem like she will…”

but even as you say it, the thought nags at you. danielle doesn’t seem like the type to hold a grudge—polite and sweet even when you were being arrogant—almost too good to be true. she looks like she belongs in a fairy tale, with her princess-like appearance and demeanor. meanwhile, you feel like the ugly villain in her story, lurking under the bridge, ready to cast a spell or something like that. the more you think about it, the more ridiculous it seems.

“then you’ll be fine, you were fine shutting the door on her anyway.”

you were fine, but that version of you was under the influence of cheap beer and too focused on going back to your conversation than dealing with someone’s complaint—even if it were from danielle.

“i guess.”

–

the next time you host a party, the volume’s turned down by two notches. you tell yourself it’s because yunjin’s been saying “huh?” to you more often, but deep down, you know that’s not the real reason.

you’ve also decided to stick with one can of beer instead of three. even yujin seemed surprised when you declined the second. 

these parties used to be at jake’s place, but he argued they should be at yours since the ra is madly in love with you, and your place is slightly bigger. you were against it at first, but socializing never hurt, and it made you happy to see others happy. you’d also be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the occasional expensive drink that someone brought when their paycheck had been a bit fatter that week.

now, you’re leaning against the counter while minji rummages through a cupboard, searching for spare plastic cups. you take a sip from your sprite—the second can of the night, and surprisingly, neither has been alcoholic (you don’t count the bitter can of beer, it’s only five percent alcohol). yunjin’s voice cuts through the music just loud enough for you to hear, “you think that girl will show up again? give you shit?”

“i’d hope not.” you pretend it’s a truthful statement, your tone firm, a little snarky, and a bit confident, but there’s a small part of you that hopes she does. you catch yourself imagining her showing up in her oversized sleepwear again, her eyes wide, her voice so soft and sweet it makes your chest tighten a little. 

“and if she does?”

“i’ll shut her out again.”

“and if you show up late, then sit three seats away from her again?”

“ignorance.” you sip on your sprite again, licking your lips to savor something that actually satisfies your tastebuds. 

“you’re good at that.”

“aw, thanks.” you say bitterly, hearing yunjin snicker as she tears open a new pack of red plastic cups. “asshat.”

your orange-haired roommate leans against the counter across from you, then says, “i think jungwon brought penjamin.” his infamous pen, the one you took way too many hits of last time that it had you seeing the stars. 

“not again, i don’t trust myself.”

she laughs at you again, “i don’t trust you either, let’s stick with a hit or two instead of five.”

“and you need to stick with a few drinks instead of passing out on the floor again. you’re lucky you were leaning against the couch.”

“womp womp.” you can’t believe her, what an idiot.

“say that again when you wake up with your legs in the fucking blinds, or something. i still don’t know how you don’t have liver damage, and doesn’t that affect your performance on the court?”

“conditioned to drink and score three’s.”

“whatever.” you sigh, then hear a few knocks from the door.

yunjin raises her brows, then chuckles, “hey, it’s your lovergirl.”

“she’s not my— ugh. be right back.” 

lovergirl, yunjin is going to wake up upside down in her closet if she keeps it up. there’s no chance that she’s attracted to you in the slightest, not with your first impressions. the thought makes you a little dissapointed, but you shake your head, you’re being ridiculous again. 

you shake the thought away, forcing yourself to focus getting to your door and not tripping on the shoe that had been blindlessly kicked off. there’s a quiet anticipation simmering beneath your calm exterior as the music gets more faint in your ears. you tell yourself you’re being stupid, but the truth is harder to ignore—there’s a part of you that wants her to be at the door, even if it’s just to scold you again.

you open the door, and there she is—miss lovergirl herself.

“another party?” she asks, her tone light, almost teasing.

“are you going to tell me to shut the whole thing down? still haven't invested in headphones, have you?”

“actually, i wasn’t going to—the shutting down part, i have headphones being delivered tomorrow.” she replies, smiling. maybe your brows furrow, just a little. “but the music is a little quieter, that i noticed, so maybe my efforts did pay off.” she pauses, then adds, “anyway, my roommate told me there’s no getting through to you about these parties. so, i came here to give you this.” 

she holds out a keychain with a cardholder attached, and you see a picture inside—a photo of you and your little brother at your high school graduation. he’s about twelve in the picture, braces on and cheeks still chubby. it’s one of your favorite photos, and your eyes widen as you take it from her slowly, almost carefully.

“where’d you get this?” you ask, voice a bit more cautious than you intended.

“you dropped it under your seat last lecture. seemed like you were in such a rush to leave, or to avoid me…?” she tilts her head, batting those impossibly long lashes.

you realize she’s not in her sleepwear this time. she’s dressed in everyday clothes—a zip-up over a fitted white shirt, jeans, and some well-worn sneakers. a nike cap sits snugly on her head, her long, wavy hair flowing down in a way that makes you look twice. she’s wearing light makeup, and it strikes you for the first time how nice her lips are, and—

“um, thanks,” you mutter.

“it’s no problem.”

“are you going to ask me to turn the volume down now?” 

she shakes her head, adjusting the backpack slipping down her shoulder. “no, but i'd appreciate it. you’ve already made baby steps.”

if it had been anyone else saying that, you’d have rolled your eyes, maybe even scoffed in their face. but there’s something about the way danielle says it—so genuinely, so kindly—that catches you off guard. you’re used to sharp words and snide remarks, not this… breath of fresh air, this three a.m. glass of water in the form of a person.

“right, okay,” you manage to say.

“well, i'll get going then. my roommate’s friend is coming over to watch a movie with us, so we’d appreciate it if you could maybe turn it down. but, that’s up to you, mate.” 

“oh, okay, yeah.” you feel like you’re melting into a puddle. what is going on with you? “i’ll see what i can do.”

“night then.”

“night?”

she walks off, your eyes follow her until she reacehs the end of the hall. it was the most casual encounter you’ve ever had in a bit, and yet, it felt like so much more. 

–

haerin sits back, watching without a word as hanni and minji bicker over the remote, their voices rising slightly above the hum of the tv. hanni has her arms crossed tightly over her chest, a scowl forming when minji suggests yet another sappy romance. haerin half expects them to start wrestling for control, but just before the tension hits a breaking point, the sound of the door lock twisting stops them. both heads turn to see danielle stepping inside, her hand raised in a small wave, a polite smile on her lips.

“sorry i’m late,” danielle apologizes.

“you’re good,” hanni replies, running her fingers through her hair to fix it. “movie time? can you choose, please…”

“yeah! let me get changed first, okay?”

“okay, okay, but hurry or else minji’s gonna have my limbs cut off or something. and we both know haerin would rather watch than save either of us.” hanni jokes, drawing a chuckle from haerin and a playful glare from minji. 

a few minutes later, danielle is back in an old t-shirt and plaid pajama pants. she drops herself right between hanni and minji, effectively acting as a buffer. she grabs the remote, settling under the blanket as her legs casually stretch across hanni's lap.

“where were you, by the way?” hanni asks, feeling danielle’s legs settle more comfortably over her own. “if the bus was late, you could’ve called.”

“my bus came early. i just stopped by y/n’s,” danielle replies casually.

minji’s head snaps toward danielle so fast it’s a wonder she doesn’t get whiplash. haerin even lets out a small gasp of “what?”

“y/n? you mean l/n y/n?” minji echoes, her tone filled with disbelief. “you went to her place?”

danielle nods. “she dropped something in the class we have together, so i returned it.”

“and she didn’t bite your head off?” minji asks, eyes wide. “you’re really something, danielle.”

danielle just laughs softly, her fingers scrolling through the endless netflix catalog in search of a movie they all might actually agree on. she seems unfazed by the shock that mentioning your name has caused, a slight smile playing on her lips. she can’t quite understand the big deal. you’ve been… normal, for the most part—pretty normal, actually, in the three times she’s spoken to you.

“she’s really not that bad,” danielle shrugs, finally stopping on a rom-com that catches her eye. “i can fix her.”

“you can what?” hanni swivels her head toward danielle, eyes wide in disbelief.

“what?” danielle grins. “she doesn’t bite.”

“well, her friend yunjin does,” hanni mutters, thinking back to the group project from hell with yunjin, who’d spent every meeting hungover and useless. “she’s probably just like the people she hangs out with.”

“no, i bet she’s nicer deep down.”

“you’re too pure for this world,” minji murmurs, feeling danielle’s head lean on her shoulder. “she’s got a bad reputation, you know.”

“well, she turned the volume down for us,” danielle insists.

“she did?” hanni raises an eyebrow, surprised.

“yeah, just before i visited her. i told her we’d be having a movie night and said i’d appreciate it if she toned it down a bit. now we can barely feel the bass.”

hanni thinks for a moment. maybe the music is a bit quieter, but she’s gotten so used to it, she barely notices the difference. minji and haerin, on the other hand, don't deal with the noise often—haerin lives with her parents, and minji’s dorm is on the other wing.

danielle presses play, and the conversation shifts. they all settle in, pushing the topic of you, the downstairs neighbor, out of their minds as they focus on the opening scenes of the movie.

hanni leans into haerin, a smile on her lips as her legs tangle with danielle’s. “you’re so interesting, man,” she mutters, half-amused, half-bewildered.

–

there aren't any assigned seats—it's university, for crying out loud. still, you find yourself three seats away from danielle again, like last time, pretending not to notice her as you settle in, determined not to drop anything today. you set your things down carefully, opening up your laptop and pulling out your ipad, keeping your eyes firmly on the screen.

out of the corner of her eye, danielle watches you fumble with the apple pen, spinning it between your ring and middle finger. she sees it slip from your grip and clatter to the floor beside you. you let out a soft sigh, standing to retrieve it, making your way down two rows. when you straighten up and head back, you catch danielle trying to hide a smile, her shoulders shaking with quiet laughter.

“what’s so funny?” you ask, a little defensive.

“your pen-spinning skills,” danielle says, turning fully toward you with that same amused smile. “slippery fingers?”

“shouldn’t you be reviewing before the lecture?”

“i usually get here fifteen minutes early,” she replies, still grinning. “i’ve already done that.”

“whatever.” you drop back into your seat, tapping away at your keyboard as the professor approaches the front, fiddling with the hdmi cable. you open your notes app, trying to ignore the way danielle’s laughter still lingers in the air.

“you know i don’t bite, right?” her voice breaks your focus.

“what?”

she nods at the empty seats between you. “you’re sitting pretty far… come sit next to me.”

“i’m not getting up. my stuff’s already out.”

danielle rolls her eyes, moving the desk platform in front of her as she stands, gathering her things without a second thought, and before you know it, she’s dropping into the seat beside you. you weren’t expecting that—her choosing to sit next to you so boldly. but there she is, right next to you, with that grin stretching across her face as she adjusts her notebook.

“there, lazy bum,” she teases, her tone light, eyes flicking back to the professor as he sets up the projection.

you find yourself staring, caught off guard by how close she is. she smells sweet—like cherries, with a mix of amber and jasmine. you quickly shift your gaze back to your laptop, opening your calendar and planner and, almost instinctively, the tab with the jacket you’ve been eyeing for weeks.

when you steal another glance at danielle, she’s put on a pair of glasses. stupid, adorable glasses that make her look even cuter—something you didn’t think was possible. 

you can’t help the small grin that creeps onto your face as you focus back on the slides on the big screen, but your mind is still partially with her, sitting beside you, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her skin.

—

for the next month, sociology becomes your favorite class—not because of the subject, but because it means you get almost two hours near danielle. she’s just as sweet as she looks, always greeting you with a warm smile and tossing out casual small talk that somehow feels more personal every time. she compliments you now and then, little things like “your hair looks nice today” or “i like your shoes,” which leaves you more flustered than you’d care to admit. soon enough, it's routine—you both leave class together, walking side by side until you reach the main lobby of the science building. danielle always waves goodbye with that bright smile, her eyes sparkling, even when the sky is overcast. you smile back, feeling a little bashful, but somehow, it feels right.

sometimes, you even meet up at the entrance of your little dorm complex to head to class together. danielle's just a floor above, so you run into her in the elevator sometimes too. there’s something about her—something so effortlessly charming and magnetic. it’s like she’s a light, and you’re a moth, drawn into her presence without even realizing it.

what you don’t realize is that jiyoung, your ra, has noticed these little interactions. she catches glimpses now and then, her curiosity piqued.

after another class ends, you wave goodbye to danielle, planning to meet up with yunjin, but before you can leave, jiyoung intercepts you. 

"hey, didn’t see you this morning,” she says, her tone casual but her eyes narrowing slightly. “i haven’t been seeing you around as much, actually."

"oh, yeah… i’ve been…” you start, your gaze flicking past her to danielle, who’s almost out of the building. jiyoung looks in the same direction to see danielle as well, her brows furrow just a bit. you continue, “um, spending more time with this girl in my sociology class."

"right, danielle? she’s on the floor above you, right?”

“yeah…”

“hm,” jiyoung murmurs, more to herself than to you. “you’ve been spending a lot of time with her, haven’t you?”

“i mean, yeah. she’s nice and—why does it matter?”

“you’re not into her, are you?”

the question catches you off guard, like a punch you didn’t see coming. you stare at jiyoung like she’s lost her mind. “w-what? n-no, no, she’s just— you know, we’re friends. we’re friendly.”

“nothing more, right?”

“i mean, no, but even if it were… why does it matter to you?”

jiyoung’s gaze drops to the floor, and she mumbles, “i don’t know? i mean, you said you didn’t even want to date.”

you pinch the bridge of your nose, exhaling in frustration. “look, i’ve got to meet up with yunjin. i’ll see you around, okay?”

you turn to leave, but jiyoung’s soft scoff stops you in your tracks. she hesitates for a moment before speaking again.

“by the way,” she says, her tone light but pointed. you turn your head slightly, just enough for her to see the edge of your expression. “you can’t party this weekend. there’s been an increase in complaints.”

you pivot to face her fully, opening your mouth to argue but then closing it again. you bite the inside of your lip, letting the frustration simmer before you finally nod, muttering a resigned, “fine.”

jiyoung watches you, her expression unreadable, as you walk away, but you don’t look back. the weekend suddenly feels a lot quieter than you planned.

—

even if you’d wanted to party, it wouldn't have been an option. yunjin’s gone home for the weekend to help her sister, and you’re stuck in your dorm, feeling sicker than you’ve ever felt.

the day started off fine, just a light headache that you shrugged off. but somewhere between the gym and a quick grocery run, everything went downhill. by the time you made it back to your place, it felt like your body had been run over by a truck. your head throbbed, every limb ached, and a wave of dizziness nearly had you collapsing against the wall as soon as you stepped inside.

you barely made it to the kitchen, dropping the paper bag of groceries onto the counter before stumbling toward your bedroom. the cold hit you like a slap to the face, making you shiver uncontrollably. you rummaged through your closet for the thickest sweatshirt and sweatpants you could find, pulling them on with shaky hands. 

you didn’t even think to check your temperature; the pounding in your head and the chills wracking your body were enough to know you were in trouble. grabbing two ibuprofen from the drawer, you swallowed them dry with a couple of forced gulps of water, then collapsed onto your bed. 

you pulled the covers around you, but they did little to stop the violent shivers. your teeth chattered, and you curled in on yourself, hugging your knees to your chest as if that would somehow keep the cold at bay. every breath felt heavy, every blink longer than the last, until finally, exhaustion pulled you under.

—

the music is noticeably quieter these days, sparing your hearing and everyone else a floor above or below you. really, it’s all danielle's doing. she's somehow found your weakness—those soft, pleading eyes and that gentle voice asking you to turn it down. it’s a saturday night, and normally she’d hear the faint beats of charli xcx or troye sivan vibrating up through the floor, but tonight there’s nothing. 

danielle seems to be the only one in her shared dorm—and probably the whole building—who feels unsettled by the lack of music. the silence is almost unnerving. 

“finally, i can take a nap without those headphones on,” hanni sighs, dropping face-first onto her bed like a log. 

danielle, leaning against her bedframe, bites her lip. “don’t you think it’s weird though? no party tonight?”

“weird? dani, this is a miracle,” hanni mumbles, already half-asleep. “it’s been months since she hasn’t partied, and that was only because we were all gone during summer break.”

but as hanni's breathing evens out and she drifts off, danielle’s frown deepens. it is weird. you’ve never missed a saturday night. she doesn’t even have your number to text and check if everything’s alright.

minutes pass, and her mind races with possibilities—maybe you’re just tired, or busy with something else, or… sick? before she knows it, danielle is up and moving, driven by a strange concern she doesn’t fully understand. she tucks hanni in properly, pulling the blanket up over her instead of letting it dangle off the bed. 

once she's sure hanni is comfortable, she heads for the door, slipping on her slides and grabbing her key. she feels a small surge of determination as she steps into the hallway. if something’s wrong, she needs to know. danielle isn’t sure what she’ll find out, but she's already halfway down the hall, her feet carrying her to your place almost on their own.

she gets to your door quickly, fixing her hair because you’re somehow the only person who makes her feel the need to fuss over her appearance. 

danielle knocks twice, softly at first, just enough to be heard over normal conversation, but there's no answer. she waits, listening for any sound from inside, even from your orange-haired roommate—but nothing. she knocks again, a little louder this time, about the same level as when you party. still nothing. 

determined, she finally bangs on the door with all her might and shouts, "y/n! hello?" her voice echoes in the hallway, and a few curious heads peek out from behind their own doors, wondering what’s going on.

there's a long moment of silence before she hears a faint, “coming! coming...” it sounds like you, but groggier, almost as if the sound is muffled by the door between you two.

danielle waits, her heart pounding in her chest, until the door opens just a crack, and you peek out, looking utterly exhausted. 

“y/n?”

“w-what, what...” you murmur, your voice barely more than a whisper, and slightly slurred, like you’ve been asleep for days. "who— danielle? what are you doing here? there's no party," you mutter, breathing heavily like you’ve just run a mile. "you don’t have to… have to yell at me."

“i’m not here to yell at you, i never yell at you, silly," danielle says softly, a small smile on her face. "can i come in?”

you hum in agreement, and she pushes the door open further, stepping inside. 

the apartment is dimly lit, with only the glow from the streetlights outside and a small lamp in the living room. danielle’s eyes dart around—she’s never actually been inside before, just caught glimpses through the doorway during those parties. it’s surprisingly clean, smelling of lavender and fresh laundry instead of the stale beer or weed she expected. 

you stumble forward, catching yourself on the kitchen counter, your legs shaky and unsteady. 

danielle rushes over, her hand reaching for your arm. “are you okay?”

“y-yeah, i’m fine," you mumble, but your voice is rough, strained. 

she flicks on a light, and you wince, shielding your eyes with the back of your hand. danielle guides you to the couch, sitting you down gently. you slump back into the cushions, and she takes a closer look—your hair is stuck to your forehead, cheeks rosy, and there’s a dullness in your usually sharp eyes.

without thinking, she presses the back of her hand to your forehead, feeling the intense heat radiating from your skin. “you’re burning up,” she says softly, concern etched in her voice. “how long have you been like this?”

“i– i don’t know… i’m so tired…” you murmur, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

“let’s get you to your bed,” danielle suggests. “can you show me?”

you nod weakly, and she helps you to your feet. you sway slightly, leaning heavily on her as she tries to steady you. you’re taller, heavier, and she’s not exactly built for this—but she does her best, slipping an arm around your waist to support you.

your head drops forward, and you breathe slowly against her shoulder. danielle's heart races as she feels the warmth of your breath, and when you look up, your faces are inches apart, close enough that she can feel the heat radiating off you. her cheeks warm up, she wonders if your fever is contagious.

but she shakes it off, tightening her grip on you. “come on,” she whispers. “let’s get you to bed.”

you lead her to your room, and she’s a little surprised by how tidy it is. the walls are painted in soft, earthy tones, the furniture minimalistic and neatly arranged. polaroids and film photos cover the walls, snapshots of you and your friends, some of family, too. there’s a warmth to it, a sense of calm that she hadn’t expected. she notices a movie poster above your bed—something she doesn’t recognize. you collapse onto the bed immediately, curling up into a tight ball, yanking the nearest blanket over you with a groan.

danielle watches you for a moment, then quietly slips out of the room. you lie there, thoughts buzzing in your foggy mind. how did she know you were sick? why is she here? did she come just for you? did you forget something? but the craziest thought of all is that danielle is in your apartment, just the two of you. the realization sends a tiny thrill through your chest.

she returns a few minutes later, carrying a bowl, a bottle of medicine, and a thermometer. she sits beside you on the edge of the bed, nudging you over gently so you're lying flat on your back, your tired eyes meeting hers. she sets the bowl beside you and slides the thermometer into your mouth. you stare at her, feeling a bit dazed, and she offers a small, reassuring smile.

when it beeps, she pulls it out and checks the screen, her brow furrowing slightly. “you’ve got a fever, it’s pretty high,” she murmurs, setting the thermometer down and reaching for a water bottle. “i kind of went through your place to find this, i hope that’s okay.”

you nod weakly, letting her help you sit up on your elbows. she presses the bottle to your lips, and you sip slowly, a few drops spilling out and dribbling down your chin. you reach up, embarrassed, to wipe them away, but danielle just grins at you gently, wiping them with her sleeve.

she places the bottle down and dips her hand into the bowl. you lie back, too tired to care, hearing the soft sound of water being wrung out. then, without warning, she presses a cool, damp cloth to your forehead, and you wince at the sudden chill, a small whine escaping your lips. danielle clicks her tongue softly, using her thumb to swipe a stray drop of water away from the corner of your eye. 

“i know it’s cold, but it’ll help bring your fever down,” she explains gently.

you feel her hand slide down, and suddenly her fingers are wrapped around yours. her thumb brushes over your knuckles in slow, soothing circles, and you let out a shaky breath, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest. you hum softly, the tension easing out of your body.

"is it okay if i stay for a bit?" she asks quietly. "i don't want you to be alone, but this is your place, after all."

“p-please,” you whisper, gripping her hand tighter, needing the comfort. “please stay.”

she smiles warmly, nodding, and you feel the weight of her presence, steady and calming, beside you. “i’ll stay close then,” she promises softly. “don’t worry.”

—

you wake up with a low groan, feeling like you’ve just been hit by a bus. every muscle in your body aches, and your head throbs just a bit. blinking against the dim light filtering through the blinds, you sit up slowly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. you look around, trying to get your bearings. 

your gaze falls on the bowl of water beside the bed, with two rags soaking in it, and the thermometer resting on the edge. memories from before you passed out come flooding back, and your cheeks heat up at the thought of danielle sitting by your side, taking care of you. your heart does a little flip at the memory, and you shake your head, trying to steady your thoughts.

there’s no sign of her in your room. she’s not in your bed, and you exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. honestly, if you had woken up to find her next to you, you’re pretty sure your heart would’ve just exploded right then and there. 

with a bit more urgency than necessary, you get up and make your way to the living room. your steps are quiet as you peek around the corner, and there she is, curled up on the couch. she’s asleep, head resting on a pillow, her zip-up hoodie pulled over her legs like a makeshift blanket. the sight tugs at something in your chest, a mix of guilt and gratitude. she stayed the whole night.

you hurry back to your room, grabbing another blanket from your bed, and return to her side. you drape it over her carefully, making sure not to wake her. danielle shifts slightly, mumbling something you can’t quite make out. her face softens in sleep, and you find yourself smiling without meaning to. 

the morning light slips through the blinds, casting a warm glow across her face, illuminating the soft curve of her cheek, the way her lashes fan out against her skin. she looks peaceful, so pretty in the soft light, and you let yourself enjoy the sight for just a moment longer than you probably should.

you let out a small sigh and decide to leave her be, tiptoeing away quietly. but as you move, you can’t help but glance back one last time, her serene expression etched into your memory. then, feeling a strange mix of comfort and nerves, you head to your room to get yourself ready.

— 

danielle wakes up only thirty minutes after you, sitting up a minute after she’s blinked herself awake. she sits up and catches you on the floor by the coffee table, knees drawn to your chest, a bowl of fruit and two pieces of toast in front of you. her vision clears, and she catches you popping a blueberry into your mouth, scrolling absently through your phone.

"good morning..." she mutters, stretching and rubbing her eyes.

you turn at the sound of her voice, surprised to see her up already. she's quicker at waking up than you; you would have stayed in bed for another ten minutes at least, but the pounding in your head forced you up earlier. "hey, i didn’t think you’d stay the whole night."

“i just wanted to make sure you were alright," she explains, moving to sit next to you, mirroring your posture, knees tucked in. "i checked in on you during the night to change the rag on your head and everything, seems like you’re back to normal.”

“you didn’t have to, danielle,” you say, feeling a wave of gratitude mixed with embarrassment.

“but i wanted to.” she shrugs lightly, her eyes softening as she looks at you. “how are you feeling?”

“i took two advils before brushing my teeth," you say with a small smile. "feeling pretty great now.”

“i’m glad. your fever was pretty high.”

“was it?” you raise an eyebrow, grabbing a piece of strawberry and popping it into your mouth.

“yeah.” she picks a piece of kiwi from the bowl and eats it. “i was worried.”

you turn your head, meeting her gaze directly. her eyes look a bit tired, her face bare of makeup, but she still looks good—so natural, so effortlessly beautiful. a thought crosses your mind: you owe her for this, for being so kind and caring when she didn’t have to be.

";ast night i didn’t hear any loud noises from downstairs," danielle continues, “there wasn’t a party going on, and i got a little concerned.”

you chuckle, setting your phone aside, resting your cheek against your knee. “so you came because… there wasn’t a party?”

“it was pretty suspicious,” she insists with a playful grin. “then you opened the door looking like you’d just fought a bear, stumbling around. it was kind of funny, and cute.”

her compliment catches you off guard. you turn away quickly, pretending to be more interested in the fruit than you are. "thank you, danielle," you mumble. "i owe you."

“it’s nothing,” she says softly. "as long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters." her words feel like a direct hit to your heart, it’s as if cupid had a gun instead of a bow and shot you right in the chest, making you feel strangely warm and fluttery inside.

“you’re so… hey, what about your roommate? isn't she wondering where you are?”

“oh, hanni,” danielle giggles, checking her phone for any messages but finding none. “she was passed out before i left last night. it's not even ten yet, so she’s probably still asleep.” she stands up, and you rise with her, feeling a slight pang of disappointment. “but i should go check on her, and fix myself up. i probably look like a mess right now.”

you look perfect. it almost lips right off your tongue, but you manage to shut your mouth.

you lead her to the door, wishing she could stay a bit longer, just a little while more. “of course,” you say, feeling a knot tighten in your chest. “thank you again for everything.”

danielle places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “it’s nothing,” she says warmly. “i’ll see you around.”

you open the door, watching her step outside, but she turns back, hesitating. before she can say anything else, you speak first. "hey, danielle?"

“yes?”

“are you free later?”

“i’m free all day,” she replies, though she adds, “but i might run errands with hanni.”

“right, well.” you play with your hair nervously. danielle tilts her head, noticing the shift in your demeanor. “you should come over tonight. i’ll cook you dinner—to repay you, of course.”

she chuckles, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “that’s quite intimate,” she teases. “is this your way of asking me out?”

“uh—” your heart races, but you nod, swallowing hard. “yes. and i'd hope your way of accepting is… coming over around six?”

danielle's smile widens, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “i’ll see you then, as long as you’re not sick again.”

“i’d count on that if it meant having you take care of me again.”

she glances away, hiding a smile, and you catch sight of the tiny moles on her face. "you're really good at this," she says softly.

“i’m really not,” you admit, “but it’s you, so i thought i’d try a little harder.”

she rolls her eyes playfully, then steps closer and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. your skin heats up instantly, heart racing faster than before. she pulls back with a grin, waving as she says, “see you tonight, six p.m.!”

“see you…” you reply, still stunned as you watch her walk down the hall. she glances back twice, each time your smiles mirroring and growing wider.

you wonder if you should cut down on the weekly parties, maybe dedicate more time to being with her. but that might be getting ahead of yourself. for now, all you know is that you have to prepare the best dinner ever tonight—something that might just earn you another kiss, maybe on the lips this time.

[butmakeitgayblog]

Too hot too cuddle for professor au!

I got several for this one, but this is the only one with specific au so I'm goin' with it 😌

////////////////

"I'm calling off tomorrow."

"No you're not. There's only two weeks left, you have to go."

"Why?"

"Finals are coming and all that. Think of the kids."

The night goes quiet as the too-warm breeze from the swivel fan at her side makes another circuit of the room.

"... Fuck them kids."

Clarke smiles at the grunt that's half-muffled into a pillow, her foot reaching out across the bed to nudge a calf that lays bare and sticky with a dusting of sweat. "You don't mean that."

"Right now I do," Lexa whines and readjusts for the tenth time in as many minutes. "It's too hot to move. It's too hot to think straight—"

"When have you ever done that anyway?"

"It's too hot to wear clothes."

"Now that I'm not complaining about," Clarke hums, reaching over to caress the curve of her girlfriend's perfectly crafted bubble butt.

She glances down at the toes that flex under the bit of sheet draped over Lexa's ankles and not another inch higher, because despite them both foregoing their normal nighttime attire and it really being too hot for any kind of bedding, Lexa had staunchly insisted that, quote, 'Sleeping with my feet uncovered just feels... wrong.' Unquote.

"Don't even think about getting frisky, Ms. Griffin" Lexa muffles into her pillow again as she reaches back to blindly point behind her in Clarke's general direction. "It's too hot for that too."

Clarke grabs the vaguely menacing finger and kisses it. "Just try and get some sleep, baby."

"Who can sleep like this?" Lexa lifts her head just enough to let out dramatic series of sobs before flopping back down. "I can't even cuddle my own girlfriend without it forming a gross, sticky skin paste."

Which was true. They had tried. And had predictably failed, much to Lexa's misery.

"We'll cuddle tomorrow night, baby. Right after the A/C guy leaves."

"That doesn't help me sleep tonight though, now does it?"

Clarke looks over to the mass of sweat-frizzed curls that lays splayed over the pillow beside her. "You're worse than Madi sometimes, you know that?"

"If Madi were here right now, she'd back me up."

"Mmm, technically if Madi were here right now, I think she'd just be horrified at seeing you splayed out butt-ass naked."

She laughs at the disgusted sound of Lexa's grunt as the hand in hers is yanked away.

"I should have failed you when I had the chance."

Clarke ignores her girlfriends antics and rolls over onto her back, sighing as the fan makes another pass and cools the fine sheen of sweat that coats her body.

The heat hangs over her like a cloud, thick and humid, seeping into her pores and settling heavy in her bones. She gives in to its weight, letting it pull her down into the sleepiness that had clung to her like a haze for the entire day.

She's just about to drift off into a restless, sweat-soaked slumber when she feels the bed shift as a hand drifts over... and lands right on her left breast.

Clarke doesn't even bother to open her eyes, just smiles and scootches over a bit, so the hand can lay in a more comfortable position to cup her.

"Better?"

The hand holding her breast gives a sleepy squeeze.

"... S'better."

[kitorin]

11:47 pm - a.touya

warning for underage drinking, but it's not extreme + unrealistic depiction of alcohol (getting drunk super easily)

"I think he's drunk."

An comments on Touya's current state, exhausted yet blissed out, silver irises zoning out and paying no heed to everything surrounding him.

"Probably." Akito agrees with her, blinking with confusion. Him and Kohane glance at each other, evidently concerned and soon frowning at An.

"You can't blame me— he's never tried alcohol before and asked for it." She retaliates with her arms crossed. "How was I supposed to predict this?"

Akito sighs at the ludicrosity of the dilemma.

"To be fair, you wouldn't really expect someone to get drunk that easily." Though you're defending An you can't deny that it was a stupid decision, this is exactly why Ken looked reluctant to leave the five of you at their place.

Touya finally speaks. "What? 'm not drunk."

Scoffing, Akito responds first. "Says the guy zoning out at his drink and gettin' flushed red."

"... the bubbles look pretty." Only proves Akito's statement.

"You're an idiot at times." Akito mumbles.

And for some reason Touya only bothers to acknowledge that. "But look!" He points the glass to his friend, almost spilling it, Akito reacts faster and pries it out of his hand.

"I'm sure they look very pretty, Touya." He grumbles under his breath, placing the glass out of his reach. Another glare is shot at An, who raises her hands in defeat.

"He wanted to try it!"

"None of us are over eighteen." Livid yet worried, Akito sighs. "Oi, what's the best lie for this situation. He can't go home like this."

"We could tell Ken that he fell asleep? And it's quite late already."

Silently, you thank the gods for Kohane's idea. "Ken's fine with us sleeping over without notice too. We'll be fine."

But An objects. "We are not lying to my dad."

Akito scowls, irritation overpowering concern. "Too bad."

She crosses her arms. "But that's unethical."

"You know what's unethical? Underaged drinking."

An shrugs, as if she weren't the cause of all of this. "It's legal when it's at home."

"With an adult." Touya still seemed dazed out, not heeding mind to the way both An and Akito were yelling. "Your dad wouldn't've let this happen."

"Kohane's basically an adult with her maturity?"

"Don't even try saying that. You let him drink while she was showering and while y/n and I went out to buy snacks."

As the two bicker, Kohane pinches your sleeve for your attention. "Should we stop them? Whether Aoyagi's okay or not is a priority."

In agreement you nod, accompanied by an exhausted sigh. "How about we bring Touya upstairs, to one of your guest rooms." Both An and Akito halt their arguing, intently listening to you. "He's probably just tipsy. He should be fine by the morning." Kohane nods, leaning down to eye level with Touya, who was slumped in his seat.

"Aoyagi, let's go." But he doesn't oblige, whining with soft incoherency instead. "Please?" Her plead is futile, as it goes completely ignored by Touya.

Akito steps forth. "I'll carry him." Toned arms reach for Touya's, the action only being reciprocated by a lazy slap.

"Mean."

He sighs for the nth time. "'m not mean, c'mon." It's futile though, Touya fights back, messily, his sloppy movements were enough to prevent Akito from being able to pick him up properly.

"I'll carry him." You volunteer, and thankfully Touya surrenders to you, relaxing as you haul him onto your back. "First guest room right?"

After nodding and beginning to clean up, An breathed out an apology and thank you, Akito gives up on scolding her, settling down on a seat next to Kohane.

Despite how tall he is, Touya was ridiculously light, allowing you to effortlessly carry him upstairs.

"You need to eat more..." And of course he doesn't respond. Soon you're carefully placing him in bed, searching for any signs of something wrong. You shield him from the cold with the blanket, watching him instinctively curl up into a ball.

"Are we alright now?" Everything seems to be fine, his face is still flushed red and he's basically unconscious, but he's not whining nor complaining. A lack of an answer tells to you to hurry up and leave, even if you already know he's unable to reply. "I'll go then. Good night Touya."

A tight grip on your wrist prevents you from leaving.

"What's wrong?"

"I need you here." He hiccups, now fully conscious.

"Why?"

"Because you're the best." He hiccups again.

"You're just saying that because you're drunk." You redirect his hand to himself, placing it by his side.

Pearly irises of silver stare at you, pleading for you to oblige his request. "No. It's because I like you."

You choke on your own spit at the declaration. "That's enough, just sleep." You've never encountered a drunk person, and it's unfortunate that Touya's the first because of an immature decision An made.

"Only if you'll stay."

Even when he turns eighteen, you note to yourself to never let him get drunk.

But it was refreshing to see Touya behave so childishly. For the time you've known him he's always been so adultlike, stoic and cold—juxtaposing the way An and Akito bicker, or Kohane's tendency to remain glued to a window whenever something piques her interest. The question has always plagued your thoughts, was it simply his personality or did his household not provide the luxury of being a child?

With a sigh you indulge in his request, sitting down on the bed. "You're kind of silly when you're drunk, you know?"

"'m not drunk! You're being like Akito."

"Like Akito?"

"Mean."

You remain silent, but you're stifling a laugh. It doesn't take long for you to give in, bursting out into laughter. "I promise I'm not mean. That's always going to be Akito's job."

"Then stop ignoring my feelings."

The first time it seemed like drunk non sense, drowsy and mindless. But the second time feels different, whether it be the genuine pout of his lips or the solemnity intertwined with his tone.

"It's not fairrr." Touya doesn't bother waiting for a response from you, rambling on while you listen carefully. "I like you so much but you're so far ahead. You're too pretty, how am I supposed to live without you? You're my safe place where I don't have to think about piano or dad. You're so good at sports, and smart, and speaking to people, you've even had alcohol before already."

Is that why he wanted to try some today...?

"You've had alcohol before too, dumbass." He only throws the blanket over his head, out of embarrassment.

"Do you like me too?"

The question repeats in your head, and the answer is obvious to you.

You arise from the bed, kneeling next to it where Touya was cowering underneath the blanket. "I do."

He peeps out of the covers, face wrapped in the doona, silver eyes wide with surprise. "Really?"

"Yes, but I'm not talking to you until you sleep properly, okay?"

Like an eager child, he falls for the bribery, closing his eyes and mumbling out a 'good night'. You reciprocate it, carefully tip toeing in order to let him sleep undisturbed— and on your way to deal with another problem, this time in the form of a certain musician who has a thing for drama.

"And then, you confessed! We got curious and listened through the door."

Touya averts his gaze, instead staring at the cup of black coffee warming his palms. Rose is chalked all over his cheeks as he listens to An recounting last night's events.

"By 'we' she means her." Akito grumbles while sipping from his hot chocolate. "I don't get why she's so obsessed. Congratulations though."

An throws an arm around you. "You should've seen the look on his face when Touya called him mean."

Akito opens his mouth to object, but Kohane speaks first.

"That must've been amazing though, if drinking gave you that much confidence to confess like that."

"Well it wasn't really confidence if I wasn't thinking at all, is it?" The conversation only permeates his cheeks into a darker pink.

"Did you like how alcohol tasted?" Legitimate curiosity is scrawled on her expression and traced onto her tone. "What's being drunk like?"

This time, Akito interrupts Touya. "Who knows? Wanna test it out? Maybe then you'll have the courage to confess to Shiraishi?" The comment leaves you and Touya shocked, eyes flitting between the three of them. An stares at Kohane, whom is already running away with her bag.

"Oi Kohane—come back!" With haste she pulls off her apron and sprints around the counter, tossing it god knows where. "Wait—"

Akito chuckles at the ordeal— the chaos he caused. "Oops. My bad."

(you both know that was damn intentional)

taglist (send an ask to be added) : @yuzurins, @pokkomi

© kitorin : do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate

[artemismoorea03]

Talking about my day in this beautiful hell house <3 Feel free to ignore just want to write this out.

Alright, so for context let me just say that the place my spouse and I are living in is beautiful asthetically. It's open concept with three beds, two bath and a large pantry. It comes with a garage and a stunning kitchen. It's a great place and we pay almost 1,700 USD a month to stay here.

Which is a good chunk of my spouses paycheck (I'm disabled and cant work so he is paying for everything himself).

Now, outside of asthetics THIS PLACE HAS BEEN NOTHING BUT FUCKIN' TROUBLE.

We moved in at the beginning of October and have had two gas leaks since then, the foundation is at an angle to the point where the counter in the kitchen doesn't sit flush on the floor, you can feel cracks under your feet when you walk around barefoot, and when I spoke to the neighbor today I found out that they have a hole in their roof that management refuses to check out that is causing water damage on one of the walls.

Add on the fact that our building is currently for sale because the old landlord couldn't be bothered to try and fix everything we're also experiencing constant walk-throughs. But they are selling this broken ass duplex for 209,000 USD for each side. I would pay that much for both but for one? Hell. Fuckin'. No.

But enough about back story, this is what I actually want to talk about.

So, when we moved in back in October the front of our oven had been ripped off by the previous tenants. We were told when we signed the lease that it would be fixed the day we moved in.

It wasn't.

It took a month to fix it. Which meant that for a month we couldn't use our gas because it's a gas oven and if there were issues it would probably come from the oven.

After a month we get the door fixed and turn on the gas.

Just to immedietly have the garage fill with so much gas it's a miracle that we're even still here. One spark and the whole place would have gone up in smoke. We had to turn the gas back off and it took another two days to get a person out to come fix the pipes. He checked it, said it was all good, and we thought it was fixed.

But the smell of gas never went away.

Then add into the fact that as the weather gets colder the smell gets worse, I'm realizing there is no heat coming from most of the vents, and there's just some bad vibes in the entire building. This lasts until today (technically yesterday now) when I go to the bathroom and the smell is overwhelming. Finally I snap, I've had enough of the smell that nobody else can smell and go to the garage to check for what is probably the millionth time since we moved in.

And I hear a hiss.

Now - keep in mind that one of the disabilities I mentioned earlier is that I am legally deaf. I use hearing aids when I don't have headphones on so for me to hear it without my hearing aids is a good fuckin' indication that it's not good.

I call my mom and ask her to come sniff the water heater.

She can't.

My sister can't either because she's pregnant.

My cousin can't because she has no sense of smell.

My dad can't for the same reason as my cousin.

So, mom tells me to call the gas company. I call the company and tell them what I'm hearing and they tell me to evacuate. So, I do what I can; kick the dog out back and put the cat somewhere I hope is safe because I'm home alone and can't evacuate two animals alone in near freezing tempatures with no safe place to take them and no friends nearby to help me.

Gas guy shows up and brings out his device which I'll call the "Sniffer" and goes around sniffing the main parts of the house. Living room, kitchen, pantry, bedrooms, office - everything is clear. He's not smelling anything and sniffer isn't picking anything up. At this point I think I'm crazy until he opens the garage door and freezes.

Then this man looks me dead in the eyes and says, "Yep, that's gas alright."

BUT THE DEVICE STILL ISN'T PICKING ANYTHING UP.

The sniffer is dragged all across the water heater, we're looking for other tanks that might be the problem but the only other thing he could think might be responsible he legally can't look at because ours is in the attic. So, he goes outside to check the meter out there and run some tests.

While he does that he also sniffs the neighbors house and I get to talk to the wife and daughter who live their (they're both very sweet and I did try to warn them before the guy showed up but understandably she was worried about answering the door without her husband home but she answered when she saw the gas truck). We're talking, he's still not finding something but thankfully he smells the gas and keeps looking.

I stay outside with the neighbor for a while while he goes back inside to check again and a couple minutes later when I go in he looks at me and says, "I found it."

I'm relieved as hell because not only does he believe me but there's proof. He shows me the sniffer and where the leak is and I watch as the number goes from low with a green light to higher with an orange light. Which is when he then turns on the heater and pilot light which causes the number to jump even higher from orange to red before it drops again.

He then says, "If the entire garage had (lower number) I'd evacuate you and both your neighbors. If it had (high number) we'd be evacuating the entire neighborhood."

Turns out that the leak only happened when the heater turned on which is why I smelt it so randomly throughout the day and why it didn't explode because it had time to dispurse enough between leaks! But he did say that big leaks become big problems over time so we turned off the hot water heater and gas until they can come fix it.

BUT THAT'S NOT WHERE THE STORY ENDS.

OH NO.

THERE'S MORE FOLKS.

Because he couldn't check the thing in the attic and there were other things he noticed while sniffing he scanned all the vents in the house. Remember how I mentioned the fact that there was no heat? Yeah, turns out I didn't imagine that either. Almost none of the vents have any airflow! Which means that the things up there came disconnected or got clocked which is a fire and co2 risk.

SO LEGALLY, HE ALSO HAD TO TURN OFF OUR HEAT.

IT IS BELLOW FREEZING.

WE HAVE A WINTER STORM THAT'S SUPPOSED TO LAST THE NEXT THREE DAYS.

WE HAVE NO HEAT. NO HOT WATER. A GAS LEAK. AND A FUCKIN' MANAGEMENT COMPANY THAT DOESN'T HELP US WHEN WE NEED IT.

They claim they're going to be here first thing tomorrow (today) but we'll have to see if/when that happens. If it takes a while my parents have offered us some plug in heaters but otherwise we're pretty much on our own.

So yeah, that was my day.

[prvtocol]

@exxecutioners : command: sender orders receiver to stay put. // trapper | action starters ᠂ ⚘ ˚

The sharp caw of a crow passing overhead cuts the eery silence of this forested Realm. Her heeled steps remain purposefully quiet, careful in meandering around the patches of fog, the piles of discarded crates, and areas of tufted grass. Careful to not disturb the silence and careful as something inside tells her to be. Chilled to the bone, the wandering Survivor searches the dilapidated wooden structures for one offering a better respite from a light sprinkling of rain and the chill it brings with it. 

     “Hello?” Soft voice barely projects with its nervousness through the shack’s open door before she steps over the threshold. “Anyone here?” No answer. She goes in. A glance is taken at a wall of old tools, a work table; a murky remembrance stirs. She’s seen this place before. The Trials, perhaps? And other occurrences too. Someone lives here. Her head shakes back and forth, a huff of nonchalance, pushing aside the discomfort of clouded thoughts before noticing the basement entrance. 

     Brianne's grown intrepid enough to go down, urged further by a sudden curiosity — a want to know something, something she’s wondered about before perhaps. Downstairs there are lights strung, antiquated bulbs illuminating an array of antiquated objects, a wrought iron bed, and what’s this? An old radio. She’s seen one before. In the Landry family estate up in the English countryside; a place her grandmother and grandfather lived after he retired from the family firm and where she’d go on short holiday as a child, a weekend getaway from the city. His office was a repository of antiques, including one well-kept radio from before the war. 

     As if still that child, fingers reach, giving the knob on the right a full turn while trying to recall how these things worked. Hm. She hums, bent at the waist, her head canting, neck craning to look at the other side of the wooden box. Is it even plugged in? There's electricity here. She wonders some more, her mind in the clouds remembering when her grandfather opened the box to show her what was inside while speaking about the impact of Chrurchill's fireside chats. The bulbs, the tubes, all of what made it work. She tries the other knob.

     One creak. Then another. Breathing that sounds inhuman. Brianne freezes, fingers falling from the radio knob. Panic starts before she's even reminded — Someone lives here. She turns to see the one they call The Trapper, the bone-masked Killer ominously standing at the bottom of the steps. Her mouth opens, then closes. Wide eyes stare before her gaze turns inward, wavering as a discarded memory roars its head and falls out of her mouth in an uncertain whisper. “It’s your property.” 

     “Oh dear. I’m sorry, Mister Trapper, sir. I ... completely forgot this was your place. I forgot. I forgot." There's a whimper in that last phrase as her palm presses against her forehead as if nursing an incoming headache. The forgetting pains her; always forgetting. The other palm joins and both press repeatedly, tapping harder each time. "Have I been down here before? I don't know. I don't know." Frantic, her thoughts are still a jumbled mess before the imminent danger of the Killer who caught her returns. Dismay contorts her face; hands drop to cover her ears.

     "If I remembered, I would never disrespect your privacy, sir. Never touch your possessions. I was hardly here. I only tried to turn on the radio," eyes shift to the old tech; her tendency to chatter when scared takes hold. "It doesn't seem to work. I didn't break it.” She's broken something before, hasn't she? "I'm leaving now. Oh, I must be such a bother." She moves forward only to shrink back; he doesn't budge from the stair's entrance marking another attempt futile. "I can see you're angry. Well, I can't see under that mask but I know. I know. Please, believe me," despair strangles her voice, "My memory, it's not my own."  

     Before she finishes her sentence, a faint buzzing of interference sounds from the small machine; her eyes waver from their fretful stare at the sharp tooth mask. From the static clears the warbles of orchestral jazz.

[shallowseeker]

I don't really agree with your demon dean takes but i find them interesting

K. Much of this is just my lens and experience, you know? My beloved brain-addled Gramps grabbed my ass one day from his hospital bed. Was that his "true self?"

Basically, I don't buy into the whole, "release your inhibitions" wholesale. Inhibitions taken to extremes can be bad, sure, like how they are rigidly enforced with angels. On the flipside, I don't think disinhibition is automatically "good" or "your super-duper secret true self." Inhibitions are actually a key component of decision-making and free will.

I don't actually disagree with other takes on Demon Dean. I let most of them co-exist in my head. They're fun. A) I just see this particular take less often, and I like it. B) It gives me a shit-ton of mileage in filtering the side stories of the season:

DEAN HATED BEING A DEMON

Dean talks about how he hated becoming a demon, and he asks Cas to kill him if he goes darkside again.

As a demon, Dean doesn't actually act like himself; he mistreats the girl he sleeps with, which is not his MO at all.

He sings badly, and the Dean we know is into music even since Robin and sings quite well.

He's not his full integrated self, he's often disinhibited, bitter, and numb.

It's a callback to his original trauma in Hell, "being carved into a new animal." Hell, it's an odious nod to Alastair.

There are glimmers of his soul fighting to get out. Moments of lucidity, you might say.

He thanks Cas for, "stepping in when you did." Another callback to Dean's original Hell rescue.

via @silver-stake-through-the-heart - he didn’t care about Baby! “She was just a car.” Dean didn’t care about Baby or himself. He became an animal with no interiority that requires no tenderness, like “just a dumb car.”

LOSS OF CONTROL; DISORGANIZED PSYCHOLOGY

During season 10, Dean has recurring nightmares about the loss of control.

...because he hated being a demon beholden to instinct, sundered from his own emotions. (It's a parallel to Naomi's super-soldier-Cas.)

That's what killing the human traffickers was really about; if Dean had lined them up and executed them under his own free will with full faculties, it wouldn't have bothered anyone.

Like when Mary views Jack's torture-kill in season 14, it's about the "kill signature." And well, the loss of control does have some research to back it up when it comes to assessing a worsening disorganized psychology. Mary is a lifelong hunter and would be hip to recognizing the signs of a hunter losing himself/losing touch with reality.

As much as I love to joke about Dean trying to crack Sam's skull open with a hammer, that's not what Dean really wants. In this scene, he becomes a specter of Lucifer/Nick Vaught (a former mark bearer; known for his volatility and impulse issues).

PIMPS & PROSTITUTES & ROOFIES

Randy/Claire/Salinger-the-human-trafficker is parallel to Crowley/Dean/Cain-the-father-of-murder.

Claire loves Randy as Dean loves Crowley: he seemed kind and like he was giving Dean new purpose & support...at first. Randy showed remorse after he threw Claire to the wolves. He still "loved" Claire, probably. Same with Crowley. (Horribly, I'm 99% sure Claire would have forgiven Randy, too, eventually.)

Like how Claire forgave Cas, ofc. Claire will take any scrap of affection. Literally, the way past her defenses is just to give a damn, no matter what else has happened.

Raoul-the-pimp-soul-collector-that-Rowena-kills & Shaylene-the-prostitute is definitely a parallel to Crowley & Dean, right down to the brutal capitalism of Hell's soul deals.

Dean's story about John "saving" him from what is surely a close encounter with being roofied is a nod to Dean's sexual abuse as a minor, even though Dean plays it off as sexy, fun, and cool. Part of me thinks John actually walked in on a drugged-up-teen-Dean being statutory-raped by a bunch of adults. Or at the very least, sexually assaulted.

He feels like John set him up to be vulnerable and then turned around and shamed him harshly for becoming damaged goods.

SHAME & SUICIDE

This is why there's this constant swirl of SHAME and SUICIDE with regard to Dean's time as Demon Dean and becoming a knight of Hell through the Mark of Cain.

Dean even emphasizes some of the friendly, cute moments. It's the same way he retells the bar story as being Super Cool. Even Sam thinks his retelling of CBGB is a heartwarming tale. A lighthearted “summer of love,” if you will. Sam doesn’t get it. He never will.

DEAN: Somehow, we convince him to let us go. So, we all go. We all, you know, see all the sights, and uh, ride the subway, eat too much pizza. The whole nine. Well, by about midnight, Sam and Dad are zonked, and I figure… Screw it. I’m going to CBGB. All right, so I get there. I sneak in, and it is nuts. I mean, people are drinking and they’re smoking and they’re—they’re snorting whatever. There’s a five-hundred pound guy on stage with a Mohawk just screaming. And, uh, my mind is blown. I don’t even know what to do. Then this girls walks up and she says “Hey, why don’t you come over and sit down with me and my friends at our table?” All right! SAM: Yeah, and they get him drunk. First time. DEAN: But not fun drunk. I’m not quite sure what was in that stuff, but the room starts to spin, and I feel like I’m going to puke … forever. And right about that time, I hear him. “Dean Winchester!” ...My old man. I don’t know how, but he found me. And now I’m really freaking out, because he’s just standing there, not saying anything. I look around, and everybody else is freaking out, too. In fact, nobody’s even looking him in the eye. And finally, this one guy with, like, a safety pin through his nose and a—a “Kill Everything” tattoo looks up and he says, “Sorry, sir.”

So yeah, Demon Dean wasn't a positive experience on the whole, even though he, parallel to Claire, pretty much forgives everyone about it. She, too, is a heart character.

He only reveals how much he hated it...to Cas, really.

DISINHIBITION (REDUX)

This disinhibition of the mark rears its head again when Dean visits the college campus and makes comments about the girls there. That's not an accident of writing; it's a neon sign for how demon Dean and MoC!Dean acts, and why.

That's not in line with the Dean we've known in seasons prior OR after. It's simply...inappropriate disinhibition. Like a frontotemporal injury. Not the true self.

Dean beats on people as revenge for how he was wronged, too. If you look closely, he beats on Cas in a very similar way to how Cas beat on him in seasons 5 & 8.

Much of his behavior is an outpouring of those times Dean felt powerless in his life.

SLUTS, VALIDATION & VICTIMIZATION

Then, we have Mr. McKinley and the "slut daughter," Rose.

Dean says, "And you know what? I don't blame Rose anymore. No wonder she put on that skank outfit and went out there looking for validation, right into the arms of the monster that killed her."

Dean is finally unleashing his anger about what happened to him re: Cain and re: the CBGB incident.

For all his talk of "making Claire tougher," he's looking at how vulnerable he was, and he's finally starting to process the magnitude of that.

This is probably why he's not acting as outlandishly sexual in the later seasons, as much as I'd like to put it down to Cas's presence (Cas's presence is certainly meaningful).

But actually, it's that Dean processed why he acted in a certain way, and he's reflected on how it actually made him feel. (His protective locker room talk, of course, remains.)

CAS AS WHAT DEAN WISHED FOR FROM JOHN

That Cas gives Claire up to a healthier, safer life is what Dean wishes John would've done for him...left him with Sunny, perhaps.

Cas wants to keep Claire, because he loves her, but he can't repair the damage he did to her life.

Giving her up to Jody was the best thing. He's not equipped to care for Claire, like how John wasn't equipped to care for Sam or Dean.

Dean wishes John had been like Cas, and apologized, even though the situation was damn-near unfixable. He wishes John had tried to make amends anyway.

So when I say I get a lot of mileage, it's simply this. I get a lot of mileage. It's a fun lens for me, personally. And before you bring it up, yes, I do see the drug addiction parallels; I see addiction as quite complicated stuff.

I also think that Crowley is legitimately integrating his own humanity and catching feelings, but it doesn't erase the core of the whole situation. Crowley is also dealing with the events that led him to become a demon in the first place. He was abandoned, he drank too much in order to cope with an "unsuccessful" life, and he was tricked by a demon in a back alley who played on his dick insecurities.

He is like Metatron was to Cas. He saw that Dean was vulnerable, and he orchestrated a situation as a means to gain power in Hell. Ruby did this, too, with Sam. She had an agenda to get him corrupted and served on a silver platter to Lucifer. Demons do what demons do. It's not a judgment on my part so much as an observation.

I do think that, over time, it's shown that regular demons do have the capacity to get a better hold on their instincts, make connections, and can even remember how to love (SEE: Meg). The Mark was just...a much harder situation. Makes you reconsider Cain and Lucifer's plight a little bit, mmm?

[pbandjesse]

I can't say I am having a very good time today. Emotionally I just feel a bit numb. Like why would anything be good?

It doesn't help that I woke up a million times last night. Every time I turned over I was just in pain and uncomfortable and just having a bad time.

So I slept in. But when I woke up it was because my mom was calling me. I already had one missed call from her. And it's never good when my parents call me out of nowhere.

And I tried to not catastrophize everything. But she was like. Are you home. Is James there. And I was just like what is wrong. And what is wrong is my brother is in the hospital.

I don't want to put all of his business out there. But he got very sick and Felicia's family forced him to the ER. I'm glad they did because apparently he deteriorated quickly and was admitted. He has an infection, verging on sepsis. He's not speaking. And I'm just like. Of course. This feels like a curse.

Like I don't want to be saying anything. I don't want to say my brother might die. But that's what I'm feeling. And then my brain just goes. You really are your father's daughter. Another middle child, becomes only child. I really hope that I'm just being dramatic. But also no one has texted me since this morning. And I just feel a little bit numb. I don't want to ask. No news it good news right? But I also feel like I will just fall apart completely if I have to get that phone call. I am trying to be positive but it is really hard. Why would anything be good?

When I got off the phone I was just. Moving on automatic. I washed my face. I made the bed. I felt uncomfortable. I liked my dress. But I just was not having a good time.

James left me breakfast. It was fine. Sweetp was bothering me. But I was trying to just. Be alright.

I would get under a blanket on the couch with sweetp. And I decided that when Sweetp gets up, I would get up and do something.

But he would fall asleep and we were just there for an hour and a half. So at noon I just decided I should get up anyway. Even if Sweetp yelled at me.

I would do a lot of small organizing projects. I cleaned my vanity. I went through my purses. I moved things into boxes. I moved things out of other boxes. I moved a whole bunch of stuff from the guest room and moved it to the basement. I did some measuring to possibly get some bookshelves. I put all the books back in the baby room. And reorganized the closet in there. I was just. Moving moving moving. The saddest can't catch you if you keep moving.

I would eventually decide that I wanted to go to Wawa. Get a late lunch. I went to five below first but it was a bit of a mess and I couldn't find anything I was looking for. I did cry in the car because of music. But I calmed down and went to get my late lunch.

I got my hoagie. And went home. I was back by 4. I ate my sandwich at the kitchen island. I put the clean dishes away and did some organizing on the top of the fridge I also moved around some stuff in the living room to make space for our new Christmas tree.

I had moved a bunch of things in the basement earlier in the day, including moving the decoration boxes to the bottom of the stairs. James would help bring those up later on.

When James got home I was not having a very good time but I was happy to see them. They let me know their plans for proving bread tonight. And they would go run to the store to get cranberry soda for tomorrow. Just trying to make me feel a little more normal. It helped.

I don't even really like Thanksgiving. And I'm not seeing my parents. And my brother is in limbo. I texted him and told him I was going to bully him because I was scared. And that he's being an attention seeker. That this is attentions eeking behavior. I don't mean it. I just want him to laugh and get me back. I just want things to be okay.

I would try and focus on other things. James took our fall decorations down and I worked on some nonsense sewing in the studio. Just cutting strips. I don't know if I'm going to use this but it was something to work on.

Eventually I would head upstairs. Took a quick shower. Got in bed.

James just joined me. And I think I just need to be quiet. And hope that tomorrow doesn't feel so empty.

I love you all. Thank you for reading.

[d-amore]

fake love, cupid and jealousy for the ask game ! any f/o u want to answer with !!

HIII thanks for the asks :333

warning i talked more than i originally planned LOL i have many many thoughts about nocturnal animals

💔 BTS - Fake Love: have they or you changed just for the other? how much harm did that cause on the relationship? how was that solved, if it was?

aough bruce became more open, maybe more trusting of those trying to help him..... lissa didn't change bc she's already perfect (jk i'm just not finished with her character)

BUT there's a big event and that is jason's murder. bc of that they both change, for the worst too. bruce goes back to being closed and distant, and slowly lissa becomes more and more quiet and scared, much to the point of abandoning viligantism. it caused a lot of harm, so much that they couldn't talk or even look into each other's eyes, until she leaves him one afternoon without a word. AND it WAS solved but only like 20 years in the future :P and they're back to being lovey dovey but now also old

💘 FIFTY FIFTY - Cupid: have either of you given up on love before? how did it feel to find love in one another? were either of you heartbroken before finding the other?

bruce had just lost one of the loves of his life (selina), while melissa was single for most of her life in gotham bc she had a troubled relationship before, so in a way, it's not like they truly gave up on finding love, they just... stopped bothering to find one

and it was... truly something, for her. falling in love with gotham's prince as you get to know him, but still so in the dark about his true self. yes he's handsome, yes he's hot, yes i want to have him to myself and i melt at him just calling my name, but is he trust-worthy? does he has good intentions? he has a child, does he impregnates women and leave them, not even bothering to help financially? so many questions. so little time with him

and for him it was so refreshing, but so scary too! falling in love again in such a short period of time, for someone that shared so many similarities with his past lover! what if she gets involved in his life and media makes her life living hell? what if someone goes after her (trying to hurt bruce, not batman). what if the joker somehow finds out she's related to batman as well, and uses her against him, like he did with selina? so many fears and such a desire to be with her

🔥 MONSTA X - Jealousy: who is the most jealous? how is that jealousy managed? when does it happen? is it easily triggered?

lissa is the most jealous ofc, she's dating the fucking prince of gotham! he has every girl (and boy too let's be honest) under his feet, waiting for a mistake of her to take her place. she gets so blind with jealousy when they're out and about in a gala, and so mad at herself for thinking this about bruce, that she usually asks to leave earlier

for the first months of relationship it was quite the trouble and reason for fights that, different from other couples (looking at you discostick and class duties), didn't end in bed but rather with her crying and storming off. it may have looked doomed, bc it didn't get better even with him reassuring her that he had eyes for no one else, but she swallowed her pride (oh no she's not letting bruce fucking wayne go) and made sure to let everyone know he's hers at every gala, and that was the only way she calmed herself from the jealousy

he feels jealousy too from time to time but it's not as intense as hers

[magician-kitty]

Apology

MK hummed a tune as she sat in her room listening to music on her phone. After all that happened today she could really use a break.

But in reality, she miss him. So much.

Everyone kept saying that it'd be best to move on but she can't. As much as it hurt that he would ever think she'd hurt him like that...

She still loves him.

That's when she noticed an envelope sitting there on her desk. "Huh?" She wondered.

Strange, she didn't recall receiving any mail today, not that she ever had any, it wasn't from Monkey King or Mei.

She goes over and opened the envelope.

Dearest MK,

The things I've done, I can't explain. I know because I know it hurts and causes pain

As she reads the words in the letter, the heat in her face filling her cheeks.

I can't say I didn't know what I was doing.

I don't know what I was thinking or was trying to prove.

The scene changes back at the Bull Fortress, Red Son was sitting patiently in his room staring at his phone staring somberly at another photo of him and MK.

Then his phone suddenly rings he eagerly picks it up, scanning at a message sent by MK.

"We need to talk."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We had a special love, and I threw it away. And I regret it every single day.

Right now, Red Son and MK were sitting cross-legged on MK's bed, staring at one another in silence. But before anyone could utter a word, Red Son got down on his knees and kowtows.

"I am so sorry, please forgive me Xiaotian," A sob left the prince's throat, tears running down his cheeks. "I know what I was wrong, I should have never accused you of such a thing and I'm sorry. I was so terrified of losing you to some pretty boy, a-and I took my jealousy out on you," He pressed his head harder on the ground.

"I know nothing I'll say will justify the horrible things I've said. But I just had to tell you this, and I promise I'll never bother you again."

I miss you. I miss you so much.

I miss your smile, your laughter, but it all just ended with disaster.

MK sat there in silence, not really sure what to say. After a second of silence, she speaks.

"You know Red, I could forgive the fact that you were spying on me and eavesdropping," He flinched at the tone of her voice. "But what I can't forgive is that you thought I would do something like that to hurt you."

He opened his mouth to speak but she cuts him off again, "And honestly, I don't even know if I can forgive you."

Red Son could feel the world crumbling down beneath him, gimbaling wildly under his feet. He fought to crush the sensation down, to stay in control.

If I could change the past I could, believe me I would. I would take away all the pain, if only I could

So this truly was the end. No more second chances. He'd been foolish to imagine he could patch things up so easily.

"Very well then." Red Son stands up on his feet, recomposed himself. "I'm...truly sorry for everything. I wish you the best of luck and hopefully someone will treat you better than I ever did." He turned to leave, trying to hide the tears threatening to leak.

MK grabs onto his jacket sleeve, stopping him. "Wait, Red. Come back."

He didn't hesitate to comply.

"I don't want anyone else, I want you. Broken hearts heal, and I'm sure we can get through this." MK smiled.

"Y-You will?" He asked anxiously, a glint of hope in his jade green eyes, MK smiled, leaning forward and pulled him into a hug. Her lips brushed against his cheek.

He returns the sweet gesture, sobbing gratefully for the second chance. "I love you, so much!"

So, now, all I can ask is one last try

I'll always love you until the day I die.

The End.

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

Soooo did you tell him about the second week Melinda?

@demon-blood-youths

Melinda was writing a report right now but she was blushing heavily only to squeak hearing a voice to see the anon. "Y..You again. You scared me.." she mutters but when the anon asked the question, she shook a little to look at them then away.

"..I...I told him....but I gave him some time to calm d..down. After the riot he..found out and...he was not happy about it." she mutters.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Right now, the riot was over and everyone was back in their cells. However, Melinda was visiting Jaron once more to explain her new orders to him but he was not looking at her while just listening to her.

"S...so that's the new order I was given by the warden. Another week has been added so this test has been extended. B..but I'll be able to visit and check up on you if you need anything." she said to him but Jaron didn't respond to her.

"......."

"Ummm are you okay?" she asked but he sighed to close his eyes and close the book.

"Yes, I'm fine officer Brooks. I don't understand why he's adding another week but..I guess like you said it's a test to insure what goes on?" he asked.

"....I..In a way. But it's not too bad...it's just....a test after all." she said but she calms down to look at him. Something was..off right now and she couldn't tell what it was. He sounded calm but it's like he was upset.

"..A test? That's all this is to him. a Test?" he said.

"Yes.."

"I see.......that's sorta upsetting....I don't know what he's planning on doing but..I can understand.." he said simply as Melinda blinks looking to him.

"S..so you understand? Your not mad?" she asked and yet, Jaron thinks about it for a moment before he looks ahead.

"No, I'm not mad."

"O..Oh..Okay, that's good to know." she said softly to him.

"Hmm.."

"With that cleared up, I guess I should leave s..so you can rest up." she said getting ready to stand up.

"Your leaving already? After telling me this?" Jaron asked.

"Well, I was told to give you a heads up about this. Though, I know i..it won't be bad. Just another week is a..all." she said calm like.

"..."

"I g..guess I better get ready to leave I do h..have my work back in the office to be done but I'll see you later Jaron if you need anything." However, that's when she felt two hands on her shoulders to look seeing Jaron standing up to look at her.

"Hmm?" she blinks to look up at him seeing Jaron look down at her.

"Uhhh...J..Jaron?"

He didn't say anything but this made Melinda nervous now. Was their something bother him.

"Jaron? I...Is something....wrong?!" Right away, he moves her to get on the bed but pins her as she sees him holding her down.

"H..Hey! I thought you were not m-ffmmm!" her eyes widen feeling him kiss her deeply as she grips the sheets while he was kissing her. She feels him pressing his body down against her or grinding into her as she whimpers feeling that.

"W..wait wait pl....nugghhhh.." she winces feeling him kissing her neck and shoulder as she was shaking under him trying to speak to him but he held her close when doing so.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"H..He took the news somewhat well....but..it's hard to tell even when he was quiet...I...I don't know. I was hoping I didn't upset him but I didn't.." she mutters blushing worse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Soft weak moans were heard in the cell while Jaron was holding her hands before she got kissed again. He only held her or had her on her back while being above her. However, he moves to look at her. He was even moving his fingers in and out of her slowly as she was shaking with eyes closed panting.

"Haaa..haaa y..you s...said y..you were n..not ahhh m..mad...you said.."

"I know, I'm not mad...irritated that I can't have my time to eat you up. But not mad." he said but lowers to kiss her neck as she whimpers feeling the hot kisses and hissed from the bites he left. His fingers opening her up as she tightens around them.

"J..Jaron..." she moans trying to make him listen but he keeps her down.

"I've been waiting you for this week like a good jackal to the end so I can have you. Being able to remove this stupid uniform.....touch you all over..and make you moan under me while I make you mine. It's really not fair." he said even if Melinda was shaking looking at him.

"B..but...but....." she tries to explain but twitched when he gently holds her cheek to have her look at him in the eyes.

"I know...but it seems I have to wait a little longer......I already been waiting but....It's close that I don't care and want to make you mine now." he even wraps his arms around her waist to sit her up but he held her against his chest while looking at her.

"But it seems I will........do you know how tempting you are to me? Every day during this week I been thinking of ways of eating you up......or maybe punishing you is better suited.....I could have you all wrapped up while I do what I wish to make you fall into desire.." he looks at her seeing how she shook but Melinda was flushed red.

"J..Jaron p..please..y..you can't..I..I have my..." she tries to speak but he only kisses her again that she feels something slip past her lips while he held her cheek. His eyes were half way open just like hers as they make out together before he breaks the kiss.

".........Haaaa...hhaaaaa..."

"..Even now I want to......but I guess I'll have to wait....don't I?" he said only to look at her. Melinda only shook again that she looks flushed at him.

"J..Jaron please..I..I need to go...I..I'll still check up on you but p..please..I.....have my orders." she begs of him and yet he said nothing to sigh.

"........If you wish....just consider this a sample of what you'll have..I won't be easy the next time.......but you'll be fine..." he said pulling her up against his body hearing her gasp shaking. "Won't you?"

"........."

In a moment, she stood up getting ready to leave but he stops her to press up behind her as she looks ahead shaking. He looks to her only to speak in her ear softly as a whisper,

"Try not to have too much fun without me...alright? I'll be waiting for you...when you want to."

Hearing this, she feels him let go as she leaves quickly. Jaron sighed saying nothing but he looks to see where he had her. However, he only smiled a little after looking to his fingers. Still wet after teasing her that he lifts them up licking them slowly. Such a sweet little thing she was.

Maybe he teased her a little too much but it was something of a reminder. As for her, she got to her room to go inside and close the door panting.

She felt her body shaking as she slips to the floor sitting down. Melinda looks down shaking as her legs were quivering due to cumming from him and the fingers.

"...Haaa...haaaaa....hhaaaaa....." Her hands were shaking as she was slowly lowering them to rest on the floor. The fingers were twitching as she tries to calm down wanting to but she held back from doing so.

'I'm okay...I'm okay....'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"B..but right now, he's fine. But..I'm sure this week will be okay. Though I have work so c..can you leave?" she said getting back to work.

[isaacapatow]

* * #GRAVEYARD CONVO WITH @hazelparsons

Hazel Parsons: -hazel goes to the graveyard once a week, even when there are no good flowers, to pay her respects; she has just put down a daffodil under the wooden cross with oliver's name, when she hears footsteps on the gravel behind her- Really now? It had to be you, of all people to interrupt me?

ike apatow: Interrupt you? I didn't know you had sole rights to the boneyard.

Hazel Parsons: -she would have played nice if he did, but it has rarely been nice between them- Definitely more rights than you, since I didn't put any of those bones in the ground.

ike apatow: -he leans back, letting out a low groan- Ahhh, we're back to that, huh? -comes over to stand next to her, looking down at Oliver's grave marker- The grieving not-quite-widow. Ever think it might be time to take off the mourning weeds? 

Hazel Parsons: -she turns to the grave again, not even bothering to glance up at him, just feeling him towering over her- Nah, I think I'll take my time. It's what happens when people you love get brutally murdered. What are you even doing here, since mourning is so funny to you?

ike apatow: Laughing over my friends' graves. What else?

Hazel Parsons: Sounds about right. -she dramatically rolls her eyes and turns to look up at him- Go on then, what's keeping you here? Unless you want to claim that Oliver was your friend as well.

ike apatow: You know I didn't really know him. -looks down at her for a while, scanning her face, then over her shoulder at the cross- But he must've had some kinda shine on 'im for you to be out here looking as torn-up as the day we put him here.

Hazel Parsons: He was the reason we're all alive, but I won't waste my time trying to explain that to you. -she touches the flower with the tip of her boot, moving it closer to the cross- The day you put him in here, I was on some clinic bed having my stomach sewn back together. But that counts as torn-up in a literal sense, I suppose.

ike apatow: ...yeah. I guess that counts. -rocks back on his heels, sticking his hands in his pockets- I got nothing but time, lately. If you do wanna tell me about him.

Hazel Parsons: -she scoffs- Will you make us tea? Should I bring cookies? We're not friends, Ike. -she crosses her arms on her chest, slightly intrigued by his willingness- Aren't you busy kicking ass, taking names, going on raids and coming back with even more poor lost survivor souls?

ike apatow: We don't have to be friends for that. Sometimes people talking in group hated each others' fuckin' guts but, I dunno. Can be easier to talk to someone you think is shitty about things that you can't say to anybody decent. -he twists his mouth to the side for a minute, then says- I'm not all the way out on raids again. I'm townbound for now. -then in a rush, more breezily- I never bother taking names, anyhow. When you kick as much ass as me, it would fill volumes. Whole libraries.

Hazel Parsons: Okay, I'll put it another way. I don't think I can talk to you about Oliver without remembering you got him killed, and I can't be reminded of that without wanting to break your nose, at the very least. You don't see many convicts' families catching up with the executioners, do you? -she stops herself, lets her eyes wonder to the far end of the graveyard, the silhouette of her dog visible running in the field; he keeps talking as she calms herself down and his words make her burst out in a sarcastic laugh- So that's what Lucien keeps in the library. I should have figured. Who has you townbound anyway? The docs? The council? Never seemed like the kind of person who would sit still on their ass just because someone said so.

ike apatow: Gives Lucien something to do other than discuss books where roguish Lord Bingbong the Third ravishes Doily the feisty chambermaid. -he follows her gaze to where her dog's running around having a grand old time, likewise finding the sight calming- I'm sitting on my ass because it's probably good for me. I don't want to... -trails off for a while before circling back- You've got the wrong metaphor, there. It would be more like the victim's family catching up with an accomplice to the killing.

Hazel Parsons: -she catches herself almost laughing at his fantasy description and manages to drown it, scrunching her nose and licking her lips; the silence is nice for a second, before ike speaks again, refusing to drop the subject- Is that supposed to make someone feel better? Me? You? Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?

ike apatow: I'm just talking, Hazel. I got no clue on what would make you feel better.

Hazel Parsons: Yeah, me neither. -she says, suddenly tired; she takes a step to the side and leaves and puts down another flower on genevieve's grave, right next to oliver's- If you're actually visiting someone, I've got spare flowers. The gardeners said there's some frost coming and they would wither soon, so they gave me more than I asked for.

ike apatow: All Ginny needs is a stone, but... -looks over at Tristan's grave- Sure. I'll take a posy. Thank you. -dithers, then- Would it make you feel better to know I don't really sleep at night?

Hazel Parsons: It depends. What keeps you up?

ike apatow: Ghosts. Memories that won't stay buried. Aches in places I can't pinpoint. Are you a good sleeper? In all my life I've never met anyone said they were a good sleeper.

Hazel Parsons: Sounds about right. -she says, but it doesn't actually make her feel any better- I sleep enough to function, so that's something. Still up at the crack of dawn though. Even Hooch knows this and is ready to be let out of the house at the first ray of sun.

ike apatow: Hmmmm. -rocks back on his heels some more, looking over at the house near the graveyard, still uninhabited- I thought maybe of taking over Ginny's house out here. Living outside the fence instead of inside.

Hazel Parsons: -she glances over at the house and back to the tombstones, her expression puzzled- I'm sure you have some fucked up answer about this, but you'd rather live closer to the dead and the walking dead?

ike apatow: Tell you a secret? -he rolls his head to look over at her with a slight smile- I always thought it was a boneheaded move of hers. She wasn't any kind of fighter, she had no business living out here. She wouldn't have been able to protect herself. It was Ginny being a fuckin' stubborn blowhard and making a statement, was all. -gazes back at the house, up to the roof- Me, though. I'd do fine. And sometimes I think it might be better if I didn't live among with everyone.

Hazel Parsons: I guess some people just have a death wish. -she shrugs, looking over at Ginny's grave- I don't mean to sound heartless and may she rest in peace, but I don't blame those who would rather not live this life of constant fear. You one of those, or just can't take the constant gossip back there? -she nods towards the fence-

ike apatow: I'm not scared of much. But sometimes living in there feels like it's getting on top of me, yeah. -blows out a low breath- Kinda refreshing to talk to somebody who doesn't think we should tiptoe around the shrine of Ginny's memory. She did have a death wish. You're the only one who's actually said it.

Hazel Parsons: Careful there, Ike. I might start to think you actually like me. But what's the point sugarcoating things anyway? The world is fucking ending, so if I have to be the bitch who says these things, so be it. If anything, I think Ginny would appreciate it.

ike apatow: What reason have I got to not like you? Nobody ever dislikes the town veterinarian except the guy in the movie you want everyone to know is the asshole. -chews a little bit before saying- She would appreciate it, coming from you. I meant to put a weathervane on the roof but I didn't get around to it while she was alive. Maybe I will now.

Hazel Parsons: I think I would be part of the asshole crew in the movie. And being nice to animals would be that redeeming quality they have to give me to make it more believable. -she listens to him with her hands crossed on her chest- I would say this is you 'tiptoeing around the shrine of Ginny's memory', but fuck it, do whatever you feel like. The dead are a very strong motive, I stayed in town just because my dad died and look where it got me.

ike apatow: Look where it got you. -he regards her for a moment, gaze straying down to her midsection where he knows her scar is- You stayed because your dad died, but - how 'bout for him? -lifts his chin in the direction of Oliver's cross- What about all that?

Hazel Parsons: I like to think I'd already be dead if I had left. Well, not like to think about it, you know how the figure of speech goes. -one arm drops to cover her stomach, as if to protect it from ike's gaze- I don't think I'd lose Oliver if I left. Just like I didn't lose him and Jason when I was away for a decade. They weren't the reason I stayed, but they were the reason I still had a home here. -she crouches down next to the cross, putting a second flower, one just not feeling enough- They were very good people, you know.

ike apatow: Well, they left one helluva fuckin' legacy. -he waits till she stands up again, then tucks his tongue into his cheek, regarding her with one eye narrowed- How good are you at climbing ladders?

Hazel Parsons: -she narrows her eyes as well, curious to see where he's going with this- Pretty good in general, did a lot of work like that with my dad. But if you're the one holding it, I'll have to constantly keep an eye on you to make sure you don't let me fall. So you know, might take a little longer.

ike apatow: No, I'd be up there with you. -he points off with his nose at the roof of Ginny's house- Normally I'd be fine doing it myself, putting up a lil ol' weathervane, but I'm not the steadiest these days. I'm not anticipating falling off the damn roof, but it would be good to have somebody else with me. Hold it straight while I get it sorted.

Hazel Parsons: And you're asking me for help? -she asks, raising her chin at him, feeling like something doesn't quite add up- What about your raiders? Your precious Council? Aren't you scared I'll push you off the roof?

ike apatow: Didn't I just say I ain't scared of nothin'? -he grins at her, wide and careless, taking off his cap to rub a hand over the healing wound on his head a couple times - careful not to actually scratch it - before putting it back on- I have them, yeah. I wanna do it without them. Nobody who tiptoes around Ginny.

Hazel Parsons: So there's no one who tells things how they are and also happens to like you? Maybe that means something, just saying. -her voice is sarcastic but it falters a little bit as her gaze meets what his cap had been hiding- The fuck happened to your head?

ike apatow: Accident while I was on a raid. It's on its way to getting better. I just get a little out of breath now and again. -he tips his chin, pointing at her- Wait. So you're saying people who like me are blowing smoke up my ass? For what reason?

Hazel Parsons: Are you sure you're not blaming it on the injury when in fact you're just getting old? -she smirks, holding up her hands in mock surrender- You know me, Ike, I'm full of shit. I can't really know what people think, can I? Maybe I'm just biased because I don't like you, but I have my reasons.

ike apatow: Yeah, you've got your reasons, very good ones. -he meets her smirk with one of his own, though it gets strained after a moment- I am. Getting old.

Hazel Parsons: Well, ain't that a fucking badge of honor these days? With so many not getting the chance.

ike apatow: -the smirk fades entirely and he presses his lips into a thin line- Well, maybe you might get lucky. I'm not so fast on my feet out there anymore.

Hazel Parsons: -his seriousness unsettles her, as well as the realization that she is almost worried- And you're gonna take away my godgiven right to kill you in your sleep one night? Don't be so heartless, Ike.

ike apatow: -that makes him laugh outright, and for a split second he looks at her like he might kiss her, but it passes- So you'll help me with the weathervane? If you decide you do wanna roll me off the roof, at least we'll both know it was a possibility.

Hazel Parsons: -she laughs along with him, but it dies out as her eyes fall on oliver's grave again, making her press her lips together- Fine. I'll help you. But you better not go around telling people I was nice to you or some shit. I've got a reputation to uphold.

ike apatow: -swipes a messy sign of the cross over his chest- I never blab on anybody if they're nice to me, don't you worry about that. -holds out one hand- Now gimme my flower so I can go put it on Tris' grave.

Hazel Parsons: -she looks down at his hand and shakes her head, reaches up for his head instead and tucks a flower behind his ear- See, now you look less like a bastard.

ike apatow: Impossible. That's half my charm. -he lifts his head, grinning, and then saunters off across the graveyard-

Hazel Parsons: -she gives a sharp whistle and hooch's ear shoot up, running from across the field to meet her, but not before stopping halfway to joyfully jump around ike's legs until he pets him- Stupid dog. -she murmurs and shakes her head, almost smiling-

[lianahayze]

Shadow and the Midnight Misery: Chapter 14

Masterlist

Nothing to say; let's get to it!

Chapter 14. Then... nothing

With it being common for celebrities to seek treatment, there is little surprise at seeing the twenty-two-year-old rockstar turn herself in. Her father, lead singer of the 90s alt-band The Nixers, did his own stint in rehab for a slew of drugs, including heroin. It is unknown why she checked herself in, but according to its website, the Garver Institute “specializes in alcohol and drug addictions.” At the time of publication, Shadow Greere has declined to comment.

Bottle pressed to my lips, I chug. The more I drink, the more I can forget. And boy am I trying to forget.

The article came out yesterday, and I can’t even begin to guess how many times I've already read it. It starts out great. There is a piece about the new studio, a section about how I want the band to go our own way. But then Garver was brought up and it got real bad real fast.

The pictures are slightly grainy and had clearly been taken at a distance. However, they're not grainy enough for me to even pretend that that it’s not me. Everything in the pictures give it away: my hair, the clothes I'm wearing, a general scowl. All of it is one hundred percent me, and anyone is going to be able to tell.

The guys have seen it. I’m certain they have. They've called me a couple of times, but I haven't picked up. I'd rather wallow in self-pity. Dean’s not big on social media, so he probably hasn’t seen it yet. Always a day or two beyond, I have some time before he finds it. Either way, I'm fucked.

I did not want this to get out. I'd been hoping I could just sweep it under the rug and be done with it. Continuing to meet with Dr. Norris is fine, but having all of my dirty laundry aired out for anyone to see? No, it's an absolute nightmare.

I should have said something to Larissa. I could have made up any bullshit excuse. Hell, I could have said I was visiting or even fucking volunteering and that last paragraph would sound completely different. But, instead, I'd freaked out. I’d done this to myself.

I stop drinking for a moment. I haven't binged like this in a while and my body knows it. There's going to be hell to pay in a few hours, but, right now, I don’t care. Right now, I desperate to forget.

I switch to another bottle. It's new and takes me several seconds to open. I sway before I finally break the seal. The bottle firmly attached to my mouth, I walk out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Though I don't plan on staying in here, I turn on the TV. I need noise. The silence in the house is killing me. I turn up the volume before tossing the remote onto the couch. I walk out into the hallway.

Ugh, has there ever been a time when I haven't fucked something up? Maybe that's why the guys wanted me to put away: not because I'm a danger, but because I'm such a massive fuck up. I get it now.

I go upstairs. Not bothering to turn the lights on, I crawl into bed. I almost drop the bottle in my hand but catch it at the last moment. I continue drinking from it, chugging so quickly that it makes my brain hurt.

Everyone is going to be talking shit about me. Even more than they already do. I can't face the internet right now, but part of me is curious. I need to know what they're saying, and I need to know what I'm up against. I'm not the first celebrity whose mental health issues have been exposed, but it still hurts. I’ve been reduced to a headline and a cheap article?

My phone dings but I don't bother checking it. I want to smoke a joint. I want to smoke and drink and pass out. I don't know where my purse is, though, and that's where all my weed is. Is probably in the room somewhere, but I don't care enough to try to find it. Instead, I just keep drinking.

My phone goes off again. I follow the light from the screen, reaching across the bed to grab it. I squint as I look down.

Oh, I have missed calls. And a lot of texts. It's a good thing I have all my notifications turned off for social media because that would probably be blowing up my phone now too.

I look at the text notifications but don't actually open the messages. Most of them are from the guys, but, as I expected, there's nothing from Dean. Good. I should reach out to him and just tell him myself, but I don't think I'm going to. After all, I already had my chance to tell him; instead, I’d spent the entire time complaining about the band.

I check the calls. Most of them are from Wyatt. He's called me five times in total, the last one coming just a few minutes ago when I'd been downstairs deciding which liquor to get into. Maybe they’ve decided that he's the one who’s going to fire me.

I go through my texts from him. There are a lot of them with just one or two words, but it's the last one that really catches me off-guard.

About 5 mins away. At your house soon.

I stare at it. Not trusting my eyes, I read over it again, but still don’t think it’s right. There’s no way he’s trying to come see me right now.

Putting the bottle on the floor, I text him back:

Not here.

I stare down at the screen. A second later he says,

Yeah u are. Pulling up your street

I frown. Seriously, can't this wait until tomorrow?

Knowing that my front door's locked, I decide to get comfortable. He won't be able to talk to me if he can't get in, and there's no way I'm answering the door.

My phone goes off again. I groan and read.

He's here. Great. Just great.

When I don't respond, he sends,

Open the front door.

I huff. I don't want to talk to him; is that really so hard to understand?

Busy.

No you're not. Open the door.

Not interested.

Shadow, don't make me call the cops. I NEED to see that you're okay.

I bolt up. If he calls the cops, I’ll be back at Garver in a heartbeat, only this time it probably won’t be so easy to get out. "Fuck’s sake," I mutter, "fine." Standing up, I drop my phone on the pillow, pick the bottle back up, and slowly head downstairs.

Wyatt's finger is firmly on the doorbell when I answer. He looks down at me, surprised. I move out of the way, letting him in.

He shuts the door behind himself. "You're drinking right now?" he asks, louder than he needs to be. "Shadow, what the hell are you doing?"

"Feeling sorry for myself." I smile up at him. Feeling light on my feet, I lean against the wall. "Throwing myself a party. Whatever you want to call it, but you weren't invited."

"So, you know about the article then?"

"Hmm."

"I can't believe they printed that without telling you." When I tell him that I knew, he gasps. "You just let them?"

"No. But I didn't tell them no."

He stares at me. I can tell that he knows he in over his head and doesn't know what to do. Pissed off, angry Shadow he can deal with; pitiful pathetic Shadow he cannot.

I take another drink.

"Can you... Can you not do that right now?" He yanks the bottle from my hand. Some of the vodka spills onto the floor, causing me to say,

"Hey! Stop making a mess!"

He walks into the kitchen. I follow behind but it takes a while because my legs feel like jelly. When I finally do get to him, he's opening up all the cabinets, saying, "Where's all your booze?" I giggle. "Fuck, Shadow, I'm serious. Now is not the time to go on a bender."

"Oops." Seeing him freak out makes me laugh. It's actually very funny. Him and the other guys have been trying to control my narrative for so long and he's panicking now that he can't. It's the ultimate karma.

He walks over to me. I'm swaying as I look up at him, and he puts his hands on my arms. As he steadies me, I realize I don’t want to be standing up; laying down would be so much better.

"How much did you drink?" he says. It's a good question, but I don't answer. He gives me a slight shake. "Shadow. How much?"

He's acting like he's never seen me drunk before, but nothing could be further from the truth. How many late nights did we have after concerts, passing around bottle after bottle? I have a pretty good tolerance, but he could drink me under the table. Maybe I'm not the one who should have gone to Garver.

"You're not supposed to drink when you're depressed."

Depressed? Who said anything about being depressed? I am finnnnnne.

"Have you still been drinking and doing drugs this entire time?"

Holding back a laugh, I say, "My body, my choice."

"This is not a joke! You're going to hurt yourself!"

"My doctor thinks I'm not a danger, and we can trust my doctor. Right? After all, everyone wanted me to go see one. Remember?"

Leading me over to the table, he sighs. He tried to get me to sit in one of the chairs, but I instead choose the floor. "We wanted you to see a doctor because we were worried about you. Your cocaine habit has gone through the roof." Then, almost so quietly that I can't hear, he adds, "Apparently we should have been more worried about your drinking."

Having been kneeling in front of me, he stands back up. Continuing to go through my cabinets, he says, "We already spoke with the label. As soon as we saw it, we got on the phone with them. We wanted you to join the conversation, but you never answered your phone." He looks over his shoulder at me. "Now I can see why."

He's judging me and I can't decide whether to let it go or complain about it. Stomach pressed against the tile, I spread out on the floor like a starfish. It gets uncomfortable really quick, though, and I flip to my back. The sudden motion makes the contents of my stomach slosh around.

"I don't know what to do with you." I look over at him. "We want you to get better. When we rescheduled that interview, we thought..." I see him shake his head. "I know it's important for you--We know talking about the band is important to you." He pauses. "Even if the spread was entirely about you."

"So, you're not mad about the studio?"

He shakes his head, and I'm surprised. This is the most honest conversation we've had in a while without yelling. I should say something but can’t come up with anything.

"We just want to know what was wrong with your dad's studio, but other than that it's fine."

"Too many bad memories. Can't go there anymore."

"Because we told you that you needed help?"

"And cornered me with a doctor." I turn onto my other cheek so that I'm facing away from him. "It wasn't fair."

I hear him sigh, but he doesn't say anything. I hear the heels of his boots walking across the tile, coming towards me. A few seconds later, arms crossed, he stands over me. I don't move but look up at him out of the corner of my eye.

"Look," he says, "you can be pissed about it. I get that you're pissed about it. But we tried to bring it up before and you just weren't listening."

I frown. "No, you never brought it up."

"Yes. We did. Several times. You might have just been high, and we couldn’t tell. But we did bring it up."

He walks away, leaving on my own. I wonder if what he's said is true. Had they actually mentioned it before? If they had, why don't I remember it? And if he was right and I had been high, what does that say about me?

It means I have a problem.

Standing up, I go over to the counter. Wyatt's placed the bottle of vodka that I'd had earlier by the sink. I look around but don't see him. I'm not sure where he's gone, but, not wanting to wait for him to return, I pick up the bottle, bring it to my lips, and drink. I'm so engrossed in getting as much alcohol in my system as possible that I don't hear him return until,

"Shadow!" He yanks the bottle away. Before I can stop him, he tips it upside down and the vodka pours down the sink.

"Hey!" I start to reach for it, but he holds me back.

"Do not try my patience right now."

He's being obnoxious; why won’t he let me have a little fun?

"Why are you even here?" I ask him. "I didn't ask you to come." Plus, I'd been doing fine on my own. I'd been enjoying sitting in the dark; it made my head hurt less.

"I'm here to take care of you, apparently, because you weren't answering your phone."

"I don't need a babysitter."

"I beg to differ. When did you eat last?"

I frown. "Why, do I look fat, or something?"

"You've never looked fat a day in your life." He sounds annoyed as he speaks. "But you need to eat." I tell him I'm not hungry. "I don't care," he replies. "You need food in your system."

"Usually, I just do cocaine when I'm hungry." He looks at me like I'm crazy. "What? I don't have to stop what I'm doing to eat, and it keeps me in shape." He gives me a look over. "Duh."

"Shadow, when people talk about ‘getting in shape,’ that’s not code for developing a drug habit."

He goes to open the fridge, but he won't have much to work with. I haven't gone grocery shopping in a while, so everything that's in there is probably at least a few weeks old.

"Wow, slim pickin’s around here, huh?" He closes the fridge. Pulling out his phone, he says, "What do you want to eat? I'm going to have Ethan stop."

"Stop where?"

"Stop at the store or get takeout. He's on his way over here. So is Dave."

My heart stops. They're coming over here, too? Right now? I shake my head in disbelief. "Tell them not to come."

"They're already on their way."

I continue to shake my head. "No! I do not need a fucking intervention in my own home!" I'm panicking, ready to kick or punch him.

He puts his hands up, saying, "Shadow, we're not trying to intervene on anything. We're just checking on you."

But I don't believe it.

Abruptly turning away from him, I storm out of the kitchen. Well, I storm out the best I can. My legs are wobbly and my head is spinning and my breathing is shallow, but I storm off. Wyatt calls for me, but I ignore him. Maybe if I barricade myself in my room before the other two get here, they'll eventually just give up and leave. Can't have an intervention if they can't see me.

I stumble into my room. I press my body against the door for a moment, blinking slowly. Why is the room spinning? Doing my best to disregard the movements, I lock the door and go straight over to my bed.

I fall onto it face first. It’s pretty comfortable, so I don't move. It's only when I realize that I'm having trouble breathing that I shift onto my side.

My stomach doesn't feel so great. When I rub my hands over my middle, it only makes it worse. I close my eyes and groan. I curl up and lay like that for who knows how long. It's probably just a couple of seconds, but it's enough for me almost to fall asleep.

The only reason I don't is because of a loud thump at the door.

"Shadow! Unlock the door!"

I cover my ears. Why is he shouting? Doesn't he know it's making me feel even worse?

Wyatt keeps pounding on the door. "I seriously just came over here to check on you! The other guys just want to check on you too. We're not kicking you out of the band or whatever other conspiracy theory you have in your head."

If I do have any conspiracy theories, it's because they put them there.

"Seriously. You don't need to be alone right now."

He's wrong. Being alone is exactly what I need.

I continue to try my best to ignore him. He makes it hard, though, and I eventually grab onto a pillow, pressing it over my head. It makes my skull hurt, but I'd rather feel that than listen to Wyatt.

Eventually, though, the pounding stops. I pull down the pillow and look cautiously over at the door. I sit up; there's complete silence. Being as quiet as I can, I get out of bed and tiptoe over to the door. I lean forward and listen, but still, I hear nothing.

Maybe he's just pretending he's not there anymore to trick me into opening the door. "Wyatt?" I say. He doesn't answer. Slowly, I unlock the door, crack it open just an inch, and look outside.

He's not there. Opening the door all the way, I step out into the hallway. Wyatt is nowhere to be found. Confused, I lean against the wall. Where did he go? Did he just give up? It that's the case, the least he could have done is said goodbye.

"Wyatt?"

He doesn't respond. When I toddle down the hall, I suddenly realize why.

Standing at the top of the stairs, I hear the front door opening, Wyatt standing in front of it. In walk Ethan and Dave.

I start to make my way down the stairs.

"Get out of my house!" I yell, causing them to look up. They’re alarmed, but I don't care. "I'll call the police!"

Dave, smug as ever, doesn't buy it. "You're going to call the police on the people who came to check on you?"

"Not now Dave," says Wyatt.

"Fuck off!" I yell at them. "I didn't ask you to come here; I don't want you here. Leave. Me. Alone!"

"You don't mean that, Shadow."

I turn to Ethan. I'm still on the stairs, gripping the banister, so I have to look down at him. He looks tired, more tired than I feel. "Ethan, if you had any common sense, you'd ditch these two. All they're going to do is complain and gang up on you and ruin your whole entire life."

Dave starts to say something, but Wyatt stops him.

"No, go head. What did you want to tell me?"

"He doesn't want to tell you anything," says Wyatt. "We just came to see how you were after the article."

"I feel like shit. I think it's obvious." I start to walk towards them. I'm about halfway down the stairs now, and, looking at all of them in turn, I say, "I need a drink."

None of them seem amused. They move to block the way. I get down to the bottom step and try to push passed them but they're stronger and I fail.

"Move," I say. When they don't, I repeat myself, this time with more force. "Move!"

Ethan asks me how much I've had to drink but I ignore him. They're not my parents; I don't have to answer to them.

Wyatt attempts to reach for me, but I push his hands away. I almost lose my footing, but Dave catches me. I yank myself out of his grasp.

"Shadow," says Wyatt, "you need to calm down. Let's find a place to relax. You're going to drink water and I'm going to order you food."

I don't like his plan--and not just because he's talking to me like I'm a child.

I shake my head. "No."

I start back up the stairs, but he reaches for me. This time his grasp is strong, and I can feel a bruise forming on my wrist. I try to wriggle away but can't. Either he's been working out or I'm way more inebriated than I thought.

It doesn't stop me from continuing to pull away. I tell him to let me go, but he doesn't. I try to push him away, but he doesn't budge. All the while, he's asking me to stop moving but all I want to do is run away. It gets so bad, that, as I'm yelling and pulling, my foot slips, I lose my footing, and go flying.

Only this time, no one catches me.

I crash against the stairs, first my arms, then my shoulder. I cry out in pain, looking up at the guys. They look horrified, but I can't keep my focus on them for too long. Soon, everything goes blurry and my vision cuts in and out.

Then... nothing.

-

This is probably one of my favorite chapters I've written for this story so far. Thanks for reading.

-L.H.

[casspurrjoybell-26]

The Contract - Chapter 19

*Warning Adult Content*

Donovan thrusts into me powerfully as his lips assault my neck, making my nails dig into his wide-muscled back as I hold onto him.

We moved from the sofa to the bedroom and that was... I don't know when that was, it feels like hours ago since we've been wrapped up in one another, skin to skin, from room to room.

I moan out when he nips my skin with his teeth, as an animalistic growl escapes his throat.

I hear his cell-phone start ringing from the living room and try to catch his attention by trying to push him off me but he doesn't budge, if anything, he pushed his large manhood further into me.

The phone stops and Donovan goes back to my neck, but it doesn't last long until his phone goes again, only this time, making him swear out incoherent swears under his breath.

Donovan pulls out of me slowly and lifts himself off me, giving me a clear view of just how sweaty and how he was covered in bitemarks on his neck, making me slightly embarrassed I did that, without realizing.

His phone goes again and he gets off the bed, not saying anything as he walks into the living room naked to answer his phone.

Meanwhile, I can't move, my limbs hurt more than ever from rigorous lovemaking for hours without stopping and I can barely catch my breath from how hot I feel.

Just hours ago I thought the worst would happen and then something completely different happens, just like a tornado, Donovan came into my life and flipped it upside down.

I can't hide it anymore but I really don't know what the hell is going on anymore.

The way he holds me, feels real and not just two guys having a casual hookup. After all... he kissed me.

I like having sex with him but the thought of sleeping with another man other than Donovan Steele disgusts me, so what does that make me? Does this make me gay?

Donovan comes back into the bedroom gripping the bridge of his nose and holding his phone in the other hand, held to his ear.

I mouth 'who is it' and he just simply shakes his head, making me sit up and frown as he sits on the edge of the bed near me.

"I already said I didn't want that," he hisses into the phone.

"No, I'm..."

I hear a woman talking loudly on the other end making this a good time to get up and take a shower, just to give him some privacy as it feels personal.

I walk past him but his arm reaches out and stops me.

Pulling me back to him, he makes me sit on his leg as he stares up at me hungrily, his eyes never leaving mine as he listens to the woman on the other end of the phone talk.

Eventually, he sighs when the other line goes silent.

"Fine, I'll be there soon," he says, hanging up.

"Who was that?"

He leans forward and kisses my sweaty chest.

"My mother."

I hum.

"You need to go?" I ask, trying to move from his lap, feeling awkward sitting there but he holds onto me and nods his head as he grunts against my chest.

"That tickles," I groan.

"She organized a birthday surprise for me, which I'm fashionably late for apparently," he says, amusement in her voice, before looking up at me hungrily.

"I'd rather stay here and fuck you until you pass out from screaming my name."

I shove him away from me flustered as I get off his lap.

"Pervert."

"Wait," I only realize what he just said. "It's your birthday and you didn't mention it?"

It's small things like this that shouldn't bother me but it's slowly started to, Donovan knows everything about me, yet I know nothing about him, he's so private that I didn't even know when his birthday was.

I don't even know what music he likes, the food he eats or if he has any siblings.

"It's not important. I don't like celebrating my birthday anyway, so why would I bring it up?"

He gets up and follows me as I walk into the bathroom.

"Don't walk away when I'm talking to you, Evan," he says, leaving no room for argument in his tone as he forces me to face him. 

"I didn't mention it because I didn't think it would be a big deal."

I scoff and turn the shower on.

"Do you know when my birthday is?" I ask and he goes silent for a moment but eventually nods his head.

"You're such a bastard, do you know that?" I say, turning away from him and getting into the shower to clean my sweaty body.

He simply rubs his face and groans and I can't help but think he looks like a child when he's like this.

"If it annoys you that much, come with me," He suggests, frustrated.

"Sure, just bring a twenty two-year-old boy with you, who you just happen to be fucking, to your surprise 35th birthday party, your mom threw, with all your friends and family there," I sarcastically scoff washing my body with soap. "I'm sure that won't raise questions about our fucked up relationship."

"What do you want from me, Evan?" he snaps out, making me look at him. "You wanted my money, you got it, you wanted to be famous, I made it happen, what more do you fucking want from me?"

I stop washing and stare at him, seeing just how angry and upset he is as he coldly yells at me.

"I'm your boss and you're my employee. Our relationship isn't one built from trust but purely physical. I don't have to tell you anything I don't want you to know. You're not my fucking wife."

The bathroom falls silent as his words pierce me like a knife to the heart, feeling as if his words slapped me across the face.

So this is how he really felt.

He kissed me... he fucking kissed me.

But he just confirmed that this was nothing, that I'm nothing but a quick fuck to him.

Fuck, I feel like such a fucking idiot.

Just when I started to feel like this was becoming something more.

Just when I was starting to think maybe there could be more between us.

"I can't do this with you anymore," my voice comes out in a whisper as I hold my hand over my eyes, to hide the tears forming. "If you really believe I'm nothing more than your employee and what we did wasn't something more, I want you to leave."

The bathroom falls silent as my heart feels like it's breaking and when I move my hand away from my eyes, I see the cold, stoic, unaffected face of Donovan Steele, staring at me as if what I said could make him care less.

"Evan, we both knew this relationship wasn't anything serious, Evan, I'm not..."

"Get out," I choke back a sob as my eyes filled with tears glaring coldly at him. "Don't finish your sentence and just get out, get out and just leave me the fuck alone."

Donovan sighs and then walks out of the bathroom, not saying another word as I slide down the bathroom wall and grip my head in my hands as tears start falling freely from my eyes.

I listen to the sound of Donovan's belt rattling from the bedroom as he's probably getting ready to leave now.

My heart feels like it's just been shattered into a million pieces and for the first time in my life, all I want to do is pack my bags and leave it all behind and start over again, in a new city, a new place, somewhere where I can scream until my lungs collapse.

Like a zombie, I pick myself up and get out of the shower and robotically wrap a towel around my waist and walk out of the bathroom and into my bedroom.

Donovan is fully dressed and was grabbing his cell-phone and car keys from the bedside table before his eyes landed on me.

I go into my wardrobe and get out my backpack and start putting clothes into it, ignoring Donovan's presence like the plague.

"Can you not even look at me? You're acting like a child," he says, coming up behind me. "Evan..."

I slap his hand away from me and pick up my bag and put it on the bed as I pick out some clean clothes to get changed into and from the corner of my eye, as I get ready, I see Donovan hasn't left and is just standing there, watching me.

"I'll pay you back every cent that you gave me. I'll phone the agency for the bill and my payment details and we'll set up a payment plan since I can't pay you back fully right now," I say emotionless, not looking at him as I put my shoes on.

"I don't want the money back because you're not going anywhere," he snaps out, possessively. "You knew what you were getting into with me Eva. You can't blame me for..."

"For what?" I snap out, interrupting him as I stand up and glare at him. "For making me fucking... fall in love with you? Take some fucking responsibility. Stop using our setup as an excuse to treat me like total shit one moment, then your fucking possession the next. I'm not a plaything for you to fuck with when it suits you. You're just a fucking coward who won't admit that you love me too," I shout out, at the top of my lungs. "You fucking.." I breathe out heavily, catching my breath. "Piece of shit."

I don't wait for him to speak as I grab the apartment keys from my back pocket and slap them against his chest as I shove past him, making the keys fall to the ground as I make my way to the front door, bag in hand.

Not looking back, afraid of what I might say or do If I do now, I open the door roughly making it slam against the wall as I leave through the door, bag in hand and not looking back.

My chest burns and my eyes fill with fresh tears as I clench my hand tightly around my bag, making my way out of the building, trying to rub my eyes and hide my face so nobody can see how pathetic I look.

With shaking hands, once I get outside I start dialing Robbie, trying my best to get my shit under control as I move to the side of the building.

I start to feel sick and dizzy all in one and I slide down the wall of the apartment building, feeling the tears fall even harder as the clench of my heart breaking knocks the wind out of me.

The call goes through and Robbie picks up.

"Yo, Evan. What's up man?" his bubbly voice comes through. "I was just making pasta. You know like how mom used to make it when you slept over when we were kids, with the triple cheese."

"Can you come and pick me up, Robbie?" I ask, my voice trembling violently. "Please, I'll pay y-you... I'll..."

"Woah. Hey. What happened? I don't need any money. I'm on my way okay?" he softly says, trying to calm me down. "I'm getting in my car now. I'll be there in ten. Just wait for me. Okay?"

[theallenshorefangirl]

Agent Rainbow's Daycare Chapter 4

Icarus Point Lighthouse:1:00am

As Desmond looked out from the top of the lighthouse.The rolling of thunder and the crash of the lightning startled him a little.Allen was pacing the kitchen floor back and forth,his jacket sleeves dragged on the floor.He sleepily hit his head on the fridge door trying to open it for the milk jug he kept on a specific shelf.Desmond walked down,his hair was a mess, and the bags under his eyes were visible. He sat down at the table in the kitchen yawning."Doc.....y..you ok?"Allen stumbled with his words,setting two bowls of chocolate chip cookie cereal on the table."I...I would cook something,but I don't want to touch the stove." He fumbled into the kitchen table chair, almost falling out of it twice,his bandaged hands could be seen before he let the sleeves droop over his hands again."Oh,it's fine,Allen...I'm fine." Desmond paused like he was lost in thought."You don't sound fine? Are you getting sleep? If so, you can use my bed it might be a little more comfortable than sleeping with your back to the light?" Allen looks concerned for him."Maybe later,I'm just worried about something." Desmond eats some of the cereal and well was surprised it tasted real sweet."Yeah,I mean,whatever is bothering you,you know you can tell me.I may not be a good listener and can't interpret things like you can, but I can listen." Allen gave Desmond a warm smile."Well,it was about the strange occurrence that happened,you know we are literally small kids,how am I suppost to do my job,and.."Desmond lays his head in his hands."I'm just kind of freaked out by this." Allen got up and placed his sleeved hand on Desmond's back."Well,I'm also freaked out if it makes you feel a little better,I mean, I didn't feel well when this whole thing started, so it caught me off guard." Allen rubs the back of his neck,he had closed his eyes and yawns."Why don't we go take a nap,I'll let you use my bed.I'll get my sleeping bag."He walks into a closet and grabs a yellow sleeping bag with a pillow.Desmond cleans their dishes,he then goes to Allen's room and lays down on the bed.Allen was beside him on the floor,he handed Desmond a small white cat plushie."Here she might help you sleep better,and yes, I named her Tonia,and look,she even has a pink collar on her neck." Allen had another plushie,it was a heavy weighted fox plushie.Desmond smiled."Thanks,Allen.This should help."No problem, Desmond,now can you please be quiet.I'm sleepy."Desmond nodded and fell asleep as well.

The Quarry:3:00am

Max was walking around the factory area full of energy.He looked around exploring the building.He had the shotgun on his back,keeping an eye out for the annoying tank inkblots he kept finding throughout the building.

(Yay finally wrote it again without posting half of it)