#i just wanna get the nicotine CALM without having to actually smoke and i just want to be fucking ALONE sometimes
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day 7 of no fucking nicotine and it really just feels like it's getting fucking worse :/
#doesn't help that ethan gave up on quitting because he 'didn't do his research and didn't know how hard it would be'#like. whose fucking fault is that????#i researched this shit for weeks at length and all he can give me was#ooh sorry i forgot to actually look into it and now i can't quit because of my adhd#sigh i know i am being unfair to him but he makes me the bad guy and the pillar of responsibility and uprightness ALL THE TIME#which is not a role i like to play in my relationships!! especially not to white people lmao#like why does he think it's funny or cute to ask every single day for things we can't afford or get#and then make ME say no to him so we can afford our fucking BILLLS#he's the one in fuckin credit card debt not me#ugh see again??? im just so fucking miserable rn lol#i just wanna get the nicotine CALM without having to actually smoke and i just want to be fucking ALONE sometimes#IM JUST SO FUCKING ANGRY AND I HATE FEELING ANGRY SO MUCH#anger is the most miserable and lonely emotion and i feel it so much#maybe i should just give up too
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this might be slightly boring but i saw it on another blog and it’s been plaguing my mind ever since
making out hcs w with Butters, Kyle and Kenny pls? 🥺 it does something feral to me man idk
Making out hcs with Butters, Kyle, and Kenny
Butters
• Butters kisses are usually really soft and gentle, y'all don't often make out because he gets too embarrassed
• He's pretty nervous but that's probably just because you're the first girl he's ever made out with and he wants to get it right for you
• He loves making out with you tho, whenever y'all do he swears sparks fly
• Turns out it just wasn't a good idea to make out in abandon building with bad wiring because sparks actually DID fly. Technically he was right tho
• He doesn't often take the lead with making out, he prefers to leave it up to you
• Butters is probably the type to accidentally moan in the kiss and feel really embarrassed about it and hope to god you didn't hear it
• You did. But you also really liked it and you encouraged him to do it more often/not hold back. He practically melted when you said that-
• He really likes it when you bite his lip while you're making out but he'll never admit that, he's scared you would think it's weird
• He's really physical, he just needs to have his hands on you. So often times he'll cup your cheeks or have his hands slightly under your shirt (only to hold your hips, he wouldn't dare go any farther without your permission)
• He also really likes it when tug on his hair a lil while y'all make out, he can't explain it for the life of him it just feels really good
Kyle
• Making out with Kyle is really sweet, I swear! He's just really awkward about it
• But it's honestly really cute <33
• He gets so scared because he's thinking "What if I kiss weirdly?? What if they don't like my kisses?? WHERE DO I PUT MY HANDS-"
• Ya know, that kinda stuff. You probably have to guide his hands to your waist or something so he'll stop mentally freaking out and sweating
• Hear me out, Kyle probably gets so nervous that his hands start shaking, and when you put his hands on your waist his finger literally will not stop tapping you. It's a nervous habit he has, like tapping your fingers on a desk
• Once he gets in the hang of it and stops freaking out he probably thinks he died and went to heaven. You gotta be an angel, right?!
• He's probably the type to smile into a kiss and whenever y'all separate he looks at you with heart eyes
• Although at first, kissing made him really nervous once he gets used to it, it probably calms him down and makes him act like a complete simp
• The world around him disappears because now all he can think of is you and your kisses
• He just can't get enough of you <3333
Kenny
• Kenny's really passionate when making out, and tbh he's always trying to make out with you
• He can't keep his hands to himself either, so they're gonna be everywhere
• He's also the kind of person who smirks into a kiss and literally grabs your waist to pull you in closer
• He loves when you have your hands in his hair when y'all make out, it just makes him more eager
• Y'all are probably a little light headed at the end of at least one kiss because he doesn't wanna let go
• Most of the time kisses between y'all end in making out, no matter where you are, even if it's just a lil peck
• Can you really blame him for wanting more?
• Hear me out on this, Kenny probably smokes and he accidentally got you addicted to his kisses because of the nicotine in the cigarettes he smokes
• Kenny feels really bad about it and he tries to quit smoking
• But he isn't complaining too much, it also means more making out for him
#south park x reader#h harleybaby needs help#south park x reader headcanons#butters x reader#butters stotch x y/n#butters stotch x reader#kyle broflovski x reader#kyle x reader#Kyle broflovski x y/n#kenny mccormick x reader#kenny x reader#Kenny McCormick x y/n#Harley’s anons <33#harley’s requests!
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Okay, I know this is going to get probably a lot of defensive comments that I will probably not care to read but I've been thinking and I don't know... I wanna post it. So fuck it.
The thing I never understood, was smoking. Since I was a kid, I grew up with my parents smoking and since then I told myself that I will never smoke in my entire life. I always asked my dad, why he smokes and he never answered me... except like sometimes he annoyed mumbled "It calms me down." which to my 9 year old self felt the most wtf answer ever.
I was like... okay? What calms me down is music and a walk through the park and a book and writing and art and going on a coffee with friends and getting that vitamin D from the sun.... And my mom stopped smoking but my sister started smoking and my mom always nagged my dad and my sister and then I got naggy as well but now I really don't care if somebody smokes or not. Like it's their body, they can do whatever they want with it.
It was so funny when one day at work, everybody were like on a smoke break and I was there too because everybody I know smokes and well, I don't mind if they do. I just wanna hang. And they all asked me like. "Aren't you tempted to smoke? Like since all of us are smoking? Aren't you tempted at all?"
And I was like... "Nooo... I mean, I don't mind you guys smoking."
"But you are a passive smoker."
"Not by choice."
And everybody was like. Oh, man. I don't think I could ever be in a group of smokers and not smoke. And I was like, why not? Like what's the point of smoking anyway? - I asked them and one of them goes.
"What's the point of you not smoking?"
And I was like...."The fucking obvious reasons. I never got the need to smoke. I have all this air and I'm gonna inhale burnt tobacco?"
"You smoked weed tho?"
"Like twice in two years together and weed is different."
"Don't you like weed."
"I do but not that I would smoke it every day or like daily or like make it a habit."
"Why not?"
I don't know how I could explain to somebody that I just don't want to fucking smoke. And it's not because I am afraid or that it stinks (even though disgusting smell) but I just... I don't see the fucking logic in it. It's like, and this sounds really blunt and rude, but like people who smoke for no reason at all are so stupid to me. And I'm not saying they are stupid. Like a lot of smokers are smart and intelligent as hell but like it's stupid when it comes to smoking.
And every smoker that I had met, were like; I can stop whenever I want to stop. Yeah, but you don't want to stop because you're addicted. And everybody would deny that they're addicted. They know it's bad, they know it's just throwing away money and their health but they don't care.
Which is what pisses me off. Like I don't care if you smoke but if you're somebody close to me and I see you smoke and I'm like okay, everybody has flaws, whatever. It doesn't make me love you less and I am not about to lecture a person about quitting that shit or not quitting that shit. Like they know they're throwing away their health and money and that they don't want to smoke but they do because they want to and that it calms them down and blah blah blah. I get that they have their own reasons and excuses to smoke but I don't know... sometimes I see their mentality weaken.
Like a problem occurs in their life and their first solution is to go smoke. They're hungry- go for a smoke to destroy their apetite instead of making themselves food. They're mad- go for a smoke because they can't deal with the problem head on. They're bored- go for a smoke or two. They're happy, smoke. They're tired, smoke. They sit on a bench with a nice view, smoke.
And I guess, I will never understand that mentality, ever. I don't want to understand that kind of mentality. I actually find smoking aesthetically pleasing and when a guy I like smokes, I fucking enjoy the smell of it but I had always seen what smoking does to a person. When you're young and smoking, there isn't much of the consequences that you see but smokers usually feel it. Like how tired their body feels, their throat is usually scratchy, they can't go up a hill without getting so exhausted so fast (Tho not all. My smoker friend almost ran up the hill without getting tired) but then it starts to show in their apparence, which I won't get into because everybody knows where it shows (rotting teeth, yellow/grey-like skin, eyebags, sunk cheeks, tired eyes...).
I just hate it so much because I just see how smoking ruins a person through life because I think that nicotine fucks up smoker's brain so much that it convinces them that the solution to their problem is to smoke; to inhale that shit into their lungs and then think "Well, I'm gonna die anyway." and that's the sort of mentality that I see in so many smokers. That mentality that they smoke and they subconsciously realise they are ruining their health and they just go into those depths of sadness and hopelessness. I don't hate smokers. I don't mind smokers at all. I care about smokers- it just pisses me off that they don't care about themselves. Which is really not my problem tbh but sometimes it is so hard to watch them get so weak.
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Close My Eyes (3)
I close my eyes and I make believe
You’re the one that’s holding me…
Gif cred. @sdmngifs
Pairing: WillNE x Reader
Word Count: 2.5k+
Pronouns: She/Her
_______________
Will had found himself sitting at the island of his kitchen, looking through his camera roll. He had been going through old memories of him and Y/n, photos from forever ago.
Will paused his scrolling when he had come across a certain photo. It had been taken at an after-party of a friend’s wedding. Will and Y/n had both been invited, so of course they had spent time together at the wedding. The photo was of Will holding Y/n up in bridal style as he stood by a view of a beautiful city sparkling in the night. Y/n had wrapped her arms around Will’s neck and had leaned her head against his chest, looking up at him as the photo had been taken. Will remembered feeling his heartbeat increase that exact moment Y/n had leaned her head against his chest in the photo.
“Will!”
The brunette had flinched at the sound of his name being called along with the sound of his front door opening. Y/n?
The h/c girl had walked into the room with tears streaming down her face. Will’s heart broke at the sight of her. Without hesitation, Will stood up, pulling y/n into his arms. Immediately, Will could feel his shirt beginning to become damp from Y/n’s tears.
“It’s alright, n/n. I’ve got you,” Will muttered softly, brushing a hand through her h/c hair. After a few moments, Y/n had finally calmed down.
“Everett got mad at me,” She whimpered softly into the crook of Will’s neck.
‘Of course he did,’ Will thought to himself bitterly. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”
“I was watching the latest Eboys video,” Y/n mumbled gently.
Will tensed, had she already seen the clip James made?
“And Everett saw and got mad at me, so he took my phone away,” Y/n had summed up her story quickly.
Will gently grabbed Y/n’s shoulders, moving back so he could look at her in the eyes. Her eyes had gone red from crying so hard, she was sniffling.
'God, she looks so broken. Why can’t she just see Everett isn’t the one for her?’
“Y/n, he shouldn’t have the right to take your phone away from you like that. Just because to pair of you are engaged doesn’t mean that he has the right to take your belongings away as a punishment,” Will spoke in a tone of sternness.
Y/n only gave a small nod, wiping a tear away.
“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up,” Will let out a small sigh.
Y/n sat at the kitchen island as Will had gotten Y/n some tissue to wipe her tears away and a glass of water.
'God, why can’t she see I can treat her so much better?’ Will continued to think to himself as he watched Y/n down her glass of water.
“You feeling better now?” The brunette let out a soft sigh, leaning against the island as he watched the girl.
“Yeah,” Y/n broke out a small smile. “I don’t wanna go back right now.”
'Right now? Is she seriously going to stay together with that jackass?’
“You don’t have to, you can stay here as long as you’d like, you’re always welcome,” Will had smiled back at her. “You wanna watch some Netflix or something else?”
“Sure,” Y/n replied, already heading out of the kitchen.
After a couple of moments of looking through what Netflix had to offer, a loud banging had come from the front door.
“He’s here,” Y/n whimpered, curling up to Will.
'Please tell me you’re gonna break up with him if he scares you this bad.’
Without a word, Will stood up and made his way to the door. Glancing through the peephole, the person on the other side of the door was the exact person Will despised. Everett fucking Conway.
Will opened the door wide enough for there to be a crack.
“Open the fucking door, Lenney!” Conway shouted, banging on the door once again.
“I can and will call security,” Will snapped in a dead-serious tone.
“Give me my wife back,” Conway snarled, refusing to stop banging on the door.
“She’s a human being, and her name is Y/n,” Will replied, showing no emotion.
“Just let her come out, I know you’re keeping her hidden away,” Conway was seething at this point, he was beyond angry.
“I’m here, Everett,” Y/n called out with a long sigh. “I’ll be out in a few moments.”
“Fine, say your goodbyes because you won’t be coming back to this shit hole,” Conway snapped, stepping back from the front door.
Will gently closed the door, turning to Y/n. “You’re seriously not going to leave with that jackass, are you?”
“I’m sorry, Will,” Y/n mumbled, walking over to Will. “I’m engaged to him.”
“Then just call off the engagement, Y/n. Do you constantly want to live your life crying and feeling like shit?” Will brushed a hand through his hair.
“It’ll get better, I know it will. I have hope… we’re just in a rocky situation right now,” Y/n whispered, looking down at the ground.
Will placed a finger, under Y/n’s chin, making her look up. “Keep your head up, n/n. I promise I’ll try making things better for you.”
Y/n quickly wrapped her arms around Will’s neck, pulling him in for a hug. Will wrapped his arms around y/n’s waist, pulling her closer as he bit his lip.
Quickly, y/n tried to stand up taller, placing a kiss on Will’s cheek.
“Love you, Will,” Y/n mumbled pulling away.
“Love you too,” Will’s voice cracked.
Y/n flashed a small smile to him as she opened the front door, slipping out of Will’s sight.
Will hadn’t gotten any sign from Y/n. Was she alright? It had been only a couple of days after she had left his home with Conway. As soon as she had left, Will had gone to call up the boys to tell them about what Conway had done. George was fuming, Alex was worried, and James was anxious.
After a long call with Will, where George had just wasted time cussing out Conway, he had offered up the idea of going out to a pub the next Friday. Of course Alex and James had been invited, and of course they had accepted.
The brunette had sat in an alleyway, a bottle of Stella being held in the grasp of his left hand. Will needed a breather, the dimly lit pub and smell of alcohol was not a setting he had wanted to waste the entire night away at.
The back door leading to the alleyway had opened, revealing a brunette man with blue eyes walking out. George.
“So this is where you’ve been,” George let out a sigh, sitting down by his mate. He pulled a reusable vape, turning it on.
“Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to go out to a pub tonight,” Will replied, glancing at his friend.
“You need to try and get your mind off of her, Will. Yes, n/n isn’t in the right place at the moment, but it’s up to her to get herself out of there because we’ve already shown her the warning signs, she’s just refusing to accept them,” George had explained as nicotine smoke blew through his nostrils.
“You’re just saying that because you’re buzzed,” Will replied, taking another swig of his beer.
“Not at all mate,” George let out a chuckle as he used his nicotine machine for a second time. “I can last a couple of too many beers before I actually get buzzed. As for you… you definitely seem buzzed.”
“Alright, I may have a slight buzz going on,” Will nodded, finishing off his beer.
“I’m gonna head back inside,” George spoke with another sigh as he stood up. “Come inside when you’re ready.”
“Will do.”
It had only been a few moments after George had gone back into the pub when something had caught Will’s attention. There had been footsteps, people where walking into the alleyway. There was a group of men, none of them spoke to each other.
Cautiously, Will pulled out his phone, placing the empty beer bottle next to him. He stood up as they got closer, something felt wrong. He had turned on his heels, trying to not make a big deal out of himself. But his first mistake was to turn his back on these men.
“Where’s Will?!” Alex called out loud enough for James and George to hear him.
“I was just outside with him a second ago. He’s in the alleyway on the right side of the pub,” George replied in the same loud tone Alex had used.
“Alright, I’m going to go check up on him,” Alex spoke before beginning to make his way towards the side door exit. As soon as Alex had opened the door he felt his blood go cold. There Will was… being jumped by four random men. Quickly, Alex ran back inside, pushing past people, only to receive “Hey’s!” and “Rude!”
“George! James! We need to get to Will now!” Alex yelled as soon as he got into the earshot of his friends.
“What’s going on?!” George asked as he was already getting out of his chair.
“Will’s being jumped!”
The trio had quickly made their out into the alleyway, only to discover the group of men were still there, huddled around Will.
“Hey!” George shouted.
The men looked up to see the trio, only to begin running out of the alleyway.
“Hey!” George exclaimed for a second time, beginning to run after the group, leaving Alex and James to deal with Will. Luckily, he was still alive, and he wasn’t in the worst shape he could be. He did have few bruises here and there, a busted lip, and a black eye but at least he wasn’t hurt any worse.
George had finally come back after giving up on chasing the assholes that had hurt Will. The boys had easily decided to call it a night and get inured brunette home.
Will sat on his couch, a bag of ice held to his bruised eye. By this time the boys had already headed back to their flats. He had already tweeted out to his fans that he’d be going on a short hiatus, there was no way for him to film videos without worrying anybody.
He now stared at Y/n’s contact.
Should he call her and tell her about everything?
Should he just send her a good night text?
What if he just deleted her contact?
Without thinking, Will pressed the call button and brought it up to his ear. Only after a few moments of hearing the phone ring, Y/n could be heard.
“Hey.”
“Hey, n/n… I gotta talk to you about something,” Will let out a soft sigh.
“Of course,” Y/n whispered. “You can always talk to me.”
“I really care about you.”
“I care about you too, Will,” Y/n had let out a soft giggle.
'God, her giggle is so fucking adorable,’ Will thought to himself with a small sigh. “No, I mean… I love you, Y/n.”
“I love you too, Will.”
'This is gonna be tougher than I thought.’
“No-I… I wanna be your boyfriend. I fucking hate Everett, I despise him. I’ve always had feelings for you, Y/n. I love you so much and I hate seeing you cry over Conway. He treats you horribly. I just wish I could call you mine and that I could always protect you. I wanna keep you close and treat you how you should be treated. You deserve so much more than what you have now and I want to give it all to you. I just love you so much, you don’t understand,” Will had spilled his secret out without thinking. At this point he hadn’t cared anymore, he just couldn’t handle hearing her say 'I love you.’
The call went silent, not a word from Y/n.
“I-”
“I’m sorry, Will… I have to go.”
Before it was even possible for Will to mutter out a small 'goodbye’, the call had been ended.
Without thinking, Will stood up, tossing his phone across the room before tears began to stream down his bruised face.
It had only been a couple of days after Will’s call with Y/n. He was heartbroken. He had spilled his deepest secret to her, only to have her end the call as quickly as possible.
“I’m sorry, Will… I have to go.”
Her words were ringing in his head. It hurt.
At this point Will didn’t even want to go on the internet, in fear of stumbling across a fan edit or post about them.
Will found himself lying in bed, buried underneath his comforter. He had been trying to sleep as much as possible, just to keep his mind off of everything that had been happening recently. Just as he was about to doze off for the millionth time, something pulled him out of his daze.
His phone began to ring.
Maybe it was Y/n.
Maybe she was calling to talk about what he said.
Maybe he could apologize and ask if they could pretend it never happened.
Maybe he could convince her that he had been drunk that night.
Will sat up, pushing his comforter off of him looking to his nightstand. A random phone number was shown on his phone. Maybe it was still Y/n. She could be using someone else’s phone.
Cautiously, Will picked up the phone, the ringing stopping as he held the phone to his ear. There was a pause of silence.
“Y/n?”
“You truly are infatuated with my wife, Lenney.”
Will’s grip on his phone tightened.
“What do you want, Conway?”
“I wanted to tell you to stop talking to Y/n. Ignore her, push her out of your life.”
Will felt his chest tighten. “Why would I do that?”
“Because if you don’t worse will come to you.”
“You sent a stupid gang of men to jump me,” Will let out a breath as he had quickly realized why he had been attacked the other night.
“Yes, that was a warning,” Everett had snickered. “Now you listen to me, push Y/n away or worse is to come.”
“Oh sure,” Will snapped. “I don’t think there’s anything much worse than being attacked in an alleyway in the middle of the night.”
“But what if it involves Y/n?”
Will froze. He wasn’t going to… hurt her, right? Y/n was his fiance after all, why would he want to hurt someone he’s in a relationship with?
“You’re not gonna hurt her, you wouldn’t dare to,” Will sneered, his grip on his phone had tightened as hard as possible.
“Don’t test me.”
“It’s disgusting to know you’d even consider putting your hands on a woman,” Will seethed.
“Oh, I won’t. As long as you stay away,” A dark chuckle could be heard through the phone.
“You’re a horrible person.”
“I’ll take that as a grain of salt.”
Will hung up. He was fuming. Y/n deserved so much better than that fake excuse of a man. But now he couldn’t even get in contact with her or something would happen to her, and it wouldn’t be pretty.
#willne imagine#willne fanfiction#willne x reader#willne oneshots#will lenney#will lenney imagine#will lenney x reader#will lenney oneshot#will lenney fanfiction#british commentary#british youtuber#british youtube#british commentary youtuber#british youtube commentary#commentary youtube#commentary youtubers#commentary youtuber#commentary crew#eboys420 oneshot#eboys420 imagine#eboys 420#eboys420#eboys420 x reader#eboys420 headcanon#eboys 420 imagine#eboys 420 x reader#eboys 420 oneshot#close my eyes
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Jiara July Jubilee
Day one, 26th of July- precanon day
words: 1.7k
Kiara stared at her phone, tears brimming in her eyes. Every post she came across was about Sarah’s party. Her best friend’s party. The one that she didn’t even know was going on.
She sniffled, looking over to the gift on her dresser drawer. She had put so much time into it, so much love and thought, and Sarah never even cared. All Sarah cared about was money, clothes, boys and status. As soon as Kiara became too much of a hassle, too much of a burden, she just dropped her without even letting her know. Sarah Cameran was a bitch.
Three numbers were dialed on her phone. It wouldn’t be the perfect revenge, and it wouldn’t be anywhere near as much pain as Sarah put Kiara through, but it was something. It was a metaphor, a simple act to let Sarah know that she had gotten her message. They were done, and Kie’s next decisions were going to confirm it.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
-
Everyone was posting about Sarah’s party getting busted. There were countless videos of kids laughing and yelling as cops arrived at the Cameron residence. But there was nothing worse than Sarah’s post; two simple photos, one of a group of kooks smiling and laughing, and another of them running away. It was a sympathy post, meant to make everyone pity poor Sarah Cameron. The caption was the worst part.
@kcarrera, i don’t know what i did, but i’m sorry that it made you calls the cops and ruin my birthday. i guess we’re not best friends anymore.
Kiara was seething as she read it over and over, taking in every word. Sarah was trying to push the blame to her, to pin it all on Kie. She was going to get away with her shitty actions again, just like she always did, and someone else was going to take the blame. Kiara shouldn’t have been surprised. That was the Cameron legacy, after all.
Anna and Mark were calling their daughter’s name. They’d probably heard about what happened. Kiara pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath, calming herself so she could look okay. She wiped the tears from her eyes, praying she didn’t look too flushed, and made her way downstairs.
“Honey, is everything okay with you and Sarah?” Anna asked. “We just got a call from Ward. He said you called the police on Sarah’s birthday party.”
Kiara scoffed, playing innocent. “I wasn’t invited, but I didn’t call the cops. She’s just trying to make me look like the bad guy.”
Anna seemed concerned. “Are you two fighting or something?”
“We’re not friends anymore,” Kie replied. She brushed past her parents and towards the door. “I’m going out.”
She faintly heard her mother call her name, but she ignored it as she slammed the front door. She didn’t want to get in too much trouble, so she grabbed her bike instead of getting the car. Peddling around the island was never fun, but neither was the wrath of her parents. She knew she was making a bad decision by leaving, but she had to escape.
She arrived at the boneyard before she had even processed where she was going. It was empty, which was surprising for a Friday night. It was usually full of a mixture of kooks, pogues and tourons, but the only signs of human life were Kiara’s heavy breathing and some strewn around trash.
She was hoping to find a party and get wasted, but the lack of life just made her sadder. Everyone was probably either at Sarah’s party or heard of it and didn’t want to get busted. That left Kie by herself, standing between the dead logs and the remnants of a previous party. Red cups were being pushed back of forth by the gentle waves, and cigarette butts and joints were blending in with the sand. Kiara sighed and began walking around, picking up anything she could find.
She practically jumped out of her skin when she heard her name be called. She turned to see JJ sitting against the old telephone box, smoking something that definitely wasn’t nicotine. He was studying her, probably trying to find traces of his old friend in her expensive clothes and straightened hair.
Kiara regretted abandoning the pogues. She tried not to blame herself, but she knew it was her fault. As Sarah’s influence began to rub off on her, she started making excuses about why she couldn’t go out on the HMS Pogue or why she couldn’t come to a party unless more kooks were there. The only one she still briefly saw was John B, and that was only because he worked for Sarah’s dad. She hadn’t seen JJ in what felt like years but must have been only months.
“Heard Sarah’s party got busted,” JJ hummed. “Nice to know the kooks didn’t get their way for once. Did you just come from it?”
“I didn’t go,” Kie replied, her voice hoarse.
JJ raised an eyebrow. “Trouble in paradise?”
Kiara didn’t answer. She instead sat down next to him, pulling her knees to her chest so she could rest her head on them. She enjoyed the short-lived silence for a bit, only listening to JJ’s breathing and the water splashing against the shore.
It was obvious that JJ was holding something back. Knowing him, he probably felt conflicted. He was faced with his old best friend, and he probably wanted to yell, but he didn’t know what to say. Kiara was his Sarah Cameron; some bitch he had let himself get close to just to be abandoned.
Kiara knew JJ didn’t take abandonment lightly. She knew that his mom had left, and how many problems that had caused for him. Living on the Cut was bad enough, but living on it with an absent mother and Luke Maybank for a father? That was anyone’s worse nightmare, yet JJ was living it daily. And his best friend had abandoned him, right after she promised she wouldn’t.
“I’m sorry for what I did,” she whispered.
“Pope hates you,” JJ replied. “Do you know how much you have to fuck up for Pope to hate you?”
Kiara nodded. “I know, I know. I fucked up so bad, and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to make it up to you. I don’t even really know how to say sorry.”
“So you wanna come back now?” JJ scoffed. “What, things get a little tough with the kooks and you coming running back? No, Kie, shit isn’t that simple. You can’t just pick and choose, this shit isn’t just about you. We’ve got shit too, and we can make decisions too. What, do you expect us to just welcome you back with open arms? No, Carrera. You left, and now you’re dealing with the fucking consequences of your decision.”
He stood up and threw his blunt into the sand. He turned to go, but Kiara grabbed his wrist, forcing him to turn back around. She looked up at him, properly studying him for the first time, and she realised how much he has change. He was no longer that lanky kid that messed around and made everyone laugh. He looked more serious, more mature. He still had bruises on his face and a black eye, either from his dad or from a fight he’d gotten into, but he actually looked like he could fight back.
Kiara didn’t know what to say. “Please stay,” she begged, her voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t need to forgive me, but I need to at least try.”
JJ sighed and sat back down. “Fine. Try and throw as many excuses at me as you can. I’d love to hear what you’ve got to say.”
Kiara flinched af his choice of words but took a deep breath and prepared herself to speak nonetheless. “When I got sent to the Kook Academy, I was expecting to hate it. You know that. I was ready to end it all, but then I met Sarah, and she was so... so perfect, so invincible to the world’s troubles. I wanted to be like her. And, lucky for me, she kind of... took me under her wing. She let me hang out with her, and we became friends pretty fast. At first, I wanted to stay friends with you guys. That never really changed. I just saw... an opportunity, I guess, to be better. To be like her. I wanted what she had. I didn’t realise that the price she had to pay for that was to be a massive bitch. So, I... I abandoned you. And I’m so sorry. I honestly have no idea how to express how fucking sorry I am. What I did was unforgivable, I know that.”
JJ nodded, taking in her words. “What changed?”
“What?”
“What changed?” JJ repeated. “What made you suddenly realise you’d forgotten about us?”
Kiara looked down in shame. “Sarah had a birthday party, and she didn’t invite me. That made me realise that... that was basically what I did to you. And I realised how shitty it feels, and how shitty you must feel, and how much I hate Sarah for it. I don’t want to be like Sarah.”
“Were you the one that called the cops?” JJ asked.
“Yeah.”
JJ grinned. “Good. They deserve it.”
Kiara smiled and chuckled lightly. “Yeah. They do. I can’t believe I wanted to be them.”
“Me either,” JJ scoffed.
Kiara bit her lip. “So, are we okay?”
JJ paused, staring out at the ocean as he contemplated his next words. “Yeah. We are. But if you do anything like this again, you’re not getting a second chance. You even think about leaving again, don’t bother coming back.”
Kie nodded. “Do you think John B and Pope will forgive me?”
“Probably,” JJ shrugged. “John B forgives everything. Pope’s really mad, and it’ll definitely take some sucking up, but he’ll probably forgive you too. The guy’s terrible at confrontation, he’ll say it’s okay the second he sees you. It isn’t, though, so don’t stop pushing.”
“Okay,” Kiara quipped. “Thanks, JJ.”
The mentioned hummed. “You still owe me, though.”
Kie laughed and gently shoved him. JJ smiled, and it looked genuine. He pulled a joint from his pocket and lit it before handing it to Kiara, and the second he moved it in her direction, she knew everything would be okay. The pair spent the rest of the night getting high and staring out at the sea, talking about anything that came to their minds. Just like they used to.
#jiara july jubilee#jiara#jj x kie#outer banks#jj and kiara are end game#fanfiction#jiara fanfiction#fanfic#jiara july
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Carpe Noctem || Part 4
Plot summary: Mob boss’s daughter & bodyguard au ft. Kylo Ren. Based off this plot bunny (x)
Warnings: none today, kids
Word count: 5329 (prepare yourself)
Pairing: Kylo Ren/Reader
A/N: Here is part 4 finally! NZ is in quarantine, so i’ve been trying to write and gif a lot more! expect another update soon! let me know what you guys think!
Taglist: @helloimindelaware, @dandydragonz, musicalcoffeebean, @driverficarchive, hazydespair, @mp938368, @maybell88, @bikinibrattoms, @fanfic-fangirl, @stillreadingfantasy, @um-well, @OnevergrowoldnevergrowoldO, @jay-ta-blog, @wildwood-trails, @stephhaniee14, @flowerniche, @sanfranciscroc, @little-miss-mischief1, @pami-yui, @lex-bb13, @deepblueswift13, @allknowingnerd, @shawnme-boy, @whymalu, @simonsbluee, @jons-angel, @whymalu, @mixtapes-books, @amazing1rl, @ambrosia-v-black, @souriemickey, @toads4days, @xsar-bearx, @lunarlung, @bubble-t-r-o-u-b-l-e, @cutiepiepotatoes, @bangtan-savage
Masterlist here
Just family.
If you weren't so opposed to the idea of making a scene, then you would have confronted your father about why he was such a deceiver.
It was clearly not strictly family. After you had gone to your room to change, you met your siblings down in the formal dining room, where they had been drinking and waiting for you to arrive. You all moved to the dining room. Roman, Ares and Lyon sitting on either side, your father taking his legendary seat at the head of the table. However, with Kylo sitting next to your Dad, the only space available was opposite, also next to your father.
Phasma was also seated at the table, thankfully separating Ares and yourself, which you did not mind one bit. In fact, a part of you was almost excited to catch up with Gwen after all this time.
As you stared at your food in front you, silence permeated the room. Save for the lone conversation between your siblings, few words exchanged, otherwise it was a tense, quiet affair. The dining room was huge, with a table fit for easily 20 people and with the 7 of you spread around one half of it, you still had a sizeable space between each other.
You gathered it was your fathers disposition that put everyone on edge. Sitting at the head of the table, nursing a glass of amber liquid. His food completely untouched as he watched everyone. The only one who seemed completely unperturbed by it was Kylo, eating the rack of lamb with a citrus and blue cheese salad without a care in the world it seemed. He was his usual stoic form, though unperturbed by the lack of conversation or apparent awkwardness that lingered, he ate dinner and kept to himself.
Your mind wandered to what Hux had told you about him earlier. About how he was your fathers sword and shield, apparently unflinching in his ability to spill blood. You had been gone for a number of years, and before you left for good you were still rather young - however you were perceptive. Due to your perceptiveness however, you knew he hadn't been around for a long time, not since you were a kid. So where the fuck did he come from?
"Is it always like this?" As conversation ensued at the other end of the table, you leaned over to Gwen to whisper quietly.
She chewed through a piece of meat, swallowing before answering, "We don't usually have dinner like this. Ever, really."
You nodded, not really receiving an answer to your question - you wanted to know if everything was usually this tense. Or if the day of Mallory's funeral was such a reason. "Good to know that we won't have to be subjected to this too often then."
"Don't worry," Phasma smiled down at you, "This isn't awkward because of you."
Your eyes drifted down the table, Roman and Ares laughing about something quietly to themselves - Lyon's eyes however - were locked on you. A hard stare as he pushed his food around his plate, haphazardly shoving some into his mouth before looking over at your Dad.
"Sure." you offered, though not completely convinced of her assurance; however kind of a gesture it was intended to be. You knew it was because of Mallory's funeral, that was the predominant proverbial wound, though your presence was pouring salt into said wound.
It made it so much worse, this you were sure.
Roman's voice quietened your internal monologue, speaking your name to gather your attention. You looked over to see him looking at you. "I'm going to Starkiller later on. You wanna come with?"
Starkiller was one of the only legitimate businesses your family had. One that wasn't used to launder money like the Supremacy, it was purely for profit. Though as you grew up you guessed it was your father's way of keeping your brother out of trouble. He had something to do, something to look after, and it was away from the dangerous dealings that could prove fatal. It was a club on the outskirt of your father's turf, under Roman's management though you didn't think he did much 'work' while there.
"What time were you thinking?" You spoke quietly, as not to disturb other conversation happening at the table and not to alert anyone eavesdropping. Your eyes flickered over to your new bodyguard, eating quietly, not even looking at you.
Roman shrugged, "After dinner sometime."
You nodded, "I'm a little jet lagged still. I might have a nap and come later?" You didn't want to go particularly, and you were definitely not jet lagged. To the contrary, you felt quite awake, you just had other ideas and perhaps it could prove a useful alibi.
"Sounds good." He smiled, then went back to eating food off his plate.
"How's school?" It was now your father's voice that pulled your attention. He looked at you while he asked, still not having touched his food. Only nursing a glass and looking over his family.
"It's going okay, thanks."
Phasma piped in next to you. "What do you study exactly? I don't think I've ever actually asked."
"I have a double major; law and psychology." You nodded, it sounded like a brag though you didn't intend for it to be. Although other members of your family looked down on education, others did not.
"Wow, interesting choice. Impressive." Phasma shot you a little smirk.
"You going to be ready to be my lawyer soon?" Roman joked from down the table.
"Or mine." Your father spoke up.
You gave them a half smile in return. Unable to tell the truth- that you had no intention of being a lawyer, it was just something you were studying because you wanted to possess the knowledge of the judicial law system and all the rules in place. You didn't particularly have intentions of breaking the law but if you did... then it would prove extremely fruitful. Psychology was another interest, you found it imperative to understanding your enemies - not that you had many of those either. Yet.
But you were the daughter of Andrew Snoke, and being made to feel so powerless in your youth gave you a complex as you grew up. You needed to acquire knowledge like no one had in your family before, and maybe then you would feel worthy. Powerful.
Dinner passed by quickly. As soon as everyone had finished, your father offered to move it to the office in the west wing of the manor for more drinks. You were going to decline, playing the excuse of jet lag almost immediately, however, you decided to acquiesce and have one drink. For Mallory.
Lyon and Ares started racking up the polished balls on the pool table, setting up for a game. Roman talked lightly with your father, pouring drinks from a crystal decanter for everyone who wanted one. Kylo was back to a dark corner of the room; finding a seat to watch over everyone and smoke a cigarette. He didn't fraternize with the others, or try to relax with a friendly game of pool. Always stoic and always working evidently.
You followed Gwen, finding a seat near the tall open windows facing the backyard. Curtains parted slightly, cool breeze blowing in faintly. Too dark to see out but the fresh air helped ease your mind, if only for a moment.
"Here." Gwen offered you a cigarette from her pack and you kindly accepted. A horrible habit, you knew, but to you it was a small price to pay for stress relief. A hit of nicotine helped your thoughts calm down, and deprived any ill feelings purchase in the forefront of your mind. You could have a few moments not totally at the behest of your anxiety or depression.
"Thank you." You accepted, along with the flame she held up so you could light it. Inhaling deeply, you gave yourself a second to appreciate the reprieve before you exhaled. And then braved to ask Gwen a question. "So come on, be honest with me."
Her pale eyes met yours, and quirked a brow. "I almost always am."
A short laugh escaped your lips. "Thanks for the honesty." Your eyes drifted around everyone, to see if anyone was paying particular attention. "But I mean... how serious is my Dad about all this bodyguard shit?"
"I'd say pretty serious. He assigned me to Roman after all."
This made you sit forward. "Really?" That was particularly serious. "I thought it was a sexist thing, that he didn't think I could take care of myself but, huh..." You sat back in the chair, thrown for a loop. You didn't think it was really that serious. Sure, there were aspects of Mallory's death suspicious but he was on high alert. Enough to warrant some of his most ruthless and trusted men - and women - to become glorified sitters for his children.
"You've all been assigned someone."
"Why didn't I get you? Why did I get him?" Your eyes shot over her shoulder, the furthermost corner of the sprawling room. Kylo sat with your father, drinking. His dark eyes trained on you; already watching.
Always fucking watching. You pulled your eyes away immediately, though you were positive he would not have been able to hear a word from the distance, or over your siblings shouts and taunts. His eyes were on you regardless and it made you uneasy.
Any hint of a smile covering Phasma's lips instantly dropped. The furrow in her brow set in again. "Well... you're you." She took a drag of her cigarette. "And as much as I hate to admit this, he's the best. Snoke is just being cautious."
"The best at what exactly?" You took a drag of your own cigarette, ashing in the crystal ashtray on the coffee table between you. Something flared in Gwen's eyes, what, you were not sure. Worry? Anger? Jealousy? Or was it fear? You had no idea.
"You're smart. I think you already know." She looked like she didn't want to talk about the subject anymore. You weren't sure if it was your father's presence, or Kylo's that deterred her from spouting any more honest truths.
Your mind went to Hux, and the words he had so freely spoken before dinner had you wondering. Calling Ren your father's right hand man, the problem solver.... a rabid animal. You knew your family was bad. By conventional terms with a modern sense of morality, they were evil.
Criminals, murderers, extortioners, torturers, tax-evading, wealth-hording, gun-shipping, drug-running psychopaths to be exact.
And as bad as you all were, everyone in the Snoke manor was scared of only one person; your father. He was a much older man now, and though he still held a significant amount of power over everyone in the house - it appeared he now had passed the torch on. All physical bouts and messy jobs were now Kylo's to execute, and it seemed he did them perfectly.
You had never seen or heard of him before. You wondered how new he was exactly, and how quick he had risen in the ranks to become your fathers most trusted man. He would have had to prove himself immensely, and the concept of what that possibly entailed both scared and intrigued you. You wondered what types of violence your father found to be grounds for proof of trust.
You made a mental note to ask Armitage how long he had been around, along with a few others things flying around your brain. Weirdly, they were all questions about Kylo Ren.
You decided to cool your thoughts, and continue small talk with Gwen. You asked about your brother, and what her new schedule was like since it hadn't appeared he had changed much. She confirmed that she spent most of her nights at Starkiller, watching your brother party with his friends.
You shared a few jokes at the expense of your family, especially when Lyon lost a game of pool and almost snapped the pool cue over his knee in anger. A glare from your father and his anger simmered down almost immediately. You finished your cigarette, though enjoying talking with Gwen you were thoroughly over this fucking situation. A drunk sausage fest with your family in which none of them even wanted to talk to you, to spend time with you. Your father could hardly stand the sight of you.
You gave him the benefit of the doubt - he had buried his daughter today, and looking at the face of your other estranged one was certainly not a priority he had to have. You expected nothing on arrival, and had already had a few days of drama free bliss. Really, your sisters death had the opposite reaction on your Dad than you thought it would.
You supposed you would enjoy it while you could. You thought it was going to be utter chaos here, loud arguments between you and your father, leading to a crescendo in which you would be forced to leave once more.
You decided to bid Gwen goodnight, finishing your drink in two big gulps you braved the walk to your father. Zig zagging around your brothers and the Snoke enforcers, you found your way to your Dad and Kylo. His eyes were focused on the drink in his hand, amber liquid swirling in a glass slowly. Kylo noticed you before he did.
"Dad?" You pulled him out of his reverie and he looked up. "I think I'm going to head to bed, I’m not use to New York time yet."
"Oh." He nodded, "Okay. Sleep well, kid."
You gave the faintest smile, eyes shooting to Kylo who stared you up and down. A curious look behind his eyes - like he knew you were lying. Though your father seemed completely fooled. You left immediately, trying to ignore the awkward goodbye with your father, you snuck out the doors and headed to your bedroom.
Checking your phone, it was only about 10 p.m. You figured jetlag would set in eventually, but after today’s days events you felt wide awake. You didn't want to go to sleep yet. Maybe you couldn't.
You shed out of your funeral clothes, getting changed into something far more comfortable. A white cropped t-shirt, dark jeans, and your trusted leather jacket. Slipping on some fresh socks and swapping you shoes for your black doc martins. You checked your appearance in the mirror before sighing. You looked good considering everything you had been through today.
Usually you looked like shit.
Grabbing keys, money, phone and smokes you locked your bedroom door, turned off the light and left out the window. It may have been almost ten years since you had done this, but it was a tried and true trick for sneaking out when you had more than 10 people staying at your house at any given time. Especially when some of those people's job were specifically to make sure people didn't get in or out without the family's knowledge. There was no way in hell you were going to make it out the front door without anyone finding out.
Or worse, Kylo.
You were hellbent on deterring his body-guarding for as long as you could; hopeful it would serve as eventual proof to your father that you did not need to be looked after. You didn't even want to think about how uncomfortable he made you feel.
Not in a bad way, you weren't scared of him like everyone seemed to be. But being in such close proximity was jarring in a certain way, despite his stoic, murderous presence, you couldn't stop staring at his face. At that scar, at those deep, brown eyes.
And at those lips.
He was hot, in an unconventional way, and you almost never found men sexy. For this reason alone you wanted to stay as far away as possible. You didn't even want to broach the reason of whatever the fuck had you thinking about Kylo Ren's lips.
There was a large trellis that covered almost the whole wall underneath your window. Covered by thick ivy vines that sprawled up most of the 3 story Snoke manor, you used this to sneak in and out of your room up until you were sent off to boarding school. And even when you came back for a Christmas once. It was a trick you had learned from watching Mallory sneak out when you were younger.
You poked your head out first, making sure you couldn't see anyone on a perimeter watch, another thing your father's lackeys did sometimes. Seeing the coast was clear, you positioned your feet and then moved out, leaving your window open for entry later. Making sure your footing was placed carefully and with a strong grip, you made your way down the side of the house. Your bedroom was on the second floor, though your house was notorious for high ceilings and you were pretty high up off the ground. Adrenaline kicked in and cooler heads prevailed as you made the climb down to the ground. Once your feet touched the grass underneath your window, you breathed a sigh of relief.
The garage was big enough to house all the vehicles of the multiple people who lived at your house. The entrance was under the south wing of the house, which was an easy, quick walk from your room. You made it there in a minute or two, careful to stay away from windows in case you were seen by anyone randomly gazing out. Opening the last garage door, the one that housed your precious car, you hopped in and started it up. Leaving the lights off, you shifted gears and made it out onto the driveway. Careful that anyone looking out a window or wandering around the property wouldn't be alerted by bright car lights. You were trying very hard not to be seen and you were hoping your hard work was going to pay off.
You had spent years perfecting this technique of Mallory’s.
You drove down the long, winding driveway guided by moonlight alone, until you reached the end. You flicked your lights on and took the exit onto the road. You exhaled a deep breath, one you didn't know you were holding. Paranoia relieved a little bit as you made your way down the street, your eyes still glanced at the rear view mirror looking for car lights that might follow.
You were half worried that Kylo would be trailing you, someone seeing you slinking around the property in the dark and sneaking out would definitely pique interest. You didn't want a bodyguard, especially one who's presence made you uneasy. In which way in particular, you weren't sure. But you wanted to be alone right now.
You had been alone for years and years on end before this moment - what had changed now that you needed a bodyguard? Mallory's death? Most likely. Being back in the country could've proved you to be an easier target too, you guessed.
However, you had been gone for so many years, and being the black sheep of the family did provide one comfort - no one outside the family really knew who you were. You were a taboo subject, rarely talked about and never seen. You weren't involved in the family business like your brother's were, and didn't go to classy fundraisers and socialite parties like Mallory did.
Not to mention you took Brazilian jiu jitsu for years when you were a kid - and you remembered some shit. You weren't lying when you tried to convince your father that you would be fine on your own.
It didn't take long to enter the city, and then find the towering skyscraper that was the Finalizer. It was a tall, dark building with gothic architecture encompassing the facade, contrasted beautifully with its elaborate but minimalist, neutral toned interior. A 5 star safe haven for the rich, famous and criminally inclined. Your father had made sure whatever secrets were experienced within, never had a chance of escape.
You pulled your vehicle into the valet area, shifting into park you hardly had enough time to grab your stuff before a young man opened your door for you.
“Welcome to the Finalizer, ma'am.”
You gave a half smile in thanks, walking forward to the grandiose gold double doors that served as the entrance. Another young man opened them with a smile, welcoming you to the hotel.
Gold light from over hanging chandeliers illuminated the room. Bright mosaic patterns intertwined with white marble made up the floor. An expansive room with nothing but elevators behind a desk with two more people behind it. You were glad you remembered the pass code, unwanting to make conversation with people you didn't know. Not today.
You made a beeline straight for the elevator, stepping into the mirrored room, throwing a smile at the girl behind the desk as you passed. The numbers for all the floors were illuminated by a dim light, the top 3 floors reserved penthouses for permanent residences given out by your father. The very top floor was for family, a sort of unusual halfway house. For when his children couldn’t stand being near him but lacked the funds to move into their own abode. It was Roman's home once upon a time, then it was empty save for the odd weekend or two when your brothers were too drunk to leave the city, and then eventually Mallory’s home. You didn't know what your father was going to do with it now. If your sisters body hadn't been found in it then you would have been tempted to move in.
Although, depending on how bad it got at home - maybe you could be easily convinced.
A small keypad was situated next to the floor buttons, and you entered the pass code for your sisters floor, something that wasn't required of irregular hotel stayers who had simple key cards for their rooms.
The elevator rode all the way to the top, and you were lucky to be alone. The surge of the lift paired with the g-force, you felt your heartbeat rapidly fasten. You tried to peg its inception down to the anxiety that now clouded your mind. You were about to enter your sister's apartment after all.
The last place she was when she was alive.
You remembered your father telling you the place had been cleaned after the forensic evidence had been collected. You hadn't been here in so long that you hardly remembered it. You were shipped off to boarding school long before you were old enough to spend drunken weekends here.
The doors to the elevator opened right up into the apartment. Separating with a 'ding' it revealed the almost pitch black penthouse. A little stream of light from the lift exposed a golden beam down the otherwise dark hallway. You turned the torch on your phone to it's brightest setting, walking out into the penthouse. The doors shut behind you as you found the light switch, and the penthouse was suddenly bathed in light.
Tall, white walls of the hallway gave way to an open planned penthouse. Floor to ceiling glass revealed the neon New York skyline below. The spacious living room gave way to a kitchen on the far left and bedrooms on the far right. A garden laden outside area showed numerous seating with a table, a hot tub, and an infinity pool that disappeared off the edge.
It was clad in dark fabrics and white paint. A shiny, new, modern penthouse that was starkly different than the Snoke manor. It was sparse with furniture, minimalist in its decor; simple but effectively pretty. Mallory had kept the place nice and tidy, artwork and pictures littered the penthouse walls, giving it a burst of colour that was proof of her bubbly personality living here.
You shed your jacket, throwing it over the back of the couch, your items discarded along with it. Your eyes darted around the apartment, eager to find something out of place, unusual enough that you would notice. Though, your lack of experience with the space provided some trouble.
Mallory had taught you a lot growing up - how to escape down a trellis on the side of the house to avoid being detected was one of them. One of the others was having a good hiding spot.
Andrew Snoke was a controlling father growing up, especially with his daughters. And even more so with his favorite, Mallory. You didn't blame her for turning to drugs in her turbulent youth, not with the pressure she was under. Your brothers had done all that and worse and they hadn't been crucified for it.
And because of all of that, Mallory had taught you that hallowed out books, sun-glass cases in underwear drawers, and envelopes behind hung pictures were all great hiding spots.
You made your way to the bedrooms, finding the master that Mallory called hers. Everything was clean, put away, though a glance at the walk-in closet and the mass of designer dresses it was easy to deduce her presence. There was a large bed in the middle, side tables either side. Various artwork hung on the walls and the long, wooden shelf in the room was littered with pictures of her and her friends.
You noticed a few of them by face, probably knew all of them by name the amount she talked about them - though you couldn't tell who was who. Mallory's smiling face was what caught your eyes and cause you to still. Shining, bright eyes and a wide smile that you were familiar with. One that you would never see again. Your throat tightened at the thought.
You darted over to the side tables with purpose, to forget the overwhelming sadness creeping into your mind and replace it with something productive instead. You rifled through its contents, opening drawers and quickly sifting through objects. Pushing things to the side you safely checked for a false bottom of each shelf, but found nothing in particular. Moisturizers, sleep masks, and a pack of cigarettes - though nothing special.
You continued your rampage through her room, looking behind artwork hung on the walls, looking under the bed, under the pillows, in between the mattress and the bed frame, then moving to the closet. You checked in her boots, making sure nothing was concealed in there, before becoming desperate and looking in her shoe boxes and the pockets of her coats. Heaving a sigh of contempt, and resigning to the notion that there was nothing in this room you decided to move on.
You made your way to the kitchen - checking cereal boxes, and the freezer, large tins that she kept nestled in the pantry. You checked anything and everything you thought could be a possibility, but nothing seemed suspicious. Nothing was awkwardly placed, nothing moved every so often that dirt patterns formed; everything was normal.
You ventured over to the living room. You checked behind the artwork first, and behind one you find a safe built into the wall. Your interest was piqued momentarily before realizing these were in all your fathers properties - and housed usually large amounts of cash, jewels, important legal documents and the like. You were looking for something in particula, and figured it would not be inside a safe your father had access to.
You knew Mallory kept a journal, she had as a teenager, and once she grew up and tried to stay sober she had one documenting her thoughts. Something her sponsor told her might be able to help with her sobriety. You hoped if anything her diary would hold some impertinent information. Anything.
However, you were not inclined to think a diary she wrote in everyday was kept in a safe in the living room. Too many processes for something so ridiculous as a journal. You figured she was still like she was growing up - in that she preferred to hide things from the prying men in our family - but she wouldn't go to those lengths. Not if our father had the code to said safe.
You would ask him about it later, but resigned to not give up. It had to be somewhere. You were confident it was not in the safe.
A large flat screen was set against the wall, a wide fireplace underneath. Built into the wall either side were some bookcases, not housing anything but photos, some CDs, and ornaments that Mallory had collected over the years that obviously meant something to her. And a card from you, from her last birthday. Nothing pretty or pink, or particularly special but simply declaring your love for your sister.
You placed it back on the shelf, eyes moving over to a trophy from Mallory's high school days, a cheer-leading trophy, sitting next to it a picture of her winning prom queen, next to her tiara that she blatantly kept. You smiled, if only at the ridiculous nature and stark reality of how different you two were. Things she cared about weren't even on your radar - you two didn't have anything in common. Lived on different continents in fact, and still the two of you got together and it was some of the only moments you felt you were truly happy. You would drink, or maybe smoke a little pot together and would end up in stitches of laughter, faces and sides burning in pain. You were definitely going to miss her humor.
A smile curved your lips and you glanced over, eyes catching a gold trophy that caused you to still. You had seen it before, you remembered it briefly, and as your eyes shot down to the engraved tag, it read your name.
Your hands gripped the trophy, a gold metal showing a girl doing a roundhouse kick in a martial arts stance. "Holy shit." The words flew from your mouth without thought.
Mallory had kept it.
~~~~
You and competed in over 6 different competitions, fought in over 22 different matches, becoming the champion for Brazilian Jiu Jitsu in the tri-state area for girls under 18. And you were only 13 years old at the time.
Years and years of rigorous training had led to this point, years of your youth spent on grueling grappling techniques and perfecting your punches. To this referee now announcing your name, a round of applause from all the parents in the stands stung your ears. He shook your hand, handing you the trophy. A flash from a camera blinded you momentarily, and you searched for familiar faces in the crowd.
Your eyes locked with Mallory's. She was standing up, clapping as hard as she could, a proud smile on her face. You looked at the seat next to her - reserved for your father.
It was empty.
Your heart dropped. You mustered a smile, praying for it to be over so you could go back to the changing rooms and release the tears that pooled in the corner of your eyes.
You locked your gaze with Mallory once more, and noticing the look on your face, and you glancing at the empty seat next to her, her mouth uttered an apology, providing a sincere look.
You bit your lip, squeezing the trophy as hard as you could in your hands until it was over. Once you were clapped off the stage with the girl who came 2nd and 3rd place, you ran to the changing rooms to find a lonely corner you could get out of your fighting robes.
You prayed for the tears to go away, to any God who was out there that could show one ounce of mercy to you. But no one answered. You were alone, and once one tear fell it was hard to stop the rest. Your father couldn't even come to your championship fight? He never devoted any time to you ever, and you were doing this because it made him vaguely proud in some way. Even still, he couldn't give you one second of his fucking time?
He had given you nothing, and you had done this all for him.
You sniffled, throwing your bag over your shoulder and haphazardly slipping your shoes on, you exited the changing room to meet Mallory outside the stadium.
"Oh my god! Congratulations!" She swept you up in a hug, perfume wafting through your nostrils, your face was buried in her blonde hair. "First place? Hell yes!"
You scoffed. "Yeah..."
She dampened at the sight of you, facade falling slightly. "Oh, come on, kid. Let's go get some ice cream, my shout."
"I don't know," you hitched the bag up your shoulder, "I don't really feel like ice cream."
She sighed, stepping forward to grab your hand that clutch the trophy. "I'm so sorry he didn't come, okay, but-"
"Did he say why?"
"Well, he just said he was busy and he had to-"
"He's always too busy." You interrupted her again. "He doesn't give a shit about me. I haven't seen him in weeks, and he's the one that put me into this martial arts bullshit!"
Mallory's weakening facade was demolished, and she burst into tears. "I'm so sorry."
You sighed deeply, though it had been evident you had been crying you chastised her regardless. "Why are you crying?"
"Because," she wiped her tears away, shifting her large handbag further up her shoulder, "Because I'm sorry. I'm sorry for Dad, for how he is and how he treats you." You weren't sure how but it seemed like she got even more upset. "And I'm sorry that I was fortunate enough to be nourished by her growing up and you were too young to experience-"
"Whatever." You cut her off again, before she could finish, she was crying with sympathy, empathy, whatever the fuck it was that caused her tears. If she finished her sentence you knew you would be reduced to the same fate. "Can you please take me home? I'm done."
You glanced over to the side, a stadium bin free standing. You walked over, taking one last look at the trophy before you threw it into the trash can. You glanced at Mallory, and then walked to the car park where she had her vehicle.You didn’t look back.
~~~
The two of you had made your way home, driving in silence. You remembered that day vividly now. Mallory was 8 years older than you were, so she had her license, and her own car. A whole life of her own. She was in college, eager to drink and socialize with her friends.
And then something changed.
You had never been close when you were younger, but after that day she had made a gratuitous effort of being in your life. Of supporting you emotionally and providing wisdom and comfort when you needed it. Of being a constant in your life, even when you left for boarding school. She was the only lifeline you had in this family. She had taken the role of father, and mother, and adopted those qualities to try give you a better life.
And she had kept it.
You clutched the trophy in your hands, even tighter. She must have picked it out of the trash, put it in her handbag and then followed you to the car.
And she kept it all this time. Never telling you about it, never trying to offer it back to you. She kept it as a proud memento on a shelf in her living room for herself. Your throat tightened, your lip trembling as you felt tears gather in your eyes. You couldn't hold it back, irrevocable sadness you had been keeping at a simmer turned into full on misery. You wept for times passed, over memories you shared with Mallory and the reality that you would never create any more. You cried over the possibility of the suspicious circumstances that surrounded her death, that someone could have taken her away from you before her time.
And you cried because you were alone, once again.
#carpe noctem#kylo x reader#kylo ren x reader#kylo ren fanficiton#kylo ren au#kylo ren imagine#adam driver x reader
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Next to Me
MLB Secret Santa
for @obliviousblondesunite, as part of the @mlsecretsanta exchange.
Blondes shared this prompt back in October, completely unrelated to MLB Secret Santa:
Aged up, post reveal, post hawkmoth, established relationship AU inspired by the song “Next to Me” by Imagine Dragons. Adrien is depressed and thinks little of himself sometimes, as Chat and Adrien. Marinette continues to help him through his troubles.
*
It’s been a while since Adrien’s been out of the apartment in people clothes instead of cat ones. A little over a month, actually. He hasn’t been able to look at himself in the mirror; hasn’t been able to sleep. He keeps staring at the ceiling, wondering, if everyone was right, if he could’ve known, if... if he could’ve done something earlier.
The only reason he’s out today is that they’re running out of food. Marinette did that on purpose; after the fourth night in a row where he woke her up with the sound of his sobbing, he knew he couldn’t keep hurting her like this—she has so much patience, so much love, and he can’t bear to keep testing it. He asked her to stop coddling him, to stop letting him wallow. So she let the pantry and the fridge run dry, and gave him two options: either he did the grocery shopping, or she was going to take him to a restaurant.
Restaurant meant more people. Restaurant meant paparazzi. Restaurant meant sitting in public where anyone could see him, unable to leave, unable to duck out, while reporters bombarded him and his girlfriend with questions and camera flashes and accusations and it’s an easy decision.
He holds the shopping basket hooked around his forearms like Dorothy with her basket full of yappy dog and the linoleum aisles are yellow brick road. Plagg is hugging his chest and purring quietly, helping keep him calm, as he walks down the starch aisle.
“Hey...”
Adrien’s hand freezes, hovering over the box of rice. The fluorescent lights burn overhead, a ripping noise in his ears. Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it—
“Aren’t you Adrien Agreste?”
He squeezes his eyes shut as his breath goes cold in his throat, and he clutches his jacket closer around his body with shaking hands. The problem with having his face plastered all over the city for five years: it’s impossible to go anywhere without at least one person recognizing him, no matter how much he wants to just fade away.
“Please,” he whimpers. “I’m just trying to do my grocery shopping.”
The woman in the red wool jacket tilts her head, looking at him with concern in her eyes. “Monsieur Agreste, I’m so sorry about—”
He hears the name again—that man’s name—and his basket slips from his fingers. His ears are assaulted by the crash of plastic striking the floor, and everything is too much, too bright and too loud and too—he has to get out. He has to get out.
“Monsieur Agreste?”
Unthinking, he bolts.
The part of his brain that’s not operating on pure panic regrets it immediately. The grocery store is too large to escape and yet simultaneously too small—the shelves are crushing in on him, squeezing on his lungs, and everyone is staring now at the wild man sprinting toward the exit. But that part of his brain isn’t in control. He’s gone feral, a cornered animal, a shampooed cat launching itself from its owner’s arms. He stumbles into the checkout line, bowling over a patron, and nearly slams into the exit door before it slides open—too slow, too slow.
He barely makes it out of the front door of the supermarket without falling, stumbling around the corner toward the dumpster. He collapses against the side of it with a plastic smack, reaching into his jacket’s inside pocket. Fumbling fingers rip open the cigarette box. He jams it between his lips, desperate, trembling, then snags a match. Scrapes it against the brickwork.
Too slow. No flame.
“Kid, breathe,” Plagg says from inside his pocket.
He wants to. He wants to breathe in hot smoke, he wants to sear his lungs, he wants to feel something that isn’t shame or fear. But the match isn’t lighting.
“Come on,” Plagg says, poking his head out, his disproportionate emerald eyes slow blinking in Adrien’s direction. “What does Tikki always say? Count all the blue things you see.”
Adrien twists his head, looking away from the Kwami. He—he doesn’t—this panic, it feels right, he doesn’t want to stop. He deserves this, he needs this—
“Monsieur,” the security guard looming over him says. “I’m going to need you to come with me.”
Adrien drops his head and cries.
*
They hold him in the security office for over an hour before they realize that they can’t prove he’s stolen anything. He spends the whole time curled up into a ball, hugging his knees to his chest, unable to speak and waiting for his heartbeat to calm. Desperate for nicotine, but every time he tries to reach for his cigarettes someone glares at him and he freezes.
Without words, he can’t explain what had happened—can’t tell them why he’d run, can’t ask for forgiveness. When they ban him from the market and throw him out, it almost comes as a relief.
Almost, because... what is he going to tell Marinette?
He’d gone out—gone through everything—and he’d failed. Hadn’t managed to get a single euro worth of food. They’re either going to go hungry tonight... or he’s going to have to brave a restaurant. He’s going to have to brave an entire evening of people glaring at him, and spitting on him, and screaming at him for things his father did. And he can bear that, he can, but Marinette deserves better—better than both of those options.
Marinette deserves better than him.
*
He touches down on the balcony of the apartment he’d bought for them before everything went down, back when the Agreste name opened doors instead of closing them, and lets the transformation release, leather ripping green from his skin.
“Adrien—” Plagg says, concern in his voice.
“Don’t,” Adrien croaks, stumbling through the sliding door. He collapses into the couch cushions, burying his face in the pillow. “Don’t wanna hear it.” He hugs it close, pressing the pillow to his eyes, trying to hide his tears.
He hears Plagg breathe in as if he’s about to say something, but then he stops. There’s a rustle, and Adrien starts as the blanket begins to move up his body, tugged upward by the tiny cat Kwami.
“Thanks,” Adrien mumbles.
Plagg grunts, and Adrien feels the minuscule weight of the Kwami’s tiny body settle onto his back, where he begins to purr. Adrien calms, letting the vibrations of the god of destruction rumble through his body, forcing back the molten fire from his nerves.
“Still want a cigarette?” Plagg says.
Adrien scrapes his face against the pillow, feeling the prickle of his unshaven face against the velvet covering. “No, I—I think I’m okay,” he says.
“Good,” Plagg responds, standing up and stretching his paws along Adrien’s back, his tail whipping restlessly up and down Adrien’s eighth vertebra. “Destruction may make you Cancer-resistant, but that doesn’t mean cancer-proof, and tumors taste like...” He shudders. “Smarties.”
“When have you ever eaten Smarties?” Adrien mumbles, rolling his eyes.
“Never. That’s not the point,” Plagg says.
“Hmm,” Adrien responds, then yanks the blanket over his head, ending the conversation.
*
Adrien wakes up he’s not quite sure how long later to the feeling of tiny claws poking his cheek.
He groans. “There’s cheese in the fridge,” he says, trying to swat Plagg away. He’d made sure of that—even if there’s nothing else in the house, Plagg has his goddamn cheese.
“No cheese,” Plagg says, poking him again. “Heads up. I smell Tikki.”
Adrien’s eyes shoot open. “Shit,” he hisses.
“Yeah,” Plagg says, narrowing his eyes at his charge. “Shit is right.”
The door begins to creak open, and Adrien smells it too—cinnamon and passionfruit, Marinette’s soap and shampoo, mingling with human sweat (stress sweat specifically, he can taste that particular hormone’s cloying meatiness in the air thanks to senses bleedover), and the warm, chocolatey undertones of the Ladybug Kwami inside her purse. Adrien jerks upward on the couch, bending his spine, as his gaze locks onto the burning blue of Marinette’s eyes.
“Hey, Kitty,” she says. “I’m home.”
The cat in him wants to run to her, to tackle her, to curl up around her feet and trip her into him and tangle up in her and laugh and purr and feel her fingers on his scalp. The other cat in him wants to bolt, to hide in the back corner of the linen closet buried under the towels where it’s dark and quiet and her disappointed eyes can’t reach.
He’s not feeling very human today.
“Did you get dinner?” she says, unslinging her purse from her shoulder and dumping it gracelessly on the front table. Even after all these years, his Lady is a messy disaster of a person, her brain too occupied with the miracles she makes with charcoal and thread to remember that things have places they are supposed to go. It’s okay—he’s found he enjoys cleaning, so he’s always happy to pick up after his messy genius.
Except lately he hasn’t been. He... can’t.
Marinette turns to him, and her eyes soften. “Adrien,” she says, kneeling down next to him, “you promised me you’d go out today.”
He buries his face in the pillow—can’t bear to meet her eyes. “I did,” he mumbles. “Got to the grocery store, and—and...”
“Somebody recognized you.”
“Mmhmm.”
Marinette wraps her fingers around his palm, slowly enough for him to pull away if he needs to. He doesn’t. He whimpers at her touch, at the way she still makes everything burn and shine and it’s blinding, he can’t bear her love, her forgiveness.
“Pity or blame?” she says.
“Pity,” he says, his fingers brushing the back of her hand as they twitch nervously.
“I’m sorry,” she says. He hears her shift a bit. “Tikki? Can you grab Littlebug please? Adrien needs to cuddle.”
“Of course,” Tikki chirps, and Adrien hears the zip of air breaking around the Kwami’s body as she rockets into the bedroom.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get dinner,” Adrien says, turning his face, letting the rough material of the pillow drag across his cheek. “I guess...” He breathed in, then out. “I guess we’ve got to go out?”
Marinette purses her lips and nods. “Yeah,” she says. “But we don’t have to go somewhere public.”
*
When Ladybug and Chat Noir alight on the balcony of Marinette’s childhood bedroom, Sabine Cheng is waiting for them, lounging on the old sunbathing chairs. “Bonsoir, pumpkin!” she says up with a lazy wave, then beams at Chat. “Hello, Adrien dear,” she says.
Chat’s chest contracts. He doesn’t deserve that look in her eyes, the affection she’s directing at him.
“Bonsoir, Maman!” Ladybug responds, kneeling down to hug her mother. “Sorry again for the late call.”
“Oh, you know your father and I are always happy to have you two,” she says. Then she stands up and reaches for a plate on the small table, piled high with cookies and cheese. “You should get comfortable,” she says. “I got food for your... Kami?”
“Kwami,” Ladybug corrects. “Tikki, spots off!”
Light zips up her body, Tikki spiraling out of her earrings.
“Nyí heó, Zen nyiúzý!” Tikki says.
Sabine bows to the tiny god. “Nyí heó, Thi mò,” she says. “You are welcome in my home.”
Tikki snorts. “Thank you!” she says. “You don’t have to be so formal.” And then, as if to prove he point, she shoves an entire chocolate chip cookie into her mouth.
Sabine stares at Tikki for a moment with something like reverence, then turns to Chat. “I have some cheese for the little cat,” she says. “You said he likes Camembert?”
Chat swallows.
And, bless her, Marinette catches his hand in her own. “You don’t have to,” she says. “Who do you want to be right now?”
He doesn’t want to be anyone right now, is the truth. He wants to take a break from being Adrien, from being Chat, from being. But he doesn’t want her to hear that.
“Yours,” he croaks. “I want to be yours.”
She smiles. “Always,” she says, flicking his bell. “No matter which face you’re wearing.”
Sabine melts.
*
Dinner is more than a little awkward. Adrien doesn’t really want to talk; he deflects any questions directed his way with grunts and noncommittal answers. Sabine, Marinette, and Tikki are starting to look at him in confusion and worry, while Tom keeps talking—blabbering, really—trying to fill the silence. (Plagg, meanwhile, is trying to pretend like all he cares about is gorging himself on the cheese spread in the middle of the table, but Adrien’s known him for long enough to tell that the Kwami is worried about him.)
“Adrien, sweetie,” Sabine says, “are you all right? You’ve hardly touched your food.”
Adrien despondently pushes the peas around his plate with his fork. “Yeah, I’m... fine,” he says. “Actually... I, uh, I’ll be right back. Kinda... need a smoke.”
“Use the balcony,” Marinette says, averting her eyes.
Adrien nods. He stands up, walks upstairs toward Marinette’s bedroom.
“He’s smoking now?” Sabine whispers as he presses open the trapdoor.
He stops. He shouldn’t have been able to hear her—if he’d been anyone else, he wouldn’t have. But being Chat Noir for six years had altered his physiology in more than one way; sensitive ears mean he can hear things no normal human should be able to.
“Maman, he just lost his entire family,” Marinette responds. “He needs time—”
“I was a wreck for a month when we cut Papa out of our lives,” Tom adds. “Remember?”
Adrien shakes his head and continues up to the balcony. He doesn’t want to hear the rest of this.
The cigarette lights easily this time, and he sucks in the burning smoke, searing his lungs as he looks out across the Seine toward the lights of the Eiffel Tower. It feels like the whole city is arrayed before him, and he remembers similar views—the city underwater, drowning; the hordes of kissing zombies filling the streets; the inferno, every building in the Paris wrapped in ghostly cerulean flames; the moon plummeting, crashing downward as Pegase frantically tried to evacuate the city—the way Viperion collapsed afterward, after three times as long as Aspik’s worst Second Chance experience.
All Gabriel. All Adrien. This was his family, his father, his fault. He could’ve stopped this if he’d known. If he’d bothered to look.
He doesn’t deserve Marinette. He doesn’t deserve Ladybug, or Plagg, or Tom and Sabine. He doesn’t deserve their love, their forgiveness.
He looks down to the street below, considering.
Then the trapdoor opens behind him, and he hears the familiar footfalls of his princess.
“Kitty?” she says, soft. “You okay?”
Adrien has no idea what to say.
Marinette steps forward, hugs him from behind. “Talk to me,” she says.
Adrien breathes in, staring away. “I just...” He wipes his eyes. This burden... she deserves better. He’s not sure where to start. “This is your family,” he says. That’s good. That’s safe. “I never had that.” He looks up, bathing his face in the starlight. “Even when I had Mère, she wasn’t...” He swallows. “This isn’t... I’m an intruder, you know? No matter how much your family welcomes me, I’m not a Dupain-Cheng.”
He feels Marinette inhale. “Well,” she says, rubbing her cheek against his back. “That’s easy enough to fix.”
“What?” Adrien says, weakly, barely noticing that she’s already let go of his stomach. He turns to find her on one knee, holding up a black velvet box.
She flips it open, and inside is a rose gold ring—a perfect replica of her version of the Cat Miraculous.
Adrien’s entire body locks into place.
“Adrien Graham de Vanily,” Marinette says. “You are... the kindest, most giving person I have ever known. Since the day we met, you have been by my side through the worst that the world can throw at us.” She’s smiling. She’s—she’s smiling. “It has been my honor, and my privilege, to grow alongside you, and to see you go from a brash, lonely boy into the brave and loving man you are today.” She swallows, looks away. “You are... you’re the person I trust more than...” She shakes her head. “I’m... rambling.”
Adrien can’t speak. His heart is slamming against his sternum like it’s trying to tear itself out of his chest, his hands are frozen to the table.
“Your old family was crap,” she says. “But... I want to build a new one. With you.”
He swallows, blinking away tears.
She hiccups. “Adrien Graham de Vanily,” she whispers, holding up the ring. “Will you marry me?”
Adrien breaks. “Why?” he chokes out.
Marinette’s eyes go wide, horror writing across her face. “Kitty?”
“Why do you still love me?” he sobs. “Marinette, I’m—I’m a mess!” He waves a hand, frantic. “I—I’ve barely left the apartment in weeks, I can’t sleep, I can’t get out of bed, I...” He drops to his knees, taking her hands between his. “You—you have dreams, Mari, and—and being with me will ruin them.”
She’s staring at him, horror in her eyes.
“Marinette,” he says, caressing her cheek. “Princess. You—” He chokes. “You deserve better than to have to take care of—”
“I spent six years taking care of Paris,” she interrupts. “After Hawkmoth? Looking after one self-destructive kitty cat is practically a vacation. Besides,” she says, reaching up and scritching her nails across his scalp, “you spent all those years taking care of me when I needed it.” She smiles. “That’s what you do when you’re in love.”
His breath catches in his throat. “What if—what if I never get better?” he gasps.
“You will,” Marinette says, cupping his cheeks and pressing her forehead to his. “You’re strong. You survived eighteen years living with the worst parent I’ve ever seen and you still came out kind.” She brushes his bangs out of his face. “It’s okay if you can’t believe in yourself right now—but Adrien, My Prince, I believe in you.”
Adrien collapses into Marinette’s shoulder, sobbing. “Yes,” he says. “My answer is yes.”
#miraculous ladybug#original content#mlsecretsanta#ml secret santa#ml secret santa 2k19#my fic#adrien agreste#marinette dupain cheng#adrienette#adrinette#post reveal#established relationship#post hawkmoth#suicidal thoughts#tw suicidal thoughts#suicidal ideation#self harm#tw self harm#abuse#tw abuse#child abuse#tw child abuse#gabriel agreste’s a+ parenting#tom dupain#sabine cheng#tikki#plagg#oneshot#adrienette proposal#angst
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Superposition
a deancas college roommate AU
Chapter 6 is up on AO3! Chapter-by-chapter masterlist here.
Good Luck
Three Years Earlier
“Psst.”
Cas looked up from his computer when something hit him in the back of the head. He was trying to survive another eight-a.m. accounting class without falling asleep. He turned around.
The girl with dark, reddish-brown hair who always sat there grinned at him. She pointed at the floor behind him with her pen and raised her eyebrows.
Cas furrowed his brow and picked up the crumpled paper that had hit him. He turned around and unfolded it, doing his best not to seem too suspicious.
Solitaire? It read in a hasty scrawl.
Cas frowned. She had been watching his screen. He turned back to give her a look of confusion. She only grinned wider.
I am attempting to at least pretend I’m engaged. Unlike you, he wrote back. He reached behind him for the girl to take the paper.
He returned to his game, but was once more disturbed by the ball of paper. Other students were noticing the disruption, leading to the professor saying, “Hey, calm down over there.” Castiel turned bright red. He bowed his head, trying to make himself small as he opened the note once more.
You got me, I can’t even pretend anymore. Wanna study for the test together?
Castiel raised his eyebrows at the invitation. He was confused — he had spoken to the girl once or twice, but had never gotten her name, and never given her his.
The professor released them a moment later, and the girl hopped over her row of seats and into his.
“So?” She asked.
Cas didn’t look at her as he put his laptop back in his bag. “What?”
“Do you wanna study? Come on, it’ll be way more fun together.”
Cas put his backpack on and looked at her. “Why?”
The girl looked confused. “What?”
“Why do you want to study with me?”
“Why don’t you want to study with me?” She retorted.
“I didn’t say that I don’t want to,” Castiel explained. They began to shuffle out of the row together. “I’m just confused as to why you offered. We don’t know each other at all.”
She laughed a little and cocked her head. “Hun, that’s kind of the point. Ever heard of making friends?”
Castiel scoffed as they exited onto the campus lawn. “Right,” he said.
“What’s your name?” She asked.
“Cas Novak,” he replied. “And yours is..?”
“Meg. Meg Masters,” she said, taking an exaggerated bow. Cas kept walking, and she skipped to catch back up with him.
“There, now we know each other,” she said. “So, now do you want to study together?”
Cas considered her for a moment out of the corner of his eye. She was bright and open and, well, everything that Cas couldn’t seem to be. Ridiculous as it was, being that a possible friend had just fallen in his lap, he wanted to say no. He just assumed he would do something, say something that would cause her to find him unpleasant.
But then… Dean didn’t hate him, and neither did his friends. He’d even had an entire conversation with Charlie about Lord of the Rings, and she’d made him promise to watch the movies with her after midterms were over. Perhaps people were more forgiving than Castiel gave them credit for.
“That sounds nice,” he said to Meg, and he thought that maybe, for once, he meant it.
“If I look at this for one more goddamn second, I’m going to lose my mind.”
Dean was lying on his stomach on the floor behind Cas’s desk chair, his ancient computer open in front of him. It was near one in the morning, midterms were coming up. Castiel’s head was swimming from staring at supply and demand graphs for the last few hours.
“What is it?” Cas asked, turning around.
“Calculus,” Dean groaned. “I can’t deal with these related rates. Everything was making sense until now.”
“I might be able to help.”
Dean moved himself to a seated position and patted the ground beside him.
“You’ve finished most of it,” Cas said, looking at Dean’s computer. “Where’s your work for the problems you’ve missed?”
“I usually do this kind of stuff in my head.”
Cas raised an eyebrow. “And you say I’m the genius.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Can you help?”
Cas gave him a look. “I am very good at calculus.”
Dean put up his hands defensively.
“Look,” Cas said, “You just have to identify which variable is actually changing. Here, it’s the radius. So you’ll take your derivative with respect to the radius.”
“Damn,” Dean said. “If someone would have told me that, like, a week ago, this would have made so much more sense. Thanks, Cas.”
“Of course.”
Cas ended up bringing his own computer to the floor to study while Dean finished his homework. He moved onto a different subject — it was simply too late for econ. He was reviewing ancient Greek philosophers and their beliefs when Dean rolled over on his back with a groan. He rested his head on top of Castiel’s crossed legs. The action nearly made him jump. He tried not to stare too intently.
“Dude, I’m hungry,” he said.
“Hungry?” Cas repeated. “I would have expected you to say, ‘tired,’ but not ‘hungry.’”
“Dude, I’m pretty sure they say it’s good luck to eat Taco Bell while studying calculus at three in the morning,” Dean said, pulling on a flannel.
“I’m pretty sure no one ever says that,” Cas replied.
“I’m saying it now. C’mon.”
Cas pulled on a sweatshirt — it was cold for October — and followed Dean out the door.
“I haven’t driven you anywhere, have I?” Dean asked when they reached the dorm parking lot.
“Not that I can remember.”
“Oh, wait til you see her,” Dean said, excited. “My car, my baby. You’ll be floored.”
Dean stopped at an old, black muscle car, parked at the far end of the lot, away from the rest of the cars. Castiel could see the Chevrolet logo on the back.
“It’s quite beautiful,” he said, and Dean grinned at him.
“Isn’t she? 1967 Chevy Impala. My dad gave her to me when I turned sixteen. She was a beater then — I had to drop a new engine and get her reupholstered. But she was worth it.”
“You rebuilt it yourself?” Castiel asked, impressed.
“I had a little help, but mostly, yeah.”
Dean unlocked the doors, and the two slid into the car. The interior looked as if Dean had just driven the car off the lot hours prior.
“You must take very good care of this car,” Cas observed. “I’ve never seen anything so clean.”
“Like I said, she’s worth it,” Dean replied, bringing the engine to a low roar. Cas was about to remark on the sound, when something on top of the dash caught his eye.
A half-empty package of Marlboros.
Dean turned to him, about to say something, but dropped his smile seeing Cas staring at the cigarettes.
“Uh, I don’t… I don’t smoke in here,” he said. “Only outside. Just keep ‘em in here ‘cause you know. Dorms.”
Cas nodded once. He’d never known anyone who smoked. “That’s—“
“Filthy habit, I know,” Dean interrupted. “I know.”
“I was going to say it’s good you don’t smoke in your car. Seeing as you put so much work into it,” Cas clarified, clearing his throat. Dean hadn’t shown a lick of judgement toward Castiel in the whole two months of their friendship. That wasn’t lost on Cas. He wasn’t about to turn his nose up at something as trivial as a nicotine addiction.
Dean stared at him a moment before choking out a laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.”
“It is… Quite bad for you, though,” Castiel added after a moment. “How long have you been..?”
“Since I was sixteen,” Dean answered. “It was… Well, we were living in Terrell, Texas at the time. Not much to do down there. I was skipping class with some guys and, well, you get the idea. Man, I thought my dad was going to be so pissed.”
“Was he?”
Dean pursed his lips as he reversed out of the parking spot. “No. I mean, it wasn’t like he was proud, but more like he… Saw it comin’, I guess. He ain’t exactly a role model, anyway -- ever since Mom died, he’s had a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other.”
“How did he find out?”
“Went through my room one time -- he thought I was stealing his liquor -- and found ‘em under my bed. He didn’t tell Sammy, though, so at least there’s that.”
Castiel was quiet. The light from the streetlamps reflected on the road, wet from an earlier rainstorm. Wichita was disconcertingly empty at this hour, with most working people asleep and most college students at the library, studying for the upcoming exams.
Dean broke the silence. “I keep saying I’m gonna quit, you know?” He shook his head. “It’s harder than it seems. I don’t even know what I miss more when I’m off of ‘em -- the ritual or the buzz.”
“I can’t pretend I understand,” Cas said slowly, “I’ve never experienced it. But I know cigarettes are very difficult to leave behind. I don’t think you’re alone in that.”
“I guess.”
They pulled into the Taco Bell drive thru, which, to Castiel, was shockingly busy.
“I’ve never told anyone about this,” Dean said, pointing to the cigarettes. “‘Cause it makes me feel like a dumbass. It’s the twenty-first century, you know, what kind of kid gets addicted to cigarettes?” He laughed quietly. “But it feels good, you knowing.”
Cas smiled softly at him. “You can tell me anything, Dean.”
Dean held his gaze for a moment, something unreadable in his eyes. Cas didn’t look away, taking a moment in the dim illumination of the Taco Bell parking lot to study Dean. He had all the hallmarks of a teenage heartthrob — the chiseled face, the dirty blond hair, the green eyes — but there was something rougher there, too, something that Castiel could never discern.
Dean finally looked away and cleared his throat. “What do you want, man?”
“I’m fine, really,” Cas said.
“Dude.”
“Hi welcome to Taco Bell, what can I get for you,” a bored female voice called from the speaker.
“Hi ma’am, could I just get two crunchwraps, a large diet Coke, and a water, please?”
“Is that all?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Total is eight thirty-two at the window.”
“Thanks.”
Dean rolled the Impala’s window back up and took out his wallet.
“What’s a crunchwrap?” Cas asked him when they were able to pull away from the speaker box. Dean’s head shot up, his eyes shocked.
“You can’t seriously tell me you’ve never been to Taco Bell.”
“I’ve been to Taco Bell, Dean, I’ve just never heard of a crunchwrap,” Cas deadpanned.
“Well, ain’t you in for a treat,” Dean said.
“I told you I wasn’t hungry.”
“Yeah, and I got two anyways.” Dean shot him a grin. “Trust me, you’ll love it.”
Cas reached into his pocket for his own wallet. “At least let me --”
He was cut off by Dean pulling up to the window and thrusting a wad of cash at the man working.
“Thanks, man,” he said when he received the brown paper bag and the two drinks. He set the bag on Castiel’s lap and handed him the water, keeping the diet Coke in his hand as he sped off out of the drive thru.
Dean pulled into a parking spot back at the dorm, and the two exited the Impala. The smell emanating from the bag in Castiel’s hands was making him hungry, and he was suddenly thankful that Dean had thought to order him something.
Dean walked to the front of the car and sat down and motioned for Cas to do the same. He did, taking out one of the crunchwraps and handing it to Dean. He unwrapped his own, but at Dean’s expectant stare, raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“This is a very important moment,” Dean replied. “Go on.”
Cas rolled his eyes, but took a bite. He closed his eyes — he was hungrier than he thought — and when he had finished chewing, said, “This is very good.”
“I knew it!” Dean said, triumphant.
So they sat on the hood of the Impala, Dean emphatically recounting his worst Taco Bell-hangover experiences, Castiel laughing loudly and honestly, stealing sips of Dean’s diet Coke (“What the hell, Cas?” “Well, seeing as you failed to get me a drink more interesting than water”). And when the food was gone, Dean asked if he could smoke, and Cas felt strangely warm and brokenhearted watching his best friend light a cigarette by his side.
It was near four in the morning when they returned to their room. Dean collapsed onto a pink beanbag he had brought to their dorm days earlier. When Cas had raised an eyebrow at the new addition, Dean had said, “Shut up. They’re comfy, and this was all Wal-Mart had.”
“Shit. I’m gonna be dead tomorrow,” Dean said, sighing.
“This was definitely not the most prudent decision,” Castiel agreed as he sat down in his own desk chair. Dean reached for his TV remote.
“Have you ever seen Tombstone?” He asked suddenly. At a shake of the head from Cas, he shot up. “Dude, you’ll love it. It’s one of my favorite movies.”
Dean moved to his desk drawer and procured a DVD case. He took out the disk and gave Cas the plastic case.
“It’s a western?” Cas asked after seeing the promotional picture.
“Hell yes,” Dean said as he put the disk in his DVD player, “And it’s friggin’ awesome.”
“Dean, it’s already four a.m.,” Cas pointed out. Dean waved him off.
“Right, no point in trying to get any sleep now. We gotta commit to the all-nighter. Come on.”
Cas rolled his eyes, but relaxed back into his chair, anyway, prepared to watch the movie.
Dean turned the lights off, and the title menu illuminated the dark room. He sat back down in the beanbag, but turned to Cas before he pressed “play.”
“Dude, what are you doing?”
Cas tilted his head in consternation. “Um… Waiting for you to start the movie?”
“You’re going to watch it from all the way back there?”
“Yes?” It came out as a question.
“Like hell. The screen is tiny.” He patted the beanbag. “This thing is big enough for the both of us.”
Castiel seriously doubted that, but got up anyway. Dean adjusted his position so he was only taking up half of the beanbag space. Cas sat down carefully next to him. He tried not to notice Dean’s shoulder pressed against his, the way one wrong move would land his hand squarely in Dean’s lap. Dean hit “play.”
Dean spent the first half of the movie commenting on his favorite parts (which mostly consisted of gushing about Val Kilmer’s… everything). When he started nodding off during the second half, Cas suggested that maybe they should go to bed. Dean stubbornly refused, but ended up falling asleep as Wyatt Earp killed Curly Bill.
“All-nighter,” Cas mumbled to himself upon noticing Dean’s open-mouthed snores. He, too, was exhausted, fighting to stay awake. Cas was moments away from nodding off when Dean shifted. He curled onto his side, his head now placed firmly on top of Cas’ shoulder.
Cas froze. Had he woken up? A snore answered the question with a resounding “no.”
Cas knew he should move. He should turn the TV off, set his seven-thirty alarm, and climb up to his bed to sleep. But he was so tired. And Dean was warm, pressed against his side. And it didn’t matter, anyway. It didn’t mean anything.
Cas didn’t have time to consider why he felt the need to point that out to himself in the first place. The TV remained on, his alarm remained off. He fell asleep, contentedly breathing in the scent of rain and cigarette smoke.
--------
tagging @nguyenxtrang (sorry! I updated yesterday but forgot to post on tumblr)
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Black Market Wonderland (Chapter One): Down The Rabbit Hole
Notes: This has been a long time coming, I never shut up about my oc and this idea. But, I’m finally posting this damn thing. This is gonna be pretty episodic and not have a lot of overarching plots, I’m gonna be stealing canon stories and adding my own spin to them as well as adding my own stories. It’s a shitshow and I hope you’ll come along for the ride.
Special thanks to @catoinette, @otomemonogatari , @d-om , @enchantedbythebidders , @voltage-fanfictions , and @piplup235 for not only reading through and giving me feedback but also being the incentive I needed to actually write and post this. Without you all, this would still be rotting on my computer.
Summary: Almost a year ago Tsuneko managed to destroy her entire life and she’s been stuck ever since. She works as a maid at the Tres Spades in Tokyo; it’s not her dream job, but it pays the bills and puts a roof over her head. Her days are spent peacefully enough cleaning hotel rooms, that is until she stumbles into Wonderland and discovers the secrets lurking within the hotel. Will this turning point be exactly what she needed or a tragedy in the making?
Word Count: 10196
Warnings: Some blood and violence, people being bought and sold (it’s kbtbb my dudes)
The colors of the sky outside her window are just beginning to shift, soft pinks and purple coming in as the sun starts to set. Tsuneko lets out a sigh and checks her phone again, still no response from Shinobu. While not surprising, disappointment settle in her chest. It’s stupid to be upset, she shouldn’t be so emotional. She scolds herself, setting her phone down a little harder than necessary. Her desk chair creaks as she leans back and lets out another heavy sigh.
Kiyohito is curled up on her bed in a position that doesn’t look comfortable. The dark sable ferret is in a dead sleep with his tongue peeking out, any hope of him being a distraction are dashed. It’s her day off from work and she’s desperate to keep herself preoccupied. Her thoughts wandering is always a danger when she has down time, more dangerous when she’s left to ruminate on the shit show that is her life at the moment.
It’s been almost a year since her life officially went to shit and she started working at the Tres Spades hotel. It’s a glitzy place, the first legal casino in Japan. She’s a maid, spending all of her days cleaning up after people richer and more important than her. And that’s the highlight of her days, besides Kiyo, because otherwise she’s in her apartment just trying to distract herself.
The job itself is fine, given her situation, she’s damn lucky to have it. Good pay, plenty of hours, employee housing, her coworkers are mostly nice, and she even has lots of chances for overtime. But, she can’t say this is what she wanted her life to be. Being a maid isn’t exactly what she dreamed of for herself. Disappointment seems to be the theme of the day and her life.
She’s done her best to be a busy bee throughout the day; her dorm is cleaned, she’s baked, done her laundry, played with Kiyo until he passed out, messed with every entertaining app on her phone, watched any video on Youtube that caught her interest, and messaged Shinobu. Maybe she could try getting in contact with Runa? Not that she thinks it will do her a lot of good, but even getting told to fuck off is more fun than staring out the window.
Tsuneko stands up from her chair, stretching her joints as she meanders into her kitchenette area. The dorms are nice, like one bedroom apartments essentially. Given how much she likes baking and cooking, a bigger kitchen area would do her some good, but beggars can’t be choosers. She grabs one of the cookies she baked and crams it into her mouth as she begins looking through her fridge. The sweet vanilla calms her nerves, if only marginally. But, she knows what will relax her most.
She groans, she’s out of booze. Of course. Her rum supply ran out last week and she downed her last bit of vodka yesterday. Looks like she’s gotta put on real clothes and stock up. A walk through the city might be nice to clear her mind anyway.
Her work ringtone echoes through the room just as she’s tucked Kiyo into his cage. She scrambles over to desk, stumbling over her own feet to do so.
“Tomori speaking,” she answers, holding the phone between her ear and shoulder so she can pick out a change of clothes.
“Yes, this is Kenzaki, I’m sorry to bother you on your day off. But, we’re short staffed for this evening, between the I.V.C and some people calling off sick. Is there anyway you could come in? You’d be given over time pay, of course.”
“I can be there shortly.” She throws on a tee and shorts, sliding on her shoes.
“Please report to Matsuda when you come in, she’ll give you a work schedule.” She rolls her eyes at the mention of Erika, the head maid has always had an issue with her, what that issue is remains a mystery. There’s still a huge pile of cookies on the counter, her coworkers might appreciate a snack, especially with such a busy day. And eating all of the cookies herself is kind of sad, something she’s done before, but still sad.
She says her goodbyes to Kenzaki as she starts packing the treats away into tupperware, stuffing one more in her mouth. Tsuneko picks out a sticky note, jotting down what’s in them in case of any allergies or dietary issues. Content, she grabs them and heads out the door, double checking her dorm is locked before she leaves.
Working during the I.V.C is like a double edged sword. On one hand, she’s extremely busy which she likes. She loves being able to bustle around and always having something to do. The International V.I.P Convention is a huge ordeal for the Tres Spades, a giant party held at seemingly random intervals where the rich and famous gather to stroke each other’s egos. Tsuneko has the lowest seniority of the maids, so she doesn’t have to deal with the V.I.P’s directly. But, it stretches the entire hotel staff thinner and the worse part is dealing with the V.I.P’s in passing. It may seem minor, but those kind of people seem to take even the smallest opportunity to be a pain in her ass. The last time she worked some man in a suit worth more money than she’s ever seen flagged her down to ask a question, then mocked her for her dialect, acting like she was stupid. And that was after some snooty woman grabbed her in the lobby to scream about the toilet paper in her suite. Looking back, that might have been the only time Erika was nice to her.
The evening air is cool on her skin as she leaves the dormitories, the Tres Spades looming just a short walk away. It stands out even in Tokyo among all the other huge buildings. She remembers seeing it when she first visited Tokyo, thinking how over the top it was with its giant impractical spade shaped cut out. Her feelings haven’t really changed, it’s just more relevant to her life now, fortunately or unfortunately depending on the day.
Her nose wrinkles, the acrid stink of smoke hitting her nose as she nears the back entrance. An older schlubby man is lighting a cigarette near the dumpsters. There are stomped out cigarette butts around his feet; has he been out here chain smoking all day? The stench of smoke seems to drift off of him in waves, like the man sweats nicotine. Who even is he? He’s definitely not a worker and guests at the hotel generally don’t come by the back entrance. And, as judgemental a thought as it may be, he doesn’t look like the kind of person who’d stay at the Tres Spades.
He starts to look up from his cigarette and Tsuneko ducks her head down to make a beeline for the door, just avoiding eye contact with the stranger. If he caught her staring, he’s kind enough not to say anything as she darts through the door.
She drops the cookies off in a thankfully empty staff room, she doesn’t wanna deal with any hassles or questions. She’ll just have to pick up her tupperware at the end of her shift, hopefully no one tries to take it, the cute Pokemon designs makes it a favorite of hers. .
The employee locker room is just as empty, so no one will question why the stink of cigarette smoke is now clinging to her clothes. She’s never been so happy to change into her uniform. Just a touch of perfume for extra measure then she ties her hair up in the neatest ponytail she can manage. She makes sure she has everything she needs for the work day on her, before taking a deep breath and venturing into the hotel lobby.
To the surprise of absolutely no one, the lobby is packed tight with people. Tailored suits and slinky gowns as far as the eye can see. The V.I.P’s bustle around and chatter, their words all blending into a cacophony of unintelligible noise. A select few members of the press are allowed in to snap photos and get quotes about the event. The party should be getting ready to move down to the ballroom, so with any luck this should be her only encounter with the V.I.P’s. Erika should be around here somewhere, given her seniority, plus she never misses an opportunity to kiss ass.
Tsuneko searches through the crowd for the familiar head of maroon hair. She carefully moves around people, muttering ‘excuse me’s as she goes, not letting her customer service smile and tone falter. Where the hell is Erika? She always seems to pop up when Tsuneko messes up, it figures, she’s nowhere to be found when she’s actually wanted.
Something warm and solid slams into her side, she’s knocked to the ground with a thud. A man looms over her with a scowl, she can feel the contempt emanating off of him. He’d be attractive, if he didn’t look like such an asshole. He’s tall, especially from her current vantage point, with layered oak brown hair and hazel eyes. Silence falls over the lobby, like the world’s been stopped. Everyone’s eyes focus on them, expressions of abject horror. Hushed whispers start to fill the eerie quiet, something about ‘the king’, but she can’t make out anything more. This guy is important; she’d have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to realize that. Thankfully, she’s only one of the three.
“I’m so sorry, sir,” she apologizes, customer service smile in place as she get back up to her feet. This doesn’t seem to appease him, he glares at her like she’s garbage. Which while not inaccurate, is still rude.
“Get out of my way,” he demands with a sneer and brushes off the front of his suit, like he’s come into contact with something vile. Tsuneko takes a tentative step to the side and the man storms past her up the stairs. What a bitch. This is why she hates rich people.
A few people stare at the man’s retreating back, but once he’s out of sight, it’s like the whole thing never happened. The world starts spinning again and the lobby returns to its former state. She shakes her head, it’s not worth another thought, she doubts she’ll ever see him again.
“Are you okay?” A familiar kind voice asks, it’s Chisato, another maid at the hotel. She’s always been nice to Tsuneko and is among her favorite coworkers.
“I’m fine, that guy was just a dick.” Tsuneko says with a shrug, the crowd is loud enough she can get away with talking shit.
”Uh,” Chisato sucks in a deep breath, brown eyes soft with worry, “do you know who that was?”
“Should I?” Tsuneko doesn’t really pay attention to celebrities or the elite types, it’s all nonsense to her.
“Just what were you thinking making an idiot out of yourself!?” Erika’s harpy screech rises above every noise in the lobby. Her hands are on her hips and her glare is trained on Tsuneko.
“What were you thinking?” The twins, Rina and Kana, chime in from behind Erika with similar expressions, contributing nothing to the conversation.
“It was an accident,” she answers honestly, she was so focused on finding Erika she forgot to keep an eye out for where she was going. These things happen, all she can do is apologize and move on.
“It was your fault, you should pay attention to where you’re going!”
”I apologized, unless you have a time machine, there’s not much else I can do.”
”You have no business even being around V.I.P’s, especially if you’re gonna get in their way!”
”Oh, cause I’m sure your banshee screeches just make them feel oh so special.” Tsuneko and Erika glare at each other, she may be the head maid, but Tsuneko has never been one to bite her tongue.
“Go drop off all the special boxes in the basement storage room for the guests staying for the spa package, everyone else is too busy.” Her sharp gaze drifts over to Chisato at the last part, making it clear she shouldn’t offer any help. The task isn’t particularly difficult, just tedious and will take the rest of the day.
“Of course,” Tsuneko forces a bright smile and makes her voice sugary sweet, “maybe we should offer them some complementary ear plugs, as well.”
She scurries off before Erika can say another word, the head maid can screech into the void for all she cares, she got her work for the evening and that’s all that matters. It’s a couple flights of stairs to make it to the basement, so the elevator is best, whoever decided maids should wear heels is an asshole.
“I can’t take it anymore! It’s over, you cheater!” A woman screams as Tsuneko rounds the corner. A couple is standing outside the elevator, the woman throws a small mask at a man in a tacky red suit and storms off past Tsuneko.
The mask bounces off his face and onto the ground, it’s small and silver with intricate details. Judging by the man’s suit and the woman’s gown, they’re here for the I.V.C, which she doesn’t recall being masquerade theme. The man picks up the mask and tucks it into his jacket with a heavy sigh.
“Now I don’t have a date,” he murmurs then looks up, his gaze meeting Tsuneko’s.
“Excuse me, sir, I needed the elevator.” She points over his shoulder.
“You just saw the whole thing, didn’t you?”
“Ah, uh, yes. Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll just take the stairs actually.” She turns around, content to evade the awkward situation, then a hand wraps around her wrist and tugs her back. He’s pulling her towards the elevator, she instinctively tries to get out of his grip, but he’s stronger than her.
“Aw, c’mon, no reason to run away. I’ll explain everything when we get there.” He continues pulling her away, he doesn’t seem to notice or care about her trying to evade him. A part of her wants to deck him, but that will get her fired in a heartbeat.
‘Sir, leave me alone.” She keep her tone even and stern, hoping something will make it through his thick skull. One more strong pull and he yanks her right into the elevator, making her yelp. She’s met with the sight of broad back, blocking the elevator doors and button panel. He jabs a button, the doors slide close, what the hell is this guy’s problem?
“Whew, I’m lucky I found another date. There’s no way I could go to the party without a beautiful woman on my arm.” He turns to face her, entirely too close, with a smile that would be charming in another situation. He’s trying to take her to the I.V.C, the ballroom is on the basement level, so that’s not that big of a deal. She just needs to get away from him once the elevator stops.
“Sir, I am not your date, I suggest you find someone else to accompany you.” She maintains her cool, taking a step back as the weirdo inches closer. He’s acting like a desperate romantic, though he seems a little old for that kind of thing.
“What are you talking about? I was so lucky to meet a pretty girl like you.” Her back hits the wall of the elevator, he’s closed in on her completely. His hand cups her face, his breath fansn across her skin. Her cheeks feel warm, whether from anger or embarrassment she’s not sure. He’s not unattractive, an older man with shoulder length light maple brown hair. But, regardless of looks, he’s being completely inappropriate.
“Sir, I’m working, I don’t have time for this nonsense.” Her words don’t seem to have any impact, caramel brown eyes busy taking in every detail of her face.
“Yeah, you’re just my type. This is fate.”
”I’d would hope fate wouldn’t be so cruel to me, sir.”
The elevator comes to a stop and the doors open behind him with a ding.
“Let’s go, princess!” His hand is back around her wrist and he pulls her out before she has a chance to fight. She tries to step back and pull, or twist her wrist out of his grip, but she can’t manage. Punching him still might get her fired, but they can’t expect her to just let a guest do whatever he wants. Why the hell is he so strong?!
“Let go of me, now!”
The noise of the ballroom drowns out her demand. She’s never been in the ballroom. She’s definitely never been in the midst of the I.V.C like this. The carpeting is a plush red, the walls have gold etchings, and white marble pillars are throughout the room. Everyone is dressed beautifully, perfectly tailored suits and designer gowns. They talk and sip from champagne flutes as they all bustle around. Spread of gourmet food are laid out, servers intermingle with the crowd, never letting a glass go empty for too long. An aquarium at the back of the room catches her eye, colorful fish swimming through crystal clear water, a dolphin passes through. The hotel owns a dolphin? She would have liked to know that. If the whole ordeal wasn’t a pretentious rich nightmare, she’d be into it. If only for the booze, food, and dolphin.
“Micchy!” A woman yells out and Tsuneko nearly slams into Stranger Danger’s back when he stops.. He lets go of her wrist and goes off towards the woman. All of this hullabaloo just to run off, he seems more like a hormone driven teenager than a grown man.
“Hey, do you have any champagne?” A voice asks just by her ear, their breath tickles and makes Tsuneko jolt. Her face feels hot as she turns to find the source; a man around her age with strawberry blonde hair and amber eyes. She’s clearly wearing a maid uniform, not a server’s.
“I do not.”
“You do work here, right? You’re looking around like Alice at the Mad Hatter’s tea party.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, he’s cute, but something is off about him.
“I’m going to level with you, sir. I’m not suppose to be here right now, sorry.”
“That’s fine, hope you make it out of Wonderland, Alice.” His fake smile turns into a genuine smirk right as he leaves. Yeah, he’s definitely off. Still, cute though. She decides to shake it off and starts on her way out of the ballroom. It’s gonna take her forever to deliver those packages at this rate.
A sweaty hand grabs her wrist, bringing her to a halt, what the fuck now? The world is truly testing her today. It’s a stocky man in a garish green suit, he leers and looks her up and down, her stomach churns.
“Mhmm, I love girls like you. You wanna come with me to give me some special room service? I’ll make sure to tip you for the extra work."
“Gross.”
“What was that?”
“This is a hotel, not a brothel, sir." She’s able to break away from him much easier and starts towards the door again, he’s not deterred.
“You’re pretty lucky you met me. My net worth is 500 million,” he tells her, reaching out to touch her, she dodges him.
“Not enough for my dignity, sir." Her blood boils, at least Stranger Danger had the decency not to treat her like a prostitute. Does he really think her and the rest of the girls here are so beneath him and desperate for cash?Her hands clench into tight fists, she’s not allowed to punch guests. An unfortunate fact at the moment.
“C'mon, everyone has a price.” His hand presses against her hips, fuck this guy. She spins to face him, she needs to stop this, if she doesn't he's just going to hound every other female employee, until he finds someone he can bully into it. She’s not letting that happen.
“Look here, sir! I don't have the time, energy, or desire to deal with you disrespecting me and the hotel. I assure you, there’s not enough money in the world to convince anyone here to touch your pathetic excuse for a dick. Now, get your disgusting grubby hands off of me!” The color drains from the man’s face, when did the ballroom get so quiet? Just a few whispers, it’s like when she bumped into-
“This party is getting trashy,” a deep and sadly familiar voice rings out over her shoulder, making her jump. The asshole from the lobby was behind her, a group of women cling to and hover around him. They glare at Tsuneko, but asshole is glaring at the pervert. The look he gave her in the lobby seems downright kind in comparison.
“Uh, I'm so sorry Mr. Ichinomiya,” the pervert apologizes and runs off. Ichinomiya, that sounds familiar, but she can't place it. She rattles her brain for a moment, but she can’t seem to find it. The headache she has coming on isn’t helping. His eyes find hers, now that the pervert’s gone, the contempt has waned. It feels more like he’s looking at a fly under a microscope, like he’s trying to dissect and understand her.
“You again.”
“You again,” she mimics without thinking, her patience with the day is gone. His expression grows angrier, same for his groupies. She bites her lip to hold back laughter, normally she’d be more polite, but she just called a guest’s dick pathetic, so she might as well mock Ichinomiya, whoever he is.
“Get out of my way.” This seems to be his favorite phrase.
”Happily.”
“I hate when people don't know there place,” one of the women says as they move past Tsuneko. She forces a smile, but rolls her eyes once they’re gone and starts another attempt to leave this god forsaken party.
Her shoulder knocks into someone, making them both stumble.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he assures her before going on about his business, as small as the exchange is, a friendly normal person feels like a breath of fresh air. Something on the ground catches her eye, a small good luck talisman. The cloth it’s in is a bit worn, black with small white rabbits. He must have dropped it when she bumped into him.
She tucks the charm into her pocket and finds his back in the crowd, she jogs after him. Calling after him does nothing, he either doesn’t hear her or doesn’t realize he’s who she means by ‘Sir’. His long legs take him further away quicker than her stubbier ones and she sees him go out door towards the back of the room. She manages to get through the door a few moments after.
The hall that greets her is absolutely empty, her heart sinks, he’s nowhere to be seen. Doors line the hallway, did he go into one of those rooms? She’d hate it if she wasn’t able to get it back to him. It’s clear he’s had it for a while, it must mean a lot to him. If push comes to shove, she may just have to put it in lost and found, but then there’s no way of knowing if he gets it back. She walks down the hallway, the dead silence is eerie after being surrounded by so much noise.
A few moments pass and she hears soft murmurs, they seem louder in the quiet hallway. There’s a door ajar, maybe that’s where he is, there’s a bounce in her step as she nears it. She peeks into the room; gunmetal glints in the low-light of the room. Suitcases filled with cash and guns are strewn across a table. Men in suits are standing around, speaking in a language she doesn’t understand. This is illegal, this is definitely illegal. Her breath catches in her throat, she’s seriously watching an arms deal right now.
The world goes out from under her feet and she’s spun around, her back slams against the wall. She’s at least a foot off of the ground, large hands pin her in place and sharp blue gray eyes glare at her. Her heart hammers in her chest, like it’s trying to escape her rib cage.
“What are you doing here?” His voice is harsh and demanding. A part of her wants to fight, but if he’s involved with what she just saw…. There’s no guarantee he’s not armed. She’s not keen on being murdered.
“I got lost looking for someone, sorry sir.” She doesn’t let her voice break and maintains eye contact. Showing her fear won’t help anything. He lets go of her and she falls to the ground, not too gracefully.
“You have five seconds to get out of here and forget everything you saw. Otherwise, you’ll be wiped off the face of the earth.”
“Understood.” She walks away, ignoring the impulse to run. Muscle memory leads her through the floor, the storage room shouldn’t be far away.
She steps inside, closing the heavy door behind her before she sits down on the floor. Her breath is shaky and she clutches her head in her hands, nails digging into the skin of her temples. What the hell is she suppose to do now?
She’s been threatened and there’s apparently gun deals going on in the hotel. People are getting hurt, there’s no way they aren’t if guns are involved. She can’t be certain how serious that man was about killing her. But, she doesn’t wanna test it and he didn’t seem like the kind of person to speak lightly.
Reporting it isn’t really an option; she has no evidence and there’s the whole being killed thing. Even if she is believed, if the hotel gets shut down, her and all her coworkers would be left without a job or home. Is the hotel even aware of this? Does Kenzaki or the owner know what’s going on here? Who even owns the hotel again? Some sort of CEO who’s head of a conglomerate group. What was it called again? Ugh, she can’t think straight.
She jolts to her feet, she needs to focus and get her shit together. Freaking out isn’t going to help anything. She needs to deliver those packages and go on with her work day, then she’ll drop the charm off in the lost and found. Work now, panic attacks later.
Tsuneko starts stacking up packages in her arms, her movements frantic and she nearly drops a few.. Her brain is a scrambled mess, she needs a dolly, she should have brought one over before stacking them in her arms. She’ll just carry the packages to the dolley, wherever the damn thing is. She can’t even see over the pile of boxes, she tries to look around them as she moves.
Something slams into her and knocks her back, the packages fall to the ground. A heavy thud rings out through the room, the sound of shattering follows. Her ass hurts and she can already feel the bruises forming. She’s spent the majority of this day on her ass.
“Fucking hell!” There are two men, they’re frenetic as they try to pry the lid off of a crate that’s fallen. She doesn’t recognize them, they’re not in any sort of Tres Spades uniform. Maybe they’re just here to move stuff?
The lid hits the floor with a clatter and she peeks inside, it’s filled with shards of what looks like broken glass. She can tell how high quality whatever the original object was from the quality of the material. It’s pristine and the light it catches reflects back iridescent.
“The statue's been smashed to pieces!” One of the men yells, his face turning red with rage.
“I’m sorry,” she struggles to keep her tone even, “I’ll talk to the manager, we’ll get it figured out.”
This entire day has been a mess, but if the worse thing to come out of it is having her pay docked for a decoration, she’ll be okay. It may be high quality, but she doubts a statue is worth too much. It’s just nice glass.
“This was the showcase piece for the auction! How are you going to pay for it!?”
“Look, I’m sorry,” she says again, but what do they mean by an auction? The men glare at her and creep closer, she takes a step back as chills run up her spine.
“You think an apology is going to cut it? You owe us?”
One of the men makes a grab at her and she throws a punch. Her fist connects with his nose in a spray of blood. The man staggers back and she makes a run for the door. His cohort gets in the way and pushes her back, knocking her flat on her ass.
“You really think you’re gonna get out of here that easy,” he taunts, standing over her.
The crate brushes against her as she scrambles away, she grabs a large shard of glass from it and buries it deep into the man’s thigh. He screams out and a gush of blood spurts out as she twists the shard out of his flesh. She clambers back up on her feet and makes another run for the door.
A weight slams into her back, her face smashes into the ground, her scream muffled. He presses his knee down on her back, his nails dig into the cuts on her hand as he rips the glass out of her grasp. One hand keeps her wrist pinned behind her, the other searches her pockets. She writhes and twists, trying to get out from under him, but it does nothing. He tugs her phone from her pocket and throws it across the room.
“I got an idea of how we can make our money back,” the other man says.
Wheels roll across the floor, stopping in front of her. She can’t wrench her neck up enough to see anything else. The man yanks her up on her feet and her heart sinks. A large golden bird cage glimmers on top of a dolly. Her throat tightens and her stomach churns.
“Do you just have this shit on stand by!?”
“Shut up.” The man in front of her opens the cage door, the other pushes her forward. She jerks back; kicks and stomps at the man’s feet. He digs his fingers into her hand again, pain jolts through her and her scream reverberate through the room. Taking advantage, he shoves her forward into the cage. Her hand sting as she catches herself, her head nearly smacking into the bars. They lock the door behind her, tears sting at the back of her eyes.
“She’s a little damaged, but she should still be worth something.” The men share a laugh at her expense, they can’t be serious. They can’t sell her, that’s ridiculous. She can’t get a deep enough breath, her lungs burn. She can hear the pounding of her heart, feel the thump of it against her ribs.
They roll her out of the room, slowly taking her through the halls of the hotel. It’s mostly empty at first, but slowly more people start to appear, moving random things. From art to what looks like a baby leopard, it’s a mishmash of things being carried through the halls. But, no one seems to care about her. It’s like this is just a normal everyday occurrence. She shakes the bars of the cage, they don’t budge at all, she yells out for help. Nothing. No one bats an eye.
“Hey, where’s the final item?!” A young man yells from beside a pair of double doors, inside it seems to be a backstage area. Her kidnappers start explaining that there’s been a change in item.
She pries a bobby pin out of her hair, it’s mostly lose already, her ponytail coming undone in the entire struggle. Taking advantage of her kidnappers distraction, she snaps the pin into two pieces and starts trying to pick at the lock. Her hand stings with every movement and she can’t clearly see the lock, but she’s desperate. If she can get it undone, she can make a break for it.
“What the hell-” His words are drowned out by Tsuneko’s howls of pain, his blunt nails dig into her open cuts pressing into tender skin and making more blood flow. The two broken pieces fall to the ground, he lets go after what feels like hours and she yanks her hand back, holding it close to her as she presses against the other side of the cage.
Her eyes sting, a few tears stream down her face. The men only laugh at her pain, she focuses on their injuries, the man’s broken nose and the steadily bleeding wound on the others thigh. It’s a small comfort to know at the very least, she gave as good as she got.
She’s rolled through the double door and her suspicions are confirmed, it’s definitely backstage of this auction, she presumes. As pointless as it is, a part of her is still hoping that’s a joke. It seems so unbelievable, like something out of a horror movie or a nightmare. She’s tries to steady her breathing, to calm down even a little bit. But, it’s all in vain. Her heart beat is frantic, she struggles to breath, her throat feels tight, and she struggles to keep more tears from falling.
The backstage is a bustle of activity as she’s taken to just beside the stage, still concealed from the audience, but she can look out and see what’s taking place. It’s a huge crowd of people, they watch the stage with rapt attention, faces concealed by masquerade masks. A man on stage talks and moves dramatically, dressed in what appears to be a mad hatter costume. His face painted a stark white and his eyes an unnaturally electric shade of blue.
A small clang catches her attention, she looks up and one of the men attaches a hanging chain to the top of the cage. Someone starts pulling somewhere and the chain starts to lift the cage off the dolly. Tsuneko yelps, if she’s suspended, her chances of escape become slimmer. It ascends higher and higher, until she knows that even if she could manage to shake the bars lose or bust the cage open, she’d fall and break something or bust her head open. The latter doesn’t seem like a bad option at the moment, at least it might kill her.
Slowly her cage is pulled to the side, taking her to center stage. Bright lights and eyes all trained on her. She’s really being auctioned off, someone is going to buy her.
“I present to you, our showcase item of the evening! A healthy young Japanese woman. Yes, that’s you!” The hatter gestures towards her with a flourish and bile rises in the back of her throat.
“Yeah, I caught that,” she screams back at him, kicking the cage. The bars still don’t budge, the gilded cage is firm and shows no sign of busting open.
“I’ll start the bidding at one million!”
Even if she managed to escape the cage and managed not to hurt herself in the fall, she’s surrounded by the crowd. There’s no way she can avoid being grabbed.
“Keep her as your slave, keep her as a toy! Do whatever you please with her, it’s truly up to you!” The hatter continues, not caring about her distress. She kicks and shakes the bars, at this point more an explosion of anger than a genuine attempt to escape, she screams in frustration. Tears prick at the back of her eyes and she doesn’t care enough to stop them anymore.
In the front row of the audience is a stocky man in a garish green suit, the masquerade mask does nothing to hide the pervert from the I.V.C. He grins and bids on her. She looks behind her and sees a screen just above her cage, a number on it rising more and more. More money than she’s ever seen. Her stomach churns and she kicks the cage again, no budging. The most she can do is make the cage sway back and forth, nothing shows any signs of breaking.
“She is a feisty one, all the more fun to break her,” the auctioneer taunts, all his actions colored with the flamboyance of a true showman.
“If I could reach you, I’d wring your fucking neck,” she screams, her throat raw from the force of it.
“Going once, going twice, sold to seat one hundred for twenty-million!” The hatter says as a bell dings, the number on the screen behind her has stopped. She can’t make out what seats are what numbers past the first couple rows. It’s not the pervert, he’s seat number five. But that doesn’t mean it’s anyone better.
The hatter closes out the auction; the lights die down and the curtains close. Tsuneko sits and pulls her knees to her chest, her cage lowers down. It’s settles back down on the stage with a small sound, it makes her feel just a tiny bit better, slightly less helpless than she was before. Someone is still staring at her, she can feel it, even while she’s curled up against herself. Peeking up, it’s the hatter. His harlequin style hatter costume is slightly unnerving, his unnaturally blue eyes are trained on her, his expressions seemingly curious. There’s something child like to it. Someone yells out and he jolts, like being woken up from a trance and goes scurrying off.
Her owner, her stomach churns at the the word, should be coming to collect her. Maybe, this will be a chance to escape. She’s not in the best state to fight, but maybe, just maybe, she’ll be able to take them down. She kicks again, a dull ache pulsing in her toes. She wipes away at tears, holding back sobs.
Footsteps echo out, growing closer and closer. Two men make their way to her cage, the small silver masks do nothing to hide their identities. At this point she has to wonder if they truly serve a purpose beyond aesthetic. She can tell right away it’s Stranger Danger in his bright red suit and the cute but off guy from the party. If it was just the latter, she’d be able to take him. He doesn’t seem particularly strong, shorter and thinner than Stranger Danger. But, she knows that the taller of the two was able to drag her around like a rag doll.
“This way.” Stranger Danger unlocks the cage door. She gives them wary glares as she stands on shaky legs and steps out of the cage. Tsuneko hides her injured hand in her pocket, not wanting to give them an easy target if they decide to hurt her.
The men stay quiet as they lead her to an elevator, the only one that goes to the penthouse. Sure enough, once they’ve stepped inside Stranger Danger pulls the penthouse elevator key from his pocket. The doors close and the carriage lurches into movement. She knew they were V.I.P’s, but not very many people have access to the penthouse. Sakiko has mentioned some people who stay their. An artist, who’s name escapes her, and the owner of the hotel. Who the hell owns this hotel again? She’s trying to rack her brain for that name again, Ishi, something? Her brain is fuzzy from everything going on. But, if she’s being taken to the penthouse, surely the owner is aware of what’s going on. It would be hard to hide the auctions, especially at that scale, from the person who owns the damn place.
It’s a silent tense elevator ride, Tsuneko racking her brain for an escape strategy. She already knows she can’t fight Stranger Danger, but maybe she could make a run for it when the elevator opens, go for the stairs. But, if the owner is involved, she wouldn’t get far. She doesn’t exactly have anywhere to go other than the employee dorms. Waiting for a better chance might be the best idea.
The elevator dings and stops, doors sliding open. She’s never seen the penthouse suites before. They step into the hallway, red carpeting and doors along the walls. A huge pair of double doors standing out among them. The only employee she knows of that has access here is Kenzaki, even Erika isn’t allowed in the penthouse.
The pair push open the double doors and Tsuneko follows, it’s a lounge. Lavish, with plush chairs and couches. A large set of of red carpeted stairs lead up to another level, a large window covers almost the entire expanse of a wall, showing a view of the Tokyo Bay. There’s an extravagant high tech television mounted on one of the walls. Two men are in the center of the lounge; both of which she recognizes. And there appears to be man passed out on one of the couches, he could be dead, she can’t be sure. The man who threatened to wipe her off the face of the earth and the asshole from the lobby, Ichinomiya, are in the center.
Ichinomiya. He’s the owner of the hotel. It hits her as hard as she hit the floor earlier. She sassed her boss. Prior to this auction nonsense, she’d be panicking, but the fear of upsetting her boss pales in comparison to the terror of being sold.
“We’ve brought her,” the cute but off guy announces, he doesn’t seem to have a care in the world. She’d like to punch him.
Ichinomiya sits on the red couch at the center of the lounge, crossing his legs as he looks her over. Him and the man who pinned her to the wall have intense stares, but she meets their gaze with the same ferocity. She’s not backing down.
“We bought you,” Ichinomiya states.
“I noticed.” Her response seems to amuse him, a smirk plays on his lips. She’s just happy her voice didn’t crack.
“So, we ended up catching you after all,” the tall man who pinned her comments, his dark hair is slicked back and his eyes are sharp. Even without him having her against a wall, he’s kind of intimidating, or perhaps it’s just the situation making him seem that way.
“You know this woman, Soryu?” Ichinomiya asks.
“You could say that.”
“He threatened to kill me.”
“Yeah, sounds like Sor,” Stranger Danger says with a laugh, pulling off his mask and adjusting his fedora. Cute but off guy pulls off his mask as well, both completely nonchalant..
“Look, you can’t actually buy me, this is stupid,” she decides to keep talking, maybe the more she talks the more it will all make sense and she’ll be able to get out of this.
“Anything and everything’s for sale at the auctions. If there’s someone out there to buy it, you can sell it. There are no rules,” Stranger Danger boasts, no one here seems to care about the abject horror she’s been through.
“Yep, you can get stolen art, secret information about politicians, even hire a hitman,” Cute but off guy adds.
“This is actually the first time a person’s ever been auctioned off, though,” Stranger Danger’s eyes seem to soften a bit as he looks over at her, a shred of empathy seeming to make its way through.
“You must have done something pretty bad, huh?” Followed by the apathetic question of cute but off guy.
“I accidentally broke some statue, that was apparently expensive, or whatever.”
“The statue of Venus. If it’s worth anything, it’s here,” Ichinomiya states with confidence.
“You’re reckless as always. This woman isn’t worth anything,” Soryu tells him.
“I agree, let me go home.”
“But, it’ll be fun thinking up ways to use her.” Cute but off guy is smirking, he’s a shit head it seems.
“No, it will not.”
“Who gave you permission to speak? Don’t open your mouth unless I say so,” Ichinomiya demands; she bites her lip and keeps her glare. She wants to strangle him, she wants to actually murder her boss. This fuckwit puts her through hell and doesn’t even wanna let her talk.
“If you got a problem with it, would you rather go back to number five?” Soryu asks with a smirk, at least none of them seem keen on violating her in that way, but she just glares at him. She needs to stay calm, as difficult as that is.
“C’mon now, Boss…Sor. You should be nice to girls,” Stranger Danger talks again, he’s calling Ichinomiya boss, too. He’s really the one she needs to get convince to let her go.
“Listen,” she starts, no one stops her, “there no reason to keep me. My existence does not benefit any of you in any way, shape, or form.”
“You’re just trying to lower your value,” cute but off dude chimes in, he’s getting less cute and more gremliny with every annoying word.
“Besides, a cute girl has plenty of benefits.” Any brownie points Stranger Danger earned have vanished, his comment and wink makes her grimace.
“I sincerely hope you aren’t desperate enough to waste twenty-million on getting your dick wet.” She levels a glare at him.
“Looks like she already has you figured out, Baba,” Gremlin, as he’s now being dubbed, says through a laugh.
“You wound me, princess.” Stranger Danger, Baba apparently, responds with a dramatic sorrowful expression.
“You know about the auctions,” Soryu takes back control of the conversation, “we can’t have you running off and telling someone.”
“No worries, I haven’t suffered recent brain damage.” Though her face feels significantly bruised after being slammed against the floor, Soryu raises an eyebrow at her, “Worst case scenario, you kill me and best case scenario I end up unemployed and homeless. I have no proof, police wouldn’t believe me and you’d kill me for talking. Even if they did, if the owner of the hotel goes to jail then the hotel goes under and I’m out of my job and housing. I’m not stupid enough to bite the hand that feeds me.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Ichinomiya smirks “you didn’t seem too friendly earlier.”
“To be fair, I didn’t know who you were, so,” his glare harshens, but she’s not done talking, “look, I don’t even have a phone to call the police. I’ll sign an NDA, confidentiality agreement or whatever, I’ll give you the legal right to screw me over if I even think about telling people about the auctions. There’s no reason to keep me, I’m not worth twenty-million, I assure you.”
Soryu looks to Ichinomiya, he almost seems to be on board with her idea. Maybe he’s not that awful, if he supports getting her out of here.
“Boring!” Gremlin complains, she could wring his fucking neck, but she keeps her eyes focused on Ichinomiya. He makes the decisions here, that’s painfully clear.
“No,” Ichinomiya says as he gets up from the couch, “I determine your worth.”
“What!?” Her voice breaks more than she’d like it to, indignancy ruining her composure.
“We bought you, you belong to us. End of story. You’ll be staying in Soryu’s suite for the night, he’ll assure you don’t go running off.” He’s still smirking, despite the fact that Soryu looks absolutely pained. Ichinomiya leaves up the twisted staircase, pulling out his phone as he does so.
“Man, Soryu gets to play with Koro first, not fair,” Gremlin pretends to whine, but he’s smirking; who the fuck is Koro?
“Time for introductions,” Baba winks at her, “what’s your name princess?”
“.…Tomori Tsuneko,” she murmurs, she feels completed defeated, there has to be a way out of this mess.
“Pretty name for a pretty girl. I’m Baba Mitsunari. I’m a thief, 35, single and ready to mingle. You can call me Micchan, Micchy, whatever you want.”
“Baba it is.”
“Pfftt, rejected. I’m Kisaki Ota, people call me the angelic artist,” Gremlin introduces himself.
“You already know Boss, so it’s Sor and Mamo’s turn,” Baba says, looking at the far less enthusiastic men.
“Kishi Mamoru,” The apparently not dead guy finally sits up and lights a cigarette.
“He’s a cop or unemployed, who knows?” Baba grins, “And the tall quiet guy is Oh Soryu, leader of the Ice Dragons.” Soryu looks so pained, you’d think he was the one who was just bought.
“Ice Dragons…?”
“Mafia,” Kisaki explains, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“Enough of this,” Oh says curtly, “follow me, since I’m stuck babysitting you.” He strides out of the lounge without giving her another look.
“Sor’s kinda shy. You better go after him before he locks the door on you,” Baba tells her and she scurries off after Oh, who leads her down the halls towards one of the suites. She has to speed walk to keep up with his pace.
He’s stiff and rude, but if she’s being entirely honest, he’s pretty low of her current shit list. At the very least, he seems just as keen on getting her out of here as she is. His biggest concern seems to be keeping the auctions secret; she already told them she wouldn’t blab, but she gets the feeling if she steps out of line he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. And the fact he still seems like one of the lesser evils here despite that, really says something.
She’s follows him into his suite, it’s easily five times the size of her dorm. They step into the living room, more than likely where she’ll be sleeping. The couch looks comfy, she’ll manage for the night. Oh starts pulling off his jacket, then unbuttoning his shirt. She catches a glimpse of bare muscles before she turns around, offering him something resembling privacy. It might seem naive, but she doesn’t think he gonna try anything, he seems pained by her presence let alone trying to touch her. Footsteps ring out, Oh walking past her shirtless. He’s in really good shape.
“Don’t get any weird ideas.” He steps into another room, a moment passes and then running water. Sounds like a shower, couldn’t he have started stripping down in the bathroom? She doesn’t really understand the point of the peepshow, she decides not to ponder on it too long and instead lets out a heavy breath.
She slumps onto the couch, exhaustion settling in to take the place of her anxiety. Running away isn’t an option, despite how tempting it is, the Ichinomiya Group has the power and money to find her anywhere. She’s not sure how far reaching the mafia is and she doesn’t want to find out. Even so, she has no intention of giving up. She’s got to convince Ichinomiya to let her leave. Though, clearly it isn’t happening tonight.
Tsuneko looks at her hand, surveying the damage done by the glass. It’s starting to throb and ache more. The largest mark is a nasty gash across her palm, then smaller cuts around her fingers. It hurts more when she bends or flexes them, but the slash across her palm is more concerning. She doesn’t think it needs stitches, but she isn’t a doctor, so who knows.
Something glints and catches her eye, from under the chair. She leans over to get a closer peek and her blood runs cold, it’s a gun. It’s not shocking, he was the one who threatened her after she saw the gun deal. But, she still can’t help being afraid. The potential of him killing her seems even more viable.
The water stops, doesn’t seem like a long shower, a minute or two tops. She tucks her hand back in her pocket and presses her back closer against the couch as the bathroom door opens. His hair is no longer slicked back, soft around his face, but it doesn’t look wet.
“You didn’t try to run away.” He was just testing her.
“I’m not stupid.” She can’t help the vitriol in her tone.
“That remains to be seen,” that earns him a glare, “As long as you keep behaving, I won’t do anything bad to you.”
“Got it.”
He walks around the couch to stand in front of her, she presses further into the back of the couch, he’s in her space. Oh cages her in, arms on each side of her head and hands on the top of the couch, he leans in until they’re almost nose to nose. She bites her lip and meets his glare, her face feels hot.
“I have no idea what Eisuke’s thinking, but let's make this clear. You better not tell anyone what you saw today. No matter what. Telling anyone else is the same as signing your own death warrant. Yours, your friend’s, and your family’s.”
“Got it.”
“You can use the living room and bathroom, just don’t come near my bedroom,” he tells her as he pulls away, gathering his discarded shirt and jacket.
”Understood. What about work? If I’m not there tomorrow people will get suspicious.” She’s not sure if they actually would, if any of them would care enough to notice, but any excuse to leave in the morning sounds good.
“You work as a maid here, right?”
“Yes.”
“As long as you remember to keep your mouth shut and don’t go running off, it’ll be fine. Understood?”
She nods as Oh leaves into another room, she assumes the bedroom. Tsuneko pulls off her shoes, her feet ache just a bit. He told her she could use the bathroom and a shower sounds nice, but she doesn’t have anything to change into. Plus showering in an unfamiliar place doesn’t sound too pleasant. There’s a shower in the employee locker room, she’ll wait til morning.
She curls up on the couch, carefully finding a position that won’t hurt her hand. A yawn escapes her, she needs to think of ways to get out of this, but she’s too exhausted to think straight. The whole ordeal has drained every last bit of energy she has. She closes her eyes and slowly drifts off to sleep.
#kbtbb#kissed by the baddest bidder#eisuke ichinomiya#Soryu Oh#mamoru kishi#mitsunari baba#ota kisaki#kbtbb eisuke#kbtbb soryu#kbtbb mamoru#kbtbb baba#kbtbb ota#black market wonderland
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🎊day 7🎉
i have officially gone a week without vaping!
this might seem kinda stupid. i know vaping is such a meme and just something dumb kids do (and like... ya not wrong) but as far as nicotine content goes, i was basically smoking a pack of cigarettes a day before i quit. and i wasn’t even a smoker to begin with. i only got addicted to nicotine through vaping.
now, i get cravings for something, but i don’t remember what it is. when i get a headache, my brain doesn’t say “i need to vape”, it just kind of whines that it’s missing something for a few seconds and then calms down. in just a week my body forgot that vaping is where it got nicotine, it just knows that it used to get more of it.
obviously, this is not the end of the road. i still have 9 weeks on this nicotine patch program, and starting step 2 (which decreases the strength of the patch by 1/3) will probably be just as difficult for the first few days as when i stopped vaping altogether. but now i know what to expect, and the benefits of tossing my vape are already beginning to show.
in the meantime, i still need to figure out if the tumor in my lung is actually trying to fuck my shit up, or if it’s just a lil friend i get to carry around.
i also probably won’t do daily updates anymore, just because i don’t wanna crowd the dashboard with my issues. but it was an essential step to making it through this first week, and i think it really helped to have to document my progress, so i think i’ll do weekly updates from now on if only to keep me on track of everything.
here’s to 9 more weeks 🥳
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Griffenholm Confessionals: Demons
Warnings: SMUT. BLOOD. VIOLENCE. Knife play. Triggers in tags.
Collaboration fic with the lovely ladies: @ivarsshieldmadien @akamaiden @ivarswickedqueen
Catch up with the MASTERLIST
“What are you doing up here by yourself?” Ubbe smirks extending his pack of cigarettes to her. Aurora doesn’t respond at first curious at to why the brother was even in the same place as her. The upper part of the Barn was seemingly quiet and empty.
Ubbe withdraws his invitation for a cigarette and lights his exhaling the puff of smoke into the air. “Do you not talk or is it just to me?” He leans against the railing looking down at the lights. And still she says nothing. “I guess you just don’t talk. But I am curious to see what kind of noises you make Aurora.”
Her eyes widen, and she stands walking through his cloud of smoke to the door. “I do speak.” She says as hits the door. “Just not to jackasses.”
A chuckle escapes from Ubbe as he turns and grins at her. “Is that right?” He laughs.
Aurora heads quickly down the steps, overwhelmed by the sting of nicotine in the air and some other smell that she was certain was weed. This school was wilder than she had ever imagined. The music thumped through the speakers rattling the wooden walls and doors, she just needed some quiet.
“Hey new chick!” Mia says pushing three people out of her way to get to her. She twiddles the blunt in her hand and raises her eyebrows at Aurora inquisitively. “Hvitserk and I are going to have some fun tonight… wanna join?”
“Fun?” Aurora didn’t catch the subtle hints Mia was giving dipping in her shoulder and twirling her finger around her long strands of hair.
“You couldn’t be that naïve sweetheart. Tell you what, think about it and when this is all over call me.” She takes the slender iPhone from Aurora saving her number in it. “The name is Mia. And you shouldn’t be walking around at the best party this school has seen in years confused. Grab a fucking beer, get some dick in you and calm yourself. The night has just started.” She winks and kisses her on the cheek. “And I have plans for you myself.”
Aurora swallowed looking down at her saved contact. These people were fucking demons but she couldn’t lie. She was intrigued by her offer. She’d informally now seen all the fucking Lothbroks. Aurora took some of Mia’s advice grabbing a cup of the red punch and navigating throughout the place trying not to look as terrified and offset as she was in actuality. She hits the steps of the barn heading to a dark room and there he was again.
Ivar sat on the bench peering down at the same girl she’d watched him fuck two weeks prior. She was whimpering his name over and over and Aurora crouches down and she can see his fingers pumping in and out of her methodically. They were thick stretching her making her cry out every five or six strokes. Aurora’s mouth opens slightly intrigue once again with the attention Ivar paid to her.
“What have I told you about following me huh?” His voice though filled with lust is venomous. He shoves her legs apart more so that they are draping both sides of the bench. Her back is arched from the flat surface. He pumps his fingers into her faster and a grin forms as his free hand traces over his name on her lower stomach. “How’s that feel kitten?” He whispers. She doesn’t answer and his hand travels up to her neck. “Answer me, or the next cut will be in your fucking neck.” The threat was sincere.
“Good Ivar.”
“You want to feel even better, kitten.” He withdraws his fingers sucking the glistening liquid from them. “Come take a ride? Kate.” He grins.
Aurora nearly laughs remembering that wasn’t her name. The view was intriguing as Kelly straddled him lower herself onto his dick. She gasps throwing her head back immediately as he stretches her. His heavy hands smack her ass and she begins to bounce on him. Aurora was grateful to have worn the skirt as her fingers push pass the seam of her underwear and pass her already drenched folds. Ivar thrusts up into her quickly still gripping her neck and making melodic grunts with each entry.
“Fuck Kate.” He smiles. “You seem tighter for me, kitten. Have you been holding out for me?”
She shakes her head yes winding her hips slowly on him and then starting to shake. Ivar stops mid thrust. “No, no, no.” He pushes her chin up and her eyes lock in on him. “You don’t fucking cum without permission.” He sneers slamming into her.
Aurora’s fingers circle her own clit at the site of his cruelty. Ivar slams her against the bench and Aurora feels a mist settle over her body as she pushes her fingers into herself curling with each stroke. She nearly can contain her yelps of pleasure watching him pound into her relentlessly and Kelly’s strangled cries for more. The sound of their skin slapping faster aids her and she feels her body tighten with a delicious climax and slides against the wall.
Ivar isn’t done with her, even though Kelly has early fell apart. He continues to fuck her until she nearly falls off of the bench. Aurora still circles her clit slowly feeling the hum of another orgasm surface. Ivar reaches into his pants pocket retrieving the knife from before and presses it to her neck. Aurora’s heat rate increases, and she watches in awe as he drags the tip of the knife down her chest and then back up to her neck. He presses the knife to her throat slashes. The sound of the blood spatter and Ivar coming is rousingly disturbing but he doesn’t stop fucking into her as the blood pools to the ground beneath them. Aurora shatters again with tears welled in her eyes. They were fucking demons.
A hand gently touches her shoulder and she peers up at wide eyes to Ubbe who has his hand placed over his mouth gesturing her to be quiet. He pulls her up taking her panties from the floor and shoving them in his pocket. “You’re not so innocent after all.” He smiles. “Say nothing to no one about this,” He whispers. “Get the fuck out f here before there are two dead women tonight.”
She heeds the warning running up the stairwell and colliding with Mia. “Sorry.” She says still startled.
“Don’t be sorry, honey. I was coming to get you. We need to properly welcome you to Griffenholm.
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Endless Summer Book 4 : Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 31)
Description: Before he can make his next move, Caleb must face the leader of his new gang. Meanwhile, Alodia and Tahira make Thanksgiving plans.
Tagging: @xo-endlessmayhem-xo ; @princesstopgun ; @mysteli ; @endlesshero1122 ; @whatmcsaid
Chapter 31 : Lines of Loyalty
Caleb
The next phase of my plan requires finesse. Precision. It requires subterfuge, which I am not a fan of. I recognize the necessity of it sometimes, but it always feels dishonest. I mean, subterfuge is always dishonest, that's the whole point. But what I mean is that it feels like a compromise. Playing by the rules of the corrupt system, even if I'm privately defying them. Letting them believe they have my support, even if it's only temporary. I would much rather come storming in and make a bold statement. I want them to know why their shit is falling apart in front of them, and I want them to know right away. I want them to know it was me.
Gigi would argue that you can still get all that same satisfaction from subterfuge if you do it right, but I'm still skeptical. Speaking of the psychobitch, if I'm gonna do this subterfuge thing right, I have to keep her from getting suspicious. I've been making sure to check in with one of her spies on the edge of Bayside every couple of days, but I know that I can't stay in Northbridge indefinitely. The longer I delay going back to the squatter nest and giving her something concrete, the more suspicious she'll get, and the more likely I am to end up neck-deep in particularly rancid shit. The closer I get to the probable deadline, the faster I go through my Camels. I make what I estimate to be my third stop at that convenience store to stock up for the road with a six-pack each of beer and generic cola, a fresh pack of Camels, and a couple of those burritos—which I think actually has to be laced with crack or something because convenience stores should not have burritos this good.
Just like the last two times, the dark-haired kid is behind the counter, and his grizzled old biker manager rings out the beer and smokes before slumping back to the storeroom. I cast a critical eye over the kid while he finishes ringing up the cola and burritos. I find my gaze drawn to the racks of candy under the counter and impulsively grab a bag of gummy bears to toss on my pile.
“Those too.”
“Sure thing.” The kid scoops up the gummy bears, scanning them and dropping them in the plastic bag with the rest of my shit. He gives me my total and I pull out a slim wad of bills from my pocket, peeling off a twenty. I hold it out to him, reaching into the bag to pull out the Camels.
“So...do you live here or something?” Tapping the pack against my palm, I read the nametag pinned to the front of the kid's polo. “...Dylan?”
Dylan plucks the twenty from between my fingers, looking reproachfully at me. “Of course not.”
“So, I look back in that storeroom, I'm not gonna find your four kids and a dog?” I pull the tab on the cellophane cover. It crackles angrily as I tug off the top half. The heat in the store is on full blast to combat the cold November air constantly streaming through the doors, and the dry air makes the cellophane stick to my hand more than usual. Dylan eyes the pack in my left hand as I shake my right furiously, trying to dislodge the clear wrapper.
“Those things'll kill you, you know,” he mutters.
I roll my eyes. “Oh, golly gee, will they? I didn't know that because I've lived my whole life in a goddamn cave, and I can't actually read this warning label right here on the pack! Fuck off. Unlike you, I'm an adult.”
Dylan grumbles a reply that sounds like a warning not to light up inside, and jabs a button on the cash register. I grunt and stuff the pack in my pocket with the inner foil still sealed, giving my cellophane-draped hand another shake. I hold my left hand out for my change, and Dylan grudgingly counts it out into my palm, dropping the coins on top.
“Hey, you know what else'll fucking kill you? Skipping lunch near daily. Probably at about the same rate as smoking. I dunno, I'm no doctor.” I finally paw the cellophane off on the rim of the plastic bag and grab it by the handles, dropping the handful of coins and singles back on the counter. “Keep the change. Buy yourself one of these crack burritos. Seriously, convenience store food has no business being this good.”
Before he can reply, I stalk out the door and into the biting cold, the door's tiny brass clapper bell trilling behind me.
* * *
Traffic is bad getting out of the city, so the whole drive to Squatterville takes over an hour. Enough time for me to puff through half the pack. I'm driving a junker of a minivan that's at least as old as I am, so old that it doesn't even have a CD player. Just a cassette slot. But I did manage to find an old-fashioned cassette adapter and portable CD player last time I went looking for the kind of obsolete electronics that a guy in my position can actually afford. I put on a burned CD of a bunch of songs from a bunch of those rock metal bands out of northern Europe, the ones with the female lead singers and their reality-defying powerhouse voices ringing out over electric guitars, drums, and epic orchestras. I turn the volume up as much as I can stand, put the heater on full blast, and lower the driver's side window. I spend the journey smoking, tapping ashes off the end of my cigarette through the open window, and tossing the butts out onto the road. In between cigarettes, I scarf down two burritos and guzzle three colas. I toss the wrappers and empty cans into the dark space behind the front seats, where I rarely look. The nicotine coursing through my blood keeps me calm enough on the drive, but as I get closer to Squatterville, closer to Gigi, I start wishing I'd bought another pack.
Gotta keep sight of the goal. The goal right now is to buy myself some more time. I need something to tell Gigi so she'll let me go back to Northbridge for awhile. Something close enough to the truth to be convincing, but far enough that she won't get wind of what I'm really doing. Something to grab her interest enough that she'll let me go on with it, but not enough that she'll want to come along for the ride. Squatterville is fast approaching. I may have to wing it a little.
I turn off the main road onto a quiet side road. The side road turns to crumbling pavement, then gravel, dirt, and finally nothing more than a grassy path cut into the trees with two long barren ruts permanently worn into it by countless tires passing over. I park on the side of a hill and tuck the half-empty pack of Camels in the inner pocket of my jacket, zipping up against the chill. I shove the gummy bears into one hip pocket, and all the cash and change I have on me into the other. Unable to put it off any longer, I climb out of the car and make my way up the hill into the trees.
The sun is already starting to sink in the sky, and the trees make long, stark shadows that obscure the uneven path. I step carefully, not quite willing to use the emergency flashlight that dangles from my keyring. One of the other squatters will spot me and let Gigi know I'm coming, if she's at home. No need to alarm anyone. If someone particularly twitchy is on guard, startling them could mean I end up with a knife stuck somewhere in me or worse.
I can make out a few signs that she's home as I trudge toward the abandoned houses. She's got her own little code of symbols and signs that she'll trace in the dirt or spell out with sticks or pebbles to let us know where she is. I also hear movement in the trees that I'm pretty sure isn't being caused by animals. It's almost dark by the time I reach the cluster of abandoned houses. A small campfire burns in the small no man's land between the treeline and the edge of the nearest house. Gigi stands beside it, watching me approach with a smirk on her pretty face.
I gotta be real, Gigi is...unfathomably good-looking. She's got this creamy, pale skin, these full, pouting lips that she emphasizes with deep red lipstick, clear blue eyes, and long waves of silky auburn hair. How she stays so flawless is a mystery, living the way we do, but I'm guessing she spends at least half the time she disappears working on her appearance. ...Or maybe she just has good genes. However she does it, she at least knows how to use what nature has given her. She wears form-fitting black clothes that hug the curves of her hourglass figure, and heeled boots to emphasize her shapely calves and ass, as well as add a couple inches to her height. She looks like the kind of woman you know you shouldn't tangle with, but you kinda want to anyway. You wanna know what makes her tick, even if you don't think you'll like the answer, or the experience of finding out.
She licks her lips in a way that reminds me of a hungry wolf. She's got the large split ring on the end of a teddy bear keychain around her index finger, and she twirls it around her finger as she watches me approach.
“Well, well, well. Look who the cat dragged in. Welcome back, Pyro.”
I exhale slowly. “Hey, G...how's tricks?”
She pulls a face, pushing her lower lip into an exaggerated pout. “Aww, Pyro. You know by now that I don't turn tricks. I don't need to.” She grins, catching the teddy bear in her palm. “Step into my office.”
She leads me into one of the old ranch houses, into the master bedroom, which she has claimed as her space. Besides a queen-sized mattress on the floor, she also has a beat up old office desk and swivel chair. The desk is metal and tends to give electric shocks in the winter. She flips a switch on a portable generator. Light from the work lamps mounted on the walls floods the room. She turns to face me.
“Arms out, Pyro.”
I sigh, grudgingly holding my arms out to the side. I've gotten used to this routine by now. She approaches and pushes her hands into my hip pockets. She pulls the money out of my left pocket and throws it on the desk without looking too hard. She's found the bag of gummy bears in the other pocket, and her face has lit up with glee. She pulls out the bag and rips it open, digging out a small handful. For a moment, she just gazes down at the colorful pile of candy in her palm, a wolfish grin on her face. She selects a green bear and sniffs it before putting it to her lips and sucking it into her mouth. I watch for a minute or so while she savors each chewy little bear.
“Uh...can I put my arms down?” Gigi holds up one finger, slowly chewing. I sigh, rolling my eyes. “G, come on. My shoulders are getting sore.”
Gigi finishes the handful and sticks her hands into my jacket pockets. Finding nothing in the outer pockets, she searches the inner ones and comes up with my cigarettes. I close my eyes, trying not to audibly groan.
“Camels?” At the sound of her voice, I open my eyes to find her arching an eyebrow at me. “You know I prefer Winston's.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, G, well you know what? I prefer Camels, and I didn't get them for you.”
She chuckles, pulling one out and sticking the filtered end between her teeth. For a moment, she looks at me, and I know she's debating whether or not she should make me light it for her. Apparently deciding against it, she produces a lighter printed with images of the Powerpuff Girls from her jacket pocket and lights up. I should have bought a few more packs, stashed them in the dark in the back of my van. But I know the one time I do will be the one time she decides to send one of her broken goons to search it. So now I'm watching her puff through my nicotine stash, and I don't even know if she's gonna let me go to get more any time soon. She exhales a pungent cloud and leans back against her desk.
“So, where have you been, Pyro? It's been awhile.”
I take this as a cue that I can finally put my arms down. “Northbridge. Didn't Roach tell you as much?”
“Of course. But you were extremely vague about what you were doing. Enlighten me.”
Okay, Caleb. Here goes nothing. “I was looking into the Prism Crystal. You've probably heard that Dragonness and Silas Prescott have both returned alive.”
“I had heard that, yes. What's it to do with you?”
“G, I can conjure flames because I came in contact with the Prism Crystal. I've heard speculation that injecting himself with liquid prism has given Silas Prescott a brain tumor. I just want to know if that's gonna happen to me.”
She regards me critically for a moment, taking another drag on the cigarette between her teeth and exhaling the smoke. She moves around the desk to sit on the other side, propping her feet up on top of it.
“What did you find out?”
“Not a whole lot.” I shove my hands in my pockets, choosing my next words carefully. “...Except that I think the Prism Crystal might be linked to the Island's Heart.”
Gigi glances up sharply, icy blue eyes narrowing. “...Of course they're linked. I know they're linked. I've always known. ...Are you saying you have proof?”
“Not on me. But yeah. I saw an old security video inside one of Prescott's facilities. From like, twenty-five years ago. He let it drop that the prism crystal came from La Huerta.”
“...But you didn't take the tape?”
“Well, no. I was in a hurry to get outta there. But the important thing is that we know, right?”
Predictably, she scowls at me. “No. Of course that's not the important thing. For all I know you're lying to me. And if you're not, Prescott or one of his loyal dogs could have erased that footage or destroyed it.”
I sigh, trying to arrange my features into something contrite. “...You're right. I fucked up there. But I think I know how to set it right.”
“And how is that?”
“Dragonness. I worked with her once, and I met with her again while I was in Northbridge. I think she's got more information on both the Prism Crystal and the Island's Heart. Thing is...she's not really feeling all that trusting toward me right now since I didn't stick with her little gang of corporate tools once the dust had settled.”
“And...what do you suggest?”
“Let me go back to Northbridge and work her a little while. I save a few kittens from trees, help a few old ladies cross the street, get back on her good side...”
Gigi snorts. “And you assume she's just gonna spill on everything then?” she sneers. “No. No way it's gonna be that easy.”
“Okay, probably not. Might take awhile. But I think she knows something about Alodia Chandler.”
Once again, Gigi rises to the bait, narrowing her eyes at me. “...Like what?”
“Like why Rourke was so crazy obsessed with her. What she's got to do with the infamous Island's Heart.”
Gigi is silent for a long time. I watch the Camel get shorter between her lips. This is a particularly dangerous bluff. I don't know if Tahira actually knows shit about Alodia. I have a suspicion she does, but that's all it is.
“...Alodia Chandler is the one who killed me.”
“I know. You told me.”
“...But why should that matter to you?”
This question I can answer honestly. “It doesn't. What matters to me is figuring out the Prism Crystal. I am hoping that the chance to find some shit out about Alodia is appealing enough to you that you'll let me off the hook for awhile so I can play the hero in Northbridge and gain Dragonness' confidence.”
“Let you off the hook,” she drawls, tapping an ash off the end of the cigarette. “But I assume you want me to keep you on the payroll.”
“I get how that could be a damned inconvenience. But it would be appreciated if you were able.”
“If I were able to keep paying you for jobs you aren't actually contributing to? If I were able to go out of my way to arrange for payments to be dropped while you play errand boy to a bunch of superpowered busy-bodies?”
I ignore the jab, spreading my hands in a pose like surrender. “Like I said. I get how it could be a damned inconvenience. I can make my own way if necessary.”
Gigi is quiet for awhile, considering. Then she shakes her head. “No. You work off my payroll, there's no guarantee you're not aiming to break with me.”
I can't help smirking ruefully. “Break with you, G? Never.”
She ignores me, pinning me with an ice-blue glare. Her gaze doesn't leave my face as she snuffs out the Camel on the surface of her desk with over an inch left before the filter. Watching it is almost physical agony. She must realize it, because she smirks.
“We'll arrange a drop. But you get half your usual cut, so you better make it stretch.” She drags the bag of gummy bears toward her and pierces one with the nail of her index finger, bringing it to her mouth. “I'll let you do your thing, Pyro. But you better deliver. Fire magic or not, I can make you sorry if you cross me.”
I nod. As completely batshit cracked as it may sound, I believe her. I totally fucking believe her.
Alodia
Not long past noon on Tuesday morning, I'm enjoying a leisurely lunch at the kitchen table, flipping through a dance magazine, when my phone rings. Michelle's name flashes on my screen. I tap the phone a couple times to put her on speaker.
“Hey, Michelle. What's up?”
“Hey, Alodia. I just got home from work, and I wanted to check up on you before I get some sleep.”
I feel a frown crease my brow, and I'm glad we're not video chatting. “Okay, I know I said I was okay with you being a little alarmist about my health, but I also happen to know you work twelve-hour shifts. I promise you, I can wait until you've gotten some sleep.”
“And I happen to know that you trust me more than your own OB-GYN, in spite of the fact that my speciality is neurology. We'll both feel better if you just tell me what she said at your appointment yesterday.”
“Well, she agrees with you that it's probably nothing to worry about, just the uterus pressing on the nerves, all very normal. She ran all the tests she thought were necessary and nothing unusual is going on.”
“And the baby's healthy?”
“Well, she didn't take an ultrasound or anything. Mostly because I feel confident saying that River's alive and enthusiastically kickboxing in there. I've got the big ultrasound scheduled for after Thanksgiving, and that's when we'll learn the sex.”
“Well, that's exciting. Are you going to tell us when you find out? Or are you gonna let Raj and Craig grow the pool a little more first?”
I laugh. “Of course we'll tell you all. At some point, they're gonna have to start betting on when I deliver, aren't they?”
“Almost certainly.” She pauses for a moment. “Are you cleared to travel for Thanksgiving then?”
“Yeah. But that doesn't exactly stop Jake from being nervous about me traveling on a public airplane while pregnant. Says they're flying cesspools, especially when they're packed with holiday travelers.”
“He's not wrong, you know. Why not just get a charter flight from Aleister and Estela? You know they'd be happy to arrange it. They do have other pilots besides Jake and Mike on their payroll.”
“Because his parents are going to be picking us up from the airport, and I want everything to feel as normal as possible when I first meet them. I mean, our whole situation is going to be hard enough for them to swallow without adding in that we have powerful friends who can arrange charter flights right off the bat.”
“The strangeness of your situation won't matter so much once they meet you,” Michelle declares confidently. “They're going to love you. Especially when they realize how much you love their son.”
“Aww, thanks. How is everything on your end?”
She is quiet long enough that concern stirs in my gut. Finally, she sighs. “Oh...you know...”
“That...doesn't make it sound like things are going well.”
“It's nothing serious. I'm just a little burned out right now. ...Burned out and bummed out...”
“What's going on?”
“It's really nothing. I've been switching shifts and covering shifts like crazy to get the time off to come to California for the New Year, and then to actually get married in March, so I haven't had a lot of time outside of work.”
“Well, that explains the burnout. But why the bum-out?”
“Well, both Sean and I have to work on Thanksgiving. The Condors have the Thanksgiving game again, and Tricia's going to be going to watch, and I'm working from noon to midnight, so there's not much chance the three of us will get to share Thanksgiving as a family this year. Plus, you're in California with Jake and Diego, Estela and Quinn are in San Trobida, Craig and Zahra are having Thanksgiving with his family, Raj is in Rome, Aleister and Grace have gone back to London...”
“So, you and Sean are the only Catalysts in Northbridge for Thanksgiving?”
“Exactly. I guess I'm just feeling lonely. I miss you all. ...I guess that's the one thing I'll always miss about La Huerta, is having everyone right there.”
“I know what you mean. I'm really looking forward to New Year's Eve and having all the Catalysts back together, even if it's only for a night.”
“But that's more than a month off yet...” The weight of melancholy in her voice makes my heart squeeze. She sounds exhausted. Dispirited.
“Aww, Michelle...”
“Don't you start worrying about me, Alodia,” she chides gently. “You look after that baby of yours.”
“I'm gonna take some time off in January or February to come to Northbridge before the wedding,” I promise. “If only to get properly fitted for my dress. And I'm already making plans for your bachelorette party in March.”
“As long as those plans don't involve you drinking, I look forward to them.”
After a couple more minutes, we say our goodbyes and hang up so that Michelle can get some rest. I sit at the table for awhile, staring at my phone. The conversation has left me...unsettled. I'm not worried about Michelle per se. At least...I'm not worried that she's falling into an emotional pit, or that she's suffering anything more insidious than a combination of burnout and disappointment at having to spend the holiday apart from her family. Still, I don't like hearing her sound so tired and unhappy.
I have no idea what Sean's training schedule is going to be like right now, but I take a chance and call him. He picks up.
“Hey, Alodia. What's up?”
“Hey, Sean. Hope I'm not interrupting a practice or anything?”
He chuckles. “Trust me, if you had called during a practice, I wouldn't have answered because I value my life. I'm actually just at the grocery store. ...Is everything okay?”
“It's all okay on my end. But I just spoke to Michelle.”
There's a pause. “Yeah...?”
“I don't know. She just seems...really down right now. She was talking about how you both have to work on Thanksgiving, and how she's covering a lot of extra hours to be able to come for New Year's...I guess I'm just kinda concerned.”
He sighs. “Yeah. I don't really blame you. You know how she is when she's got a goal. She doesn't give herself nearly as much slack as she should.”
“Not unlike you in that way,” I quip.
I can practically hear the wry smirk in his voice, “Hey, there's a reason we connected at Hartfeld. Two aces at the top of our respective games, biting off way more than we could chew...many a romantic evening we spent pulling all-nighters together.”
“But you've learned to give yourself some breathing room at least...to give yourself credit and not carry the burden all on your own...”
“So has she,” he says gently. “You know her, Alodia. You know what she needed most back then, what her biggest weakness was.”
“She didn't trust people. She wasn't willing to need anyone.”
“Just the fact that she told you she was feeling upset shows how far she's come, doesn't it?”
I am quiet for a moment, thinking this over. I suppose it is encouraging that even though she called to check up on me, Michelle did not require a lot of probing to admit that she was feeling under pressure herself.
“You're right. It does.”
“But you're also right. Michelle has been working way too hard lately, and I know not getting to spend Thanksgiving together is a major disappointment. Don't worry, though. I have a brilliant plan to make it up to her.”
“Good.” I exhale slowly, feeling myself relax. “You've gotten...really insightful in the last five years.”
“Yeah, well...I ended up going through some therapy after graduation. It helped clarify a lot of what was going through my head after the island. ...Helped me deal with the trauma and the grief, not just from what we went through, but everything before the island, too. Everything with my dad and Michelle. Even though she and I were friends again, it took awhile for me to feel like I could be worthy of her again. Therapy helped with that, too.”
“I'm glad. And I'm really glad you two have each other. Your weaknesses are kinda similar, but you're both strong enough that it's more of an advantage because you can keep each other in check with empathy.”
He laughs. “And you're calling me insightful. ...I gotta admit, I'm weirdly happy that you called me about this.”
“Really? Why?”
“I guess...you could say it's a relief to have you call because you're worried Michelle might be stressed and disappointed over having to work on Thanksgiving. It feels very...everyday?”
“I think I know what you mean. ...It's a taste of normal that's can be little hard to come by for our family.”
“Exactly. Hey, I should hang up and finish shopping. ...Are you guys gonna watch the Condors' game on Thanksgiving?”
“From what Jake's told me, there will definitely be a game on at his folks' place. I'll see if I can convince them to make it yours. I'll tell Diego and Varyyn to tune in here, too.”
“Good. I'm gonna need all the good vibes you can send me.”
“I'll rub my belly during the game for good luck.”
He laughs. “What, are you Buddha now?”
“What, lucky belly rubs are only for Buddha?”
“Pretty sure. But what the hell, it couldn't hurt. Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving if I don't talk to you before then. And I'll see you guys on New Year's Eve.”
“I'll see you then, Sean.”
Tahira
The biting November breeze trails chilly fingers over my face, tugging at the dark tendrils of hair that have escaped the headband I've put on to keep my ears warm as I wander through the park with Grayson, my fingers laced with his. It's mid-afternoon, but the recent end of daylight savings time means that dusk is rapidly approaching. Not that it's all that easy to tell with the sky so heavily clouded as it is today. By now, the trees are completely bare, and their skeletal branches stand out starkly against the dappled sky. The fallen leaves have all been cleared away, which somehow makes the world seem quieter and more dead in this moment than it will in a few weeks when the snows start falling. It's like looking at a body freshly dead as opposed to after it's been embalmed and dressed for a final viewing. The thought is morbid enough to make me shiver.
“You cold?” Grayson takes his hand from mine to slip his arm over my shoulder and draw me closer to his side. I smile, letting my head rest lightly on his shoulder.
“I'm okay now. Why, are you cold?”
“A little,” he admits.
“Wanna head back towards your place? We could go inside and get warm.”
He nods, kissing the top of my head. “Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that.”
I wind my arm around his waist. “So...how was your dad today?”
“I...didn't say?”
“You haven't said much of anything all afternoon. ...If you don't want to talk about it, that's okay.”
“No,” he sighs. “I do, kind of. Dad is...well...the doctors think that physically, he's okay. But his moods are...all over the map. He's angry, he's depressed...and then there are moments when he's almost manic and he seems hyperfocused on...something. ...No matter what, he still barely speaks to me. I know he's hearing me, but...it's like he can't say anything of any substance to me. Like he's hiding something. I've tried confronting him on what he did. I try asking gently. I even tried asking if he did it to bring Mom back. ...Nothing has gotten him to talk about it. And then out of the blue today, he says we should have Thanksgiving dinner together.”
“...How do you feel about that?”
“...He's my dad, Tahira. I don't want to leave him alone for a holiday...”
I sigh. “...I want to offer to go with you for moral support...but...”
He shakes his head fiercely, turning toward me and drawing me into his arms. “No. Absolutely not. After what he did to you, I don't want the two of you anywhere near each other.” He sighs. “...I feel like I should refuse him. I feel...like I'm being disloyal to you, still worrying about him.”
I feel my heart twist at his words. Pulling back, I take his face in my hands and meet his eyes. I hold his gaze for a moment before leaning forward to gently press my mouth to his. I feel him respond and I kiss him again and again, slow and tender. Finally breaking, I let my forehead rest on his.
“You're not being disloyal to me, Grayson. Any more than you're being disloyal to your dad by kissing me. You love us both, and it isn't your fault that any of this happened between us.”
He closes his eyes, his breath shaking. “I...just want you to know that I'm on your side. Really know it. ...If it comes to it, I'll support you over him. I promise.”
I wind my arms around him and rest my chin on his shoulder. “I am grateful to have your support.” I murmur in his ear. There aren't many people in the park with the weather being what it is, but I still keep my voice low. “...But if it comes to battle between me and your father again, I need to know that you'll be safe more than anything else.”
“...But...”
“Promise me, Grayson. Promise me you'll protect yourself. I'll have allies to rely on in the fighting, allies like me.”
I feel Grayson hesitate for a moment before finally nodding against my shoulder, wrapping me in his arms.
“You're right. I have to get used to the idea that my girlfriend has superpowers and doesn't need me to be the macho man.”
I laugh. “I wouldn't need that from you anyway. That's not who I fell in love with. Just stay my smart, compassionate, courageous, loyal Grayson.”
“All right, enough flattery,” he quips. “You're already getting a raise with the new year, what more do you want?”
I draw back to look him in the eye, grinning. “I could tell you, but it might be a little indelicate for a public park.”
“Ohh, so it's like that, is it? We'd better hurry back to my place, then. I want to see what you're thinking.”
We start walking again. We're moving faster now, though I'm not sure how much of it is eagerness to fall into bed together and how much is because it's quickly getting colder.
“Hey...Grayson?”
“Hmm?”
“Even if I can't go with you to your dad's...there's no reason you can't join me and Mom for dinner afterwards, right?”
“Two Thanksgiving dinners? I probably wouldn't eat much at the second one...”
“That's all right. Mom and I always spend Black Friday dishing out our leftovers at the soup kitchen in Bayside anyway. And you know we'd love to have you.”
He exhales, and there is relief in the sound. “...I would love to be there. So...so much...”
“It's settled then. Our first official holiday as a couple.” As an idea occurs to me, I turn to him with a grin. “...And to celebrate this approaching momentous occasion...” I take his hand, dragging him towards a rock shed on the edge of the park.
“Woah! Tahira, where are we going?”
I stop just long enough to whisper in his ear, “Somewhere I can get changed. Dragonness is going to fly you home.”
#pixelberry choices#choices stories you play#playchoices#Endless Summer#hero#Jake McKenzie#Diego Ricardo Ortiz Soto#sean gayle#raj bhandarkar#Craig Hsiao#aleister rourke#grace hall#michelle nguyen#zahra namazi#estela montoya#quinn kelly#grayson prescott#dax darcisse#kenji katsaros#eva minuet#poppy patel
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Hold On To Me Chapter 10 {biadore} -imafuckinglibra
Hello, Konichiwa, Bonjour, Hola, Aloha, Guten tag, Namastê. You know, I saw you’re looking like you wanna fuck me on the table backstage. Woos…this shit turned out super fluffy. Summary, mkay. Roy in hospital, Danny freaking out, Raja and Shane does a thing (not that thing) and then Danny taking care of Roy and fluff ensues. K bye.
Danny’s heart sank and his world started spinning. Shit! Shit! Shit! He dropped to the ground clutching his shakey knees.
Hospital. Roy. Hospital. Roy. Nothing else went through his head except those two words.
“Where are you? If you want to come see him Raja’ll come pick you up we’re still waiting for him to get admitted.” Shane’s voice was a strange mixture of fear yet calm. How the hell he managed that was a fucking mystery his voice trailed off and he could hear a commotion in the background.
“What did they just say about getting up!? I’m…hold on…” Danny could hear Roy arguing about something with Shane in the background.
‘At least he’s still okay enough to fight…okay it’s okay, he’s okay.’ Danny tried calming himself down.
“What’s up?” Aaron asked bending down beside him with his hand on his knee.
“You can go on ahead I uh, I have another ride don’t worry. Thanks, man.” He smiled at his friend. Taking a deep breath to center himself before he stood up.
Aaron threw his jacket over his shoulder and with a hug goodbye he walked out. Shoving the still embraced and bickering Cracker and Aquaria out of the hall with him.
“Shane? Court?” He asked when the voices on the other end had still not spoken.
“Sorry about that.” Shane’s voice more panicked than earlier. “Sorry for calling but…”
“I want to come see him.” Danny interrupted before he could finish.
“Okay…wait outside Raja’s leaving right now.”
“On my way, sweetie!” Raja yelled somewhere in the distance.
“Who are you talki…” Roy’s gravely voice could be heard in the back followed by what sounded like some very loud painful vomiting and a few people’s worried shouting.
Danny’s heart grew heavy, a sinking feeling about it being real that Roy was in the hospital scaring the shit out of him. He slammed his locker shut forgetting half of the things he wanted to put away and ran outside.
Sitting down cross legged in the middle of the parking lot so he couldn’t be missed no matter which way Raja was coming from he waited patiently.
With trembling hands he lit a cigarette, burning his finger accidentally when he wasn’t paying attention and couldn’t keep his hands still near the tip of his cigarette.
He took a deep inhale of nicotine and held it in his lungs for a second longer hoping it’ll ease his anxiety while wiping his runny nose with his sleeve.
It was as if all the tears and emotions he had been holding in all day were begging to be released all at once.
He knew he liked Roy, more than any other guy he ever had before but suddenly all his feelings were brought to the surface. His worst fear of losing Roy realized. He couldn’t even spend a day without him what would happen if something really bad happened to him? How would he…no. No. He can’t think about it.
With an exhale he wiped away any sign of distress quickly and tried distracting himself by watching the cars. Trying to figure out which one would be Raja’s, his little game ended up lasting longer than he’d have liked.
Soon enough though a familiar sleek black Mercedes rounded the corner at a dangerous speed and Danny slowly stood up walking to where he saw Raja entering. He half expected Roy to climb out seeing as it was his car, his heart aching when it was Raja instead who opened the door for him.
“You don’t have to put that out, I won’t tell Bozo we smoked in his car if you don’t.” Raja joked to lighten to mood lighting a cigarette as well.
Despite the older’s efforts the ride was long and silent, an uneasy tension lingering in the air as they drove to the hospital. Danny’s stomach spinning fast and seemingly never ending like the wheels of the car they were in.
“You got him into drag right?” Danny asked taking one of Raja’s conversation baits.
“Yes ma’am. I’ve modeled and done drag all my life. I did make up he made gowns it just seemed right, like the perfect pair.” Raja smiled at him.
“Perfect pair? So you…”
“Oh hell no we never dated or anything, we kai kai’d a few times but when you’ve been friends for 10 plus years it happens.” This didn’t make Danny feel better.
Instead it just ignited his jealousy and insecurities. How was he supposed to compete with this inhumanly beautiful creature?
“You know, you seem like a nice kid so I’ll be honest…I’m a pretty open queen, but I’m still on the fence about you.” Raja’s eyes were focused on the road, avoiding Danny’s.
“What? Why? What did…what I do?” Danny stuttered thrown off by his comment.
“But! But he does seem happy with you. Besides the whole ‘Oh no I’m a terrible person!’ or ‘What the fuck am I doing?’ 3am drunk rambles I get he seems happy with you.” Raja nodded as if he was reminding himself of something more than he was reassuring Danny. “And I genuinely like you, you’re a cool kid. Just know if you fuck this up I’ll be the one who has to fuck him and hold him and feed him vodka till he’s okay again. I’ve been there done that, don’t want to do it again. And I will physically murder you if I have to.”
After that the conversation went dead again.
“Hey, we’re here…yeah…yeah…yep, what room?” Raja called Shane when they started making their way into the building.
Despite his anxiety being through the roof Danny couldn’t help but stare in astonishment at Raja and how effortlessly cool and ethereal he moved and acted.
Even just walking through a fluorescent lit dreary hospital corridor his hips swayed as if he was on a high fashion catwalk with all the spotlights on him.
“Knock knock.” He tapped on the open grey door before walking in smiling at presumably Roy or Shane inside. Danny had no idea who though, he was still standing outside, his legs unable to move. “I brought the babe, you’re welcome.”
Fear, anger, heartbreak, longing, anxiety, confusion, more fear…it was all crashing over him once again. He took a deep breath closing his eyes as he took a step forward into the doorway with his head tilted down.
“Oh for fu…What the fuck are you…I’m calling deportation!” Roy groaned. “Hi, Noriega.”
Danny kept his head down when he opened his eyes still too afraid to look at Roy in the hospital bed in case it was bad, tears immediately flowing down his face and his body shaking though.
He tried to wipe his eyes with his sleeves but the tears seemed to flow faster than he could swipe them away.
“Okay that’s unnecessary just come here.” Roy sighed holding his arms out.
Danny walked forward slowly dropping onto the bed covering his face with his palms. His tears now flowing even heavier as his sobs grew when he felt the familiar warmth of Roy’s strong arms surrounding him. Goddammit he missed his arms.
He missed Roy.
“Hey, it’s all good, it’s all good. I got you.” Roy tried shushing him rocking him in his arms, his voice considerably groggier than normal before it became panicked. “Dan…wait, someone…”
Shane grabbed his leg and told him to get up quickly. He tried looking back at Roy to see what was wrong but Shane turned his head back holding his face still. Danny wanted to ask what was going on but when he heard some violent vomiting behind him he figured it out.
He turned around when the room went silent again, his heart dropping and his skin running cold at the sight of Roy.
His skin abnormally pale, sweat around his temples, moisture around his reddened eyes from throwing up and various tubes and wires running up and down his arms with a few around his chest.
“Wow you don’t have detention for once how did that happen?” Roy joked. His dimples lifting around a small smile, clearly an attempt to make Danny feel better more than anything else. He saw it wasn’t working and reached out to tug on his hoodie. “Come here, baby.”
Danny climbed back onto the bed hesitantly cuddling up to Roy, his head in the shoulder of the arm wrapped around him rubbing his back.
Seeing Danny there was a complete shock for Roy and even though he pretended that he wanted to kill Shane for calling him he was actually very grateful. Having Danny there lifted his spirits despite the teen clearly being a complete mess.
Raja and Shane looked at each other knowingly and quickly made an exit leaving the pair alone, closing the door behind them to give them some privacy.
“Did you give him the speech?” Shane asked slyly grinning at his much taller friend when they were out of ear shot of the couple.
“Oh yeah.” Raja grinned throwing his arm around Shane as they walked down the hallway to the cafeteria. “Scared the shit out of him, I think we did good.”
“You stink.” Roy commented but when Danny looked up in panic he snorted. “Kidding! I’m kidding, you do reek of smoke though.”
“You reek of hospital…and a bar.” Danny said softly, his voice breaking at the word hospital.
“I know I’m sorry, told you I’m from New Orleans.”
“Why are you here? Why didn’t you tell me you’re here? I was fucking freaking out all day because you weren’t texting back and then you weren’t there in…” Roy shushed him when his mind started spiraling with his mouth firing out everything as it came up.
“It’s all good now it’s okay. Which question do you want answered first?”
“Are you dying?”
“Oh god I hope not.” Roy laughed but when Danny scooted closer pushing himself up with his hand on his stomach he winced. “Okay ow, gentle bitch.”
Danny’s eyes flicked from Roy’s face to his hand, quickly lifting it up afraid of hurting him again. “Shit, sorry!”
Roy took the raised hand into his own, giving the back of it a kiss holding it against his cheek to enjoy the feeling of skin on skin contact.
“It’s not that bad, don’t worry. Are you okay? You look like a fucking mess and that’s coming from me.” He examined the redness around one of his knuckles. “What happened here?”
“Accidentally burned myself. And yeah I’m okay. Just thought you left and that yesterday was goodbye goodbye so I don’t know…”
Roy let go of his hand and ran his cold fingers over Danny’s damp cheek, lifting his chin with them so he could give him a small kiss.
Probably wasn’t the best time but they both needed it so screw it.
Roy tasted of vomit and…blood? But it didn’t stop Danny from leaning in further for a kiss, his hand cupping Roy’s stubbly cheek to pull him in closer.
“It wasn’t meant as goodbye goodbye, but I get it.” Roy pulled back from their kiss, dropping his head into the pillow turning it to look Danny in the eyes. The young man with his hand still on his cheek now playing with the fluff that had grown from not doing drag in a few days.
“After that thing yesterday I was same as you I guess. I needed to not think or feel anything so I went to the bar, drank myself under a table and got my ass kicked.” He shrugged as if all of this was as mundane as wiping your ass.
Danny’s hand halted and his eyes went wide already watering up again. He leaned in again for another kiss to show the boy he was fine. “Hey, I’m good now learn to listen, bitch. They said I can go home tomorrow.”
“Nurse said you can only have 2 visitors so I’m heading out, and if they ask you’re Courtney’s brother we didn’t mention the student thing don’t worry. Show him your stomach though it’s gnarly.” Raja leaned into the door interrupting them. Roy thanked him and he left almost as fast as he had appeared.
“Stomach?” Danny asked looking down. Roy nodded giving him the go and the teen slowly pulled down the blue blanket off him. Lifting the hospital gown up exposing his grey underwear stained red from where he puked on it earlier.
A dark redish-blue bruise around his navel with red spots splattered over it and a matching one on his ribs now very visible. He gently trailed his fingers over it to examine it but not hurt him.
“I was trying to get in my car to…not important nevermind, but was too fucked up to actually get it open when some guys jumped me. They took my wallet and my phone, that’s why I didn’t text you, I’m sorry I had you worried.” Roy clarified placing a small kiss on his cheek watching the lanky fingers on his abdomen move.
“Or anyone.” Shane came in holding a can of Pepsi and a sandwich, the sight of food causing a loud growl to erupt from Danny’s gut. “Figured you’d be hungry since you just came back from school, guess I was right, hope this is okay?”
Danny sat up when Roy gave him permission to eat and started unwrapping the meal Shane handed him, “What do you mean?”
“He didn’t tell anyone. He walked home but called me earlier on his house phone of all things asking me to pick up his car and drive him to work because he overslept. When I got to his apartment he looked like death and after telling me why I brought him here.”
Danny looked behind him at Roy but he reassured him he was fine and continued calmly rubbing his back as he listened to the rest of the story chewing his food.
“We waited for almost 2 hours till he started throwing up blood and they finally admitted him. But, while we were waiting this idiot told me what happened yesterday so I had to call you! How can you let this poor baby go like that! You monster.” Shane crossed his arms glaring at Roy.
“I didn’t let him go I just didn’t want to be caught! Listen, sneaking around fucking a 18 year old at…”
“19.” Danny interrupted because apparently age was what was important here.
“I thought 18?”
“Nope, 19.” Danny took another big bite, “My birfthday wath Thaterday.”
“You’re birthday was…what?” Roy tried sitting up but a sharp pain shot through his abdomen. “Nope, nope, nope. Going back down.”
“And you do go down very well.” Danny joked wiggling his brows at Roy.
“Shut up and eat your shit.” He pushed the giggling face away from him.
“I want the details later by the way. You can’t be too shabby either seeing as he…” Shane grinned at Roy, the smugness practically dripping off his face. “Roy. Tell our little Danny boy here why you were so desperate to get in your car in the first place last night.”
Roy’s pale skin became flushed both from
embarrassment and anger and he had to drop his head to avoid Danny’s stare. “Have you uh…have you ever seen The Graduate?”
Shane’s grin grew wider looking at Danny waiting for an answer. The teen nodded unsurely which somehow made both Roy redder and Shane grin wider.
“You know how, in…in the end, uh he…he runs to stop the wedding and they drive off.” God he was stuttering this is ridiculous. “I was planning on driving to your house and…you get the idea.”
Danny’s eyes went wide, almost as wide as his mouth. Shane excitedly nodded at Danny laughing loudly, embarrassing Roy Haylock was truly the best day of his life.
“I was wasted!” Roy defended raising his voice a little too high.
“Okay don’t break a rib…Daniela,” Shane turned back to the teen who was now just as red and looking down at his hands. “Would you like to stay or should I take you home?”
“Can I stay?” Danny asked looking back at Roy for an answer.
“Why?” He wanted Danny to stay obviously but what to do with his feelings were still too unsure for them to be alone in a small room.
He knew he wanted to be with him, clearly, he nearly drove to his house at drunk as fuck at 4am to tell him that but their situation was too fucked up, especially now thanks to Shane. Shady bitch.
“I don’t know, to take care of you…Mrs Robinson.”
Roy protested at first and read him for getting the name wrong but when the pain in his gut got too much to handle he gave in, curling over to one side like a wounded animal.
Roy’s motto had always been ‘Never let a bitch see you sweat’ so for him to be this vulnerable hurt his ego more his injuries hurt him physically.
“I need you.” Roy reached around to grab his hand. “Just distract me.”
“What?”
“When you had your concussion, fuck this shit hurts.” Roy’s voice was strained, the pain clearly affecting him too much which made Shane run off to leave them alone but also to call the nurse and ask for pain meds.
“It’s okay. You’re okay.”
Danny popped one earbud into Roy’s ear and then the other in his own so they could listen together.
The soft guitar strumming of Look at me by Semi Precious Weapons playing as Danny took his place behind him, spooning him with his arm under Roy’s.
The man clutching his hand tightly to cope with the agony while Danny softly sang along to the song. Placing small kisses on his shoulder and neck with soft whispers telling him he’s there between his singing.
You look gorgeous by the light of my phone
Please move closer dear, you know I live alone
Subtlety is not my strength, so pay attention to my face
Subtlety is not my strength but patience is, so I’ll just wait
If you wanna dance, I’ll dance
If you wanna touch, I’ll touch
If you wanna kiss, I’ll kiss
Just look at me while we do it
Look at me while we do it
“I didn’t mean to hurt you yesterday.” Roy suddenly said through gritted teeth when the song switched.
“I know.”
“I’m just so fucking scared.”
“I know.”
“I always plan ahead, shit this is really fucking bad.” His fingers between Danny’s grew tighter the tighter the stinging in his abdomen grew. “I never seem to be able to plan ahead with you, I don’t know what this is and that’s the scary part. Is sneaking around fucking in a closet during detentions really all we are now? I mean that shit is insane.”
“Isn’t that enough?” Danny pressed his forehead against Roy’s damp back.
“Is it?” Roy’s voice got low, so low it was barely audible.
They laid in silence for a while just listening to the music switch to Courtney Love waiting for Roy’s pain meds to kick in and he could finally calm down. Both mentally and physically.
He scooted around so they could be looking at each other, Danny’s eyes still puffy from crying matching the puffiness of Roy’s swollen cheek.
Their faces were only an inch or two apart, so close they could feel the other’s breathing on their lips. Roy brought up his hand that had the tube stuck to it with a white square piece of tape, his thumb gently trailing over Danny’s bottom lip before it moved down to his chin.
“I adore you.” Roy whispered.
“Please don’t die on me.” Danny whispered back.
Roy tilted his head when he saw Danny leaning in to close the space between their lips. No words needed - just lips. Slowly and tenderly saying what they each felt.
“I’m glad you’re here, I needed this. I needed you.” Roy breathed between kisses.
Their tender moment being interrupted by Shane knocking on the door. “I’m heading out, I’ll be back in an hour just need to run to the shops. Can you keep an eye on him?”
“Aye aye.” Danny saluted him goodbye.
“What time is it?” Roy suddenly asked looking at Danny’s phone to see it’s already 3pm.
Danny watched him confused at why he was suddenly so concerned with the time and where the remote for the tv was.
Flicking through the channels it hit Danny who was on every day at 3pm - Judge Judy.
“You’re such an old ass bitch oh my god.” Danny laughed scooting away from Roy when the nurse brought his lunch in.
“I love her I, I watch her all the time because she makes me laugh.” Roy clarified when the nurse was out.
“I cannot believe you actually watch this shit, man.”
“Shut up she’s smart and she’s funny and she’s a total bitch.”
“Mh-hm.” Danny’s lips pursed to hide his amusement. In all fairness he watched her every day too but he wasn’t going to admit that now after making fun of Roy. “Let me feed you!”
Roy furrowed his brows shaking his head, “Really queen?” No way his stomach could handle any food right now but definitely no way he could handle Danny feeding him.
Danny pouted crossing his arms but eased up when Roy surprised him by resting his head against his chest. His heart started racing and he was almost positive that Roy could hear it or even feel it. This was intimate and real and…so amazing.
They sat like that watching the rest of the episode about some mom who wanted money back for a bus ticket she bought her daughter. Danny’s arms now relaxed around Roy who was laying down with his head nuzzled up on his chest, his one hand between Danny’s knees.
Roy wasn’t usually one who cuddled up to anyone but he was in pain and Danny was there with his arms around him. Seemed appropriate.
“He looks like my cousin.” Danny casually mentioned during an ad break, the face tattoos and shaved head a popular style in the Noriega clan.
“Really?” Roy looked up at him, he wanted to make a chola joke when a sharp stabbing pain suddenly shot through his gut. He hunched over reaching for something on the counter next to them.
Just in time Danny grabbed the little kidney shaped bowl Roy was reaching for and held it out of him, rubbing up and down his neck gently as he spat up some blood and the small part of his lunch he ate.
This wasn’t as grand as pushing him in front of a bus and saving him miraculously just in time but hey this was as good a way to pay Roy back for being there for him so many times as any.
“Shit I’m sorry.” Roy’s voice was raw, harsher than usual from having thrown up already 3 or 4 times that day. “I…I’ll go…”
“No you won’t! Stay put.” Danny jumped off the bed to go throw the contents away in the bathroom. Returning with the now empty bowl and a ball of wet toilet paper which he held against Roy’s sweaty forehead.
“Thank you,” Roy swallowed his pride and took the assistance without a fight, except when Danny leaned in for a kiss. “What the fuck faggot? C’mon I just threw up, that’s nasty.”
“We’ve had worse.” Danny rolled his eyes kissing Roy anyway. The older blushing at the memory of them kissing to taste each others cum swirling in his mind. “Better?”
“Yeah…better.” Roy smiled and they resumed their previous position to finish the episode .
“Write me a note tell me I’m right or…tell me I’m wrong. I was wrong once in 1947”
“Isn’t that when you were my age?” Danny stuck his tongue out when Roy laughed at Judge Judy’s joke. Clutching his side in pain. Never try laughing with a bruised rib.
“Fuck you cunt.” Roy hit his chest.
“You know, I now totally get why you are the way you are.”
“I love her I wanna be her.”
“Listen, I’m smarter than your mother.” Judge Judy shut the girl on the tv down.
“Speaking of mothers and family and all that bullshit. Does he really look like your cousin?” Roy wasn’t letting this go, his inner nosey old lady had come out and he wanted to know more about Danny.
“He does, a bunch do actually but not John though. John’s my…Shit, John!” He jumped up frantically collecting his things.
Roy tried grabbing his hand but he was too busy typing something on his phone. “Dan.”
“Sorry I have to go.” Danny finally stood still and leaned down for a final goodbye kiss that turned into a final three kisses, Roy holding his hand tightly until the very last second.
“Now you can smell how stinky I am all day.” Danny playfully smiled draping his hoodie over Roy before he turned to walk out.
Roy was quicker than him though even when he was all drugged up and hooked his finger into one of the belt notches on his jeans, halting his movements.
“I miss you.” He let go of Danny’s jean and curled his finger inwards.
Danny bent down with his hands on the bed when Roy grabbed the sides of his face to pull him in for another kiss.
“I miss you too.” Danny finally admitted when they pulled back, their lips still pressed close together as if it was their life line and letting go would be life threatening. “Don’t die on me okay you old bitch?”
Roy gave another quick peck and with a defeated smile he watched him walk away. His smile becoming genuine when Danny pulled his shirt over his ass to avoid Roy pulling him back.
Roy held the old grey hoodie in his hands, examining the fabric between his fingers and savoring the smell of rose perfume, weed and cigarettes wafting off it.
He and Danny had an undeniable strange connection and he had no idea how to cope with it. He was technically an adult and Roy was only his substitute for the next 2 and a half months so after that it was fair game right?
But what did they do until then? Danny was still a kid, a senior in high school who was supposed to be feeling his oats, trying new things and living life. Was he keeping him from that?
“Chris is coming down next Friday for my super late birthday party thing.”
“Hm?” Roy looked up at Danny sitting by his feet, a lollipop he had randomly gotten somewhere stuffed in the corner of his mouth. Fuck he was cute.
Despite his prayers to any deity who’d listen Roy wasn’t cleared to go home the next day and had to spend another 3 days in the hospital. Just to be safe.
Turns out he had internal bleeding from getting gut punched so hard, not severe enough that it required surgery or anything drastic but not mild enough that it could go untreated either.
Thankfully Danny had visited him every day after school to keep him company and mostly just talk about what happened at school or just watch Judge Judy.
In that time they did have the chance to talk about their relationship though, relationship being a strong word but hey it fit…ish.
He had gotten some backlash from Danny when he brought up that their relationship should be open or at least have an option of being open. Danny blaming something about his venus sign making him possessive who knows.
His defense was that they couldn’t be an official couple because of their situation and that he wanted Danny to at least have the freedom or opportunity to date…or whatever else (he didn’t want to even think about it). Keeping it open just so he wouldn’t miss out on anything in his youth.
Danny agreed hesitantly after a few final negotiations. Long story short they decided to keep their relationship text based only. With the exception for when they were in drag of course, Danny easily won the argument there.
“And Chris is your…”
“Best friend.”
“From Texas?”
“Mm-yep.” Danny let go of the candy with a pop. “We’ve never hooked up don’t worry…we’re not you and Raja.”
Roy rolled his eyes before looking down at his lunch that they had brought him 40 minutes ago that he still hadn’t eaten. Jealousy bubbling inside him just at the thought, maybe an open relationship or the idea of it did bother him a little.
Danny could see the green wheels turning in his head and decided to test the waters a little.
“But there’s this one guy Jay’s invited to the party for me that’s pretty cute, hear he has a bomb ass dick who knows it’s been a while…”
“Oh…yeah definitely. Have fun.”
Danny got on all fours and crawled up to Roy making sure he didn’t place his hands anywhere he could hurt him or on any wires. Placing his forehead against Roy’s so those dark brown eyes could look up at him and only him. “I’m kidding, you know you’re my man. And no other can beat your bomb ass dick.”
Roy resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead leaned into a small kiss, little shit had him whipped and he knew it. His ego just wouldn’t let him admit it.
“When’s your birthday?” Danny suddenly leaned back on his knees sitting carefully on Roy’s thighs, probably the only place where he couldn’t hurt him.
“June 27th, why?”
“Cancer…ooh. Oh, that explains it, do you know your moon?” Danny ran his hands gently up and down Roy’s sides avoiding his bruises.
“My what? What the fuck are you talking about?” Roy laughed.
“Nevermind. When are you getting out?”
“Tomorrow thank god.” Roy took the chocolate pudding cup from his lunch tray and opened his arm, Danny immediately taking the hint came to sit next to him. The same position they’d spent most of their time together the last 2 days.
Peeling the lid off he gave it to Danny to lick clean first seeing his face light up like a toddler getting a treat. Between every mouthful he snuck Danny one too, the couple blissfully snuggled up with their snack.
Danny smiling contently when Roy snuck a kiss in before slipping the small white plastic spoon into his mouth. Taking another scoop he leaned his head on Danny’s shoulder so he could smell his perfume, it was sweet and felt so familiar it calmed him.
“We’re a couple right?” Danny suddenly thought out loud, taking the cup from Roy to help himself.
“Not if anyone asks.” Roy kissed his neck.
“But that still means we’re a couple right?”
“Yeah sure, honey.”
‘Honey. Shit that slipped.’ Roy internally panicked.
“Okay then like I’m your boyfriend right?”
“I…guess. Yes? Shut up.” Why did hearing Danny calling himself his boyfriend make him so giddy? “God I’m like one of my stupid students.” He thought out loud blushing and hitting his head on Danny’s shoulder.
“And isn’t it the boyfriend’s job…no, duty! Duty to drive his mans home after he gets out of the hospital?” Danny turned to Roy with a shit eating grin plastered on his stupid little face.
“You’re not driving my car!”
“But why?” Danny whined sticking out his bottom lip. Roy leaned in and bit it making Danny smile brightly. Roy really was the goofiest, sweetest guy when you least expected it. He let go of the lip between his teeth and moved his head up a little for a kiss.
“Fine but if you’re not careful I’ll fucking kill you!” Roy agreed and angrily stuffed the last of the pudding in his mouth. Danny’s idiotic grinning and swaying side to side making him look like a child. “You look retarded what are you doing?”
“You’re my boyfriend…you looooove me.” Danny singsonged his grin only growing wider.
Roy leaned over grabbing the back of his neck to pull him in for a kiss, the couple both smiling into it. “Shut up before I change my mind.”
“I pinky promise not to crash your car.” Danny held his pinky up trying to keep his face as serious as possible to show he meant it.
“One more rule,” Roy held his pinky up too. “You stay off the fucking balcony!”
“Whatever…I’m your boyfriend.” Danny repeated with a big grin.
“You are my boyfriend.” Roy took hold of his jaw pulling him in for another kiss.
#hold on to me#imafuckinglibra#biadore#bianca del rio#adore delano#courtney act#raja gemini#fluff#tw swearing#tw hospital#rpdr fanfiction#submission#m/m au#high school au#student/teacher#queen au
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Part 8 kira gets bored and starts putting on a sock puppet show for himself with killer queen, then gets walked in on by josefumi
(haha now here’s the funny bit about this drabble- I actually haven’t read up to part 8, and only just got done with p4 recently, but since i wanna go in order and start p5 I decided to just skim the wiki’s pages, ask some people about these guys and go for it! So here’s your part 8 Kira stuff lmao- and I apologize in advance if its ooc)
It wasn’t too often that Kira found himself in the throes of boredom- there was always something or another to be working on, and he usually was able to keep himself busy between trying to sketch out his own fingertips and general homework and familial obligations- but when he found himself there, it hit him upside the head with the force of an ambulance bashing his skull in.
No book held his attention long enough. He tried to read a little of some book he read for class a couple years ago, something he gave up on after reading the first line of “Mother died today. Or maybe yesterday; I can’t be sure.” at least ten times and deeming whatever absurdity that came next meaningless. Sketching was out of the question- his charcoals were all broken or far too dull, and even then he didn’t feel like dealing with the fine coal mess on his fingers or his desk.
He could tell the stern from the bow from each individual mast on a ship blindfolded and with only his sense of smell intact, but spending a couple hours hunched over a small wooden model and slowly accumulating splinters was a thought that made him internally groan.
There was nothing holding his attention, and nothing he wanted to do. This was some kind of underrated hell, he was sure.
Kira waited for a couple moments, staring up at the ceiling on the off chance that something would be kind enough to drop in. Anything. Anyone at all. He was going to regret the latter thought later on, sure- but in the midst of everpresent, gnawing boredom eating away at him, even social interaction was seeming like an attractive option. Sure, he wasn’t about to seek it out himself, since that would mean actually dealing with people, but. Kira wouldn’t mind Kyo popping in to sit on his bed and talk at him, or even for that brat Josefumi to breeze through.
When nothing happened, he stared a little more vehemently at the ceiling and waited for a moment longer. When it became clear that nothing was going to happen except for the buzzing need to find something to do under his skin, Kira sighed and sat up and oh hello there.
Killer Queen had come out on its own. He thought that maybe he should be a little more startled by this fact than he actually was, but from what he understood, Killer Queen just kind of did what she wanted. Right then she floated somewhat above the bed, looking down at him with an impassive face. They stared at each other for a few moments longer before Killer Queen went off and started rifling through Kira’s drawers.
This again, huh. Kira sighed, but didn’t really have the energy to tell her to stop. She had a small tendency to try and bring Kira a multitude of things that he didn’t even realize were in the house, from cigarettes (which he didn’t smoke- the nicotine would stain his nails something fierce and he cared too terribly about them to do that) to an outdated radio that only blared one morning broadcast from the summer of 1999. Where had they even had that radio in this house? Kira didn’t know. And for right then, he didn’t particularly care- at least this was giving him something to do other than count the pockmarks in the plaster above him.
Then, Killer Queen came back over with a couple ratty old pieces of cloth in its hands. The stand shoved them insistently into Kira’s front, and Kira had no choice but to take them. He held one up, and he could make out one button eye still sewn in, as well as a shoddily made sailor’s cap. The other one was more suited for piracy, and there was a third piece that fell out the pirate’s hat that looked like an old monopoly toy car.
These old things. Kira only vaguely remembered making them with Kyo back when they were both barely old enough to run around the house without tripping over things. The sock puppets in his hands had long outlived their usefulness.
Or maybe they hadn’t really. Killer Queen looked at him expectedly, as if it knew something he was just now grasping. While Kira couldn’t remember what exactly those puppet shows had been about, he did feel that they were still fun to do, in the way that only rambunctious five year olds could make them fun for an easily amused three year old. Kira looked between the puppets, then his stand, and then got an idea.
He handed off the pirate to Killer Queen and put his own hand in the one eyed sailor puppet. He felt mildly idiotic, considering the fact that he was sixteen years old and sitting on his bed while his explosion inducing cat man of a fighting spirit floated in front of him moving the pirate puppet’s mouth slowly with calm indifference. But then again- it was still something to do. And it wasn’t as if anyone would walk in at that point, because then it would be life’s way of alleviating his boredom, and absolutely nothing could be that easy.
He kept the dialogue in his head for the most part at first, but honestly, Kira soon found himself getting somewhat into the imaginary plot that he’d cooked up for himself. The sailor puppet (”Gappy”, he’d idly named him somewhat unimaginatively because he remembered that there was a gap between the bed and the wall that he used to almost fall into every night) and his vendetta against Pirate Eye was beginning to heat up, especially with the addition of eight million yen’s worth of gold found in a rusty car at the bottom of the sea. Before he knew it, he was just caught up enough that he didn’t realize he was actually muttering to himself, or that the door slowly slid open.
“Christ, eight million yen?! I haven’t heard of that much gold since the case in Hokkaido a couple decades back…” Gappy reared back, eyes growing momentarily wide as he regained his composure, straightening up. “And I suppose you have that Ainu man on board because he can find it?”
“What other reason would I have some backwards grunt?” The pirate in front of him laughed uproariously, as if this entire thing were simply a game. “It was either him or a Matagi, and those hunters won’t say a damn word. Besides- none of those Matagis have what I have.”
There was terse silence as a thick parcel was dropped on the deck of the opposing ship. From this distance, Gappy couldn’t make out if it were regular paper in a stack thick enough to look like leather from a distance, or if it were something more sinister. He sucked in a breath, his fingers twitching towards the rifle over one shoulder. “The tattoos…!”
“That’s right! I have it now- the map that leads me to riches unrelenting! With this, I can finally do it. I can stage the coup of my dreams, and in the gathering instability, the navy will be too weak to stop my men from extorting them by the billion!”
“You’re one sick bas-”
“Kira.” Kira’s intense focus was broken by the wide eyed, incredulous stare of the sudden intruder in his room. Josefumi stood there, holding a massive venus flytrap that seemed to, for some godawful reason, be full of sharp animal like teeth. There was a long moment of silence, Kira with holding one puppet’s mouth open, Josefumi with a potted plant with the engraving “Audrey 2″ on the clay surface. Then, a wide smile broke out on Josefumi’s face.
“No.” Kira warned. “Don’t you dare.”
“Holy shit, dude-”
“Not another word, Josefumi, do you hear me-”
“I just- really??? Sock puppets??”
“Josefumi I swear to God,”
“Okay, okay.” Josefumi held up one hand placatingly, slowly stepping back. “I won’t say another word.” And he didn’t, for a good moment. Kira was slowly taking off the sock puppet, and was even about to dispel Killer Queen before Josefumi suddenly turned on his heel and took off running down the hallway at full speed, yelling at the top of his lungs.
“KYO! KYO HOLY SHIT YOU’RE NEVER GONNA BELIEVE THIS-”
“Josefumi you’re DEAD MEAT–”
#my writing#jjba#fanfiction#josefumi kujo#kira yoshikage#jojolion#jojo's bizarre adventure#killer queen#sock puppets#listen man this was#too much fun#i hope you enjoyed lol
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The Other Woman - Chapter 18
Warnings: Negan being an asshole, Daddy kink, Possessive Negan, Possessive sex, Belt bondage, Teasing, Sex, Bodily Fluids, Violence, Gore, Language, Smoking, Drinking (a lot happens in this chapter)
Shout at me if you wanna be in the taglist :D
Masterlist
Chapter 18
Roxy’s P.O.V
I entered Negan’s room and removed my long robe, revealing my red baby doll that tied up in a big bow at the front, consider it too look like the bow on a present. I sat on the edge of his bed and waited. He should be here soon, at least I hoped so. I crossed my legs and stuck my chest out a little, my position ready for when he finally did decide to show up. I busied myself by scanning the titles of the books on the shelf next to his chair while I waited.
Eventually he entered and grinned, closing the door behind him. I smiled and got to my feet. About damn time. He looked me up and down and put Lucille down on his chair before pulling me close.
“It really must be my lucky night. First Ruby and now you for seconds and you even made an effort looking like a fucking Christmas present for me. Daddy can’t wait to see what he got,” he spoke.
My face fell and I shoved him away. That I didn’t need to know. Well fuck this idea.
I put the robe back on and tied it tight, much to his confusion.
“What? What did I do?” He asked.
“I don’t really want to fuck you when you just had your dick in someone else,” I said matter of factly.
“Oh come on, you can’t tease me like that.”
“You’re a grown man, use your right hand…or even better, use Lucille.”
I heard him scoff at this, not that I cared. I slammed his door behind me and headed back to my room, changing out of the underwear and into some pyjamas. If he just hadn’t mentioned Ruby, then sure I would have gladly fucked him. But he just had to go and ruin it. He needed to learn when to keep his damn mouth shut. It would get him into a lot less trouble.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I sat down outside the main building on a crate and lit a cigarette to keep myself warm and to get my nicotine fix. There were a few guards outside, keeping watch in case of walker or people attacks. They didn’t pay much attention to me though thankfully. I just wanted to be alone for a little while. That was short lived however as I heard footsteps and laughter behind me. I turned to find Sherry and Amber carrying a crate of alcohol and packs of cigarettes. Sherry stopped and came over to me, setting the crate down.
“Whatcha doing out here in the cold alone?” She asked.
I shrugged, “not a lot.”
Sherry turned to Amber and then back to me, “you wanna join us tonight, we’re having a little wives get together. No guys allowed.”
“I’m not officially a wife, so I don’t think I would be allowed in.”
“Well as Negans first wife meaning I’m in charge of the others I say your allowed in. And I’m not taking no for an answer.”
With this Sherry pulled me to my feet and picked up the case of alcohol before leading me to their area of The Sanctuary. The other girls were in there, Grace, Sabrina and of course Ruby.
As long as she shut her damn mouth tonight I think I could stay. Ruby smirked at me smugly. I ignored her, she was obviously going to be smug seeing as she fucked him last night and I didn’t. As long as she didn’t start bragging or going into great detail about last night then I would stay. I sat down on an empty couch and Sherry handed me a bottle of beer that had even been chilled a little.
I took a swig and placed the bottle on the coffee table. Amber sat down next to me, crossed legged and smiled softly. Oh great, I had the company of the fragile one for the evening. Amber was known for crying a lot, which is why she was probably dumped on Sherry a lot. Sherry turned on the CD player in the room and turned it to a comfortable background noise volume. I recognised Lana Del Rey’s voice come through the speakers. Sherry sat down and the girls began talking about life before the apocalypse. Oh boy I was going to need more booze for this shit.
“I’m just so glad that Dwight and I could stick together you know, I don’t know what I would have done without him and I definitely don’t know what we would have done if we hadn’t found Negan,” Sherry explained.
“Yeah but isn’t it difficult being away from Dwight, you know the rules Sherry,” Ruby sneered.
“Negan doesn’t really sleep with me, he sees me more as a drinking partner and the woman in charge of you lot,” Sherry smiled smugly.
“Sucks to be you then, you don’t know what you’re missing.”
I took that as my cue to get up and turn the music up more to drown her out before she could start going on and on about him making me want to smash her head against the coffee table. Ruby glared at me but the others seemed happy with my quick thinking. Grace got to her feet, mentioning how she loved this song and began dancing. Amber and Sherry joined her, I shrugged joining in myself, a bottle of beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Ruby stayed on the couch alone after Sabrina decided to join us too.
Fine be a grumpy bitch. I couldn’t care less right now, it felt nice to let loose, almost felt like things were normal and I was just having a night in with my friends. The door opened and Negan strode in, smiling when he saw most of us dancing. He took a seat on the couch and of course Ruby was straight by his side, with a drink for him. I turned away from them and continued to dance even though I could feel his eyes on me the whole time.
“Did you girls decide to have a fucking party without me?” He asked.
“Oh the parties just started now that you’re here,” Ruby said.
I rolled my eyes, it’s like everything she said to him had come straight from a cheap porno. The song came to a close and changed to a much more slow paced one.
“Roxy shouldn’t even be here, she isn’t one of your wives,” Ruby spoke quietly, thinking I couldn’t hear her.
I clenched my fists, feeling Sherry’s hand on my shoulder before I could throw the bitch to the floor. Negan chuckled and shook his head,” see she is one of you, she just doesn’t like that title.”
“Meaning she doesn’t actually want to be one of us. She thinks she’s better than all of us,” Ruby continued, louder this time.
This time I wasn’t holding back, “you sure you’re not talking about yourself Ruby?”
“Well why do you get to be so different? You’re not fucking special.”
I could see the amusement on Negans face, of course two women fighting over him was going to get him going.
“I never said I was and I definitely don’t act like it. You on the other hand don’t know when to shut your fucking mouth. None of us want to hear how fucking good he gave it to you the night before.”
“Why because your so fucking jealous?”
This time Negan intervened. He could see how pissed off I was getting.
“I think that’s enough Ruby, although there are two ways you could sort this shit out. One you take it outside and fight it out or two maybe the three of us could share a room for the night” he smirked.
I shot him a disgusted look and stormed out the room, dumping my bottle on the table on the way out. I threw my cigarette on the ground and stamped it out.
I crossed my arms over my chest and took deep breaths to calm myself down. I heard footsteps behind me and saw Negan lean against the wall, smiling to himself. Glad it was so entertaining for you asshole.
“The fuck do you want now?” I snapped.
“So you do get jealous over me?”
“Fuck off Negan.”
“Well you keep avoiding the question so I’m gonna take that as a yes.”
“Why would I get jealous? I don’t give a shit about you, you make it clear you don’t give a shit about me. And all this possessive bullshit, like hell I fucking belong to you.”
Negans demeanour changed and he stood up straight, his face falling. I didn’t care at this point; I was too angry to give a shit.
“I’m not your fucking property so you need to stop acting like I am. I’m a human being-“
“You are my fucking property Roxy. You keep talking like that and I’m gonna have to remind you of your place and who owns you.”
This time I got in his face, “you don’t fucking own me.”
Negan grabbed me, spinning me round and pinning me hard against the wall. His hands had a vice like grip on my wrists. Not many people spoke like this to him and lived.
“Your so fucking sure about that?” He spat.
I nodded and he pulled me through the complex and to his bedroom. He slammed the door behind him and threw me down on the bed. Before I had a chance to protest he was on me, pinning me down and kissing me hard. He began tearing off my clothes as well as his own, taking his belt and wrapping it round my wrists, securing it tight.
“This supposed to prove your point,” I spat.
“I haven’t fucking started yet.”
Not even bothering with any foreplay he forced himself inside of me. I bit my lip, holding back a moan so I didn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much I enjoyed this. He wasted no time and started a hard, fast pace. He gripped my hips, holding me still against him. He leaned down and took one of my nipples between his teeth. I couldn’t help the gasp that escaped me or the next set of moans. Damn him for being so fucking good in bed.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, forcing him deeper. He groaned before his lips moved up to my neck sucking various purple marks in to my flesh, marks that said I was his, marks I would see in the morning as part of my reminder. If only my damn arms were free, then I could give him some marks of my own down his back. I knew his grip on my hips were also going to leave marks. I turned my head away from him, his hand wrapping around my neck and forcing me back to look at him.
“You’re going to look at me when I make you cum, you fucking understand?” He growled.
“So what if you make me cum, doesn’t mean you own me.”
“Well if you have that attitude you won’t be cumming at all tonight.”
His pace slowed until he pulled out, now teasing me with the head of his cock. I bit my lip, holding back a rather needy whine. My hips however betrayed me, bucking and begging for his touch. I took a deep breath, attempting to calm myself but he then made things worse, placing feather light kisses on various spots of my body.
“You gonna be a good girl for me now?” He asked between kisses.
“Go fuck yourself.”
“Oh at this rate with the sight you are I might just do that.”
I let out a frustrated sigh, his lips curling in to a smirk.
“I broke through your defiant side once before, I’m sure I can do it again sweetheart,” he spoke.
I glared at him before giving in, “please.”
“Please what?”
“Please fuck me. Make me cum.”
He shrugged, “I don’t know, what you said was pretty hurtful.”
“Please,” I said louder and more desperate this time.
He pushed back inside of me, starting that out of control pace once more. I moaned, my hips bucking.
“Who owns you baby girl?” He asked, his hand around my neck again.
“You do,” I said breathlessly.
“That’s fucking right. And if you say shit like that to me ever again then punishment will be worse. You understand?”
“Yes Negan.”
“Good girl.”
He continued his pace, rolling his hips as well so his pelvis grinded against my clit perfectly. I soon reached my much needed climax, crying out his name over and over. He reached his moments after, pulling out and covering my stomach and chest in his seed. Probably another way of marking me as his. Asshole. Negan freed my wrists and kissed me. I got to my feet, heading to his bathroom to clean myself up.
Once clean I found him under the covers, waiting for me to come back. I climbed under the covers with him, propping myself up with my elbow while I faced him.
“Roxy you know your my fucking favourite, so stop with all this jealousy bullshit,” he confessed.
“But I’m not good enough on my own. So being your favourite really doesn’t mean much.”
Negan sighed and rubbed his eyes clearly frustrated, “you are the only one who has actually slept in my fucking bed.”
“Still doesn’t meant shit Negan.”
“Then what will?”
“Ruby is the only problem I have. Your other wives are lovely towards me but Ruby is a complete and utter bitch.”
“So what you want me to do get rid of her?”
“It doesn’t matter what I want, not with you You’ll just do whatever the hell you want regardless.”
I rolled over, facing away from him and pulled the covers up to my neck. He sighed but didn’t respond for once.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Simon and I had just returned from a successful meet up with Ezekiel. We were both laughing at how Ezekiel had once again tried to flirt with me by calling me things like ‘fair maiden’ and kissing my hand. He’d even brought Shiva for me to pet again. We we’re about to head inside, still talking. I heard footsteps quick footsteps behind me before something hard hitting me in the back of the head. I fell on my face, groaning. Who the fuck and what the fuck had hit me? I felt the back of my head, my fingers coming back sticky with a little blood. Mother fucker. I slowly turned only was kicked onto my back.
Ruby. She was carrying a length of pipe and began laying into me with her feet, kicking my sides, stomach and my face. Any part she could reach was not safe. Simon attempted to intervene but she swung the pipe at him. I needed to get up or otherwise she could kill me. I’m sure that was on her agenda right now. I was bleeding from my nose and lip now as well. Ruby turned back to me and smiled, crouching down so she could be closer to me.
“What’s the matter baby girl? You lost your fight?” She taunted.
I glared up at her, finding some strength.
“No. I just found it.”
I spat at her, hitting her directly in the eye. This gave me only seconds to get my ass up. I forced myself to my feet and grabbed a fistful of her hair. Ruby screeched, demanding I let go of her. I punched her square in the face, not giving two shits about the crowd that had formed. I punched her again, feeling her nose break under my fist. Good, now we could match. She gave me a set of fresh cuts and bruises I could give them back.
I continued laying into her until she was on the floor, tears streaming down her face. I stopped and stood up straight the best I could. Negan had made his way to the front of the crowd, his expression unreadable. He looked at Ruby then at me.
“Come on, let’s get you some ice. Sherry, clean her up,” Negan ordered.
Sherry went over to Ruby and forced her to feet, very little sympathy being given. I followed Negan through the building, still unsure if I was in trouble or not. He forced me to sit down on a bed in the infirmary and pulled out a bag of ice.
I hesitantly took it from him and held it to my lip. He pulled up a chair and sat down opposite me, a first aid kit in one hand and Lucille in the other. He put Lucille down and I relaxed a little. Negan opened the first aid kit and produced some sterile wipes, attacking my nose with them. I winced and slapped his hand away.
“You could be gentler,” I spoke.
“Why? Or you’ll lay into me like you did to Ruby? Because holy fucking shit did you fuck her up.”
“She came at me with a pipe, I was defending myself-“
“I know, Simon told me everything.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, I was still angry and running on adrenaline.
“You gonna do anything about Ruby now or do I have to now have eyes in the back of my head, hoping her next attack won’t be as bad, or that next time she won’t have gotten hold of a knife or even worse a gun?” I snapped.
“There won’t be a next time, not with how bad you fucked her up.”
“Negan, forgive me for questioning your stupid fucking judgment but with bitches like her there is always a next time.”
“Well what do you want me to do with her?”
“For her to not be one of your wives anymore, if she attacked me what if one day she turns around and attacks Sherry or even Amber? What if she was to scar Ambers fucking face? What would you do then?”
He knew Amber would never be able to defend herself against an attack like that and he also knew how much Amber valued how beautiful she was and he sure as shit valued it too.
He sighed and rubbed his eyes. He began dabbing at my nose this time, which was a lot less painful than the first time.
“She can start working for points, I’ll tell her tonight,” Negan concluded.
“You’re still making it seem like this is a hard decision for you, stop thinking with your dick for once and use your damn brain.”
He sat back in his chair, tossing the bloody wipe into the trash. Negan picked up Lucille and looked at her almost longingly.
“Honestly, it’s not hard for me. If you wanted, you could fucking kill her for all I care. The one person I would care if you hurt on the other hand is Lucille,” he explained.
I frowned, imploring him to continue. He opened his mouth and then closed it as if thinking better of what he was going to say. He snapped the lid shut of the first aid kit and dumped it on my lap before getting to his feet.
“Negan, where are you going?” I asked, concern clear in my voice.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Before I could get another word in he had already left. My shoulders slumped. He’d wanted to tell me something, that much was obvious but I wasn’t too sure what Lucille had to do with it. As far as I was concerned it was just a name he had given his bat. It couldn’t mean anything, right?
Taglist: @astrangegirlsmind, @mypapawinchester, @genevievedarcygranger, @grungedaddykinks, @jessie-cake1994-blog, @negandarylsatisfaction, @ladylorelitany, @mwesterfeld1985, @warriorqueen1991, @isayweallgetdrunk, @jungle-feeveer, @negans-network, @slothdoll, @shadesofarrogance, @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash, @jml509, @glittered-unicorn-lava, @thewew, @prettyepiic, @eldritchmortician, @neganisking, @jmackie1983, @cranberrysymphony, @negans-girl, @ali-pennell, @thamberlina, @libby822
#Negan#NeganxOC#NeganxRoxy#Negan smut#Negan fanfiction#Simon#the other woman#walking dead#walking dead fanfiction#jeffrey dean morgan
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Apocalypse. In 50 Years. Chapter 2 (WIP)
I have zero inspiration to write this story -_- I can’t even name the chapter, let alone finish it...
Anyone, please adopt this project if you find it even the least bit interesting.
--
Ahh, Saturday morning! Nowhere to go, nothing to do but enjoy the soft bed and drift in and out of sleep for as long as I want…
“GAAAH!”
What the fuck?! Rapture is standing right next to my bed, peering down at me like it’s totally normal! What is wrong with her?!
“I see you are awake”, she comments flatly.
“I see you camped out next to my bed!”
I don’t remember her being there in the evening, did she come in later to guard my sleep? ‘Cause I would appreciate her doing it a bit further away! And she’s still not making any kind of move to give me some peace!
“Do you mind?”
She just tilts her head like a dog trying to understand something. Well, my morning’s already ruined, so might as well get up early.
“I wanna get dressed. I prefer not to have an audience.”
Rapture leaves the room and closes the door behind her without a word. Surprisingly enough, she doesn’t start talking with (or rather, complain at) Meta, either.
I dig out some clothes again, going through outfits to see which elicits the least sense of wrong. But all of them feel exactly the same – not wrong at all. Just what is going on? Should I be worried? I’m not gonna lie, I’m relieved the feeling is at long last gone, after suffering from constant pressure for damn near a decade, but having it just disappear like that! Does… does it have something to do with my guardian angel? Rapture said she and Meta replaced the guardian angel I had, and I stopped feeling wrong right after the hand waved me goodbye… Wow, jerk move, guardian angel! Making me feel like crap about myself, never letting me know what’s right, nooooo, everything just had to be wrong! Thanks a bunch! That’s your idea of guidance? Forcing me to choose what feels a fraction less wrong? Unbelievable!
Seeing Meta passed out on the couch doesn’t do much to lift my spirits, either. You’d think an angel would take her job of guarding the grandmother of Christ just a tad more seriously. Rapture might have been stalking me in my sleep, but at least she was awake for any possible threats rushing in the window or whatever. And speaking of her… The reason she stayed quietly earlier was because she wanted to complain to me once I got out.
“Look at her! She is terrible! She sleeps all night and most of the morning, some of the day even!”
Honestly, why meeeeee? These two maniacs are gonna drive me to manslaughter.
“And even her waking time she wastes on TV and punching walls!”
Heaven has TV? Or did these two just mainly spend their time on Earth? What would a Heaven TV show even be about? Mostly reality, or news, or dramas? I have a little trouble believing creatures of virtue would make soap operas. I mean, I doubt they have genitals to cheat on their spouses with. And their kids couldn’t get into drugs, due to, you know, not existing? Or… hmm. Well, I could just ask - if Rapture would let me get a word in edgewise.
“What am I to do with this lazy sack of immorality? I have never had this problem with any of the other garrison members! I might even say she is doing this on purpose! Just look! She has yet to even stir!”
Yeah, it really was starting to look like Meta was pissing off her partner on purpose. No one should be able to sleep through her shrill nagging. Could it really be possible they had worked together for so long Meta simply got used to it and it turned into background noise?
Was that what the “blessed silence” was about? Rapture finally shut up for five minutes and it kinda scared Meta? Now that I thought about it, her voice hadn’t been at all the tired-of-this-crap bitchy tone, but all, like, soft and full of wonder. It was almost… I dunno, endearing? That someone who pretended to be such a tough gal could go deredere from something so simple as silence? Was Meta secretly a tsundere? I wonder if she watches anime?
Oh, Rapture had actually quieted down at some point. Am I already so used to her nagging it turned into background noise? Crap, and she’s looking at me so expectantly, too. She wants an answer.
I panic so I shrug, and go to making breakfast much noisier than needed, both to get Rapture off my back and wake up Meta. And surprisingly enough, I achieve both goals! Rapture is for some reason more interested in my cooking than harassing me for an answer, and Meta stirs soon enough, and for once looks pretty content. Well, at least for a full five seconds, then she notices Rapture and her face sours right back into Warheads territory.
Rapture’s gown has a definite blue undertone this morning, and I’m pretty sure her hair is also curlier than yesterday. And of course I saw her removing her wings yesterday, so clearly angels can change their appearance at will, and Rapture does it as both emphasis and whim. Meta, on the other hand, looks exactly the same as yesterday, I don’t think even her hair part has moved a single millimeter. Why would she choose to look so plain? I’m really lucky for my natural good looks so I don’t actually need to use much makeup, but miss Asuka here could look like anything she wants, literally just by wanting! She could be a hundred times more beautiful than me equipped with all the makeup skills in the universe!
Rapture sits next to me at the table, while Meta stays on the couch. She’s still technically at the table, since it’s pushed against the back of couch. There’s not enough room in my place to separate the furniture by much. I wouldn’t even bother with a table if I didn’t need a surface to sew on. Doing it on the floor was a massive pain for the two weeks I tried to endure.
As Rapture watches me eat in keen attention, I start feeling rude for not offering them anything. I doubt angels need to eat - but then again, I never expected they could be plain, bitchy lesbians.
“Do angels need to eat? ‘Cause I can make you guys something if you’re hungry.”
“We are beings of pure energy, and as such are incapable of consuming anything material”, Rapture says proudly, still staring at me chewing. Careful there, you could make a girl self-conscious.
“Doesn’t mean we can’t still like eating”, Meta quips, not even fully facing me. I’m hoping it’s because then she would also have to see Rapture, and not because she’s an ass.
“Well, I have tea, coffee, eggs, bread, um, not really much else… The selection's not great, but it's there if you’d like something.”
“Nah, I only like smokes.”
Figures. On the plus side, now I don’t need to waste my depleting reserves on someone this rude. Rapture also declines, because she finds consuming food disgusting. I don’t get it, but hey, I’m not a being of pure energy.
Rapture takes in a breath and turns to Meta, who immediately announces she’s going to get some damn smokes already. I can’t say I really blame her, Rapture was obviously right about to start another rant. Still, if she starts smoking inside, I’ll have to take McNaggety’s side.
Surprisingly enough, Rapture makes no move to follow her. She just sighs deep and frowns slightly.
“...The material might do nothing for us physically, but the psychological effects can be great.”
“So, you’re saying Meta is addicted to nicotine?” Now that’s a weird thought. An angel, addicted to a substance of vice! Ha!
“No, to the placebo calming effect”, Rapture specifies. “She has simply decided smoking is calming, and now her psyche reacts to cigarettes that way.” She doesn’t even look all that angry. I get the impression Rapture actually likes Meta a bit and lashes out because she’s tired of seeing her ruin her own life. “There are times when I worry about her greatly, it is not good for a Heavenly creature to rely on Earthly materials. And she is a chain smoker.”
Yeah, she actually does sound worried. I had her pegged as the can-only-feel-mad-at-lesser-beings-type, but maybe they’re both tsundere?
“Wonder what she’s so stressed about.”
“I would not know. She has been like that since before she came to my employ.”
“And how long have you worked together?”
And there goes all the worry right out the window. Rapture scoffs like I asked the most ridiculous question in the world with the most obvious answer in existence, and assumed she didn’t know it.
“Together? She is my underling. She works for me, not with me.”
Yup, that settles it, Rapture is just a dick who can’t think of others as sentient beings. Meta doesn’t seem like the ideal employee, I’ll give her that, or even a conventional angel, but she still has feelings and worth.
“And to answer your question, she has worked for me for 57 years.”
I suddenly have less desire to interact with her than a puddle of vomit, so I quietly down the last of my porridge. I wanna complain to Saida, but with the disaster of Meta cursing out Ricky yesterday, I don’t feel like introducing those two firecrackers to each other. And I’m not pathetic enough for vaguebooking, so suffering alone it is. Checking emails - nothing about the lecture materials being fixed yet, facebook – the same old clickbait articles as yesterday, class whatsapp – 200+ new messages, last one from yesterday about Ellie’s party tomorrow, tumblr – not touching that with an angel of the Lord looming over my shoulder…
About ten minutes into 9gag Meta comes back in the front door, visibly calmer and smelling faintly of cigarette smoke. Rapture said they’re completely incorporeal, but then shouldn’t the smell not linger? Maybe their bodies are just a teeny tiny percentage physical?
As I scrunch up my nose, Meta realizes this and actually apologizes for the smell. Guess she really needed those smokes, huh. There might even be a decent person somewhere inside that smelly old curmudgeon.
But back to that physicality question.
“Can you feel touch?” I ask. “Or, more like, can you be touched at all? If you’re not physical, I mean.”
“We can be touched, sure, because the more power an angel has the more corporeal their body has to be”, Meta explains without a hint of condescension. She becomes thoughtful, and crosses her hands. “But we have no nervous system, our psyche has to consciously create the feeling. Most of us have no interest in creating autonomous sensations, ‘cause it takes a lot of effort for not much gain, but it is possible.”
“That’s pretty interesting.”
She smiles sadly, and I’m thrown off track. She really goddamn needed those smokes.
“For humans, I guess. I might be the only angel to ever use it.”
But then Rapture scoffs loudly and Meta remembers who else is in the room, and the moment is gone. She glares at her with poison daggers in her eyes, basically challenging her boss to just say something, motherfucker. Trying to defuse the bomb, I say the first thing that comes to mind.
“That’s pretty cool, you can’t get hurt accidentally!”
And it works. Rapture proudly announces she has never been hurt, because she never imagined what it feels like, and Meta simmers down to thoughtfully stroke her palm with a thumb.
--
Both angels have a reason for why they act the way they do. Whether they’re good reasons or not is another matter entirely.
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