#trying to get over 'i need to put something in every tile' syndrome

[loopenbumble]

simple yoga retreat for vivian 🤍

[rocorambles]

Ok what about a tsundere reader (preferably male but if you don’t do male then females fine!) with yandere Oikawa, yandere Iwaizumi, yandere Matsukawa & yandere Hanamaki? Maybe (if male) their darling is on the team or something? Noncon maybe?

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Being on a sports team full of yandere teammates??? Easily one of the worst scenarios to be in. And a tsundere male on top of that who pretends he hates them, pretends he doesn’t return any of their interest? He’s just asking for trouble because Oikawa can sniff out that lie in a matter of seconds. 

Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Non-Con/Dub-Con, Stockholm Syndrome/Mind Break, Humiliation, Anal DP, Overstimulation

You love volleyball, love the sound of sneakers skidding on the court, love the satisfying thud of a ball connecting with skin, love the view of a ball arching over the net. And you remember when you had once loved your team. 

In all fairness, you still love your underclassmen, love mentoring Kindaichi and Yahaba, love teasing Kunimi and Kyoutani. But when they’re gone, off to their respective homes, you only know apprehension and disgust. Although you don’t know who that disgust is aimed at...your fellow third-years? Yourself? Both? 

You know that whatever the five of you have isn’t healthy, finding false comfort in at least putting up a front of anger and irritation whenever Oikawa’s hand finds its way on your ass, whenever Iwaizumi slams you up against a locker, whenever Matsukawa insists on washing you off in the shower, whenever Hanamaki drapes his lean figure over yours. But Oikawa’s always been eerily observant and you know he doesn’t miss the way moans threaten to slip past your lips, the way there’s no real bite behind your half-hearted shoves, the way you find yourself more often than not so conveniently left alone with the four of them.  

And today’s no exception as you purposefully slow down packing your bag, cheerfully waving off your underclassmen, body instinctively tensing when the last of them step out of the locker room, the resounding click of the door echoing in their wake. 

Not a moment too soon as a chin hooks over your shoulder, Hanamaki’s hands tightly gripping your hips, his teeth playfully tugging on your earlobe. But before you can dig your elbow into his guts and snarl at him to leave you alone, another body towers in front of you and you nervously swallow as Matsukawa smirks down at you, his fingers pulling at the hem of your shirt, easily stripping you in practiced movements as his friend holds you still. 

“Time to shower.”

It’s a well-rehearsed play, your struggle and rejections, their forcefulness and coercion. But it always ends the same way and you sob as Hanamaki’s fingers meanly twist your nipples, one of Matsukawa’s digits lodged knuckle deep into your tight ass, Oikawa and Iwaizumi watching from the sidelines, towels hardly covering their interest as you see their generous bulges from underneath the fabric. 

But then you’re moaning, hands clutching onto Hanamaki’s shoulders for balance as Matsukawa brushes against that spot inside of you that has you seeing stars and all four of them laugh as your cock twitches in interest, your hips rutting into Hanamaki’s hand as he casually palms your growing erection. 

“All those mean and nasty words and for what? At least your body is honest.” 

Oikawa always prefers to sit back and let his teammates have their fun with you first, spouting some bullshit about how being a good captain is about delaying his own gratification. But in all honesty, you think he just gets off to your demise, to the way the other three take you apart, to the humiliation and broken despair on your face as you submit to your inner desires. And you glare at him as his sickeningly sweet voice echoes in the room. 

But you don’t have time to focus on other things and your head snaps back as you’re forced to your knees, squealing as the water still rains down on your head, almost drowning you as Hanamaki shoves his cock into your mouth. It’s hard to breathe, hard to think of anything other than the steady stream drenching your face, the way your mouth and throat are stretched around the obtrusive object, the way Matsukawa’s blunt head is beginning to push against your stretched out hole. Yet you’re grateful for the water, grateful that the sound of drops pattering against the tiled floors tune out Hanamaki’s moans, the slick sound of both your holes being used, Oikawa’s leering voice, and most importantly, your own garbled wanton noises as Matsukawa rails your prostate with deadly accuracy. 

You can feel a crescendo rising inside of you, your nails digging into the palms of your hands as you use every last bit of restraint you have not to touch your own throbbing cock, knowing there would be hell to pay if you do anything without their explicit consent. But you wail in frustration when hot sticky white liquid fills both ends and the two men step away from you, your own cock still bobbing up and down, pre-cum mixing with the water swirling down the drain as you beg and plead to cum, turning imploring eyes to Iwaizumi who looks at you with green eyes full of pity and lust. 

He makes a move towards you and you eagerly present your cream-pied hole, arching your back even more, wiggling your ass enticingly. But before he can touch you, a voice you’ve come to hate lances through the air.

“He has to work for it, Iwa-chan.” 

Dread fills you, but you know what needs to be done and you crawl on all fours to where Oikawa casually sits on one of the locker room benches, obediently kneeling between his legs, panting when he mockingly nudges your painfully hard cock with his foot. 

“That looks pretty painful. I guess I should be a good captain and help you out. Come sit in my lap.” 

And as demeaning as it is to spread your legs on either side of the brunette’s body, your chest pressed against his, your face hiding in the crook of his neck as you lower your fluttering hole onto his cock, you moan as your cock presses against the hard planes of his abdomen, subtly grinding against him like a dog in rut, only stopping when a calloused hand harshly spanks your ass, chiding you about being good and staying still. 

You wait and wait, unsure exactly what you’re waiting for, unsure exactly what Oikawa has in store for you today. But your head shoots up, eyes panickedly making contact with amused chocolate brown orbs when you feel a finger tug at your already stretched out rim, making room besides Oikawa’s cock inside of you. You try to stand up, escape, but it’s impossible when two sets of hands hold down your shoulder, keeping you seated balls deep on your captain’s shaft, and a new wave of tears threaten to spill as Matsukawa and Hanamaki sneer down at your terrified face. 

And so you’re forced to endure as Iwaizumi slips in one finger, two fingers, three fingers, stretching your puckered hole more than it’s ever been, mouth opening in a silent agonized scream as he finally begins to push in alongside his best friend. It feels like forever passes before he finally stops moving and suddenly breathing seems impossible as your mind tries to comprehend the fullness, the pain, the pleasure tearing you apart as your vice captain and captain’s cocks nestle inside of you. 

But then there’s only mind-numbing pleasure as Oikawa reaches down between the two of you, his hand firmly wrapping around your cock, stroking the length as Iwaizumi and him begin to bounce you in his lap, your prostate constantly stimulated by the sheer mass inside of you, Hanamaki and Matsukawa reaching down to tug and tweak your nipples. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave and you scream, wail, a crude animalistic sound that only eggs the men on, Oikawa using your cum as lube as he continues to insistently stroke your softening cock, laughing when your pleasure turns to overwhelming pain, tears streaming down your face when you beg them to stop, claiming it’s too much. 

“We don’t allow quitters on our team. There’s no such thing as too much. That just means you need to push yourself harder.” 

And push you they do, breaking past limits you never even thought could be surpassed, breaking your body and mind over and over again, molding you and rebuilding you into their perfect teammate. 

But you can’t find it in yourself to really mind as Iwaizumi gently cleans your cum-covered body, dressing you in your clean change of clothes, and drags you back home, the four of them easily chatting away as if they hadn’t just used you as nothing more than a post-practice stress reliever, only Iwaizumi’s heavy hand on your lower back a reminder of the predicament you’re in. 

You love volleyball. You love Aoba Johsai. You love your underclassmen. And maybe, just maybe, you might feel something for your fellow third-years, you think, as you tuck yourself into Iwaizumi’s side, a finger hooking into the pocket of his team-issued jacket. 

[master-sass-blast]

Release.

Hmmmmm... this thing is solid projection. Whoops.

Summary: You're exhausted. No matter what you do, you can't get enough rest to save your soul. You try to keep up with everything, try to not let the fatigue hinder you

--And then it all comes crashing down.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader.

Rating: T for depression, anxiety, chronic fatigue, and general angst-hurt/comfort vibes.

Set after “It’s Truly Magical,” but this one is special in that it doesn't directly impact the canon. It's sort of a special one-off.

Author’s Note: So, as some of you may have gathered from the tags and preamble, this fic is basically me venting my own frustration.

I've been dealing with some pretty wicked chronic fatigue for the better part of... coming up on a year now, actually. Wow. I didn't realize it'd been that long.

It's made life really hard for me, from everything to eating to doing chores to hanging out with friends to writing. We don't know what's causing it, and we're trying to take care of it through lifestyle changes and making sure I don't exert myself too much (we meaning me, my family, my fiance, and my doctor). There's been a few things that have helped, but by in large it's still been kicking my ass.

I know I was gone for a long time. Part of that was the fatigue making it impossible to write or post. To those of you who are still around, thank you -and I'm sorry. I'm trying my best, I promise.

If you're dealing with chronic fatigue or think you're dealing with chronic fatigue, just know that it's okay that you're tired. You're not lazy. You're not a failure. You're not going crazy. You're not a burden. Your body needs rest, you need rest, and you *deserve* to rest.

Here's a resource on chronic fatigue syndrome and what it looks like.

I hope you're all doing well. Stay safe and wear your mask.

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @super-darkcloudstudent, @dandyqueen, @leo-writer

It creeps over you. It starts as a wispy, soft cloud, hanging over the horizon of your existence.

And then it grows. Larger, more oppressive. Until you’re fully immersed in it, with no sense of direction or how to get out.

 ***

 You’re not really sure you remember when it started. You’ve always been tired to some extent –anxiety, nightmares, and running on the X-Men schedule will do that to a person.

Exhaustion hits like a brick one day after training. You slump against the tiled wall in one of the shower stalls in the locker room. Water streams down your sweaty face and body while you struggle to make your eyes focused. Shit. I must have pushed too hard.

You manage to get yourself cleaned up and trudge back to yours and Piotr’s home at the back of Xavier’s property. You collapse onto the couch in the living room. Your limbs are stone, too heavy to drag another step. Your body throbs in time with your heartbeat. I need a nap. Just for a couple hours.

You only want to sleep for a couple hours.

You only mean to sleep for a couple hours.

You wake up at nine in the evening, to Piotr gently nudging you.

He tuts, fussing over you like a worried mother hen. “Are you feeling well, myshka?” He presses the back of his hand against your forehead. “You have slept for long time.”

“I’m fine,” you mumble, mind still cloudy with exhaustion. You force yourself to sit up. You jaw cracks when you yawn. “Just overdid it in training today.”

Your husband gently chides you, ushering you into the kitchen so you can eat. “It is important to replenish energy.”

You go straight to bed after eating and sleep for another ten hours.

 ***

 Part of you wonders ‘how did I let this happen? How did I let it get this bad?’

The other part of you wonders if you had any say in it at all.

 ***

 The fatigue starts seeping into other areas of your life as well. Training, grading, hanging out with friends, eating…

You’re so tired. You chalk it up to mission stress, to going too hard during training, to running on weird hours all the time.

You start sleeping through the day to cope. No matter how well you sleep at night or how much sleep you get, you’re always so fucking tired.

Piotr notices the change in your sleeping habits. Because of course he does. It’s ingrained into his very DNA to be an observant, loving nurturer.

He brings it up during dinner one night. “Are you doing alright, myshka?”

“What? Yeah. Of course.” You’d woken up from a nap a couple hours before, and you feel good for once. (You’ll crash a couple hours later.) “Why? What’s wrong?”

“You have been sleeping at odd hours,” Piotr says, stirring his soup with his spoon. “I just want to make sure you are not having mental troubles.”

“I’m fine, baby.” And, on that front, you are. You’ve got your meds, your support system, a home, creative outlets, and a fulfilling –if occasionally dangerous—job. “I’ve just been tired lately, is all. I think it’s the weird mission hours just putting my body clock out of whack.”

“You should try to stay on normal schedule, then,” Piotr points out. He frowns, concerned. “Is not good for mental health to keep odd hours.”

You bristle. You are trying, dammit. You push through training and grading and your obligations every single damn day, even if all you can do is collapse in bed afterwards. Who the hell is he to say that you’re not trying?! “I am, Piotr. You don’t have to micromanage me. I’m not one of your teens.”

Piotr recoils, blue eyes widening. He holds up his hands. “Easy, dorogoy. I am not trying to micromanage. I just want you to be healthy.”

You drop your gaze down to your bowl of soup. Your heart races in your throat. “Sorry.”

***

 It’s like being one of those houses infested with termites. You’re being consumed from the inside out. On the outside, you look fine. On the inside, you’re crumbling away like a sad, dry cookie left in the bottom of the cookie jar for five long, lonely months.

You’ve always been weird. You oscillate between outgoing and reclusive like nobody’s business. You’re a lot like Wade –somewhere between amusing and a nuisance to most of the adults, though most of the teens and kids like you.

(Piotr insists that it’s not true, that everyone likes you well enough, but you’ve never quite had the full faith to believe him.)

No one notices that you’re hurting. No one notices that something’s wrong. No one notices, no one notices, no one fucking notices—

But, to be fair, you hardly notice it yourself.

 ***

 You kind of start to lose your mind, if you’re being honest.

It’s hard enough to keep up with your workload with the mission scheduling –but being tired all the time slams the nail in the coffin. You manage to drag yourself to training on time because it’s mandatory, because it’s important, because it’s for the good of your team, and—

And everything else falls apart.

You spend countless late night hours on the couch cramming through your grading, because you needed to sleep earlier, and the deadline’s only looming closer, and you have to be productive, dammit—

More than once, you drag yourself up to bed when Piotr’s just getting up for the day.

He frowns, forehead creasing. “Myshka—”

“I had grading to do,” you mutter as you crawl back into bed.

He finishes buttoning up his shirt, then sits down next to you. The bedframe groans under his bulk. “This is not healthy, moya lyubov’.”

“I’m fucking working on it, Piotr!” you snap, glaring at your husband. “Just –leave me alone!”

He swallows hard, blue eyes shining with hurt. He looks like a kicked puppy.

You huff and slam your face into your pillow, mostly to hide the fact that you’re crying.

Piotr smooths your hair down, then kisses the back of your head. “Ya tebya lyublyu, myshka.”

You bite down on your pillow and cry harder.

 ***

 It’s more than just being tired.

It’s guilt. It’s enough guilt to fill an ocean. No amount of effort you make is good enough; no matter how hard you try you wind up failing. Or snapping at someone you love. Or being unable to do even the simplest shit.

There’s so much anger, too. At the world, at anyone who points out that you’re not doing well, at yourself. There’s a scream constantly behind your lips, trying to crack its way out of your chest.

You’re failing. You’re trying to scoop up handfuls of sand to keep an entire dune from consuming you, and the grains keep running through your fingers; it practically looks like you haven’t done anything at all, and you’re so fucking tired…

 ***

 The ‘house’ collapses over a load of dishes.

One load of fucking dishes.

It’s ridiculous.

You manage to drag yourself out of bed one morning, trying to get the haze that seems to be a permanent fixture in your mind to clear. You trudge downstairs, energy sapping out of you with every step you take.

You see last night’s dishes in the sink, waiting to be rinsed and loaded into the dishwasher.

It’s an easy task. The dishes aren’t all that dirty, and there aren’t that many of them.

And you can’t do it. You don’t have the energy. You’re just too fucking tired.

You failed.

You crumple to the floor, weeping against the wooden floorboards as the dam you’d been trying so hard to keep stable gives way. You scream, anger and guilt and frustration and self-loathing washing over you, crushing you beneath their weight. You clutch at your hair, seething as the past few months finally come to a head—

And then Piotr’s arms are around you. (Later, you’ll learn that he stopped back at the house to pick up a gradebook, which is why he was even around during the day in the first place.) He scoops you up, cradling you against his chest. “Myshka, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

You sob into his shirt, beyond words.

“Okay, okay.” He checks you over to make sure you’re not visibly injured, then carries you upstairs to bed.

You whimper when he tries to tuck you in. “No –I’ve got stuff to do—”

“It can wait,” he says, loving but firm. He gently tugs the comforter over you, then toes his shoes off before laying down next to you.

“It can’t,” you cry, even as he tugs you into his arms and tucks you against his chest. “It’s already waited for so long.”

“And it can wait longer.” He kisses your forehead. “It is okay, myshka. Rest.”

You snuffle and sob and gasp—

And, eventually, you fall asleep.

 ***

 You wake up to Piotr stroking your hair. You inhale sharply, blinking to cast the bleariness out of your vision. “What time is it?”

“About noon,” he says.

Your heart sinks. “Shit. I’ve got grading—”

He places his arm over your waist, holding you in place. “It can wait.”

“But—”

“You had breakdown this morning, myshka. Health comes first.” He gazes into your eyes, brow furrowing. “Talk to me, moya lyubov. Please. What is wrong?”

Your heart rips into infinitesimal pieces at seeing him so worried –and then you start crying again. “I can’t…” You squeeze your eyes shut and buy your face against his chest. “I can’t. I can’t do it. No matter how much sleep I get, or I don’t get, or how much I exercise or don’t exercise, or what I eat or –any of it. I’m so tired, Piotr.” You let out a choked sob. “I’m just so tired, and I keep failing—”

Piotr rubs your back and kisses the top of your head. “It’s okay, myshka. It’s okay.”

***

 Eventually, you settle again. You’re snuggled against Piotr’s chest, sniffling and sighing while he strokes your hair.

It’s not a bad place to bed.

“How long?” he asks, voice quiet and gentle. “How long have you felt tired?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, lulled to a state of near drowsiness by his ministrations. “A few months? Maybe a little longer? I’ve always been kind of tired, what with anxiety and nightmares and all that shit.”

He ‘hmms,’ kissing the top of your head. “Have you eaten yet?”

“…does leftover pizza at three in the morning count?”

He sighs, exasperated and amused. “Okay, time for food.”

“I can’t,” you whimper, tears coming back as frustration swells in your chest. “I’m too tired to eat.”

Piotr shushes you, gently drying your cheeks with a tissue. “What if I bring you something?”

You stomach churns with guilt and self-loathing. “I’m not a baby. I don’t… I shouldn’t need people to make food for me.”

“No, not baby,” Piotr agrees, kissing your cheek. “But you are unwell.”

“I’m not sick!”

“Unwell is unwell,” Piotr states, voice brokering no room for debate (though it never loses that gentle intonation of his). “If I bring you food, will you eat?”

You hesitate, then manage a small nod. “Something small, please. I don’t want, like, a whole meal.”

Piotr nods. He heads downstairs, then returns a few minutes later with some toast, fruit, a glass of milk –and some Cheetos.

You giggle when you see the fluorescent orange cheese-snacks on your plate. “You do love me.”

“Navsegda.” He hands the plate to you, sets the glass on your nightstand, then waits for you to start in on your toast before speaking again. “I think you should see Dr. Mccoy about fatigue.”

“But I’m not sick,” you argue after swallowing a bite of toast.

“That you know of,” he corrects. “Lots of things can cause fatigue. Is best to check, to make sure more serious problem is not happening.”

“But…” A lump rises in your throat. “What if this is just me now? What if… what if I’m just broken?”

Piotr takes your hand in his. He presses his lips against your knuckles. “Then we know, and we make life suited to your brokenness.”

“I can’t slow everyone down, Piotr,” you insist. Your eyes burn with unshed tears. “I can’t –I can’t be a burden. It’s not fair to everyone else if I’m getting some sort of special treatment because I’m tired.”

“You are not burden,” Piotr declares, gaze boring into yours. “You are never burden. Understand?”

“Piotr—”

“Things happen, myshka. Sometimes, our bodies just… do not work right anymore. You still deserve comfortable, happy life. Nothing is unfair about that. Nothing.” He kisses the back of your hand again when you sigh, then pats your leg. “Finish eating. We go to doctor afterwards.”

 ***

 The only way out is through.

Who would’ve guessed.

 ***

 Dr. McCoy runs a series of comprehensive tests. Thyroid, allergy, iron deficiencies, vitamin deficiencies, glucose levels—

It comes back negative. All of it.

On one hand, it’s a good thing, given that you don’t have some sort of life-threatening condition that needs treating.

On the other hand, you just feel worse. It’s like proof that you have no excuse, that you’re tired for no reason, and that you just need to try harder.

“You are trying,” Piotr says when you admit as much. He draws you into a hug and kisses the top of your head. “We just need to find tools so that trying isn’t so hard.”

“What if there’s nothing?” you ask in a horrified whisper. “What if we try everything and nothing works?”

He kisses the top of your head again. “Then that is okay, too. However you are is okay, myshka.”

 ***

 “How’s the tai chi going?”

You shrug. “It’s fine.” Nathan had switched you over to low impact exercise the second he got wind of your fatigue issues. “Wade likes to do it with me; we like to try and incorporate lame dance moves into our sets to see if Nathan’ll catch us doing it.”

Alyssa chuckles and shakes her head. “And does he?”

“He definitely did when Wade started doing the worm.”

The two of you laugh together.

“And how’s your task setting going?” Alyssa asks when you both settle back down. She grins when you scowl. “Ooh, I knew that’d be your reaction. I knew you were not going to like it one bit. You keep trying to eat the whole whale, sweetheart. You’re gonna choke!”

“I know, I know.” You sigh, frustrated and dejected in equal measure. “It’s just… hard. I used to be able to do so much more. And now –it’s like my body was stolen away from me.”

“I know, sweetheart. And I’m so sorry. But it’s important that you learn to readjust your scope for what’s reasonable and what’s not. Otherwise, you’re gonna keep spinning yourself in anxious circles –and you’re gonna keep making the fatigue worse by overworking yourself.”

You groan and rub at your face with your hands. “It just… it feels wrong! Like I’m being lazy! I don’t have a reason to be so tired.”

“Sure you do,” Alyssa says, as if it’s that simple. “Your body is healing. You spent a lifetime being traumatized and abused. Your body put itself on hold to help keep you alive. You’ve dealt with your anxiety, depression, and trauma to the point where you’re stable, so now all those years of stress and pain are finally catching up. This is your body’s way of saying ‘hey, it’s my turn!’ So, now you need to listen to it.”

“But what if I don’t get better?” you ask, voice fraying. “What if I’m like this forever?”

She shrugs, tucking her braids over her shoulder. “That could happen; the amount of trauma you went through would be more than enough to result in a permanent presentation of chronic fatigue syndrome. But it could also get better, too. There’s no point in trying to predict the outcome.”

“But if I don’t get better, I’ll have to step down from being an X-Man.”

“There is more to this life than being an X-Man, honey,” Alyssa says, smiling warmly at you. “You have an entire world to discover. You just might have to do it at a different pace than everyone else. Your goal isn’t to get back to being an X-Man. Your goal is to take care of yourself.”

You tuck your knees under your chin and wrap your arms around your legs. “That doesn’t feel like enough.”

“How come?”

“Because it’s me. I have to do more to make up for the fact that it’s me.”

Alyssa points her pen at you. “That’s the anxiety and depression talking. You are more than enough, just as you are. Your worth is not based on your productivity or what you can offer to society. It’s based on your existence as a human being, that’s all.”

You drop her gaze, opting to look down at the ornate, ocean blue rug she keeps in her office instead.

“I want you to keep working on adjusting your goal setting,” Alyssa says as she jots down a few notes in your file. “Three things a day, whether it’s chore, work, or self-care related. Nothing else goes on that list unless you need to remember to do it, like taking your meds. Okay?”

You mutter your assent.

“Attagirl. I also want you to do your positive affirmations. Three times a day, plus whenever you get caught in negative thought patterns.”

You groan and slump down on the couch. “No! Positive affirmations suck!”

“They’re wonderful,” Alyssa fires back, chuckling. “They’re so good for you, so good for your brain…” She laughs when you retch, then closes your file and stands. “Alright, sweetheart. Keep at it. I’ll see you next week.”

Piotr looks up when you walk out of Alyssa’s office. “All done?”

“She’s making me do more positive affirmations,” you grumble (you can hear Alyssa laugh at your admission).

“Ah, is good for you,” Piotr says as he ushers you down the hall. “Good to say truth out loud.”

You retch again. “Not you, too. I need to go find Wade. He’ll understand.”

Your husband chuckles and shakes his head. “Come on, myshka. Back home with you.”

“Why does it have to be so far?” you groan. “It’s so much walking.”

“Are you feeling tired?”

You sigh. “Honestly, yeah. I’m really wiped out.”

Piotr puts an arm around your shoulder in a one-armed hug. “I am sorry, moya lyubov’. Would you like me to carry you?”

“I shouldn’t need carrying.”

Piotr stops. He cups your face in his massive hands, making you look up at him. “Is not about ‘should’ or ‘should not.’ If your body needs help, then you need help.”

You hesitate, but ultimately nod. “Yeah. I’d be nice if you carried me.”

He nods. He waits until you two are outside, then kneels so you can clamber on his back. “Hop on, myshka.”

You loop your arms around his neck. You wait until he has his arms looped around your legs, then point in the direction of your house. “Home, Jeeves.”

Piotr chuckles. “I am transport service, now?”

“Damn right.” You gently slap his burly chest. “Mush. I want Poptarts.”

Piotr laughs again, then sets off across the lawn.

 ***

 You’re not alright. Not technically. Alyssa’s right that you’ve been hurt. Healing takes time, and you’re just beginning your journey.

But you’ve got Piotr. Your family. Your friends. You’ve got Dr. McCoy and Alyssa as professional support. You have a home to rest in when you’re weary.

You’re okay –and on the days that you’re not, you will be.

And that’s more than enough.

[ajokeformur-ray]

For the headcanon thing (if my suggestion even counts as one); how about Arthur joins or is joined by reader in the shower/bathub? I don't mind smut since it'd fit but I think it would also work SFW, however it's up to you - knowing your writing it would be great and sweet either way! :)

Thank you so much nonnie! I was gonna do both SFW and NSFW for this one but I posted the filthiest thing I’ve ever written yesterday (A Bloody Smile) so I’m gonna go with soft and sweet SFW for this one!

It seems kinda obvious but there’s nudity in this; no smut though! Just two weary adults sharing water.

Enjoy!

It was the end of just another day for you and you wanted to go home.

Well, no… You wouldn’t mind walking through your front door but even then, surrounded by pieces of you and your comforts, you wouldn’t really be home.

Not until you saw your Arthur.

Only when his arms surrounded you would you be home, and thoughts of this keep you company throughout the day, partially filling the void in your heart put there by his physical absence.

Your journey home somehow took forever and yet no time at all; so consumed were you by thoughts of going home to Arthur.

People gave you strange looks for smiling so widely on your way home, but you barely noticed them.

They didn’t have the one thing that you did and you almost felt sad for them.

Almost.

They would never know the absolute gift that was loving Arthur Fleck and being loved by him in return.

But you did.

You knew how lucky you were and it was for this reason that, in the moments you were conscious of it, did you wear your smile proudly.

Let them stare. It wasn’t like you were ever gonna see any of them again, anyway.

You practically ran up those horrible concrete steps, racing through the filthy streets of Gotham.

With the thrill that came from knowing that in minutes would you be seeing Arthur, you had the physical energy needed to forgo the rickety old lift entirely and soon you were at your shared apartment.

Despite your excitement at finally being in the place you knew Arthur would be, you entered slow enough so that, if he was lingering by the doorway, Arthur had enough time to get out of the way.

You had once hit him with the door on your way in, not knowing that he had his face pressed up against it; looking for you through the small peephole.

You had apologised a 1000000 times that night and each time had Arthur giggled and kissed you; he didn’t mind. It wasn’t like you had done it on purpose, though it had stung a little.

Not that he would tell you that.

He had just laughed through the slight pain ‘til he hadn’t felt it anymore, just like he dealt with everything else in his life.

This time, though, there was no one there.

You weren’t even slightly disappointed that Arthur hadn’t been waiting for you at the door like an excited puppy when their human goes to the kitchen. Not even a little. Nope.

You ignored the little voice in your head that called you a liar.

You could hear the radio being played in the bathroom, and you followed the sound easily; as if there was a rope between Arthur’s body and your own. 

You were being pulled to his side by the mere knowledge that he was just on the other side of the door and you were powerless to stop yourself; not that you ever would.

Arthur was a force unto himself and never would or could you resist him.

You knocked three times in rapid succession with the second knuckle of an index finger and let yourself in, smiling at the sight which greeted you:

Arthur in the bath, bubbles everywhere. 

It was in his hair, on his face, all over his body; he even had some bubbles on the tiles.

You had known that Arthur liked bubble baths but even this surprised you for a few seconds before you smiled gently at the man sat in the tub.

He was so soft and you loved him so much for it.

“Well, someone’s having fun.”

Even though you had knocked, Arthur still jumped at the sound of your voice.

You smiled at him and raised a hand in a tired greeting. “Hey.”

“Hi!” A small smile quickly dominated the whole of his mouth as Arthur took in the sight of you.

His smile soon turned into a frown, his strong dark brows creased in the middle; deepening the early wrinkles already there.

“You look tired.”

You shrugged, walked fully into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. 

“No more than you do.”

As Arthur spoke, you made your way over to him, toeing off your shoes and tugging off your coat, your bag and anything else that was strictly for the Outside World, which you wanted nothing to do with for the rest of the day.

It took so much from you and rarely gave back; so it could all go away for now.

So long as you had Arthur, you had everything.

You sat on the edge of the bathtub, your fingers sliding into Arthur’s wet curls.

His eyes closed in bliss as you lightly scratched his scalp.

“Have you washed your hair yet, honey?”

“No,” He hummed, “Was hoping you would be home in time.”

That was a daring admission in Arthur’s book and you rewarded him with a kiss, having to lean over in a slightly awkward manner to do so.

With your lips on his, your fingers in his hair, did tensions build, but you didn’t want that. 

You just wanted to relax in his presence and have Arthur relax, too.

You pulled away from the kiss just in time to see Arthur looking dazed as he opened his eyes and you smiled, reaching over to grab the shampoo that he preferred to use - yours.

It made his hair smell like you, it made his pillows smell like you, and it helped him so much during the day to have pieces of you all around him; so that it was hard to deny the reality.

His delusions were far less vivid, less controlling of his perception of reality, when he had solid evidence to say that you were real.

You got to work on washing Arthur’s hair, massaging his scalp as you worked the suds through his dark curls; Arthur’s face was tipped towards the ceiling, a rare serene smile on his lips.

Periodically did you murmur instructions - tilt your head back a bit more, keep your eyes closed, stay still for me - and Arthur listened to everything.

Sometimes he would moan quietly or arch into your touch.

He was so touch starved that even the simplest of touches were almost sensual to him. 

Every time he moaned, you would say something like “you’re so good for me, love” or some other small praise, which would only make him smile a little wider.

You just wanted to love him so hard that his life seemed infinitely better with you by his side.

Little did you know, all you had to do was stay - even without all these tender affections was Arthur’s life made better by your existence.

You rinsed out the suds and then conditioned his hair, grinning at the thought of how soft and fluffy it would be when you were done.

Maybe he would even let you brush it.

You knew he would - he trusted you completely.

When at last his hair was done did Arthur’s hand encircle one of your wrists as his intense greens met your eyes.

Though he said nothing, you saw his wants written on his face as clearly as if he had written join me? on his forehead in ink.

You stood from the side of the bath, undressed without a care - you ignored his hitched breath, his choked inhale, and put a hand on his shoulder - move forward - as he did so, you climbed in behind him, using your grip on that same shoulder to tug him back into resting against your chest.

You cuddled until the bath water started to grow cold.

You made it a point to press kisses to the bruises which littered Arthur’s back so densely that it was rare to find a spot of unblemished skin.

You were glad that he couldn’t see your face; it made hiding your tears that much easier.

You kissed every single bruise, trying to heal him with the strength of your love.

If such a thing worked in real life then never again would Arthur feel even a twinge of pain for the rest of his life.

As you cuddled, you spoke about your days, traded jokes, and just basked in each other’s company.

There was nothing you loved more than quiet nights like this, and even in the future when he grew darker, more sure of himself, when he traded what the world expected of him for who he really was, did you still enjoy and cherish nights like this.

For always would you come home to each other; no matter what.

The Arthur Fleck/Joker Defense Squad @writings-of-a-gen-z                      @x-avantgarde-x       @insomniabird      @mavalenovaninagavi     @itwasrealenough     @morrisonmercurymalek     @rand0ms-fand0ms     @rafaelina-casillas     @aclownthing      @rebs-doom      @vivft                  @help-i-am-obssessed      @autumnaffection       @taintednihilist   @vladtoly   @mg-woolf99      @misstgrey92  @that-s-life   @dopey-girl-blogs         @seeking-dreamland      @sweetheart-syndrome      @heartxfdesire @xmusichealsthesoulx       @0callmejude0      @the-one-that-likes-riddles        @hannibalsslut       @folliaght            @freeeshavacadoo         @bingewatchingmylifegoby       @unlovedbyeveryoneandeverything @okamiredfoxx       @sp0okysp0oky  @the-pandorabox      @mardema @jibanyyan        @honeyflvredcoughdrop         @emissarydecksetter @jokerfleckk         @epidendroideae         @chuuntas          @stillmabel       @pumpkinpeyes       @onehystericalqueenposts       @the-jokers-wolf       @nalsswa  @justahyena       @arianatheangelworld  @soullessblondbitch @gothamslittlejester  @twentyonestarrynights  @sirianfromsixties @kissmeclownman    @joker-is-my-hero  @lazyloosah  @lovesickkloxx @ladylovelyluna      @live-love-loki  @clownerybbxx   @tragicarthur    @anmach123      @rommie-chan      @arthurflock     @lucyboytom              @anti-peach       @immortal-bi-bitch    @hearthurfleck      @crazieroutthere      @curlystark     @hailmary-yramliah    @sagyunaro     @playinthedarktillitsgoldenagain     @jokeringcutio      @xenthefox   @mijachula@stcrrynightsinneverlcnd      @cheyennejonas22    @mrjfleck      @pauli1100     @smitten-susie    @actualkey     @callmejokerfleck   @jaylovesbats    @itsforyoubitch      @ridiculousnerd     @killerprotector3579       @soulsdontbreaktheybeeend     @fantasticwinnerclodexpert                  @arthurs-sweater      @pinkie44pie    @tsukiakarinobara      @prettyxlittlexpsychoxprincess   @elodia-gahan   @yours-mia    @rustyt33th     @parkdonghoons      @lady-carnivals-stuff      @hobi-hobi-kyo-kkyu      @jupiturde        @incognitofish      @j-sux      @nothing-but-a-comedy      @tahliamalfoydepp

[sunflowersunshinevol6]

My Way

Chapter Four

Warnings: kidnapping, substance abuse, psychological abuse, stockholm syndrome, physical abuse, violence

A/N: this chapter is pretty dark. Fair warning

Clara was propped on her elbows, head in hands, feet locked together, as she watched Harry lay out his ‘tools’ on the opposite bed. He had lifted a floorboard in the van, to reveal a box, filled with tons of weapons, some she didn’t even recognize. The tv played commercials in the background, neither of them were paying attention. Harry touched the tools gently, almost affectionately. It was strange to her. He began putting them, one by one into a duffel bag.

He had explained to her that sorting his tools was like pregame for him. Looking at them and thinking about what he'd use them for amped him up. It made her shudder.

“Keep the door locked. Don't answer it for anyone. I'll be back in a few hours,” Clara rolled over onto her back, sighing.She counts the tiles in the ceiling, she hasn’t had her meds in days and she can feel the tide coming in, the anxieties slowly creeping up, ready to drag her down again.  “Clara?” Harry came to her, he leaned over her face “Princess,” he said gently, “what's wrong?” She wrinkled her nose.

“I'm not a princess,” she insisted. Harry chuckled.

“What's on your mind?”

“Its my meds,” she swallowed down the lump forming in her throat, “I've been off my medication for too long…..”

“For anxiety?” She nodded.

“And other things.”

“Are they over the counter or?”

“Doctor scripts.”

“What happens when you go off them?” Clarafurrowed her brow, she doesn't know how to describe it.

“It's not good,” she can see the wheels turning, as Harry tried to find a solution to Clara's current problem.

“I have a suggestion….but before I give it, I want to know what you want me to do.” Clara was taken aback by Harry's sudden thoughtfulness.

“I want you to stay,” she said honestly.

“Clara-” Harry warns.

“Please.”

“You know I can't.”

“Why not.”

“Because.” He was getting irritated. She continued.

“Because why?”

“You know why .” He growled.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“I have a job to do.”

“Killing innocent people isn't a job, it's murder.”

“If I killed innocent people I would have killed you in that gas station a week ago.” he hissed standing up. He walked away from her, dragging a hand down his face, the room was silent, his words hanging in the air. “I don't kill good people. My family , doesn't kill good people.” He clarified, “We kill the scum of the earth. The evil fuckers that walk around free. Pedophiles, murderers, rapists, people like that. And you can say I'm a hypocrite, or whatever you want. But this is who I am. It's who I've always been. And I like it.” He glared at her, daring her to say something.

“So you’re like Batman.” she said after a while. He gave her a confused look, she sat up, turning to face him fully. “Like Batman. A Vigilante. You know, someone who takes the law into their own hands, cuz they think the law officials can’t or won’t do it.” Harry chewed on his tongue thoughtfully for a moment, before nodding.

“Batman….I like that. Yeah. We’re like Batman…...So since your idea isn't possible, would you wanna try mine?” she shrugged. “You ever smoke weed before?” he asked her. Clara shook her head. “figured,” he went into the bathroom, Clara heard him rummage around and when he came back out he had a little ceramic bowl in his hand and a lighter. He sat on the edge of the bed beside her. “If you're okay with this and you want to try it we will. It might help you relax, it works different for everyone. But it’s been known to treat anxiety and depression…..We can’t just go out and get your medicine so, this would be the next best thing."

“I want to.” Clara said in a small voice.

“We’re gonna do something called ‘shotgunning’. That's where I inhale the smoke and then blow it in your mouth, you inhale and hold, then release. Since it's your first time I don't want you to get too fucked up.” he raised the bowl in his hands, she didn’t like the way it smelled. It stunk. “If we do it my way I’ll be able to atleast kind of control the amount you take in. And since you’ve never done it before you won’t need much. Just a little hit to take the edge off and see how you like it. If I just let you straight up hit it you might go too hard and end up sitting in a corner too high to move.” she looked at him in horror. “It’s cool. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen to you, like it did to me my first time.” she nodded in understanding. “I’m only offering because I can’t have you running around here having a panic attack and drawing attention. You’re almost home free. Don’t want to ruin that now do we?”

“I guess not.”

“Good. Give me your hand.” Clara held out her hand and Harry took her thumb and first finger making an ‘o’ shape. He intertwined her three other fingers with his own and made the ‘o’ shape with his fingers. “When I start to lean in, you do it too, and I’ll blow the smoke through my hands into your mouth. Inhale as much as you can. Hold it for like, thirty seconds I guess, and then exhale. I’ll go slow.” Clara adjusted herself, sitting up on her knees. Harry brought the lit bowl to his lips and took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving Clara. She watched him, fascinated as he made a squeaking, sneezing sort of sound and closed his lips, holding his breath.

He leaned in and she pressed her fingers to her lips.

His breath was cool as it hit her parted lips, she inhaled, eyes beginning to water, and almost choking, it sort of burned. Harry breathed slow and she expanded her stomach until she couldn’t take anymore. She pulled away, releasing their hands and held her breath. Harry stood, going to the mini fridge to grab a bottle of water just as she began coughing and sputtering. She felt like her throat was bleeding, it really hurt. Her ears felt like they needed to pop. But as she coughed, she felt the pain beginning to fade, like she was stepping outside of her body, she knew it was happening, but the pain was becoming distant. The waves of anxiety were pulling further and further back. Harry walked back over, handing her the bottle of water. She took it gratefully.

“How are you feeling?” he asked her. Her eyes felt heavier, almost as though she were squinting at him.

“Good. The waves are gone.” Harry looked at her for a moment, opened his mouth, then closed it again before turning to grab his duffel bag.

“I’ll be back in a few hours. You’ll probably be sleeping. I’ll try not to wake you.” Clara waved her hand at him as she fell back against the bed. She felt light, like she was floating. Her legs tangled and her body felt pain free. It was a nice feeling.

Harry shut and locked the door behind him.

And it led him here. To this shitty motel in the middle of Bumfuck,Egypt.. He had watched them for the last day, his damsel and her captor. He looked like a dick. He was the tall, athletic, frat boy type. Definitely a fuck boy. But he was bigger, and Alex was smart, if he couldn’t take him he would wait until he left. And when he saw him climb into that shitty van and drive away, he knew it was his chance.

Alex had been searching for Clara since the news broke she was missing. He was angry. Someone else had gotten her first. And at a fucking gas station! Really?! But that wasn’t going to stop him. He would rescue his damsel and she would be grateful, loving even. Happy to share her life with him. He scoured every news report he could find, made a special website dedicated to finding her and sorted through tip after tip, focusing on only the most logical ones.

He stepped out of the bushes, knife in hand and duplicate keycard in the other. He smirked, thinking of how gullible the front desk clerk had been. She hadn’t even asked for his I.D. Too busy on her phone. You can’t get good service anywhere these days. He stalked up to the door and pressed his ear to it. He couldn’t hear her, but he knew she was in there. The smell of marijuana wafted through the door. He inhaled deeply. God was smiling on him today. That was sure. This would be way too easy.

He looked so different. He was pale, gaunt and had dark circles under his eyes, light stubble on his cheeks. His hair was even more shaggy and unkempt, a wild look in his eye as he held up the knife in his hand. He looked like he hadn’t changed his clothes in days. Alex. Collins. Had found her. She sucked in a sharp breath.

Clara was flushing the toilet when she heard the door open. She rolled her eyes, hiking her pants up and buttoning them, before swinging the door open. “Did you forget…..some….thing….”The words died on her tongue when she saw him.

“It’s all right.” he said, holding up his hands, talking to her in a calm voice, like she was a scared animal. “Everyone’s been looking for you. We’ve all been worried.”

“How did you-”

“Come on Clara, you know me,” he rolled his eyes, stepping closer to her, she took a step back in reflex. “You know I’ll never let you go. You can run, you can hide. You can move three or four fucking states-leave the country even! And I will always find you. I’ll always be here.” he smiled at her, “And you know why?” he tapped the knife against his temple, “cuz I’m in here. I’ll always be in here.”Clara felt a hard surface behind her. Shit. Alex grinned, stepping closer still and placing the knife against the base of her throat. “You’ll never be rid of me.” Something sharp poked Clara in the side, she reached up, trying to hit him, but he blocked her hand with his arm. Her eyes widened as she saw the tip of the needle he’d had hidden in his sleeve. She grabbed at him, her legs suddenly felt like jello, he backed up and she fell forward, onto her knees. “Nighty Night.” the floor came rushing towards her, but darkness met her first.  

Clara was standing at the beginning of a long pier. Ahead of her she someone. A woman, in a black dress, long brown hair flowing behind her. Leah. She began to run. Calling out to her lost lover. The more she ran the further Leah seemed to get-

One. She wasn’t in the motel room anymore.

“Wake up.” Clara groaned, someone was shaking her shoulder, making her brain bounce around inside of her head. It hurt to open her eyes, but when she finally did, and they adjusted she realized two things.

Two. She was chained to a mattress, Her arms hanging from the headboard.

She looked over to see the face of her nightmares. Alex stood over her, he had been the one shaking her, Clara tried to scream, only to feel a gag covering her mouth. Panic began to snake up her body, lighting her on fire with adrenaline. Alex walked around to the front of the bed. Towering over her like the boogeyman.

“Now, I understand if you still don’t trust me….I’ve done some things that….You might not agree with.” Clara snarled, her eyes narrowing. Alex ignored her. “But you’ll see soon enough, that it all came from a place of love. I mean look at you!” he shouted, pointing at her, “I saved you! That man! He would have killed you! Or left you to die! I would never! I found you! I saved you!” He came back around toward her, and sat next to her on the bed. He looked at her with a tenderness that made her want to puke, she was repulsed, disgusted and her heart ached. She couldn’t look at him without thinking about Leah. What he had done to her.

“Now I love you. And I hope you see….I hope you see what I’ve been trying to tell you all along. That you love me too.” he pulled the gag down off of her mouth. Clara sighed in relief, her jaw ached. “Tell me. Tell me you love me.” she hawked a big loogie, and spit it at him.

Rage flickered over his face, it passed quickly, before he stood, scratching the back of his head. “I hate you. Fuck you.” she spat again. He tsked, shaking his head.

“I was hoping we wouldn’t have to do this. But I can’t have you trying to run away.” He pulled a thick board from beneath the bed, and something else, that dangled from his arm, just out of Clara’s sight. She glared at him, resilience conquering her fear. “You ever see the movie Misery?” Clara had. She hated it. But she didn’t answer him. “This kind woman saves her favorite author from a snowstorm and he’s ungrateful. So she punishes him. So he’ll see that she loves him. She just wants him to be happy with her and make things right.” They must have seen two very different versions of that movie. “You know what she does when she finds out he snuck out? She hobbled him.” And it was that moment, that Clara realized just what he was intending to do. She squirmed, trying to get away, only then did she realize her feet were chained too. He sets the board between her ankles. “Don’t squirm or I’ll miss and it’ll be worse." Tears streamed down Clara's face, loud, broken sobs escaping her throat. Alex lifted the sledgehammer over his shoulder with both hands.

“Alex! Please!” Clara cried out for mercy. He shook his head, face unchanging.

“You’ll learn to like it here. Or at the very least, you’ll learn to see things my way.”

He brought the hammer down.

Harry felt good. Blood splattered his shirt and his chin, his hands were covered in the dried substance. But he felt relief, a good kill was kinda like sex. It released the tension. He could focus all of his anger. All of his hate. All of his rage. That’s why he was so good at it. He could focus and then disassociate quickly when it was over.

But this time was different. He worried about Clara. He’d called the hotel room a couple times, she didn’t answer, so he figured she fell asleep. But that didn’t sit right with him. It wasn’t as late as he’d expected, surely she’d still be up. He shook his head. He didn’t even know why he was worried, what did it matter, tomorrow he’d be leaving her at a bus station with a ticket and going to his own home.

He did feel kind of bad for lying to her. But he didn’t know what else to do. If she knew that the real reason he took her was to use her, in case the cops caught him, she could freak. So he shouldn’t feel bad for wanting self preservation. But he did.

And he couldn’t stop thinking about her life. About her anxiety, and how she, like him, had lost someone who meant the world to her. He shook his head, trying to get her out of his mind. She was nineteen and he was twenty five. Not to mention he kidnapped her! There was no way anything could ever come from that. Nothing good anyway. He was the bad guy. The bad guys never get the girl.

He pulled up to the motel room and parked the van, slamming the door as he stepped out of it. But when he saw their room, he dropped his keys and ran inside.

The door was standing open, and when he went in Clara was gone. All of his things were there, everything was in order. She was just….. gone. He cursed and ran a hand through his hair, jogging outside to pick up his keys and come back in. Maybe she took off on her own. He thought. Saves me a trip to the bus station. He tried to feel some sort of relief, but it didn’t come. There was a feeling of dread in the room, and when he almost stepped on the syringe on the floor, he knew. He knew Clara hadn’t gone of her own free will. What the fuck happened? He fell back onto the edge of his bed, holding the syringe in his hands. There was a bit of liquid still inside. He watched it move as he tilted it back and forth in his hand.

Clara learned fast early on. Just submit and she wouldn't be punished.

Six Months Later:

The hobbling wasn’t even the worst of the things Alex had done to her. He completely stripped her of her identity. Bit by bit. To the point that she no longer even spoke. Just limped around with her head down and her mouth shut. The abuse she faced was almost always psychological, only getting physical when she really infuriated him.

If she screamed or fought he drugged her. If she cried out he would hit her harder, if she didn’t do what she was told he’d cuss her up and down until he was blue in the face. Only to turn around and tell her how much he loved her, and how he just wanted her to be happy with him. She tried to be strong, to be brave at first, but he learned of her phobia and her anxieties, and he would often play on those to keep her in a submissive, and docile state of being.

Alex had forced her to watch as slowly, little by little, news coverage and search parties dwindled. He told her her parents thought she was dead, that no one was looking for her, and eventually all the hope left her. She shut off, and became even more of a shell of herself.

The more docile she became, the more freedom she had. She was never allowed outside, but she could peak out the window. She was no longer chained to her bed at night, but he did lock her door. If he needed to leave she could wander about the house, but was locked up if he had guests. This was her life now, and her week as Harry's hostage, faded into obscurity.

Clara. Leah. Harry. Alez. None of that was real anymore. She had completely dissociated from who she had been. She was beyond numb. She had become hollow.

[sevenwonderwitch]

Unholy Bonds

Chapter Four ( one, two, three)

Pairing: Michael Langdon x Fem!OC

Warnings: drug usage, violence, serial killer Michael, kidnapping, assault, Stockholm syndrome, hobbling, torture, shot gunning

A/N: this chapter gets dark. Reader discretion advised

@rocketgirl2410

Prudence was propped on her elbows, head in hands, feet locked together, as she watched Michael lay out his ‘tools’ on the opposite bed. He had lifted a floorboard in the van, to reveal a box, filled with tons of weapons, some she didn’t even recognize. The tv played commercials in the background, neither of them were paying attention. Michael touched the tools gently, almost affectionately. It was strange to her. He began putting them, one by one into a duffel bag.

He had explained to her that sorting his tools was like pregame for him. Looking at them and thinking about what he'd use them for amped him up. It made her shudder.

“Keep the door locked. Don't answer it for anyone. I'll be back in a few hours,” Prudence rolled over onto her back, sighing.She counts the tiles in the ceiling, she hasn’t had her meds in days and she can feel the tide coming in, the anxieties slowly creeping up, ready to drag her down again. “Prudence?” Michael came to her,he leaned over her face “Princess,” he said gently, “what's wrong?” She wrinkled her nose.

“I'm not a princess,” she insisted. Michael chuckled.

“What's on your mind?”

“Its my meds,” she swallowed down the lump forming in her throat, “I've been off my medication for too long…..”

“For anxiety?” She nodded.

“And other things.”

“Are they over the counter or?”

“Doctor scripts.”

“What happens when you go off them?” Prudence furrowed her brow, she doesn't know how to describe it.

“It's not good,” she can see the wheels turning, as Michael tried to find a solution to Her current problem.

“I have a suggestion….but before I give it, I want to know what you want me to do.” Prudence was taken aback by Michael’s sudden thoughtfulness.

“I want you to stay,” she said honestly.

“Prudence.” He warns.

“Please.”

“You know I can't.”

“Why not.”

“Because.” He was getting irritated. She continued.

“Because why?”

“You know why .” He growled.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“I have a job to do.”

“Killing innocent people isn't a job, it's murder.”

“If I killed innocent people I would have killed you in that gas station a week ago.” he hissed standing up. He walked away from her, dragging a hand down his face, the room was silent, his words hanging in the air. “I don't kill good people. My family , doesn't kill good people.” He clarified, “We kill the scum of the earth. The evil fuckers that walk around free. Pedophiles, murderers, rapists, people like that. And you can say I'm a hypocrite, or whatever you want. But this is who I am. It's who I've always been. And I like it.” He glared at her, daring her to say something.

“So you’re like Batman.” she said after a while. He gave her a confused look, she sat up, turning to face him fully. “Like Batman. A Vigilante. You know, someone who takes the law into their own hands, cuz they think the law officials can’t or won’t do it.” Michael chewed on his tongue thoughtfully for a moment, before nodding.

“Batman….I like that. Yeah. We’re like Batman…...So since your idea isn't possible, would you wanna try mine?” she shrugged. “You ever smoke weed before?” he asked her. She shook her head. “figured,” he went into the bathroom, Prudence heard him rummage around and when he came back out he had a little ceramic bowl in his hand and a lighter. He sat on the edge of the bed beside her. “If you're okay with this and you want to try it we will. It might help you relax, it works different for everyone. But it’s been known to treat anxiety and depression…..We can’t just go out and get your medicine so, this would be the next best thing.”

“I want to.” She said in a small voice.

“We’re gonna do something called ‘shotgunning’. That's where I inhale the smoke and then blow it in your mouth, you inhale and hold, then release. Since it's your first time I don't want you to get too fucked up.” he raised the bowl in his hands, she didn’t like the way it smelled. It stunk. “If we do it my way I’ll be able to atleast kind of control the amount you take in. And since you’ve never done it before you won’t need much. Just a little hit to take the edge off and see how you like it. If I just let you straight up hit it you might go too hard and end up sitting in a corner too high to move.” she looked at him in horror. “It’s cool. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen to you, like it did to me my first time.” she nodded in understanding. “I’m only offering because I can’t have you running around here having a panic attack and drawing attention. You’re almost home free. Don’t want to ruin that now do we?”

“I guess not.”

“Good. Give me your hand.” Prudence held out her hand and Michael ook her thumb and first finger making an ‘o’ shape. He intertwined her three other fingers with his own and made the ‘o’ shape with his fingers. “When I start to lean in, you do it too, and I’ll blow the smoke through my hands into your mouth. Inhale as much as you can. Hold it for like, thirty seconds I guess, and then exhale. I’ll go slow.” Prudence adjusted herself, sitting up on her knees. Michael brought the lit bowl to his lips and took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving hers. She watched him, fascinated as he made a squeaking, sneezing sort of sound and closed his lips, holding his breath.

He leaned in and she pressed her fingers to her lips.

His breath was cool as it hit her parted lips, she inhaled, eyes beginning to water, and almost choking, it sort of burned. He breathed slow and she expanded her stomach until she couldn’t take anymore. She pulled away, releasing their hands and held her breath. Michael stood, going to the mini fridge to grab a bottle of water just as she began coughing and sputtering. She felt like her throat was bleeding, it really hurt. Her ears felt like they needed to pop. But as she coughed, she felt the pain beginning to fade, like she was stepping outside of her body, she knew it was happening, but the pain was becoming distant. The waves of anxiety were pulling further and further back. Michael walked back over, handing her the bottle of water. She took it gratefully.

“How are you feeling?” he asked her. Her eyes felt heavier, almost as though she were squinting at him.

“Good. The waves are gone.” He looked at her for a moment, opened his mouth, then closed it again before turning to grab his duffel bag.

“I’ll be back in a few hours. You’ll probably be sleeping. I’ll try not to wake you.” Prudence waved her hand at him as she fell back against the bed. She felt light, like she was floating. Her legs tangled and her body felt pain free. It was a nice feeling.

Michael shut and locked the door behind him.

Kai had been searching for Prudence since the news broke she was missing. He was angry. Someone else had gotten her first. And at a fucking gas station! Really?! But that wasn’t going to stop him. He would rescue his damsel and she would be grateful, loving even. Happy to share her life with him. He scoured every news report he could find, made a special website dedicated to finding her and sorted through tip after tip, focusing on only the most logical ones.

And it led him here. To this shitty motel in the middle of Bumfuck,Egypt.. He had watched them for the last day, his damsel and her captor. He looked like a dick. He was the tall, athletic, frat boy type. Definitely a fuck boy. But he was bigger, and Kai was smart, if he couldn’t take him he would wait until he left. And when he saw him climb into that shitty van and drive away, he knew it was his chance.

He stepped out of the bushes, knife in hand and duplicate keycard in the other. He smirked, thinking of how gullible the front desk clerk had been. She hadn’t even asked for his I.D. Too busy on her phone. You can’t get good service anywhere these days. He stalked up to the door and pressed his ear to it. He couldn’t hear her, but he knew she was in there. The smell of marijuana wafted through the door. He inhaled deeply. God was smiling on him today. That was sure. This would be way too easy.

Prudence was flushing the toilet when she heard the door open. She rolled her eyes, hiking her pants up and buttoning them, before swinging the door open. “Did you forget…..some….thing….”The words died on her tongue when she saw him.

He looked so different. He was pale, gaunt and had dark circles under his eyes, light stubble on his cheeks. His hair was even more shaggy and unkempt, a wild look in his eye as he held up the knife in his hand. He looked like he hadn’t changed his clothes in days. Kai. Anderson. Had found her. She sucked in a sharp breath.

“It’s all right.” he said, holding up his hands, talking to her in a calm voice, like she was a scared animal. “Everyone’s been looking for you. We’ve all been worried.”

“How did you-”

“Come on Prudence, you know me,” he rolled his eyes, stepping closer to her, she took a step back in reflex. “You know I’ll never let you go. You can run, you can hide. You can move three or four fucking states-leave the country even! And I will always find you. I’ll always be here.” he smiled at her, “And you know why?” he tapped the knife against his temple, “cuz I’m in here. I’ll always be in here.” She felt a hard surface behind her. Shit. Kai grinned, stepping closer still and placing the knife against the base of her throat. “You’ll never be rid of me.” Something sharp poked Prudence in the side, she reached up, trying to hit him, but he blocked her hand with his arm. Her eyes widened as she saw the tip of the needle he’d had hidden in his sleeve. She grabbed at him, her legs suddenly felt like jello, he backed up and she fell forward, onto her knees. “Nightly Night.” the floor came rushing towards her, but darkness met her first.

Prudence was standing at the beginning of a long pier. Ahead of her she someone. A woman, in a black dress, long brown hair flowing behind her. Lexa. She began to run. Calling out to her lost lover. The more she ran the further Lexa seemed to get-

“Wake up.” Prudence groaned, someone was shaking her shoulder, making her brain bounce around inside of her head. It hurt to open her eyes, but when she finally did, and they adjusted she realized two things.

One. She wasn’t in the motel room anymore.

Two. She was chained to a mattress, Her arms hanging from the headboard.

She looked over to see the face of her nightmares. Kai stood over her, he had been the one shaking her, She tried to scream, only to feel a gag covering her mouth. Panic began to snake up her body, lighting her on fire with adrenaline. Kai walked around to the front of the bed. Towering over her like the boogeyman.

“Now, I understand if you still don’t trust me….I’ve done some things that….You might not agree with.” Prudence snarled, her eyes narrowing. Kai ignored her. “But you’ll see soon enough, that it all came from a place of love. I mean look at you!” he shouted, pointing at her, “I saved you! That man! He would have killed you! Or left you to die! I would never! I found you! I saved you!” He came back around toward her, and sat next to her on the bed. He looked at her with a tenderness that made her want to puke, she was repulsed, disgusted and her heart ached. She couldn’t look at him without thinking about Lexa. What he had done to her.

“Now I love you. And I hope you see….I hope you see what I’ve been trying to tell you all along. That you love me too.” he pulled the gag down off of her mouth. Prudence sighed in relief, her jaw ached. “Tell me. Tell me you love me.” she hawked a big loogie, and spit it at him.

Rage flickered over his face, it passed quickly, before he stood, scratching the back of his head. “I hate you. Fuck you.” she spat again. He tsked, shaking his head.

“I was hoping we wouldn’t have to do this. But I can’t have you trying to run away.” He pulled a thick board from beneath the bed, and something else, that dangled from his arm, just out of Her sight. She glared at him, resilience conquering her fear. “You ever see the movie Misery?” She had. She hated it. But she didn’t answer him. “This kind woman saves her favorite author from a snowstorm and he’s ungrateful. So she punishes him. So he’ll see that she loves him. She just wants him to be happy with her and make things right.” They must have seen two very different versions of that movie. “You know what she does when she finds out he snuck out? She hobbled him.” And it was that moment, that Prudence realized just what he was intending to do. She squirmed, trying to get away, only then did she realize her feet were chained too. He sets the board between her ankles. “Don’t squirm or I’ll miss and it’ll be worse. Tears streamed down Prudence’s face, loud, broken sobs escaping her throat.” Kai lifted the sledgehammer over his shoulder with both hands.

“Kai! Please!” Prudence cried out for mercy. He shook his head, face unchanging.

“You’ll learn to like it here. Or at the very least, you’ll learn to see things my way.”

He brought the hammer down.

Michael felt good. Blood splattered his shirt and his chin, his hands were covered in the dried substance. But he felt relief, a good kill was kinda like sex. It released the tension. He could focus all of his anger. All of his hate. All of his rage. That’s why he was so good at it. He could focus and then disassociate quickly when it was over.

But this time was different. He worried about Prudence . He’d called the hotel room a couple times, she didn’t answer, so he figured she fell asleep. But that didn’t sit right with him. It wasn’t as late as he’d expected, surely she’d still be up. He shook his head. He didn’t even know why he was worried, what did it matter, tomorrow he’d be leaving her at a bus station with a ticket and going to his own home.

He did feel kind of bad for lying to her. But he didn’t know what else to do. If she knew that the real reason he took her was to use her, in case the cops caught him, she could freak. So he shouldn’t feel bad for wanting self preservation. But he did.

And he couldn’t stop thinking about her life. About her anxiety, and how she, like him, had lost someone who meant the world to her. He shook his head, trying to get her out of his mind. She was nineteen and he was twenty five. Not to mention he kidnapped her! There was no way anything could ever come from that. Nothing good anyway. He was the bad guy. The bad guys never get the girl.

He pulled up to the motel room and parked the van, slamming the door as he stepped out of it. But when he saw their room, he dropped his keys and ran inside.

The door was standing open, and when he went in She was gone. All of his things were there, everything was in order. She was just….. gone. He cursed and ran a hand through his hair, jogging outside to pick up his keys and come back in. Maybe she took off on her own. He thought. Saves me a trip to the bus station. He tried to feel some sort of relief, but it didn’t come. There was a feeling of dread in the room, and when he almost stepped on the syringe on the floor, he knew. He knew Prudence hadn’t gone of her own free will. What the fuck happened? He fell back onto the edge of his bed, holding the syringe in his hands. There was a bit of liquid still inside. He watched it move as he tilted it back and forth in his hand.

Six Months Later:

Prudence learned fast early on. Just submit and she wouldn't be punished.

The hobbling wasn’t even the worst of the things Kai had done to her. He completely stripped her of her identity. Bit by bit. To the point that she no longer even spoke. Just limped around with her head down and her mouth shut. The abuse she faced was almost always psychological, only getting physical when she really infuriated him.

If she screamed or fought he drugged her. If she cried out he would hit her harder, if she didn’t do what she was told he’d cuss her up and down until he was blue in the face. Only to turn around and tell her how much he loved her, and how he just wanted her to be happy with him. She tried to be strong, to be brave at first, but he learned of her phobia and her anxieties, and he would often play on those to keep her in a submissive, and docile state of being.

Kai had forced her to watch as slowly, little by little, news coverage and search parties dwindled. He told her her parents thought she was dead, that no one was looking for her, and eventually all the hope left her. She shut off, and became even more of a shell of herself.

The more docile she became, the more freedom she had. She was never allowed outside, but she could peak out the window. She was no longer chained to her bed at night, but he did lock her door. If he needed to leave she could wander about the house, but was locked up if he had guests. This was her life now, and her week as Michael Langdon’s hostage, faded into obscurity.

Prudence. Lexa. Michael. Kai. None of that was real anymore. She had completely dissociated from who she had been. She was beyond numb. She had become hollow.

[timeaftertime-chriscornellfanfic]

Chapter 12 - Right Place, Wrong Time

Seattle Washington, July 24 1988

(Andi is 18, Chris is 24)

ANDI: "Xana...? Have you seen my little note book? " I ask as I scour my bedroom, opening up the drawer to my nightstand, trying to find where it could be.

"What notebook?" She asks as she appears in my bedroom doorway, tying her golden curls up into a messy ponytail on top of her head.

"My little black notebook - pad thing I always carry with me," I say, flipping my curls out of my face as I close the night stand drawer.

In the 6 months since Chris and I have officially been together, we have been practically inseparable, even writing together and coming up with songs that I otherwise wouldn't have ever come up with myself. He is the only one that I've ever shown my silly poems and lyrics to - only because I don't think I'm that great at lyrics, I pretty much consider myself just a guitar player and that's it - but he encourages me which makes me feel like maybe my lyrics aren't so dumb.

I never thought in a million years that I would ever find the one that I was meant to be with so soon. He is my other half, the person that completes me. He is amazing in every single way. I can't imagine my life without him.

I haven't slipped since last September and it feels amazing. I know at some point I do slip back in time to meet Chris, but I'm just going to focus on being here with him in the present. There are times when Chris will mention something to me that has happened for him - like the time he apparently stole a guitar for me. The black Gibson Les Paul that he has is apparently really mine, and he just kept it for me for when I meet him in my time (or really the present) - and he'll go on and on about it while I look at him like he has two heads or something. Then he catches himself, realizing that then is his past but my future and well... you just gotta love Time Displacency Syndrome - I know I do.

It's such a beautiful guitar too. I can't believe he stole it. Like, what in the fuck was he thinking? I hope I gave him shit for it.

"No, I haven't seen it... why? Do you need it or something?" She asks, putting her hands on her hips.

"Well kinda... but..." I trial off as I get down on the floor and look under my bed.

"Andi, just find it later... we gotta get down to The Moore. Your man is playing tonight," She says in a sing song way, raising her eyebrow and smirking at me.

"Yea..." I smile shyly back feeling those butterflies flip around in my stomach as I flip my curls out of my face and rise from the floor. I glance down at myself adjusting my Dead Kennedy's t-shirt that I made into a tank top, then grab a bottle of my favorite perfume - then one that drives Chris crazy- and spritz a little bit on my neck.

"Damn girl, you look like you're going to a Guns N' Roses concert or something," Xana says as she glances over my ripped up black leggings with my Doc Martens.

"Oh god, I don't look like one of those girls do I?" I asked worriedly. The last this I want is to look like a groupie girl with her hair teased, though I don't tease my hair...but you know what I mean.

"No, no not at all. You look amazing. Chris's eyes are going to pop out of his head when he sees you though,"

"Good, 'cause that's what I was going for," I say and we both giggle.

*****

The Moore Theatre, Seattle Washington

ANDI: Xana and I arrive at The Moore early, with only a few people up around the bar having a few drinks. As we walk through the open floor area, I see Kim up on stage, randomly plucking a few strings on his guitar, checking out his foot pedals and making sure they are working ok.

The first time I met Kim, which was only a few days after I met Chris, we instantly hit it off. He is a metal head just like me, bonding over different guitar tones and getting the perfect amount of distortion out of our amps. Kim had heard of me before through Andy but for obvious reasons - since Soundgarden was on tour - we've never crossed paths. For Kim being 10 years my senior, he was impressed with my playing and how I don't seem like your typical 18 year old kid. Don't get me wrong, I know I'm young but if he only knew...

"Hey Kim, is Andy back stage?" Xana calls out as we approach the stage.

"Yea, go on back, he's waitin' for ya," Kim says as he plucks a few strings. Xana pats me on my arm and she heads over to the side stage door and disappears. Kim then decides everything seems to be set up and sounding ok, so he sets his guitar down on it's stand and jumps down off the stage, his long jet black hair all around him.

"C'mon back, I know you're dying to see Chris," Kim smirks and I smile shyly as I follow him backstage. I still feel awkward when meeting them here before a show. I don't know why, I guess it's just my natural shyness coming out. Kim lights up a cigarette while I follow him through the door, and as we walk down the long corridor, I see Chris standing in the hallway, his beautiful tall frame leaning against the brick wall. He looks amazing in his ripped jean shorts, his Doc Martens and a plain black T-shirt with his dark curls all around him.

Kim pats me on the shoulder and disappears into the dressing room and as I approach Chris, I see him talking to someone - someone who I haven't met before.

"Hi baby," Chris smiles as he turns to see me. He reaches out for my hand and I take it giving a shy smile.

"Um, this is Susan Silver," He says introducing us. Susan holds out her hand for me to shake as she smiles so sweetly at me. She has gorgeous dark eyes and a presence that is definitely revered. She's beautiful.

"She's our manager," Chris adds glancing back at me.

"Hi, it's nice to meet you... Chris has told me so much about you already, I feel like I already know you," She says. That's definitely not the first time I've heard that from anyone.

"Thank you," I smile back shaking her hand.

As Chris pulls me in a little closer, his hand grazing my lower back, we end up chatting with Susan a little more, though it was mostly her and Chris talking about management stuff, dates and schedules. Apparently he has another small promotional tour coming up in August with the release of their next EP for Sub Pop records as they continue to work on their full length album - which they have yet to sign a contract for. I stay quiet listening to them, feeling completely out of place, and I notice that they do have some sort of chemistry between them that I couldn't quite explain.

"Um, well I should get back so, I'll see you guys Tuesday?" She says to Chris.

"Uh huh,"

"Alright, see you then... and once again, it was good to meet you Andi," She says sweetly to me.

"Um, you too," I say, feeling self conscious and she turns and heads towards the back entrance to The Moore. Chris then brushes my curls off my shoulder and places a kiss to that spot just under my earlobe.

"You look so good baby,"

"Thank you," I say as I close my eyes for a moment, feeling his lips on my earlobe.

"Mmmm, you smell so good too," He says, his voice deep in my ear.

"You um... you never mentioned her before," I clear my throat as I place my hand on his chest and pull away from him just a little.

"Who...? Susan?" He asks and I nod as he continues to hold me in the corridor.

"It's just business babe... I didn't think it was important," He gives me that cute coy smile.

"I just thought since she knows so much about me already, you would've told me about her," I say glancing down at his necklace, reaching up and playing with the silver ring attached to it.

"Oh... well there's not really much to tell... she manages the band. She pretty much handles the business side of everything - "

"No I mean like, her as like a person or... something," I say as I look up into his eyes for a moment then back down at his necklace.

"Well... you've met her now, so that's pretty much how she is... I guess..." Chris looks down at the ring on his necklace that I keep playing with and then looks at me with that same look of confusion. I'm not sure why but I feel like he's hiding something from me.

"Hey! You two coming in here or what?" Andy leans out of the dressing room door, clad in his usual flamboyant charm as Stone and Jeff make their way passed him into the room.

"C'mon baby," Chris says sweetly placing a kiss on my forehead. I decide to just try to put my uneasiness aside for now and ask him more about her later. He takes my hand to lead me into the dressing room, but I stop him. I start to feel this strange euphoric sensation, one that I haven't felt in months. He turns back and sees the color draining from my complexion.

"Chris... I'm uh... I don't feel so great," I say as a sudden wave of dizziness begins to wash over my entire body.

No... no, please don't let me -

"Babe?" Chris asks worriedly reaching out, and the next thing I feel is my naked body on a cold tile floor in a darkened room, trying to catch my breath.

CHRIS: It's a sight that I haven't seen in a long time. It's also a feeling that I haven't felt in a long time. That feeling where you don't understand why your heart just dropped out on to the floor and though you try to pick it back up and place it where is once was, you know it won't be there until that person you love more than anything comes back.

"Holy shit! Wha- what the- the fuck just - holy shit! Did she just - did Andi just -?" Andy comes running over to me with a beer in his hand as I pick her clothes up off the floor.

"Yea, she did," I say flatly trying to keep myself together. No matter how many times I've seen her do this, I never get used to it and I probably never will.

"Chris, man what the fuck?! How the hell are you so -I mean - Holy shit!" He exclaims practically in disbelief though he saw her disappear before his eyes. He stands there staring wildly at the spot where Andi had been, realizing that it was real. She actually slipped back in time.

"What the hell is going on out here?" Kim asks as he leans against the dressing room doorway sipping his beer.

"Fuckin', Andi just disappeared," Andy says turning back to Kim.

"Why...? She go home or somethin'?" Kim asks taking a sip of his beer, having no clue what Andy meant.

"No dude, she disappeared disappeared... you know... vanished... slipped," Andy says trying to explain to Kim waving his hands frantically trying to think of the words.

"What are you talking about?" Kim laughs and Andy takes her Dead Kennedy's shirt from my hands and shows Kim, re-iterating that she had completely disappeared on the spot.

"I'm talking about Andi, she time slipped," He says to Kim.

"Did you take another one of those pills again?" Kim chuckles at Andy and raises his eyebrow at me.

"No he didn't. Andrea... she... she can travel... through time," I say quietly looking down at the rest of her clothes that I held in my hand. Kim's expression falls as he realizes that we aren't playing around at all. He takes another sip of his beer and looks at the both of us, trying to think of something to say.

"I know it's completely insane and hard to believe - "

"Yea but dude, I saw her do it, she just... poof... "Andy cuts me off and motions with his hands how she went 'poof' so to speak.

"Ok... um... Do you know where she went? Is she ok?" Kim says slowly trying to wrap his head around the whole thing.

"More like 'when' she went," Andy says and I give him a nudge with my elbow.

"I honestly... don't know, " I say after a few moments as they both look at me for answers.

Then we hear a loud noise coming from one of the bathrooms that was beside the back entrance and what sounded like a girl screaming. I look back and forth between Andy and Kim as my heart started to pound and I instantly turn and run in the direction of the sound. Andy picks up her clothes from the floor and they both run after me as I turn the corner down along the long hallway to the back entrance bathrooms and I see her at the end of the hallway, completely naked on the cold floor.

"Fucking, what the - ? "Kim starts, slowing down behind us as I run up to Andi as she continues to cough, laying on the cold tile floor of the back of The Moore theatre.

"Oh my god, baby hey... I'm here," I say as I take her in my arms and hold her on the floor, trying to cover her as best I can though I'm pretty sure that her being naked is the last thing she cares about. I just really don't want anyone to see her naked though.

"The fuck-?" Andy says as he stares at us in disbelief.

"Can you get Xana?" I ask as I hold Andi in my arms, brushing her curls from her face as she attempts to catch her breath. Andy and Kim just stand there, apparently not even noticing the question that I asked, their eyes completely full of worry and confusion.

"Guys! Can you go get Xana!?" I repeat looking up at them, and they snap out of their daze and head off to go back to the dressing room to get Xana.

"Chris?" Andi says sweetly after she catches her breath and I look at her in my arms.

"I'm here baby, I'm right here," I say not knowing what exactly to say but thankful that she came back to me, especially so quick too.

"I was with you. The first time... in your moms house, in the basement - I was with you. You were only..." She trails off.

"15?" I ask as a smile spreads across my face remembering it so vividly.

"Yea... you looked so different. Your hair was so short and... you were so young," She says looking into my eyes with her arms around my neck.

"I'm sorry I came at you with a bat," I say trying to make a joke and she giggles that cute little laugh that I love so much. She then pulls me to her, wrapping me in a hug, holding me so tightly as my hands softly stroke her back, her soft skin feeling incredible underneath my touch.

"I love you so much Chris," She whispers in my ear and I have this overwhelming feeling inside of me that I can't describe. I have never loved anyone in my life as much as I love her.

"Andi! Oh my god, Andi!" Xana exclaims as she runs up to us with Andi's clothes in her hands. She pulls away from me, wiping her eye as tears had suddenly began to fall down her cheeks.

"Holy shit, are you ok? Are you hurt? When did it happen? How long - "

"Xana, Xana... I'm ok... I'm ok," She giggles as and I reach up and wipe away a tear from her cheek. Xana sits down with us on the floor looking frantic and worried but Andi re-assures her that she's really alright, just a little embarrassed that she slipped in front of everyone.

"Damn girl, that scared me half to death... you think maybe you should tell everyone now? You know just in case something really bad happens... god forbid though," Xana says as she hands over her shirt and leggings.

"I think it's a little late for that," I say to Xana and Andi gives me a sheepish glance.

"I just don't want everyone treating me differently, and I don't want anyone to worry," She says.

"No one's going to treat you differently. We love you, and I know Chris here really loves you, so don't worry about us. We just want you to be ok... ok?" Xana smiles.

"Alright, I guess you're right," Andi says. Xana sweetly brushes a curl from Andi's face and taps her on her arm then leaves to give a few minutes to ourselves so that Andi can get dressed again.

"I guess I made quite the commotion..." She says as she glances into my eyes.

"Yea... yea you did," I exhale as I brush another curl off of her forehead and play with it between my fingers. I then touch my forehead to hers, and place a kiss on those beautiful lips of hers as I hold her on the floor in the back of The Moore theatre.

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

[gogh-save-the-bees]

Fibromyalgia Masterpost

As someone who has struggled with severe chronic and pain fatigue for over a decade and have recently been diagnosed with Fibromyalgia - I have decided to research my condition amd educate myself on my symptoms.

Fibromyalgia, also called fibromyalgia syndrome (FMS), is a long-term condition that causes pain all over the body. As well as widespread pain, people with fibromyalgia may also have: increased sensitivity to pain. fatigue (extreme tiredness) muscle stiffness.

Through my own research i have learned that many difficulties i have are directly linked to Fibromyalgia. There are over 200+ symptoms and while not everyone will expereince all of them, we experience our own combonation of debilitating symptoms.

With anything, education is key.

If you have fibromyalgia, have a family member or friend with the condition or would like to be more educated on the condition this post can help.

Disclaimer: I am not a medical professional and do not claim to know everything about fibromyalgia. This post will not list everything so i urge you to do your own research. And if you have any of these symptoms, go to your doctor!

Symptoms (most common)

All over pain is the most common symptom of fibromyalgia but the syndrome causes many others. Extreme fatigue , trouble sleeping and feeling stiff and achy. Your ability to think and make decisions can be affected (this is known as fibro-fog).

As well as widespread pain, your muscles can be very tight and knotted. They can be painful to touch and they radiate pain to other areas - these firm knots are myofascial trigger points. (These knots are commonly used to diagnose fibromyalgia in a physical pressure point exam)

Other Symptoms

Cold feet and hands

Feeling cold often/feeling hot often

Heart palpitations

Craving carbohydrates

Symptoms worsened by temperature changes

Unexplained weight gain or loss

Joint pain

Feeling spaced out

Restless Leg Syndrome

Noise intolerance

Scalp Pain (like hair being pulled out)

Sensation that you might faint/ Syncope (fainting)

Tinnitus (ringing in one or both ears)

Photophobia (sensitivity to light)

“Growing” pains that don’t go away once you are done growing

Transposition (reversal) of numbers, words and/or letters when you speak

Difficulty with long-term memory/and short-term momory

Difficulty following conversation (especially if background noise present)

Difficulty expressing ideas in words

Blind spots in vision

Eye pain

Excessive sleeping

Difficulty falling asleep/ Difficulty staying asleep

Difficulty balancing

Vivid or disturbing dreams/nightmares

Sensitivity to the sun

Bruising easily

Sensory overload

Allodynia (hypersensitive to touch)

Menstrual problems

Suicidal thoughts

Irritability

Abrupt and/or unpredictable mood swings

Frequent crying

Diagnosis, Medical Help and Treatment

If you think you or someone you know has fibromyalgia go see your doctor. Tell them about your symptoms and explain that you think it might be fibromyalgia. Keep in mind that a diagnosis can take time and you have to be persistant and in many cases fight for your diagnosis!

Common treatment involves pain medication, anti-depressants, physiotherapy and therapy (CBT and pain managment).

Self Help

The most common coping technique for chronic pain is breathing exercises and meditation. Try the following,

Put yourself in a relaxed, reclined position in a dark/or low-light room. You can shut your eyes or focus on a point.

Begin to slow down your breathing. Breathe in deeply, using your chest. If you find your mind wandering or you are distracted, then think of a word, such as the word "Relax," and think it in time with your breathing...the syllable "re" as you breathe in and "lax" as you breathe out.

Do this for 2 to 3 minutes or until you feel relaxed.

Now that you feel yourself slowing down, you can try to use imagery techniques, like the ones below.

Positive imagery

Focus your attention on a pleasant place that you can imagine going to - the beach, mountains, a place where you feel safe and relaxed.

Positive self-talk

Encourage yourself and tell yourself: I can do this, I am strong and capable. Find a positive coping statement or affirmation that works for you (even if you don't believe it at first!). Write it down and memorise it for when you need it.

Counting

Counting is a good way to deal with painful episodes. You can count aloud or in your head. You can count breaths, the number of yellow items in your room, the floor tiles, or even visualise some sheep and count them!

Grounding techniques

Look around you, what do you see, hear, smell, sense? Say aloud (or in your head):

5 things you can see? 4 things that you can touch? 3 things you can feel? 2 thing you can smell?

It can also be helpful to use sensory items like plushies, fidgets, slime, and more! Anything that brings you comfort or joy or relaxation.

Pamper yourself

Do something you really enjoy, or do something relaxing like a bubble bath!

Mindfullness Box

Make a box of items that remind you to use the techniques that help, or put photos on paper, or write and decorate a list. (This box can be filled with items to help with depressive episodes)

The daily fight with fibromyalgia goes beyond pain management and fatigue and it's important to be educated on all aspects of the condition.(Especially if you or someone you care for has a diagnosis)

What are the facts

Fibromyalgia is a neurological illness and involves neurotransmitters (chemical messengers in the brain) that are also involved in some mental illness. This means that depression and anxiety are common overlapping conditions in fibromyalgia.

Stress is a major exacerbating factor in many, if not most, cases of fibromyalgia. It's suspected as a causal factor and known to make symptoms worse and cause flare-ups.

It is also believed that childhood trauma may alter the body's physiological stress response leading to illness later in life.

Looking after your mental health is just as important as physical treatments when treating fibromyalgia. (I should state that fibromyalgia is a chronic illness and that there is no cure for the condition.)

When it comes to fibromyalgia patients seeking mental health help it's not much different from someone without the condition seeking similar help.

The major difference would be around pain managment and the emotional distress that comes with daily pain and the inability to live a normal life. It's common for fibromyalgia sufferers to feel hopless/helpless and worthless alongsides feelings of frustration.

It is believed that depressive episodes, mood swings, suicidal thoughts and suicidal attempts are all symptoms of fibromyalgia and it is very common for fibro-sufferes to struggle severly with poor mental health.

Treatments such as anti-depressants, anxiety medications and therapy are commonly suggested alongsides pain medications. Both help the other as stress and low mood decrease our ability to cope with pain.

Mental Health Techniques

Keep a mood diary

This will help you keep track of any changes in your mood, and you might find that you have more good days than you think. It can also help you notice if any activities, places or people make you feel better or worse.

Connect with people

A good support network will always be a good thing. Having people you can reach out to when in distress is a important part of recovery and having good mental health.

Take control

If the problem has a solution, make it happen! Don't let thoughts like "i cant do anything" hold you back as they only add to the problem. But,

Accept the things you can't change

Changing a difficult situation isn't always possible. Especially when you have a disability. Instead, try to concentrate on the things you do have control over.

Try to be positive

Look for the positives in life, and things for which you're grateful. Challenge thoughts like "I can't do this" or "there's no point" or anytype of thoughts which are negative and defeatist. They won't help, chuck them out!

TIP: Try writing down 3 things that went well, or for which you're grateful, at the end of every day.

Work smarter

What i mean is, some tasks are more important than other. As someone with a chronic illness it's not always, if at all possible to do more than one task a day. Often we are forced to choose between making food or cleaning and we have to learn to prioritise based on a number of factors. Don't feel bad when you can't do a lot or even anything, your pain and illness is valid and the last thing you need is to feel guilty about something you can't control.

If you have to choose between washing the dishes or preventing a flare up - your health wins everytime.

Diet, sleep and exercise...

It can be frustrating we all you hear is "you should exercise, eat healthy and have a good sleep routine..." and somehow people think that this will heal us. This is not the case.

Yes, a healthy diet, sleep schedule and light exercise is good for us but it's not as easy for us to achieve. There are many factors that make access to these difficult (poverty being the big one). But, lets ignore that for now (like everyone else does).

Okay, lets say we eat a healthy diet. We can't always follow a sleep routine because we have severe pain that is generally worse at night. We also struggle with other symptoms that are more prominant at night (restless leg syndrome, heat intolerence, twitching, nightmares...) that make getting to sleep and staying asleep very difficult. And, exercise is the hardest of them all. We cant go to the gym and get our sweat on. It's not in the cards. Every chronically ill person has been told to eat healthier, sleep better and exercise and it's not helpful. In fact, it only adds to our stress. If you don't know what you're talking about (e.g. you suffer from a similar chronic illness or are a medical professional) then shut up!

Excerise when you can. Don't excert yourself. Swimming is one of the best options. Eat as healthy as you can (but any food is better than nothing) and try your best to keep a sleep routine. But don't stress when these things arent possible, they won't cure you, they will only help you decrease your symptoms and make them more managable.

This has been a long post, congradulation on making it to the end! I hope this post has been educational and helpful in some way or another. Feel free, encouraged even, to reach out to me with any questions, i am happy to amswer any to the best of my ability. Please reblog this post so other fibromyalgia sufferes can have a read and add to the post if they wish.

I would also like to add that i am looking for fellow spoonies to follow on here and instagram (@gogh_save_the_bees) give me a follow and ill do that back!

[darkredehmption]

Minimally Invasive Interrogation

Written by @DamagedBrother and @OfFeatherNFang 

Zsadist: 

[I managed to stay awake the entire time but surprisingly the prisoner fell asleep. For a few hours I watched as he slept, wondering what that other half of him was. I didn’t get a sense of human but what else was there? After that got annoying, I found myself counting the tiles on the floor. There were five hundred and eighty two. I counted three times to make sure I was right. Then I remembered that V downloaded a few books on my phone so I read one of them. After that I went back to staring at the wall contemplating my whole life. It was a long night that was for sure. Soft snores still fill the air as I reach into my pocket to check my phone for the time. It was so close to the sun setting once again which meant that the brothers would be here shortly. Perfect. Then we could get to the bottom of this and I could rest. 

As I rose to my feet, I heard the door open. There was Vishous holding coffee in a Red Sox’s mug. I think that was the one Butch got him last year around the holidays. He sipped the warm beverage then offered me a taste. I declined and he shrugged taking in another gulp or two. We moved out into the hallway, my shoulders rolling as I stretched out a little. “How was your night?” It was funny he asked cause he was up watching it all from his four toys.]

Oh yeah it was great. [Snorts then watches the brother eye me. “Y’all were chatty in the beginning...get any information out of him?” I shrugged.] He started to freak on me so I had to control the situation. After that he ranted hardcore. Let it slip that he’s only half vampire which is making me believe the other half is something interesting...I mean he could be just half human which wouldn’t sit well with the Queen having him captured. Then again regardless of what he is I don’t think it will sit well with her at all. After that I told him to shut up and he eventually slept. [V nodded then muttered “At least someone did. Butch was a traitor and passed out on the couch. He lasted pretty long though. I got a bunch of work done so it was all good.”

Nodding before my attention is drawn to Cop who was rubbing at his eyes and making his way over to us. “Are we going to first meal? Cause I’m starving as fuck.” I nod] You guys can go. Gather the others and come down here when you are finished. [Vishous shook his head. “Z man, go eat. I’ll grab something from the Pit. Shaking my head as I peered in through the window on the door to the PT suite] I’m not hungry. Besides, I have a feeling he’s gonna wake soon. [Vishous eyed me up before looking at his best friend. “Grab me a bagel would ya?” Cop nodded then headed down the tunnel while V just returned to the Pit. Leaning against the door as I stood and waited for all the brothers to arrive.]

Mal:

I kept my eyes closed as the door opened, my breathing slow and even as I listened to the Brothers exchange greetings after a whole night in two different rooms. As they moved into the hallway I tuned out their chatter in favor of shifting my wrists, my ankles, trying to get blood moving after a night of laying perfectly still in the one position. My head ached faintly, but I’d put that down to whatever healing concussion the male had given me the night before.

When my body felt like it was finally awake… sort of… I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. My stomach snarled but I ignored it, not about to ask any of /them/ for anything. I’d kill to take a piss too, but again, whatever pride I had left was giving that idea a firm ‘no’. Besides, would hunger or bladder needs matter if the King brought his royal ass down here and decided to cut my head off? Doubtful. So preserving what little dignity and pride I had left seemed like the way to go.

“Is there any way to press the fast forward button on this shit, or do you all still stand on ceremony when you’re at home too?” I muttered, knowing the scarred male would hear me, even as I continued to stare at the ceiling. “The coffee lover, was he the voyeur? The one watching on the screen? Bet he was hoping for a better show,” I continue absently, as if I was talking to myself, which frankly, was better conversation. “Tell him if he slips me a hundred next time I’ll make it worth his while.”

Zsadist:

[Narrowing my eyes as I listened to the prisoner talk to himself in the room. I was going to step inside and tell him to shut the fuck up but then we would probably start having an actual conversation. And I needed to stop talking to him. So I decided to ignore it all and wait for Wrath and the others. I couldn’t help but peer in through the window again. His eyes caught mine and I stared for way too long. Grunting as I turn my attention away from the prisoner. Something just didn’t add up. Suddenly I was starting to think that maybe he wasn’t...the bad guy. Though he definitely was keeping something from the Brotherhood and that was not good. 

My head lifts as I hear a shit load of boots coming down the tunnels. Watching as Wrath and the others make their way towards me while V slips out of the pit. I inclined my head towards the King before I eyed the others. Wrath takes in a deep breath. “Thanks for staying up to keep guard Z. You can go get some much needed rest now.” Lifting my shoulders in a shrug as my eyes flickered to the door.]

I’m good. If it’s alright with you my Lord I'd like to sit in on this. [Normally I didn’t disobey an order from the King. Okay maybe I did, but this was something I wasn’t going to miss. I just spent the entire night watching this fucker and I was curious on how this would play out. Wrath’s brows disappear under this shades. He stays quiet for a moment then grunts out a response. “Fine. But you get some rest afterwards. You are off of rotation tonight. And I don’t want to hear a word about it.” I nod watching as he practically shoves the door open to the PT suite. This was it. I followed after the King and my brothers. Leaning against the wall in the far corner of the room. My eyes met the prisoners again.]

Mal:

I heard them coming, a small army of heavily armed individuals that didn’t have a problem with inflicting pain on the things that stood in their way. I knew because it was how a group of hunters sounded when they stalked back into a halfway house after a hunt. They greeted my warden, dismissed him, but… he stuck around. And I felt… relieved. Huh. Great. Stockholm Syndrome. Since when did that kick in after only twelve hours?

As the rest of them all filed in, I watched the scarred one, until his eyes met mine, and I forced myself to look back at the ceiling. The King settled out of reach, but close enough that one step and a swing would allow him to smack me silly, no problem. 

“I hope you enjoyed your nights accommodation. I’m sure that motel you mentioned won’t mind.”

I fought every sarcastic impulse not to roll my eyes. Or tell him to go fuck himself. At the end of the day, I suspected that he’d not want his minions to stab me just yet, but he couldn’t stop all of them from attempting it at one go.

“You’re /hilarious/,” I muttered instead, still not looking at him. “FYI the turn down service here isn’t really up to par.”

Several males still growled. But no daggers in my chest. #Win

“Well y’know how we fix that? Getting you back to whatever two star shithole you booked? You tell me what you were doing poking holes in Lessers. Are you a Bastard?”

Hilariously, yes, I was. Just not the kind I thought he was implying. Vaguely I recalled some mention of a Band of Bastards, but I certainly had nothing to do with the bunch. And why lie about that?

“No.”

“Then where did you get the balls to take on one of the Omega’s spawn? You like dancing with death?”

“Obviously, since I’m here chatting to you,” I growled back, finally turning my head to look at the Blind King. 

He didn’t respond for a moment, instead inhaling and adopting a sardonic smirk. Meanwhile all the Brothers shuffled, eager to get closer and ensure my restraints were in full working order by beating me and seeing if I could defend myself. 

“Y’know what’s interesting, son? That wasn’t a lie. You /do/ like dancing with death. So what, you caught the scent of a Lesser and thought ‘yes, I can finally punch my ticket to the Fade’?”

Closing my eyes, I weighed my options as I stuffed all my anger and righteous indignation back into whatever box it came from and locked the lid. More attitude was just going to prolong this, and like I said before… I was hungry, and I wanted to piss. So either this got sped up, or I provoked one of them into offing me and solving everyone’s problems. And if this King was sniffing for a lie? Then I just had to be honest.

“I hunt. I’m a hunter. That Lesser? He was just a workout for me. So I figured why not do the Brotherhood a favor before I get the fuck outta this town.”

And boy, did I want to get out of this town right now…

Zsadist:

[The prisoner’s eyes locked onto my own and I saw...relief? Was he glad that I was here? Hell, strangers normally wanted to stay far away from me. One look at my face and most went running in the other direction. I raised a dark brow and quickly his eyes shot up to the ceiling. Now that’s more like it. Snorting as my arms cross over my broad chest. Time to listen to see what he had to say. 

My attention is drawn to the King as he starts to grill the prisoner. Of course he comes back with all the sass. Rolling my golden eyes to the Fade. This guy was just fucking asking for it. I mean granted the King was the one who told us to capture him, but damn it’s like he didn’t care if he died. I straightened up when he growled at Wrath. We all stepped a little bit closer to that stretcher. Yes he was tied down, but that didn’t mean shit. He was disrespecting the King and we needed to have his back no matter what. 

Vishous took a dagger out and started to play with it. Tossing it in the air a few times as his eyes stayed locked onto the prisoner. Phury still had a curious look. Like he was waiting for the male to speak more about his Chosen mother. As for the others...they were just on high alert. Even Rhage. Not a tootsie pop in site. He was all business as he glared at the male. 

My eyes widen as the prisoner then dropped a bomb. He was a hunter? The fuck did he hunt? I mean the brothers weren’t there for our fight in the alleyway, but the male could throw a punch. As much as I would like to say keep lesser fighting for the pros, he could hold is own. Now wasn’t the time though to chime in on that. What would that make me? Vouching for the male all of a sudden? What he did was still fucked but at the same time if he’s a trained fighter then it was an instinct to attack and defend himself. Yes lessers were Brotherhood territory but maybe he wanted to join in on the fight. And we needed numbers more than anything right now.] 

Mal:

Wrath leaned in. It was almost comical simply for the reaction of the Brothers around him, all of them shuffling closer as he did. The one flipping a dagger up and down in my periphery clearly wanted somewhere to put it other than his sheath.

“You hunt, huh? I’m getting the distinct impression it’s not deer or elk,” the King grunted, folding his arms. Which just made him look more like a big, black painted wall. “We’ll circle back to that. If you’re that good, why not sign up for our trainee program then? You not interested in protecting the race?”

I bit back on the instant reply of ‘not my race’; one, because it wasn’t entirely true, and two, because it seemed like a good way to further divide the situation. But if there was supposed to be a familial feeling in me toward the people that made up half my entity? It began, and ended, with my mother. Period.

“No one was there to protect my mahmen when she had to flee or be someone’s bed warmer,” I said instead, my voice cool. “I came here for /her/, for whatever residual affection she has for the race that just as easily ignored her. But vampires were not my kin growing up. They were not my friends, my acquaintances or my distant relations. And look at this!” 

The anger peeked its head out as I yanked at the cuffs around my wrists, the skin re-opening slightly and my blood staining the bands. Every vampire took /another/ step forward bar the King, who simply cocked his head slightly, like he was listening to me bleed.

“I killed /one/ Lesser. One. Because even if I care nothing for this place or the race I’m supposed to be from, in good conscience I couldn’t leave it there to go off and kill a civilian. And what do I get for having a conscience? Locked up like an animal. Treated like a criminal. Turns out it’s true; no good deed goes unpunished.”

At this point, nearly every Brother was basically /at/ my gurney, bar my scarred warden, who was taking everything in with that contemplative look on his face. As if sensing it, the King turned his head toward him.

“Zsadist,” he growled. “You spent the night down here. He said he was a hunter. He say anything else of interest?” He paused to look back at me, his smile a little feral. “Cause everything he just said then was no lie. So things are looking up for you, kid. But there’s still a few unanswered questions here. Like ‘who’ you are. Where you came from. ‘Why’ you didn’t want to own up to Lesser slaying at the Audience House.”

Zsadist:

[My head whipped back and forth between the King and the prisoner. I was starting to get the feel that this male didn’t like his vampire side. But why? Maybe it had something to do with his Mahmen. Did she flood his head with stories of how shit used to be? Does this kid know how better things are now? Okay so it’s not perfect and the King is still working on things but it has gotten better. Wrath took time to listen to civilians, to make sure he always had the race’s best interests. When the King mentioned the trainee program I blinked. Hell, would he even accept that? Would it even be safe to have him here for that after all this? Listening to every detail they had to say that I almost didn’t notice everyone moved up until Wrath called me out. Blinking as I look around me then over to the King. Clearing my throat as I uncross my arms]

Not much. [Reaching up to scrub at my skull trim as I watch Vishous eye me up.] I mean...we talked about fighting in the alleyway. He complained a lot as one would do if they were strapped to a bed. [Hold up was I defending him? No. Can’t do that. Grunts.] He was being disrespectful so I just ended the conversation. Though he did let it slip that he’s half vampire...Which leads me to wonder what his other half is. [My eyes flicker to Butch then I shrug] I mean...I doubt he was made, but when we were out on the streets he didn’t dematerialize. Now maybe he was just too scared to do so. [Snorts loudly, smirking as I eyed the prisoner] Though from the punches he was throwing I highly doubt it. 

[Just as I was about to add more to that I watch as Wrath stiffens. His hands curled into fists and this time I move to join the others around him. Tohr speaks “What is it my-...” Before he could finish that sentence we all smelled her. The Queen. Blinking we pull back, turning to see her at the entrance to the PT suite. “What...did you guys...do?” Wrath turns in the direction of her scent, his voice a bit stern. “Leelan. It’s not safe for you here at the moment. Head back upstairs.” Shiiiiit. That was not going to fly well with Beth. We all took a step back as she moved forward, but still kept our eye on the prisoner. Beth glared at the King then frowned as she eyed the male on the stretcher. “He’s bleeding Wrath...He looks…like a trainee. Is this some kind of initiation?! Cause if it is you all have completely lost your minds!” 

Lifting a hand to scrub at my face. We were finally getting some truth out of this male and now it was a mess again. Fuck. I wanted to know what he was...Maybe it was human. Hell and if it was he could see Beth and maybe see that we aren’t all fucked here. Then what? Become a trainee? Clearly he has a job hunting something else. Though I started to have concerns about what exactly that was. If he wasn’t hunting lessers...then what? Humans...no. Shifters? Blinking at the thought.  He couldn’t be one of those vampires cause of his Mahmen being Chosen. Still...maybe his father was involved in that shit.]

Mal:

I hid a grimace as the warrior, Zsadist, mentioned my little slip of half n’ half, even if it was spliced in with a little sympathy at my predicament. Who’da thought? Maybe Stockholm Syndrome went both ways. I certainly did…

Shoving that thought out of my brain completely, because right now this situation and all these males were about as appealing as roadkill with sauce, I paused as I sensed someone else approaching. Their tread was much lighter, their essence fragrant, and as the King stiffened I got a whole lotta ‘oh shit’ as a female appeared in the doorway. She looked regal, and yet she didn’t conduct herself like a prissy Queen. Her gaze was strong, her chin held high, and her sympathy at my state was frankly much appreciated. Human, my mind supplied, and I wasn’t even sure how I knew, but I did. She was half human. I relaxed a little further, my familiarity and affection for the human race that much more than the vampire race. Half vampire and half human? She could be my Queen. 

“I am not a trainee, my Queen,” I murmured, lowering my voice. The King didn’t seem ready to explain the situation, and as I spoke his jaw locked like he was waiting for me to blow this popsicle stand and cause a total shitfight with his wife. And boy, it was tempting AF to do just that, lemme tell you. “I am… visiting,” I managed dryly. “Unfortunately, my visit is considered suspect since I killed a Lesser. I believe this is… minimally invasive interrogation.”

The one that had been tossing the dagger actually snorted. Everyone else kind of winced, like this was so not where they’d expected this to go. Taking a deep breath, I weighed my options now with the Queen present. If she was sympathetic to imprisoning the innocent then I had to get it all out there. Her interference could help me regardless of what I said.

“You wanted to know everything about me?” I direct this question to the King, forcing his attention away from the female that took a step into the room, even as a Brother tried to put himself between her and me. “I told you, I am Malys, Son of Elieanora. I’ve never met my father.” A truth to cover a lie - I wasn’t admitting he was an angel. Hell to the no. But I had never met him. “My name in the human world is Malachi. I have no true home because I travel, a lot, trying to protect humans from whatever other monsters are out there.” Point to me - the Queen’s eyes softened. “And I didn’t own up to killing the Lesser in the Audience House because all I’ve wanted to do since arriving here is leave, and confessing my ability to easily kill the enemy didn’t seem conducive to getting my butt outta here. I never wanted to have to face this part of me but I love my mother, and I cannot deny her. She asked. I obeyed.”

I took a breath, dropping my head back against the bed as I swallowed down the rush and the anxiety at confessing so much of who I was. But as I’d hoped, the King was staring in my direction, and I knew he was getting all the truth behind every word I’d uttered. That I’d been respectful to his shellan? Bonus points. But now I had to see how the two of them fought it out to get me outta these damn restraints. 

Zsadist:

[The brothers and I all looked between the King and the Queen. Wrath still looked pissed while Beth was a whole bag of emotions. Wrath finally broke the silence. “Leelan…” But he was soon cut off by Beth. Her hand thrown out and everything. “No. It’s my turn.” Scrubbing a hand over my face as I hear someone mumble. “Oh shit.” Lifting my head to watch as the Queen moved over to the stretcher. She frowned as her hand landed on the prisoner’s. And just like that we were behind her in a second. Vishous looking like he was ready to get in between them. Beth turned, her blue eyes meeting each of us. “Guys...I got this. Take a step back.” It was hard to obey that order, but one grunt from Wrath had us moving backwards about an inch or two. 

The Queen turned her attention back to the male. She smiled. “Malys was it? I commend you on protecting the human race. Even if these big men behind me don’t care as much about humans, I sure do.” Rhage chimes in. “Hey...we do...for certain circumstances.” Like Mary. I think to myself quietly. Beth turns to eye Rhage and smiles wide at him. He returns it and pulls out a tootsie pop like he deserved a treat for that. Snorting as Vishous smacks the back of his head before watching the Queen again. “I myself once only knew of the human world. Until that big scary looking male over there found me.” She chuckles as Wrath lets out a growl. “I’m not sure what other beings are out there but if vampires exist I assume anything is possible. Thank you for caring for the humans. They matter too.”

Damn. What was next? We going to invite him upstairs for fucking tea or some shit? Beth eyes Tohr. One she knew wouldn’t throw lip at her. “Tohrment, can you please take off his restraints. I’d like to let him come have some food and stretch his legs so we can chat more.” Welp. Tohr eyes Wrath who was seething. Finally the King cuts in. “No. We will not jeopardize the entire mansion by letting him walk freely in it.” Oh shit. Beth snaps her head to the direction of Wrath. “Hellren mine, if you ever want to sleep in our mated bed again then you will do as I say. I don’t see any threat from this male. He came to you on behalf of his Mother, and all because he didn’t explain why he took down one of those disgusting creatures you treat him this way!” She shook her head. “I know I don’t understand all Brotherhood business but I do understand what is right and what is wrong. Tohrment…” The Brother looks at Wrath again who just grits his teeth then nods once. 

Tohr moves forward and removes the restraints from the prisoner. As he does Beth winces at his wounds. “You poor thing. You probably are so hungry…” Without turning her gaze away from him she calls out. “Vishous grab me some bandages.” V snorts then does as he’s told. Handing her the box of gauze, we watch as Beth takes one out and places it on one of his wrists. “Come on...I will lead you upstairs myself.” Wrath quickly moves to stand beside his Shellan. Practically pressed right up against her.]

Mal:

I didn’t even /breathe/. As the Queen came closer to put her hand on mine, I one hundred percent stopped existing for fear that one muscle twitch, one exhale, would put a dagger in my chest. Sure she’d be pissed, but I’d still be dead, and I was beginning to think the King would prefer me so if it kept me away from the love of his life.

When she asked for my wrists to be freed I almost couldn’t believe it’d worked. And after some argument between the mated pair, one of the hulking masses, Tohrment, moved in to remove the bands. Again, every move I made was /minimal/. Even sitting up I used every muscle I’d ever carved out in a gym or on the road to do it slowly. 

I want to refuse the bandages; the wounds will heal in a day after all, and my stressed out, panicked self inflicted them so probably worth me learning the lesson, but I cannot rebuke her kindness. Her hands are incredibly gentle as she firmly wraps my wrist, and I raise my head enough to meet her eyes as I manage a small smile and a murmured ‘Thank you’. 

Then she was talking about moving, and boy, I had to remind myself of every single word my mahmen had ever mentioned about bonded males and their savagery in protecting their one true love. The King had gone from being a patient, if not terrifying, brick wall to leering, borderline rabid, guard dog. If I so much as sniffed in her direction, he’d bite my damn nose off…

Turning to drop my legs from the gurney, I try to give myself a second as the males move as one to be a guard for the King and Queen. A part of me wishes I could ask for a minute to myself, to get feeling back in my arms and legs, use the bathroom, but any desire to be alone right now would just come off as suspicious. So when I stumble to my feet, I have to grit my teeth and smother my pride as my body objects, my legs tingling and wanting to refuse. 

The Queen looked back to me stumbling like a baby foal, and while she didn’t say anything there was still a quiet fury in her eyes. I liked her. I didn’t even know her name, but I liked her. By not saying anything she wasn’t calling attention to my weakness in front of a group of males bred to be warriors, but she knew I was aching as I came to stand on her other side, a respectful distance between us as I took a deep breath of unrestrained air. My eyes flicked again to Zsadist, to the way those golden eyes assessed this new development, and I was surprised to note an almost reluctant admiration. Like I’d impressed him. His comments on my ability to throw a punch came back, and I hid a smile as I limped after the Queen out the door. By the middle of the tunnel, feeling had returned, my gait straightening out.

“You are far too kind, my Queen. I am… deeply appreciative of your generosity. In truth, I would be grateful simply to be sent on my way. I would hate to impose upon you. Or bring you any discourse with those of your family.”

Re: I’d hate to cause a fight between you and the guy who looks like he wants his sight back just for the satisfaction of being able to watch me bleed out under him. Seriously.  

Zsadist:

[The Queen smiled as she eyed Malys. “Please, call me Beth.” I watched as the male struggled to get up. He still kept his pride though and didn’t reach for help. Then again, even though the Queen would happily help, he in no way would ask for it. Pride as well as Wrath would break every bone in his body. Snorting at the thought before I watch his eyes lift to mine. I raised a brow and did my best to hide an amused look. He really turned shit out in his favor. Scoring points with Beth, becoming not a prisoner but more so a guest. Nice work fucker. I look away when they start to move. 

Suddenly the entire Brotherhood moved in unison, staying close to Malys and the Queen. Wrath looked like he was ready to lose his shit. All I could smell in the tunnels was his bonding scent. Beth reached behind to grab his hand. Being his guide since he was without George, but also squeezing his fingers in reassurance. Hell. If you would have told me this is how the evening was gonna play out I wouldn’t have believed it. Shit was always unpredictable around here, that was for sure. 

When we move up and through the door under the staircase we are greeted by Fritz in the foyer. My eyes immediately went to Malys. Curious of what his reaction would be to the mansion. He just stood in awe, taking it all in. Beth held out a hand towards the dining room. “Fritz...Can we get some leftovers from first meal for our guest?” The Doggen smiles then nods before disappearing into the kitchen as we all head into the dining room. Beth releases Wrath’s hand to motion towards a chair for the “guest” to sit in. Snorting as I move to my regular seat beside Phury. Wrath sits at the head of the table, face emotionless as he just sits and listens. 

Suddenly the sound of George’s collar jingling fills the room. Lifting my head to watch the Golden Retriever make his way over to the King. The dog pauses by Malys and I raise a brow. Okay if this dog didn’t like him then he had to be a fucking asshole. Dogs could sense that shit, right? Watching closely as George sniffs at Malys. He licked one of his hands before padding off to sit by the King's side. Fuck. I didn’t even bother to look at Wrath. He probably was fuming even more now. His best friend just betrayed him by licking the former prisoner. Traitor. 

My golden eyes flickered up to watch Fritz and a few other Doggens come in with some platters. Pancakes, bacon, sausage, some frittata thing, bagels, hash browns. The fucking works. As it is all set down Fritz grabs a fresh pot of coffee and fills up a mug for Malys. Rhage quickly darts his head up and reaches for a piece of bacon. We all glare at him as he munched away happily. This fucker. The Queen smiled and nodded to the food. “Help yourself, and hurry before Rhage eats it all.” She laughs softly and I couldn’t help but crack a small chuckle. Hearing a few other brothers join in. I mean...she wasn’t wrong. Beth reaches to grab a bagel. I doubt she was hungry, but more so wanted to make him feel comfortable about eating. That’s the kind of wonderful female she was.] 

Mal:

The bonding scent that’d been saturating me in the tunnel fanned out as we hit what had to be a foyer of… the biggest fucking building I’d clearly ever been in. Hallways stretched off in all directions, and even just standing on the marble floor, I had a sense of the vastness. This was the King’s mansion, the home of the Brotherhood, and while I had no idea where it was or how to get here, I also suspected I was one of very few that had seen inside it either. 

Guided into a dining room big enough to fit the motley crew of killers, and their Queen, I took the seat indicated, still feeling three hundred percent out of my depth. When the beautiful golden retriever padded in though, I felt some of my nerves ease, especially when it paused to offer a lick. I wanted to pet it, hold it, and make ridiculous coo-ing noises at it until it begged for belly rubs, which I’d also give it. But the harness told me he was Wrath’s dog, and FYI, it’s very poor form to distract a service dog. So I accepted the lick while radiating gratitude, and let him go on to his owner. Who looked ticked I’d gotten even that.

And doggen... wow. Mahmen hadn’t been kidding. They were all but giddy to bring in the ‘left overs’; enough food to feed everyone present twice. Instead of the food I reached for the coffee first, taking a sip and groaning softly before I could stop myself. As the first thing I’d had in over twelve hours, after spending a night locked down to a gurney, it was /heaven/.

“Thank you, Beth,” I replied smoothly, glad for her name as I set the mug down and did as she’d suggested, gathering a small amount of food to my own plate and proceeding to dine. I deliberately kept my eyes either on the plate, or on the Queen, because any time I even glanced toward a Brother, other than Zsadist and the one they called Rhage, they looked at me like I was a cockroach and it was just a matter of time. 

A figure appeared in the entrance to the living room, and only the instinct to know my surroundings had me looking up. I nearly dropped the fork, my hand freezing as I saw the male standing there and knew instantly what he was. An angel.

Likewise, the male’s all white eyes narrowed on me, but then he was smiling, sauntering in and announcing he was commencing a movie marathon in the billiards room with popcorn provided. All welcome. Apparently even me? Then he was waving at me as he left and I realized I was holding my breath. I let it out in a rush, shakily putting down the fork as I swallowed the fresh hit of nerves. He’d known… he’d known what I was the same way I knew what he was, but he didn’t say anything. 

“Who was that?”

The words left my lips and I almost smacked a hand over my mouth to take them back. Fighting that impulse, I instead looked to Beth, my expression polite and befuddled at the angel’s total… verve. Wrath grunted.

“Better question would be ‘what was that’,” he muttered, taking some bacon off the plate. “Lassiter. Our resident pierced pain in the ass.” Several males muttered their agreement. “You’re lucky he wasn’t rocking the light globe look. You’d be blind.”

Would I? I thought, wondering if my ‘angel eyes’ would save me from that. Shit. I didn’t need to find out. I needed to get out of here. How did one politely request a bathroom, then an exit? Hell, I’d take the bathroom just for a window; I could fly from there and let them puzzle it out later. 

Zsadist:

[The meal, that only Rhage, Beth, and Malys were partaking in, was interrupted by Lassiter. Rolling my golden eyes as he announces a movie night. Like anyone had time for that shit. And the sounds of the shudders rising brought time in prospective for us all. Rotation. Rhage started to shovel down more food into his mouth. Vishous got up saying he had to grab some coordinates from the Pit. Butch stood hollering after him to grab his twin berettas. Wrath just pushed his fingers behind his shades to rub at his eyes. 

I shifted up when I saw Phury frown and move into the foyer, looking at his phone. Before I could go confront my twin, I heard our so called guest ask to use the bathroom. Beth smiles at him “Oh my, of course. I should have asked you that first.” She gets up and moves to sit on Wrath’s lap. They started to have a hushed conversation that included a lot of kissing and Beth working her male to not be so angry. Grabbing at Malys arm, I lead him to the bathroom that was closest to the foyer. Once he is inside I turn my attention to Phury. Watching him pace as he looks at his phone. My head lifts.]

Brother mine, what’s doing? [My twin looks over, his brows drawn in. “Cormia decided it would be a great idea to take out some of the Chosens. Apparently she wanted to have a drink with them and they are headed to Iron Mask. Fuck! Why would she go out unprotected with them?!” Blinking at the thought of those Chosen’s being picked up by some rando or worse a lesser. And one of them was my twin’s mate. Yeah this was bad.] 

Alright well let’s head to Iron Mask and we can drop Malys off there. Guy probably wants a drink anyway. [Snorts] V and some others can dematz if they need to head elsewhere for rotation. Don’t worry brother mine we will get to them. [The bathroom door opens the same time Wrath comes into view with Beth. The King’s voice echoes in the foyer. “Dropping off our… friend?” The Queen pats his arm then smiles at Malys. I nod slowly] Yeah. I know you said to not go on rotation but I need to help Phury out with a situation. Besides, I’m on like an adrenaline high right now and am wide awake. I promise I’ll rest when I get home. [Wrath grunts. “Fine. Just get him out of here.” I nod watching the other brothers show up as the King and Queen disappear upstairs. I let them know what’s doing and Tohr nods to Rhage. “You head with the twins and I’ll go with V and Butch.” Rhage nods, my head turning to watch Vishous move over to me. He tosses a blindfold at me then smirks. “Don’t worry it’s for Beth’s best friend over there. Call us if there are any problems.” With that V, Butch, and Tohr exit the mansion leaving my twin, Rhage, and Malys.]

Mal:

Stupid vampire houses and their stupid metal shutters to keep out beautiful daylight. Hitting up the bathroom, I’d drained the lizard and then gone straight for the window, eager to see how easy a getaway it would be. But the shutters that kept out the daylight hadn’t even lifted yet, and not only could I not budge them, I couldn’t use any lick of my power, angel, vampire or otherwise, to get around them.

Not that it mattered much. By the time I emerged from the bathroom, everyone had left the dining room and was in motion. The Brothers were armed up, preparing to leave, and my scarred warden was watching the rainbow maned male as he paced. When the Brother with his tattoo and eyes like diamonds tossed Zsadist a blindfold, I grimaced, but hey… better than any of them knocking me out over and over. My head still fucking hurt.

Dismissed by the King (big surprise there…) and flashing Beth an appreciative smile and bow of my head, I followed the warriors that remained while the rest went outside to dematerialize wherever the fuck they were going. Slipping through the door to the massive tunnel below, we didn’t stop until we were in a parking garage the size of a football field, and filled with more cars than I’d owned in my life. Or stolen. And hey, most of these were cars I’d /like/ to steal.

“Cool so what’s the seating arrangement?” I declare, ready for this nightmare to be over. I was not only getting out of this place without a dagger in me, but without them knowing what I was. I was one happy half-breed, let me tell you. Stopping at the big, dark SUV waiting, no doubt thanks to a doggen, I pause at the back seat and cross my arms. The white bandages from the Queen herself poked out from under my jacket. “Am I next to you again, bright eyes?” I add, looking to Zsadist. “Promise you won’t hit me again? Bit unfair if I can’t see it coming.”

Pretty Locks, or Phury, was ignoring me as he all but leapt into the passenger seat. The way he moved, I realised belatedly that one of his legs was prosthetic. Huh. What a trooper. The shockingly attractive blonde, Rhage, took the driver’s seat as Zsadist half shoved me into the back and passed me the blindfold. Rhage peered over the backseat, and his smile was enough to make you pause. If I’d been totally straight? I now would’ve been one hundred percent gay. No question.

“Put that on, please. I really don’t wanna ask twice.”

Ok. Seventy percent gay. 

With a sigh I did as he asked, lifting the black material and wrapping it over my eyes, around my head. I sensed Zsadist leaning over to do an inspection, right before something poked my cheek and I flinched back. “The fuck…”

Rhage chuckled. “Okay, let’s go!”

Zsadist: 

[I had almost wished I just knocked this guy out again instead of using the blindfold. Fuck the sass was back yet again. I couldn’t help but chuckle as Rhage poked his cheek. Normally that would annoy me, but it was so much more amusing when Rhage was bothering Malys instead of me. 

Leaning back in my seat as the SUV started to move. I couldn’t help but watch Phury who kept frantically calling his mate. He frowned then growled in frustration. “She’s not picking up, fuck!” My brows draw in.] Brother, relax. I’m sure she is just dancing with the Chosens or something. [That made Phury growl louder. Rhage swerved the car causing us all to get fucking whiplash.] Scribe! Can you get us there without killing us? You are lucky that Butch isn’t in this car he would wring your neck. [The Brother controls himself and the car before eyeing me in the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry...just between the growling and the urgency, I’m all out of whack.” Phury continues to call while I let my eyes shift over to Malys. His hands were clutching the seat and handle on the door. Smart move. Inhaling his scent once again to see if there was anything else I could pick up. Nothing. What was he…? 

The car slows down and cuts off my train of thought. Lifting my gaze to see we were at the back of the club. Phury quickly gets out and runs inside.] Shit! [Rubbing a hand over my face in frustration. Before I can even move he’s outside again. I exit the car while Rhage sticks his head out the window. Phury looks at me worried. “She’s not in there man.” Even though I hated contact, I placed my hand on my twin’s shoulder.] We will find her, its okay. 

[And in that same moment a scream from a female is heard in the distance. FUCK. Quickly Phury takes off in a flash, following after him as I holler.] Come on Rhage! Just leave him! [I hear car doors being closed but I don’t bother to look back. Moving down the street, my twin and I turn the corner to see four lessers surrounding Cormia, Ghisele, and Amalya. Three of the smelly fuckers had each one in a hold while the fourth held a blade. This was not good at all.]

[prettywordsyouleft]

Symptoms

Summary: You hadn’t expected when you married Minhyun for the vows you uttered about sharing in everything together to become so literal.

Pairing: Hwang Minhyun x female reader

Genre: pregnancy au / fluff

A/N: Requested by anon. I had a lot of fun writing this piece! I tried a different structure to cover a lot of time, so I hope you like what I’ve come up with!

Word count: 2067

You frowned when you felt the man beside you shift out of the bed hastily, dashing off to the bathroom for the third time now. It was barely five in the morning and sleep had been difficult with how unwell Minhyun had been. You were concerned; it was normally you who caught the bugs easily, not your husband.

The toilet flushed and after another minute the tall man reappeared, a hand gently cradling his weak stomach. He didn’t look sickly but nausea had hit him hard not long after going to bed. Now kneeling on his side of the bed, you reached up to feel his forehead, sighing when there was no obvious temperature increase.

“I wonder why you’re throwing up,” you murmured, washing your concerned eyes over him for an obvious sign. Minhyun shook his head sadly and gestured for you to move so he could lay back down beside you.

“Maybe I ate something bad,” he suggested and you thought back to everything you had eaten during the day. You had shared every meal as it was Sunday and neither of you had any schedules for the day. Checking internally over yourself, you felt fine.

You nodded softly. “It’s probably just a stomach bug; I’ll book you a doctor’s appointment for later on today. For now, let’s try and rest, shall we?”

“So what did the doctor say?”

Minhyun shrugged. “I’m perfectly healthy. He reckons whatever it was will be out of my system now. And I feel fine too. Funny, huh?”

“I’m just glad you’re alright,” you murmured, hugging your husband and burying into him. He chuckled and held you for some time, whining when you let him go to carry on fixing dinner. Glancing up at his endearing behaviour, you beckoned him into the kitchen to help you. “How about you prepare the steak and I’ll carry on making the salad.”

For a few minutes, you both focused on your tasks when you noticed Minhyun’s face suddenly twist up in distaste, dropping the knife in his hand and dashing down the hallway to the bathroom. You listened on until he flushed the toilet and went down to find him slumped on the tiled floor in the bathroom.

“What was that?”

“The nausea is back.” He hung his head, looking exhausted. “I don’t understand I felt great until I got home.”

“Maybe you’re sick of your wife?” you teased lightly and he glanced up at you, a small smile tugging up his lips.

“How could I ever get sick of you?”

The nausea continued on and off for the next two weeks, though after multiple doctors’ appointments nothing could be found as the obvious cause. He was placed on a basic diet to realign his gut but even then during the evening through to the early hours of the morning, Minhyun could be woken up by the strong need to throw up. And instead of losing weight from all the vomiting, he appeared to have gained a little. His skin was dull from all the exertion of losing his nutrients and acne flared up on his usually clear skin. It was frightening and now you were beyond concerned.

“Is it really necessary for another doctor’s appointment, honey?”

You nodded swiftly, dragging the taller man into a different clinic, your worry making you want a second opinion. “You’re not getting better. We’ve barely been married six months; I refuse to lose my husband to something terrible.”

Yes, you had arrived at the worst conclusions by this point.

As you waited for the appointment time, you leaned into your husband’s side for comfort, Minhyun soon groaning and shifting away. “Don’t, I’m tender.”

“Sorry,” you mentioned with a soft blush rising on your cheeks at his obvious discomfort. He had only been clinging to you all morning long and now being in the doctors’ office, you needed comfort to stop your overactive brain.

Despite shifting away, Minhyun’s hand was soon linking with yours and you smiled gently, looking up when his name was called.

After running some tests over his physical wellbeing, the doctor asked Minhyun to come and sit down beside you, tilting her head as she looked over his results.

“Well, from what I’ve just checked you’re very healthy.”

“Really?” you squeaked out, feeling frustrated. “My husband has been throwing up at night and in the mornings, he’s irritable, his sleep patterns are different, he has barely been eating yet has gained weight recently. How is any of this together healthy?”

The doctor nodded, a smile soon crossing her lips. “How long have you both been married for?”

“Almost six months,” Minhyun answered, glancing at you quizzically from the non-health related question.

“And are you practising sexual intercourse with or without protection.”

“Without,” you murmured, your eyebrows now firmly knitted together.

The doctor nodded and gestured for you to get up. “I need you to come with me Mrs Hwang to take a test for me. It may very well be you who has the biggest symptom of all.”

“Tell me the name of this again,” Minhyun breathed out as he laid down in the bed beside you that evening. He had just about gotten into bed before another wave of nausea hit just before.

You couldn’t help but smirk. You were struggling to be sympathetic after the news. “Couvade syndrome.”

“How much longer do I have to suffer for?”

“The websites I read don’t say anything about it stopping at a specific time. It could happen for a short time or a longer period too.”

“You’re pregnant but I have to endure the symptoms, how is this fair?!” he whined and you couldn’t help but bite at your bottom lip elatedly for the umpteenth time since the doctor had confirmed your pregnancy. Minhyun poked you gently and pouted. “You’re perfectly fine!”

“When we got married didn’t we say we’d help each other for the rest of our lives?” you reminded with a little snigger attached on the end, Minhyun’s groans making you laugh. “Looks like we’re keeping true to that even as we head into parenthood.”

“You’re so lucky I love you,” he grumbled, pulling you into his arms. “Looks like I will literally go through anything for you, huh?”

You smiled, kissing his cheek lightly before nestling into his side. “Just think, at least you don’t have to go through the labour part.”

“Baby, wake up.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, blearily glancing at your husband after looking at the alarm clock beside you. You groaned. “Min, it’s two in the morning! You’ve stopped throwing up now so I thought we’d be enjoying more uninterrupted sleep now that I’m fifteen weeks pregnant.”

“Are you hungry?” he asked, looking more alert than he should for someone who had work in the morning. You shook your head. “I’m really hungry.”

“So go make yourself something small to eat and then come back to bed.”

“I want fried chicken,” he said with a bit of a moan, tilting his head as excitement started to build. “Oh, and a chocolate sundae.”

“At the same time?” you asked slowly, watching something click in his head at your sentence.

“Oh, you know it kind of sounds gross but I want to try it.”

“Minhyun!”

“What?! I’m craving it so badly now.” He flung back the blankets and you gasped as he hopped out of the bed and went over to his dresser to pull on some clothes. “I’m going to get food.”

“Seriously?!”

“I can’t wait until tomorrow.”

“Now you have weird pregnancy food cravings too,” you grumbled, shaking your head at how far this was all going.

“Don’t laugh at me!”

You bit back your amusement, watching Minhyun as he eased himself into bed beside you, pointing a finger at you warningly. A small noise left you then as you tried hard to suppress your giggles.

“Who’s the pregnant one here?” you asked teasingly, his umber eyes shooting you a disgruntled look as he settled into bed beside you. Patting his lower arm gently, you then pointed to your pregnancy pillow between you both. “Maybe you should use this tonight for your back. Mine’s not so bad.”

“First the nausea, now I waddle around like I’m the one carrying our son.”

“It’s not like you get kicked or elbowed, Minhyun. Be thankful you don’t have to go to the toilet every five minutes like I do these days either. A bit of back pain is better than throwing up, don’t you think?”

“Look us trying to compare and outdo the other with our pregnancy symptoms,” he said with a huff, though a small smile played at the corner of his lips. “Do you think now that you’re in your third trimester I’ll have these up until the day you give birth?”

“Marriage is about sharing right? You helped put your son here,” you humoured and he grumbled, nodding softly before pulling the pillow away from your side, wrapping his legs around it and sighing in instant relief.

You had to admit, you had enjoyed this journey a little too much with Minhyun facing many of your pregnancy concerns.

It was more exhausting than you had expected it to be and as you attempted to gain your breath back enough to push again, you wondered if you had actually been unlucky this whole time to share your symptoms with Minhyun. Because now it was just you going through the intense pressure, trying to listen to the cues of the nurses and the doctors, to hold back when you needed to and to not pass out from sheer exertion.

Labour was hard.

It was Minhyun’s hand that never left yours, his other gently brushing your hair away from your sweaty face in a rhythm that kept you determined to deliver your son. He had suffered on this journey too and if there was anyone who knew how you had felt in these past nine months it was him. You could see the anxiety embedded in his gaze, the silent worry that he wasn’t helping you enough right now as you pushed through the tidal wave of each contraction and command from the doctor. You wondered if there was a small part of him that felt strange to not be experiencing this when he had almost everything else.

With one more push, you finally felt your situation change, your body had done what it needed to and the cries of new life sounded around the room. It was euphoric to endure so much pain and finally see the beautiful little human you had both created as a reward for your efforts. As he was placed on your chest you cried, knowing your lives had changed forever now.

“Look at his little fingers.”

You smiled lovingly as you stared at the same hand you had looked at so many times in the last week. Your eyes then shifted to the man snuggled into your side as you attempted to breastfeed your son Minhwan. He noticed your gaze and leaned down to brush his lips over yours, his eyes growing concerned when you flinched a little at the pressure from Minhwan’s latch on your breast.

“Does it hurt?”

“It’s not that bad, he’s getting better.”

“You know, it’s odd for me to not experience anything now,” Minhyun admitted and you couldn’t help but grin. “After all those months, I half expected my nipples to ache when you started breastfeeding or something.”

“Oh my god,” you breathed, shaking your head incredulously. “You’re too much.”

“It’s worth all the nausea in the world to have him finally here, to be our family of three.”

You stared down at your newborn and then nodded. “Even if you were more ridiculous than me.”

“I thought often during the pregnancy if we have another child after Minhwan that I never want to face this again. That I want to be the normal one next time around.”

“Oh so you want me to suffer more, huh?” you teased and Minhyun smiled but shook his head.

“Experiencing it all with you even when it got crazy, it’s made me feel more a part of the pregnancy. I literally endured it with you. I feel more bonded with our son and you because of it.”

“So if we get pregnant again?”

Minhyun smiled. “I hope to be just as sufferable as you.”

_________________

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[thighhighsanti]

sweet but psycho x

I completely forgot to post the 10th chapter... 

< chapter 9 masterlist >>

summary: You decide that your next shopping trip will be the perfect opportunity to escape, but the boys don’t seem to agree.

word count: 7.7k

pairing: Minseok x Fem!Reader

tags/warnings: for all chapters: character death, assassination, blood, fighting, usage of weapons, violence, injury, kidnapping (and attempts), restraining, stalking, possessiveness, obsession, photographs being taken without consent, swearing, hacking, mention of drinking and drug usage, arson, stockholm syndrome, enemy to lovers, love/hate, slow burn, angst, fluff, eventual smut, multiple partners. Mention of GOT7, BTS and NCT

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Your name: submit What is this?

Everything had gone horribly wrong. Two days ago I went to the mall and tried to escape. Due to that miserable failure I was now locked inside my room, after of course they remodelled it. They also installed one camera in the corner of my room, it was above my closet so there was no way I could reach it.. and I had tried. Every time I had successfully thrown a shirt over the camera one of the guys came in my room to remove it. After Kris threatened to zip tie me to the bed I had stopped, just in case he was serious.

The second day wasn’t that bad, I stopped stomping through my room. I had given up on kicking the door and yelling at the guys outside, not that I had yelled at all of them.. I knew better then to yell at Chanyeol, Kris and especially Kyungsoo.

When they realized I had finished my tantrum they brought me food, water, new clothes and to my surprise a phone. It was a simple one, most apps were blocked and I could only use the numbers already in the phone, which were the numbers of the boys of course. The first text that came in was from Junmyeon, and it was just him warning me with “this phone is only to text us if you need anything. Sehun can see everything you do with it, so keep that in mind”. Which was practically his way of saying, “disobey me again, I dare you”.

My plan to escape was put on hold too, there was no way I was running now. I had to gain their trust first or else there was no way this was going to work. This however was the original plan, but I got cocky and messed up. As explained a few days ago apparently I would be going on a date with Junmyeon the day after tomorrow and to a party a few days, so this was the perfect opportunity to work on my people skills.

 But of course this was thrown into a dark pit when I got sick, and good too. I wasn’t sure where it came from but one minute I was fine and the next I started coughing violently. I could almost feel their eyes on me from the camera as I coughed louder, while running towards the bathroom. And only a few seconds later I was throwing my food up into the toilet. I hung over the toilet when I suddenly heard the bedroom door open and someone walking towards the bathroom.

‘Y/N, it’s me. Are you ok?’ Yixing’s worried voice filled my ears as I curled myself up next to the toilet, mumbling back a ‘no’. He slowly opened the door before walking inside and kneeling down next to me, pushing my hair to the side. ‘What happened?’ he asked after finished throwing up. I let a deep sigh leave me before noticing him hand me a towel. After using it to wipe of my mouth I sat back, my back against the tiles of the bathtub.

‘I don’t know’ I muttered as I looked up at him, the towel still close to my mouth. ‘It just came out of nowhere’, Yixing raised a brow before running a hand through his hair. ‘What did you eat yesterday?’ he continued asking while brushing some remaining strands out of face. ‘I don’t even remember what it was. Fish maybe?’ I more asked then answered before shaking my head and rubbing my forehead before dropping the towel.

Yixing placed the back of his hand against my forehead before reaching inside his pocket to grab his phone. He dialled a number and after only one ring it answered. ‘What the hell happened? Do you need me to come downstairs?’ the voice on the other end said, making Yixing respond with a simple “yes” before hanging up.

He put his phone back in his pocket before turning back to me and stroking my hair. ‘There was a small mistake with the fish yesterday, Baekhyun and Tao are also sick’ Yixing explained. I wanted to ask more but I decided against it as I leaned forward. Yixing’s breath caught in his throat as he simply watched me lean in, after pressing my head against his chest I felt his breath return to normal. He continued caressing my head while softly swaying us side to side.

After a moment of silence I spoke up, ‘who was that on the phone?’. Bur before he could answer the question the bedroom door swung open and Junmyeon came walking in. ‘Oh of course’ I groaned as I closed my eyes and pressed myself more against the man in front of me. Yixing just continued cooing me as the sound of his boss’s footsteps got closer. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ the older man asked, causing me to grumble into Yixing’s shirt. ‘Not now Junmyeon, I’m not in the mood’, he simply let out a deep sigh before I felt Yixing unwrap me from his arms.

‘I will go get you some medicine, stay near the toilet’ he warned me before getting up completely and leaving me with Junmyeon. As my eyes followed him walking to the door I noticed that Sehun and Jongdae standing by the door. Junmyeon closed the bathroom door as he noticed me looking at them, I saw Jongdae move to say something but the door was shut before he could. ‘Really?’ I almost laughed at him, making him shrug and take Yixing’s place on the floor.

I also moved to sit back, not risking being cuddling into his arms right now. Although it was probably what he wanted. ‘Do they make you jealous?’ I tried to step the words from coming out but it had already been too late, as Junmyeon looked up from the floor, his stare almost emotionless. ‘Some times’ he admitted making me raise my brows at him before stifling another small laugh.

‘Why?’, his eyes moved to the door as he remained silent and I could tell he was trying to find the right words. So I calmly waited for him to answer.

‘It’s the way you are around the others, you’re not like that with me’ he admitted, his eyes slowly going back to me. ‘And why would that be?’ I asked, causing him to laugh as he already knew why. ‘Every time I look at you I go back to our childhood. I really miss those times, the way we would hang out together. Our sleepovers, the family dinners, the movie nights.. Hell, you were there when I had my first beer’ as he talked my mind went through all the memories he mentioned.

When it finally reached the one of him and his first beer I let out a small giggle before quickly covering my mouth. Junmyeon, thinking I was going to throw up again, quickly reached forward to try and help me. ‘No no, it’s fine. I just thought back at your first beer’, his laugh easily met mine as he sat back. ‘Yeah, that was horrendous’ Junmyeon chortled before turning back to his thoughts.

Suddenly he snapped his fingers and softly hit his knee, ‘did you know’ he started before pointing at me. ‘That night you were also my first kiss’ he explained, referring to that “spin the bottle” game we did with friends. ‘Oh my god, really’ I snort making him grin and nod his head. ‘I was so proud’ he exclaimed, ‘You were not the last one though’ he quickly added as I thought back to one of his ex-girlfriends.

‘Don’t remind me of whatever her name was’ I grimaced at the memory of that girl, she always did everything she could to take me and Junmyeon apart. She would always take up all his attention and even tried to put him against me, luckily for me he quickly realized and ended things with her. ‘If it makes you feel any better I don’t even remember her name’ he groaned, also thinking back of those times.

The two of us stayed silent for a moment. Junmyeon had his head thrown back against the wall and his eyes closed. My state almost matched his, but for me there was nothing to lean back against, as the side of the tub only went so far up. ‘Do you think we could go back to that? To how things used to be’ he whispered, as if he wasn’t ready for the possible answer he would receive.

I wanted to say no, I really did and I tried. But I had missed him, and if it weren’t for these circumstances I would have been happy to see him. The two of us had been really good friends growing up, and when he left he did leave a void behind. But remembering his face when he said goodbye I had known it hurt him as much as it hurt me.

‘I will answer your question. But I want something in return’ I started, making him raise his brows at me. ‘Don’t worry it’s nothing bad. All I ask is for you to answer one question of mine, with the truth and nothing but the truth’ I finished before offering my hand. He looked at it for a moment before slowly reaching his hand towards it. ‘Is your question something I can answer?’ he asked. ‘It has nothing to do with illegal things.. I think’, he simply shrugged his shoulders at this before grabbing my hand and sealing the deal.

‘Yes’ I nodded at him, answering his question. His eyes widened at that, not expecting that answer. ‘What, rea-’, ‘Hold up, I wasn’t done talking yet’ I cut in making him groan and sit back against the wall. ‘Yes, I think we could go back to that. However, considering the situation we are in now.. It would take a hell of a lot of work’ I finished, which made him nod in understanding. ‘And I do want that.. Because I missed my best friend’. A smile spread across his face as he looked at me.

This smile however quickly faded, because now it was his turn to answer a question. ‘Ok, I’m ready, ask away’ he grinned as he straightened his back. ‘How did Lu feel about all of this?’ I asked, his face now tilting to the side a little. ‘Luhan?’, as I nodded he rubbing his forehead but I couldn’t tell if it was from annoyance or maybe something else.

‘He hated it’ he confessed as his eyes met mine. ‘I remember when I first showed him the.. uhh, contract.. He got so mad, he broke a bunch of vases before I kicked him out of the house for a few hours. Lu tried to talk me out of it, tried to get me to just ignore it and try to find another way’. I stayed silent as he continued talking. ‘This was also the reason he left for China, so Minseok could get closer to you’ he admitted, uncomfortable with explaining this to me.

‘He wasn’t the only one though’ Junmyeon quickly added, ‘Sehun, Jongdae, Minseok and of course Yixing were all against it, they felt like we were taking away your free will. The others.. they didn’t really know you that well, so I think they just followed the orders blindly. But I can tell some of them regret it now’ he muttered before looking towards the door.

‘Do you?’ I asked, his eyes quickly snapping back to mine. He thought about it for a moment, but it wasn’t like he didn’t already know the answer. ‘The deal was only one question’ a grin formed his face, making me laugh a little. ‘Well played’ I applauded him before there was a small knocking on the door. ‘I hate to interrupt but I got your medicine’ Yixing’s voice sounded from the other side. Junmyeon let out a small sigh before getting up and letting him inside.

 The next few days were.. quiet.. Yixing had told everyone to not hang around, just to be safe, in case they would get sick as well. This however did not count for Jongdae and Baekhyun, because they were also still sick and it’s not like Baekhyun would’ve listened anyway. A few pieces of my original furniture were returned to me, like my bed, couch and television. But this was only to make my sickness more comfortable and I knew this would’ve never happened if I wasn’t sick. But luckily for me, and everyone else in this house, the sickness was almost as good as gone. All that remained were a few coughs here and there and some sneezing.

I laid back on my bed as I looked around the room before a small noise pullen my attention to my new phone.

 Baek: “yoo, you awake?”

You: “It’s almost 5pm, of course I’m awake”

Baek: “I just woke up, so..”

You: “I don’t understand how you can sleep so much, I’ve been awake all night!?”

Baek: “Why, planning another escape? ;)”

You: “Bye Baekhyun”

Baek: “Ok ok, I’m sorry. Please don’t go I’m bored!”

 I dropped my phone back on the bed as I stared up at the ceiling. I hadn’t been thinking about escape plans actually. I was too tired and way too worn out to even put my head to it. My phone went off a few more times but eventually the messages stopped. I was about to close my eyes when a soft knocking on the door made me sit up. I was about to get up and open it when someone else did. Kris walked into the room, looking around as he did.

‘What’s wrong?’ I asked him as I laid back down. He took a few steps towards the bed before reaching into his pockets and grabbing his phone. ‘I was going to ask you the same thing’ he explained while showing me his phone, which had messages on it from Baekhyun. All the messages were off Baekhyun asking Kris to check up on me because I wasn’t responding to his messages.

‘Oh my god this guy’ I groaned before grabbing my phone and looking at his messages.

 Baek: “Please don’t ignore me”

Baek: “How dare you ignore me”

Baek: “I swear if you don’t respond to me within 3 seconds I will tell Junmyeon you’re planning another escape”

Baek: “Ok he might actually kill you then so I won’t do that”

Baek: “Y/N! Talk to me!”

Baek: “FINE! I will send Kris after your ass!”

Baek: “This is what you get for ignoring me you bitch”

Baek: “I love you <3”

 After reading the messages I let out a load groan and gave the phone to Kris, letting him read the messages. After doing so and giving me the phone back he ran a hand through his hair, ‘I might actually kill him this time’ he groaned before sitting down on the bed. ‘Call me if you need any help’ I offered making the both of us laugh.

Kris sat at the edge of the bed as the two of us talked for a while. Apparently that party was still happening and due to my sickness I had missed the “date” with Junmyeon, which meant it would be replaced to another time. The party also wasn’t really a party, it was more on an excuse for rich people to show up somewhere and flaunt their money.

This would be more of a fundraiser event, which was the perfect opportunity for them to show off their money. However, this was also the perfect time for mafia groups to get connections and work around the people. ‘So the other two groups will also be there?’ I asked Kris, to which he nodded. ‘And possibly a few smaller groups. But all everyone does is show of their cars, women and money’ he scoffed before turning sideways on the bed, so his back was against the headframe.

‘So will you?’ I continued to which he just laughed and shook his head. ‘We’ve never really brought anyone, so you’ll be the first’ he winked causing me to scoff at him and turn my head. ‘You might want to dress to impress though, there will be a lot of people asking about you’ he mused making me look back at him anyway.

‘Why is that?’, ‘Junmyeon never brings a woman with him’ he spoke before grinning at me. ‘And when is this party?’ I asked him as I sat up on the bed. ‘Tomorrow’ he answered before getting up from the bed and walking towards the door. ‘Wear the red dress, it looked good on you’ he said, giving me a wink and getting out of the room.

 And he was right. I was standing in the middle of my room with the dress already on. Yesterday evening Yixing had giving me, Baekhyun and Jongdae “clearance”, which basically meant we were no longer sick and were allowed to leave our rooms.. and go to the fundraiser. There was no denying I was excited, especially because I could finally leave my room.  

As I stood in the middle of the room I looked into the mirror, the dress was beautiful. It hugged everything perfectly and it showed just enough to keep things.. modest. You couldn’t really see much, as the dress had a high cut. But it was just tight in the right places before flowing down on my waist. There was a cut on either side of my legs, so if I posed or sat just right you could see a part of my legs.

After doing a little twirl in front of the mirror, and snapping a few pictures on the phone I was given, the door opened and Minseok walked in. His eyes immediately fell on me and his mouth almost visibly fell open. ‘Shit’ he cursed before taking a few steps towards me, ‘Kris said the dressed looked good but.. I didn’t expect it to look this good’ he admitted before holding his hand out to me.

I smiled at him before grabbing his hand, as to which he pulled me closer and put his other hand on my waist. The hand holding mine was brought to my cheek, causing me to softly push myself into his hand as I enjoyed his sweet touching. ‘You look beautiful’ he proclaimed before looking at my eye makeup and my hair, which I had kept simply, to put more view on the dress.

His eyes moved over my face before stopping at my lips, which I hadn’t done yet. ‘Can I kiss you?’ he asked before looking up to my eyes. I nodded at him and when I was about to give him a verbal answer he pressed his lips to mine.

His lips slowly moved against mine, making sure to not cross any boundaries. The hand on my waist kept a tight grip on my dress as he pulled me closer, pressing me against his body. My arms wrapped themselves around his neck as I indulged myself in him. He didn’t try to take this kiss any further, so I decided to do so by moving my tongue over his lips.

As if something clicked inside him he quickly opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. The kiss got more rough as he started backing me up towards the wall before pressing me against it. The hand on my dress moved a big higher, to the beginning of my ribcage. His other hand moved to the wall next to my head, keeping me in place. I felt his fingers caressing the skin right underneath my breast, the thin fabric making it an easy access.

‘Minseok’ I breathed out his name after breaking the kiss. He took this chance to press his lips to my neck, making sure to not leave any marks as Junmyeon would probably kill the both of us. I felt his tongue move over my neck, not leaving a single spot untouched. ‘Say my name again’ he groaned as he pressed himself harder against me, and I was sure I felt something press against my leg. ‘Minseok please’ I moaned out, causing him to softly press his teeth into my collarbone.

Suddenly a soft knock sounded on the door, causing the two of us to break apart, although Minseok didn’t seem so surprised.. His face was just screaming annoyance. ‘What?’ he asked to the person, who remained silent for a moment before answering. ‘Everyone is waiting for you’ Tao called out to us, to which Minseok just smirked before turning back to me. He pressed a small kiss to my forehead and took a step back. ‘You might want to take a final look in the mirror.. Just in case’ he smirked at me as he walked towards the door.

‘I’ll see you downstairs whenever you’re ready’.

 Not much later I was sitting in one of the cars with Junmyeon right next to me. At first Minseok tried to take that spot but he was quickly put in another car by his boss, who seemed to be shooting daggers in his direction. After walking to the living room with Tao, and getting a few stares from the boys, Junmyeon had taken my hand and guided me to his car. I wasn’t as nervous as before, but I could tell there was a weird atmosphere in the car. But to my biggest surprise, Jongdae was driving again.. Although he did do a double take on the road before taking a few turns.

Not everyone was going to this party, as some didn’t like these type of events and some skills weren’t needed here. In this six seater we had the two of us, Jongdae and Tao at the front, who was carrying a big file with him and Chanyeol and Jongin in the back. Kris, Kyungsoo, Minseok and Baekhyun were sharing a four sitters, while the rest stayed behind. Not that it meant they were free as they had to watch from the screens Sehun had set up after hacking into the many camera’s there.

As Tao was going over names of people that would be there I looked back to Chanyeol and Jongin, who seemed just as bored as I was. When they noticed me looking at them their heads perked up and Jongin smiled at me, while Chan just remained the same emotionless expression. ‘Do you ever smile?’ I asked him to which the one next to him let out a small laugh.

Chanyeol just shrugged before speaking up, ‘Maybe if you say something funny’. I was about to say something back when I heard Junmyeon clear his throat next to me, making me turn back to him. He held up a piece of paper, which had a picture and some personal information on it. ‘Do you know this guy?’ he asked, and when I looked at the picture I shook my head.. I had no idea who that was.

‘Then study his face, I want you to remember it as he will probably try to talk to you tonight’ he explained before handing me the paper. “Jackson Wang” the name read before going into detail about his age, where he lived and other information. ‘Who is this guy?’ I asked as I continued reading. ‘He works for someone I know’ he answered causing me to look at him.

‘He is with another mafia group?’ as I asked this everyone, besides Jongdae, turned to look at me. ‘Do you know about the groups?’ Jongin called from behind me, causing me to shrug. ‘Just what everyone else knows, there are three groups. Bangtan, EXO and GOT7 or something like that’. ‘There are probably more groups but sure, we’ll keep it at those three’ Tao said as he returned his eyes to the road ahead.

‘I assume it’s obvious you can’t tell anyone why you are really with us, but just as a warning.. Please don’t break any rules, I was hoping you’d do better today’ Junmyeon said before grabbing a small bag from next to his feet. ‘To help you with this, I got you something’ he explained while handing me the bag. I reached inside the bag, only to come back with a pretty big box. As I opened it the bright diamonds shone through the car, a beautiful necklace and earrings laid in the box in my hands.

Junmyeon was already reaching forward to take of the necklace I was currently wearing, and I let him. He put my old jewellery in the bag before motioning to turn my head a little. He took the necklace from the box before slipping in on my neck and clipping it at the back. I felt his fingers linger on my neck a little before pulling them back and tapping my shoulder, signalling me to turn back to him. Luckily I could put in the earrings myself, and after doing to I looked into the window of the car.

The necklace was portrayed beautifully on my neck, and because it was kind of a choker necklace it didn’t bother my dress. My reflection was almost literally shining as the car suddenly came to a stop. Junmyeon took back the file from me before giving it to Tao, who quickly put everything away. Everyone beside the two of us got out, making me turn to look at him as my door was obviously locked.

Junmyeon’s door slid open as Chanyeol and Jongin stood a few feet away from it, like true “bodyguards”. After Junmyeon got out he turned to look back at me, and reached his hand out to me. He helped me out the car, but before letting go of my hand he leaned towards my ear. ‘If anyone asks, we’re dating’ he smiled and before I could respond he put his hand on the small of my back, leading me up the stairs to the huge building.

On the sides of the steps there were a few photographers, which meant a lot of important people would probably be here. Lots of photos were taking from us as he reached the top. The others were still behind us as we entered the building, and just as we did I noticed the four from the other car waiting for us. Baekhyun gave us a big smile before waving us over. ‘Nice necklace’ he complimented with a wink as I felt the hand on my back tighten a little.

 After a few minutes all of us were at the “ballroom” and let me tell you that this place was big and beautiful, there were multiple bright chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and almost everything seeming to be dressed in gold or silver. Junmyeon and Minseok were talking to important people, and they had taken Tao and Jongin with them, leaving me with Jongdae, Chan, Kyungsoo, Baekhyun and Kris. Baekhyun and Jongdae seemed to be enjoying themselves, as Baekhyun was at the bar talking to a few girls and Jongdae was at the food’s table, which didn’t seem like such a bad idea to be honest. Kyungsoo was nowhere to be found.. like usual..

I was about to follow Jongdae when Kris softly grabbed my arm, when I was about to whine at him a new voice spoke up. ‘So who might you be?’ the smooth voice filled my ears and when I turned to look at the source I almost laughed. As expected here he was, right on time, Jackson Wang.

He offered me a small smile and his hand, which I gladly handed him. The moment my fingers reached his he grabbed my hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing the back of it. ‘Looks like someone still has some manners’ I hummed to the boys behind me, causing them to scoff as they continued watching Jackson. ‘My name is Jackson’ the man in front of me smirked, and as soon as I gave him my name his eyes seemed to light up.

‘Would you like to dance Miss Y/L/N?’ he asked, the smirk now forming into a beautiful smile. There was no denying he was breath taking, and I had to admit I was curious as to who he was. ‘Absolutely not’ Chanyeol refused and he was about to reach out to me when Jackson pulled me towards him, making sure both guys couldn’t reach for me. ‘I wasn’t asking you’ Jackson snarled back before leading me away from them and to the big open floor, which was apparently supposed to represent a dancefloor.

‘It’s not like I have a choice do I?’ I scoffed at him to which he just let out a small laugh before pulling me into position. One of his hands was on my waist the he held the other one to shoulder height. We moved in along to the song as I looked around the room. Chanyeol and Kris were watching the both of us, fists clenched at their side as Jackson waltzed us along the room.

‘You know, I have to admit. Seeing a woman with Junmyeon surprised me, especially one as gorgeous as you’ he admitted and I couldn’t help to small laugh to leave my lips. ‘That was super cheesy, but thank you nonetheless’ I smiled at him making him nod, ‘I know’.

The both of us swayed across the floor, the conversation almost never ending. And I realized Junmyeon indeed had been right.. Jackson was very interested in me to say the least. He wanted to know where I lived, how I met Junmyeon and what my job was. Eventually the expected question also arrived, ‘So, excuse my intrusion, but what are you doing with him?’ he asked, and I couldn’t help but notice how he almost spit out the last word.

‘I’m dating him’ I shrugged before Jackson took a step back, stopping our movements. ‘You’re dating him?’ he repeated with a surprised expression. As I nodded he let out a small laugh, ‘If you were dating there’s no way he would let you dance with me’ Jackson assured as he looked around, trying to find Junmyeon.

‘Isn’t that the whole point of a relationship. You trust each other’ I stated before tilting my head at him, and I could see Junmyeon behind him start walking towards the both of us. ‘That’s his mistake, I’d never let you leave my side’ he commented before taking the step back towards me and reaching up to my cheek. He was about to cup it in his hand when Junmyeon grabbed his wrist and pulled it away. ‘That’s enough of that, I’ll be taking over thank you very much’ he stated before clasping his fingers around my wrist and pulling me with him, and to my surprise he pulled me further on the dance floor.

I noticed Jackson giving me a small wave and a wink before turning around and walking away as he disappeared into the group of people. When Junmyeon finally came to a stop he turned me to face him and pulled me closer. His hands circled around my waist as he slow danced the two of us. I simply put my hands around his neck while we remained silent, as he slowly moved me along with him.

‘I thought I was supposed to get cosy with him’ I hummed, making him look down at me. ‘Not that cosy’ he spat the words out before turning his head away.

‘Why, are you jealous?’ I cooed as he just let out a sigh, not responding to my question. Which was probably a good idea. ‘I didn’t get to say so before, but you look very beautiful tonight’ he finally whispered, his eyes still moving around the room to not make any eye contact

My hand moved to cup his cheek as I moved his face to make him look at me. ‘Do I not look beautiful any other times?’ I asked before smirking up at him. Junmyeon let out a small laugh before grabbing my hand and returning it to his shoulder. ‘You know you do’ he stated as he matched my smirk, which also caused me to laugh a little.

 Junmyeon and I had been swaying like this for quite some time now. We talked about a lot too, he told me about his life after we parted ways as kids. He joined his father’s company at a very young age, and when he finally learned what they really did he was quick to take over. Around the time his father retired Junmyeon had complete control over the company and everything with it. But his father didn’t know much about the inside activities.. Like EXO.

‘You know I hate to do this-’ Kris’s voice snapped us out of our conversation as we both turned to look at him. Neither of us said anything as we waited for him to continue. ‘-But the bidding is about to start’ as Kris finished his sentence I looked around the room, almost everyone was already sitting down. The three of us walked back to the round table before taking a seat. Minseok and Kris took a seat on either side of me, as Junmyeon sat directly opposite of me.

There was a stage directly behind Junmyeon so he, and the others on that side of the table, had to turn around to see what was happening. A neatly dressed man walked up the stage before tapping the microphone, making everyone in the room turn silent. ‘Welcome all, thank you for coming’ he started his speech as I looked around the room.

As my eyes scanned over the people present they suddenly came to a stop as someone was looking back at me, Hoseok. He sat at a table with the other members of Bangtan, who all seemed to be paying attention to the stage. Hoseok gave me a small wave before turning back to the stage. ‘You know him?’ Kris asked as I also turned my attention back to the stage, but not before giving him a small nod.

The man continued talking, before coming to a stop as two lady’s brought up what seemed to be a statue. After this the bidding was quickly started, and to my surprise a lot of the people here were very interested. ‘I thought this was a fundraiser’ I asked Minseok who turned to look at me. ‘It originally was, but they changed the schedule a bit’ he simply stated but I could tell he was annoyed by this, apparently he hated this as much as I did.

To my surprise there were a few at our table that did enjoy the event, and Tao was not one of them. As he was in charge of a lot of paperwork and especially most of the finance department I could tell he was not happy about being here, probably because he feared Junmyeon buying stupid shit. Baekhyun and Jongdae seemed to be enjoying themselves, but that could also be the alcohol. Jongin and Chanyeol seemed rather bored, but Kyungsoo looked like he was ready to either walk out or kill someone.. Which was why I decided to do my best and not get on his nerves tonight.

It wasn’t long until a small yawn left my lips and Kris snickered from next to me. ‘Bored?’ Minseok asked as he continued looking at the stage. ‘You’ve got no idea’ I admitted before grabbing my glass from the table. As I was about to take a swig of the wine I felt a hand slip through the opening in my dress and grab my thigh. My head snapped towards Minseok, who’s eyes remained on the stage.

I didn’t think much of his “innocent” gesture as I took a swig of my wine and put the glass back. This innocence didn’t last very long when I suddenly felt his fingers start to move upwards. ‘Minseok’ I softly warned him, which finally made him look at me. ‘You said you were bored’ he shrugged before his fingers met the lining of my thong.

As I moved to cross my legs another hand met my other thigh and pulled it back down. Kris’s ring filled fingers wrapped itself around my other thigh before softly holding them apart, giving Minseok all the access he needed. Minseok didn’t seem to care about the others hand as I felt his fingers graze over the lace. My eyes met Kris, who was looking back at me, as he waited for me to say something.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ I asked as I tried to push his hand away, but of course he was much stronger then I was. Kris simply leaned in to whisper into my ear, ‘tell me to stop and I will’. ‘Tell me you’re not in the slightest way enjoying this and I will put an end to it all’ he finished as he leaned back to sit back in his chair. He raised his brow as he patiently waited for an answer.

I tried to come up with some form of good answer, but Minseok’s fingers were making it very difficult as I could feel the heat start to rush down. And when I was about to respond with something, I felt an almost cold finger slip past the lace and press against my slit. ‘Oh yeah please tell him you’re not enjoying this’ Minseok sassed as he felt how wet I actually was.

My eyes moved across the room to see if someone was watching this, if someone could see us but of course they couldn’t, the boys would never be this risqué. Our table was all the way at the side, next to the wall, so there was no way anyone would see and besides that the table cloth covered most of us legs, and their hands were well hidden. Not to mention the fact that the three of us were directly against the wall, so no one could come up behind us of course.. just in case.

‘Didn’t think so’ Kris muttered before looking back at the stage for a moment, and I was surprised none of the others boys at the table could hear us. But that was probably due to the loud man with the microphone.. Kris’s hand continued to slide up before his fingers tugged on the lace, giving Minseok more space. Minseok kept a slow pace as he pushed his finger in and out of me.

‘If I had known how tight you were I would’ve done this earlier’ Minseok muttered as he used to free hand to take a sip of his whiskey. My left hand quickly grabbed a hold of his lower arm as he slipped another finger inside and a quiet gasp left my lips. Minseok simply smirked at this as he put his glass back down and continued his movements. My other hand was fisted into my dress as I tried to get a grip of myself.

This was almost immediately thrown out the window when I suddenly felt Kris’s ring filled fingers move up to the top of my underwear, snapping the fabric back into place over Minseok’s fingers. Kris pushed Minseok’s hand away, which resulted into an annoyed look from the older man. Kris just shushed him with a look as I felt his fingers tap my hip. ‘Lift up’ he simply stated, and to my own annoyance I simply followed his command as I lifted myself a bit off the chair.

I felt the cold silver rings run over my skin as he pulled my underwear down my legs. They pooled at my feet for a moment before he lifted up my feet and grabbed the small material in his hands before stuffing it into his suit’s pocket. Minseok let out a breathless laugh as I simply looked at the other in disbelief, the balls on this guy. A scoff left my lips as I moved to grab my drink, thinking they were going to stop now.

But obviously I was wrong when Minseok’s fingers easily found my core again. He almost immediately pressed his two fingers back inside as I pressed the glass to my lips. I took a careful sip of my wine before putting it back down on the table and sitting back.

Kris also decided he had enough of Minseok hogging all my attention when I yet again felt his ringed fingers move up my thigh. ‘Your hands are cold’ I softly muttered to him before he pressed a finger to my clit, the cold silver on my skin made me whine out. Baekhyun’s eyes shot towards me, and he looked worried. ‘Are you ok?’ he asked me completely oblivious as to what was going on underneath the table. I simply nodded at him before giving him a small smile, which he happily returned as he turned his attention back to the stage.

God was I happy that guy on stage was so loud as a moan escaped me. I put my elbows on the table before cupping my face in both hands for a moment. I could’ve sworn I heard Kris snicker before his finger started rubbing my clit in a faster pace.

My teeth were sunken into my palm as Minseok added another finger, these guys were not wasting any time as I felt my high start to approach. Moving back in my chair I looked over to Minseok, who was staring right back at me with lust filled eyes. ‘Why must you do this here?’ I sarcastically asked as I ran a hand through my locks. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t love it’ he replied smugly before pressing a quick kiss to my cheek.

‘Can you two stay quiet, you’re ruining my mood’ Kris huffed but before I could respond he pressed his finger down hard against my clit. Another small gasp reached Minseok’s ears, which resulted in him speeding up his pace. He moved his three fingers in a rough pace, and I could’ve sworn I heard my own wetness.

Both men continued their tortures for another moment before I grabbed both of their wrists and bit my lip to hold back my moan. A curse came from Kris as he looked at me, while Minseok continued watching the man on the stage. I felt my walls break down as I clenched myself on Minseok’s fingers. He slowed down his movements as I orgasmed on his fingers. Kris removed his fingers from my clit as he grabbed my thigh, which was shaking a little from the high. He used his other hand to brush a small strand of hair out of my face before completely removing himself from me.

He simply sat back in his chair as he grabbed his glass and took a sip of whatever he was having. Minseok slowly pulled his fingers out of me before moving them up to his lips. I watched as he pressed them into his mouth one by one before grabbing the cloth on the table and wiping the rest of with that. His eyes met mine for a moment, and he gave me a small smile before also looking ahead of him.

I downed the remaining wine in my glass in one go before standing up from my chair. ‘I’ll be right back’ I whispered to him before standing up from my chair. Minseok nodded at this before waving over to Chanyeol, who saw me stand up and quickly followed suit. He followed me towards the bathroom, as it was still his job to do so.

I could literally feel my own arousal slide down my thighs as I continued walking, and to my surprise I was walking quite well. Chanyeol opened the door to door for me as I slid underneath his arm and stepped inside. It wasn’t a surprise that the bathroom was also screaming luxury, the floor was lined with marble and the stalls were something you wouldn’t find anywhere else.

Chanyeol closed the door behind me as I walked towards the sink. A small laugh left my lips as I looked at myself in the mirror.. I looked fine, as if nothing had happened. Yes, my hair was a little out of place but other than that there was no telling I just came in a chair by two men.

After turning on the water and wetting my hands I patted my hands over to neck. ‘So did you have fun?’ Chanyeol’s question almost made me choke on air as my eyes widened. Did he know? Did he hear? Of course he could’ve heard, he was sitting right next to Kris the entire time. Fuck, had they all heard? No.. Junmyeon would’ve said something, there was no way he would let them do that. A small ‘Excuse me?’ left my lips as I heard Chanyeol laugh from the other side of the door.

Please tell me he was referring to something else. ‘These things are usually pretty boring.. So did you have fun?’ he asked, causing the a wave of relief to hit me. ‘It was fine’ I replied before walking into the stall to clean up the mess Minseok and Kris had made.

 After knocking on the door I opened it and stepped out the bathroom. Chanyeol was leaning against the wall next to the door, but he straightened up to stop me when I was about to walk back to the main area. He pointed to something behind me, and when I looked over my shoulder I noticed all the people leaving. Baekhyun was standing next to the door as he waved at the two of us. The happy smile only grew when I gave him a small wave in return before we started walking towards them.

Chanyeol walked next to me when he suddenly spoke up. ‘I have to say though, you’ve surprised me today’ he said, making me turn my head to look up at him. ‘But Kris’s gift surprised me more’ he commented as he shoved his hand inside his pocket to show me what was inside.

My face flushed a deep shade of red when I looked down and saw my underwear inside his pocket.

That fucking bastard.

[dansphlevels]

Torture

Summary: Phil’s skin is impenetrable, and Dan wants to be the one to make him bleed.

Length: 3.7k words

Themes: TW, torture, stockholm syndrome, no gore, knives, mental illness, mentions of suicide/suicide attempts, dark

It hurts a lot. But not as much as it should. 

The man is bigger than me in every aspect; taller, with broader shoulders and more muscular arms. His arms are tense, his hands shaking with all the force he puts behind it- yet the knife he's pressing against my skin makes no cut. He pulls it away, and I force myself not to sigh in relief. "What the hell," he murmurs, staring at where he'd been pressing the sharp blade against. Only a small scratch was left, and even that was fading. He looked up- brown eyes meeting blue, both a little bit more afraid than they were letting on. "What the fuck are you?"

 I told him I was a human, and he turned and left. Only after he was gone I allowed myself to relax, to exhale, to squeeze my eyes shut and will the pain to go away. I knew it wouldn't do much, but it was all my rattled brain could think to do. I should explain. I was born into a very prestigious family. My brother, Martyn, was the apex of perfection, both aesthetically and intellectually impressive. My parents tried again, hoping for a mini-Martyn of sorts, but instead got me; a scrawny tall boy with ears that stuck out and transparent skin. There was a catch however- my skin, however ugly and overall unimpressive, is completely resistant to any blades or burns or bruises. I simply cannot puncture or mark my skin. I feel most of the pain, but it doesn't leave a lasting effect. Because of that, my parents have always been very protective of me, both because  they didn't want anyone finding out, and that if something happened I wouldn't be able to have surgery. And so far, no one knew. Up til now, it seemed. The bigger man with the brown eyes is named 'Mr.Howell'. At least, that's what everyone calls him. He's running this operation, whatever it is, and as far as I can tell, he got into a bit of a beef with my parents. I think the idea was the kidnap me, hurt me, and then ransom me back to them, but he's currently stuck at the second step. As far as he knows, he isn't able to hurt me. I want to stand up. My muscles all feel tight and rigid from sitting so long, my legs buzzing with the pain of inactivity, my arms still stinging from the knife he had dragged down them. It would've cut very, very deep, judging from the pain. I'm lucky for my thick skin. Funny. 'Lucky' wasn't the first word that comes to mind when describing my current predicament. As time progresses, my body hurts more and more, the belts tying my limbs to the uncomfortable wooden chair digging into flesh. So much time has passed by the time someone enters the room again, that the pain in my arms has passed and my entire body feels numb. It hurts, a lot, but I am more focused on my full bladder and the discomfort it brings that I don't hear the door open. I was unconscious when they brought me here, and besides Mr.Howell coming in a few hours previous, I hadn't seen any other people. I knew nothing of the room I was in, which is likely why I didn't realize there were two doors, and one of them was placed behind my chair. I yelp and flinch horribly when a blindfold is placed over my eyes, and a pair of lips hovers next to my ear, making me shiver with each breathe. "You're going to stand up and walk with me. You will not try to escape, or next time you won't be allowed to leave to use the restroom. Got it?" I nodded, spots dancing in my vision from the tight blindfold. It was him- Mr.Howell- and I could feel him untying my binds, starting with my legs, then my hands. He quickly yanked me to my feet, holding my elbows together firmly behind my back, and pushed me forwards. If I was a different person, perhaps I would have fought. Maybe I would have tried to kick him or push him off or something, but I was just Phil. And despite my tough skin, I was not completely immune to injury, a lesson I learned when I fell off a bunk bed as a child and hit my head so hard I passed out. And this man, whoever he was, could likely kick my ass. And he's not blindfolded.

I'm lead through a busy hallway and have to walk blindly like the worst, most uncomfortable trust test ever. He keeps pushing me to go faster, and I try, but knowing me it's a true miracle we get to the bathroom without my falling on my face. He yanks me aside, opens what I can only assume to be a bathroom door, then whips the blindfold off and shoves me in. I hear a lock behind me. After I finish relieving myself and cleaning up a bit- and stretching, which felt amazing- the door was unlocked and pushed open. I expected to see the same man as before, but instead I found myself facing two meathead security guards, both far taller and more muscular than Howell, which meant they were much bigger than me. I put up no fight, and was wrestled and grappled into a blindfold and down a new corridor. Their hands were far more rough than Howell's. A weird thought as I was being dragged down to what may as well be my death, but something inside me told me that it wasn't that. Something else. Whatever it was, I was guessing it wasn't a home cooked meal and a warm bed. Sure enough, we entered a new room, this one with tile floor, and I did my best to be compliant as the two men attached my hands to some contraption on the ceiling, hoisting them high above my head until I was almost on my tiptoes. Then they brought knives against my clothes, tearing them off until only my boxers remained and I could truly appreciate how cold the room really was. A door opened, and a familiar voice spoke, "Good. One of you may go- I don't care which." And then there were three. He paced around me, and I did my best to follow his voice. "I see you've got thick skin" he chuckled, like it was a big joke. His voice was different than it was when he whispered to me earlier. He was putting on a show for whichever meathead remained in the room with us. I licked my lips, wondering why my mouth was so dry, and what was going to happen, and a million other questions that started with 'why is the room so cold' and ended with 'is he going to kill me?' Then the first impact started. It must have come from the meathead, as I doubt Howell had the strength to deliver such a blow. I refused to show the pain it caused, but did have to gasp for air, adjusting my hands so they held the chains shackling me to the ceiling, so I could have something to hold on to. Howell chuckled. "Hit him again. Harder.' Another blow, this one to right below my rib cage. I wanted to scream out in pain, but they couldn't know I felt it. Maybe if I continued to pretend I didn't, they'd stop, like any old playground bully. But they didn't. I was left sightless and completely defenseless as punch after punch was thrown. Finally, it stopped.  "I can take it from here."  Door opened, then closed. Howell and I were alone.  He paced around me again as I tried to stop crying. "No marks, still. What's your secret, Lester? It's okay, you can tell me." His voice was cruel, mocking. I tried to collect myself. "Were you hitting me or something? I couldn't even feel it."  A hand tangled in my hair and yanked my head back, and I could feel the man's breath against my ear as he whispered, "Then why are you crying?"  The man pushed my head away, and continued pacing until he was directly in front of me, in all my semi-nude glory. One hand gripped at my side as the other ran a knife over my chest, sending a wave of searing pain through me. He picked up the blade, surely seeing there were still no marks, and tried again on my legs. My back. My shoulders. My face. And I felt all.  He grunted in frustration, and plunged the knife into my leg, or at least tried. The knife bounced back, and I heard it clatter on the floor. "You're supposed to be dead!" He cursed, "Why the hell are you not dead?"  My legs trembled, hardly strong enough to hold me up. My entire body stung horribly, the worst parts beginning to throb and pulsate.  I did not answer.   A hand was knotting in my hair, and I could feel my head being torn backwards, aching horribly. "I will find a way," he whispered. "And then I'll leave you here to bleed out."  Through my gasps for breath and desperate attempt to cling onto reality, I felt him let go, heard footsteps trail away.  The door opened, and I heard one of the men from earlier.  "What do you want me to do with him?"  I could practically hear the snarl in Howell's voice. "I don't care. Just keep him alive. And tomorrow, at the same time, bring him back here and I'll try again."  "He looks pretty bad already," the man observed. I hung my head lower, trying to seem more pitiful, though I'm sure no extra effort on my part was needed. "Take a picture of him now, send it to the parents. We'll get what we came for, and then dump him on their doorstep."  I hardly dare to breath, not willing to miss what Mr.Howell said next. Nothing was spoken for a few moments, and then I heard the unmistakable click of a camera shutter. "There. Send the picture. But... do as I ordered. Bring him back here tomorrow, and I'll keep trying."  "But Boss..."  "What?" He snapped.  "Why bother? We'll get the Lesters, and then ditch him. You don't need to make him bleed."  "You ignorant fuck. This... this is far more interesting than those /accountants/. Bring him back and string him up again tomorrow. And if you argue with me again, I'll have the others string you up too. But I suspect your skin isn't so durable."  For a moment, I felt bad for the big guy. Then I remembered he was being threatened with my circumstance, and the spots of pity quickly dissolved.  The big man yelped. "Oh look," The Howell observed. "So you do bleed."

 "I have a theory," he muttered, setting out his tools on a table next to me. "Actually, I have a few."  "I'd be glad to listen," I said, trying for cheerful. It was hard with my hands bound above my head, and the majority of my clothes in a pile in the corner. Well, actually I didn't know if they were even in the room anymore- the blindfold covering my eyes kept that sort of information from me. All I knew was that I was very vulnerable, and that maybe if I got the Howell talking I could go a bit longer before the pain started. My skin tingled upsettingly from the previous day's abuse, and though I knew such pain couldn't kill me, I also knew that it hurt like hell.  He walked around me, occasionally poking my side, making me wince from the tickles. He seemed to find this funny, and kept doing it until I biting my tongue to keep from sobbing with laughter.  "My first theory is that it's not actually your skin," he pondered, his tone slightly joking. I wondered what this change in outlook was caused by, before remembering how yesterday, there were other people in the room.  Bullies from primary school were the same way. They loved an audience. They were far more likely to be cruel when they had something to prove, and while this man definitely had something to prove, he was more like a cat playing with its dinner before eating it. In front of others, he wanted to take his anger out on me by hurting me. But in front of me, he had nothing to prove.  He wouldn't take his anger out on me by hurting me. He would play with me. And /then/ hurt me.  He prodded my skin, pinching around my elbows. "It's not some skin suit, if that's what you're suggesting," I offered.  "No?" I felt a harsh impact on the back of one knee, and fell a few inches, the ropes around my wrists digging in miserably. As I struggled to stand, a fist made contact with the soft of my stomach, and I grunted in pain, falling again. "You feel the impact," he noted, "and you feel the pain."  I didn't disagree. It'd be pointless- he was right. Maybe, if I gave in, he'd stop feeling the need to prove his theory.  "But how come you don't feel this?" Before I could protest, a sharp blade slid against my skin, stabbing into it. At least, it felt like it. But I knew better.  In the silence that followed, I tried to recover, standing up a little taller, grabbing onto the ropes that kept me up right.  "I think... I think you felt that," he mused, and my heart dropped to my feet. "I think you feel the pain. You just don't... bleed."  I didn't respond. It seemed to be worse when I responded.  "Well don't just stand there. Say something. Did I get it right?"  I stay silent.  "Say something!" He kicked the sides of my knees, and I stumbled, the pain disorienting. "Fine," he amended, and I allowed myself a breath. "We'll just have to try something else. I'd hoped we wouldn't- well, no, I suppose that's a lie. But still... it's a shame, really. This would have been over so much more quickly if you just bled." ----  On the bright side, the table was more comfortable.  My hands were tied at my side, infinity more comfortable than when they were above my head. My feet were also tied down, and another strap was across my waist.  At my side, he sat on a chair, sharpening a large knife. I knew because of the sound, the horrible scraping that made my entire body cringe. I knew that the knife was big too, despite not seeing it. At this point, he wouldn't waste his time with anything less of a weapon intended for killing.  "This feels so intimate," he mused, sliding the knife along the metal sharply. "I usually don't torture people without others in the room."  "Strange," I squeak. "Me neither. But then again, I don't torture people in general, so-"  I squeak as I feel a sharp scratch my upper leg. "No blood. You think if I keep going, eventually I'll break it down?" He did it again, over the same spot, making the pain only increase. "I think you should realize that it's not going to work. By now, you know that my skin is impenetrable, so-" I wince as he yanked the knife along the same spot again. "-So you'll have to give up eventually."  "Or maybe I'll find your weak spot. You have to have one. An Achilles heel, perhaps?"  "Don't have one." He made another attempt at a cut, closer to my knee. "I'm completely-" I wince "-unaffected."  He laughs, and does it again. "I like watching you lie. It's so amusing. No, I suppose you don't feel any pain." His fingernails dug into my leg, and he ripped his hand back, the skin stinging horribly from his scratches. "Oh, you don't feel any pain?" He mocked. "Is that why you keep flinching?"  I feel his fingers on my face, brushing along my cheek softly. Then he ripped the blindfold off, examining my eyes closely, with some dark browns of his own. His face was tight as he examined my features critically, but like most of the things he did, it was an act. His eyes betrayed him. They showed that he was human. He'd seen some things, things that'd make my skin crawl.  "Philip. I suppose people call you Phil?"  I nod, slowly. He's quite handsome, actually. The knife in his hand is a bit of a turn off, though.  "I'm Dan. Thought we should get acquainted, we'll be spending a lot of time together." ----  His hands are rough, but his touch is precise. He doesn't fumble with his hands. He doesn't slip. When he wields a knife, every cut is exactly as he plans it. When he wields his fists or his feet, every horrible impact is purposeful. He aims to knock my breath from my lungs. He aims to knock my feet out from beneath me. He aims to break my ribs. The latter doesn't work, but he does his best. It turns out my insides are almost as resilient as my outsides. Who knew?  He tries to hurt me in other ways too. The fire is the worst. No welts or blisters form on my skin, but it's burns horribly. I only scream at the fire. With the others, I can keep quiet. But the fire is my limit.  Over the weeks, we get quite acquainted. His name is Daniel Howell, and he's from Wokingham. He's very attractive, especially after beating me for a while, when the sweat clings to his forehead and his cheeks go pink. I may be wrong. But he's the only person I've seen in weeks, so I'm likely biased.  I spend my days in another room. It has a bed with no blankets and a bathroom with only hand towels. I suppose the goal is that I don't hang myself. I've thought about it. But then again, there isn't much I haven't thought about. So many hours alone isn't healthy.  One hour a day, he brings me out and tries new methods. He seems intent on killing me- no, not killing me. Destroying me. He knows just as well as I do that I can be suffocated. But that's too easy.  We sit at a table, on opposite sides. A tea cup is sitting in front of me, which I must drink. It's poison, I know. I drink it. We talk about the weather. Apparently, I missed Christmas. I ask what day that was, and he says it was the day with the gun. The poison burns my throat. I ask which day with the gun. He says the first day, the day that I cried whenever he pulled the trigger. I smile. It hurts.  I lay on a table, limbs tied down. He has a machine that gives me shocks periodically, whenever I tell a lie. I tell only the truth. He laughs when I get shocked.  I stand against a table, blindfolded. He stands in front of me, hands roaming my body. He kisses me. I forgot what one of those felt like. I kiss back. We kiss for a long time. Then he pours acid on my skin and I scream.  He's the only person I ever see. When we're apart, I try to conjure up his face in my mind until I have it exact. He has two freckles on each side of his mouth that form faces when he smiles. I like his smile quite a lot.  The day he tells me my parents died, I consider crying, but don't bother. I tell him I forgot what they looked like. It's not a lie. I forgot most things.

He feeds me poison in wine glasses. I chug it. He holds a flame against my skin, and I watch as it burns, leaving no trace. I sip arsenic from coffee mugs. I don't cringe at the sound of metal upon metal anymore. The sharpening of a knife is as familiar as his breathing. I don't scream. I don't cry. I don't struggle. I don't cringe. The shower runs until the water's gone cold. Sometimes, I sleep on the blanketed bed. He writes notes in a thick binder after each session. I hate the sound of pencil on paper. It means 23 more hours of loneliness. One day, he tries to drown me. It works. He pulls me out of the water sputtering and coughing. A few more seconds and I would have died. He kisses me, softly. The next day he drowns me again, but for longer. Arsenic tastes like candy. Knives hardly tickle anymore. He holds me underwater for longer. I have a pulse, he finds. My pulse increases when I see the bucket of water. He thinks it's funny. I fill the shower with water, and hold my head under. One minute. Two. My lungs are going to burst. I want to die. I want to die. I'm dying.... He pulls me out, screaming and crying. We find out that the inside of my mouth can be cut. For the first time in my life, I see my own blood, taste it. He's proud, you can tell. I wait for him to chop me up like a tomato. But he doesn't. Instead, he let's me go back to my room early. Somehow, that's worse. I'm dying. But I'm not dead yet, and it hurts. He takes notes on my mental wellbeing as well. As time goes on, his handwriting gets messier. He is a scientist, and I am his experiment. One day, he realizes I am human. It scares him. He's seen a lot of things, and a lot of cruelty, but nothing that measures up to what he does to me. I smile. His eyebags droop to his shoes. I kiss him whenever I get the chance. Fire no longer hurts. Bullets are like taps, on the hands, on the head, over the chest. I make jokes as he shoots me. He's dying. I know because he looks like I do. We sit across the table from each other. He hands me a gun. It's his form of an apology. He's holding the same type. He puts it in his mouth, and I follow suit. No words are spoken as he counts down on his fingers, and we pull the triggers in unison. 

Fic Masterpost / Request A Fic

[jiminnieho]

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Do not confuse poor high quality sheds with low cost sheds. Many of us who're discovering their houses merely aren't giant enough would like a fantastic shed but are concerned they only don't have sufficient funds to get a the shed they need. Effectively, whereas this could be true for some, but it's actually possible to construct cheap sheds if you don't thoughts placing within the work and taking your time to seek out supplies. There are a variety of choices to think about. You should buy some very low cost shed kits. Sadly, for many of those kits the emphasis actually is on "low-cost". If your home is a part of a home Homeowners Association (HOA), it is best to fastidiously look at your covenants, codes, and restrictions (CC&Rs). Your constructing may have to be authorized by the HOA board, previous to starting your mission. Some things they may consider are aesthetics, together with but not restricted to color, dimension, roofing materials, and landscaping surrounding the shed. When deciding on where you need to build your shed, consider its operate. Will you need a large door or a double door or particular access to the door, including a sidewalk or stepping stones? The Persian affect in backyard fountains was felt within the enclosure of the gardens and swimming pools, the structure of which had been meant to simulate the heavens. Many of these gardens inspired the famous Persian carpet designs that have persisted to this present day. Roman society was intricately tied to the bathing ritual, and particularly loved water options in the gardens intertwined with the public baths. In the recent deserts of the Center East, the desert oasis offered the inspiration for the historic Persian-impressed paradise gardens. Garden fountains harmonize water and are designed to meet both practical and aesthetic functions. Fountains embody symbolic, artistic and social concepts as they enliven locations and reinvigorate people. However not like sandstone is a much tougher material but manageable with a diamond blade. Bluestone comes in a large number of sizes and some fascinating patterns (Ashlar is a popular one!) Though not quite as mandatory as sandstone a good high quality sealer can also be a good suggestion. I tend to recommend a penetrating sealer with bluestone. Concrete pavers: Of all paving this kind had the widest vary in terms of color, sizes and patterns. This sort of paving is usually a low priced and quality paving (like C&M pavers) or a excessive priced/ high end paving (Anston paving is a good instance). The massive vary of concrete paving can be overwhelming, and i are likely to advocate the medium to excessive finish pavers (until you've gotten a tight price range in fact). Assume about color and magnificence and finances and that ought to help narrow your search down. See the outline of supplies which the sheds are manufactured from. If it is fabricated from wood, be certain that it is manufactured using industrial grade wood. In any case, a great selection can be steel mannequin as it's designed to last years.. Moreover, it is important to know what size is correct for all of your things that you simply want to retailer. So it's a must to record the gadgets that take up ground space in shed and measure their lengths and widths. Putting a shed together generally is a time-consuming process, so it is all the time sensible to observe installation instruction and equip your self with obligatory tools to do the job. Though steel sheds will be constructed sooner than wooden sheds, they don't include the natural attraction of wooden shed. With a wooden shed, individuals can recast the shed's look in response to their imagination and creativity. Once you perceive your needs, it's time for shopping. Typically, they can present in nearly any home hardware retailer.

The only good news about this whole, awful thing is when a pet owner pulls into the driveway they come home to their pets 100% of the time. — Mancipium Avem (@cis_76) November 28, 2017

Firstly there is the kind that has feminine connectors on two sides and male connectors on the opposite two sides. Typically talking, the female connectors are a sequence of loops which mesh with the pins on the other two sides. There are additionally tiles on the market which are successfully a technique connectors. Once you click the tiles into place, you can't simply elevate them up once more. Some manufacturers solely supply one design of deck tile, generally with four slats of wood working in the identical course. Generally there may be an option of a five or six slat tile. You may verify every measurement, not that you're going to have to, these are professionally drawn plans, but made for the absolute beginner. My Shed Plans Elite also comes with detailed full color illustrations and section drawings, some of the drawings are "cut away" views exhibiting exactly how all the pieces suits collectively, so you can't possibly get it mistaken. And of course they inform you exactly what kind of timber is finest for each job and which screws or nails it is best to use. Have you ever ever gone to buy building materials and felt like a real idiot just since you didn't really know what you wanted to get?

[blueissocool]

10 Things Your Boss Needs To Know About The sheds Industry.

Want a 30’x12’ backyard workshop? patio slabs (mouse click the up coming post) Door locations, quantity and location of home windows, peak of roof, total dimension of your shed… When you have something specific in mind - simply name us. We ask each buyer to offer us suggestions. Each single one. Our rating? Every single customer for whom we've built, provided and erected a quality garden shed, has been delighted. Try our critiques on our Fb site, lower down this page or dotted across our website. Our quality and durability far surpasses a lot of the sheds you will find elsewhere. One in all crucial but least remembered components of the house is the driveway. This space is predicted to final for years since it is presupposed to be powerful, however it's not immune to break over time. Certainly one of crucial but least remembered components of the home is the driveway. This area is expected to final for years since it is speculated to be tough, but it is not immune to wreck over time. If you wish to avoid having to pay for major repairs after a few years, consider some methods to maintain it in good shape. Step one to avoid major driveway repair is to keep cracks small as soon as they seem. Paving sealants are the materials that make a pavement last longer. It enables the pavement to look new all the time. This is an important factor in making our homes as stunning as we ever dreamt it to be. That is why we want which can be driveways or other elements of our home to have a paving sealant that can last longer. Therefore, we might attempt to look for such products which can be already examined by time and are really top-of-the-line. Imagine if we have now the very best product round. It'll make our homes as beautiful because it ought to all the time be. It would make our pavements look as all the time new as it's paved the primary time. When you've got ever been to a hospital, neighbor’s dwelling or hospital, you will realize that the type of flooring will fluctuate. Polished floors make use of concrete sprucing that may be a floor substance polished to achieve a sure look. Polished concrete is a really generic term that pertains to some decorative options for flooring that end up leaving a concrete floor uncovered because the last closing and last floor finishing. The sprucing process may be very complicated, and it involves a number of technical points that include, making it dense, leveling, sharpening and sealing the flooring whereas inside the concrete surface. It has turn out to be a extremely frequent factor in most of the places around the globe as a result of most people admire its beauty and likewise as a result of a number of locations can not stand having some other types of floor. There are lots of places where concrete sharpening is used. Backyard fountains are the most well-liked decorative equipment used in the gardens that assist improve the ambiance manifold. Expert craftsmen, dexterously design fountains that carry peace and serenity in the atmosphere. Lending an ornamental look to the backyard, fountains include enticing lightning systems and coloured flowing water. They add definite character to the backyard by beautifying its overall look. Complimenting all kinds of garden settings, the backyard fountains are carved out in variety of contemporary and traditional types and shapes together with - human figurines, saints, fairies, birds, animals, flowers in addition to abstracts. To encourage probiotics from these dairy products to multiply even additional, Huffnagle suggests consuming foods like spices, tea, purple wine, berries, apples and beans. Not solely do you have to reduce stress as a result of analysis teams at Wake Forrest College found that stress aggravates acne prone skin, but stress additionally weakens the colon the place probiotics need to work. Analysis has implicated chronic stress in the development of irritable bowel syndrome and within the worsening of inflammatory bowel disease signs. Moreover, stress sensitizes the gut which increases the chance of yet one more acne culprit-- creating allergies to certain foods.

It's environmentally-pleasant

45 and ninety Levels Herringbone

Asphalt wants upkeep consisting of seal coating, crack filling, and different forgotten expenses

It is durable

Have they got in-depth knowledge of the current technologies and methods

Recycled Rubber

Do not confuse poor quality sheds with low cost sheds. Many of us who're finding their houses simply aren't large enough would like a great shed however are concerned they only do not have adequate funds to get a the shed they need. Properly, while this is likely to be true for some, but it's definitely doable to build low-cost sheds if you do not mind placing within the work and taking your time to seek out materials. There are quite a lot of options to contemplate. You can buy some very cheap shed kits. Sadly, for many of these kits the emphasis really is on "cheap". If your private home is a part of a home Homeowners Affiliation (HOA), you need to fastidiously look at your covenants, codes, and restrictions (CC&Rs). Your constructing may have to be accepted by the HOA board, prior to starting your venture. Some issues they could consider are aesthetics, including but not restricted to shade, measurement, roofing material, and landscaping surrounding the shed. When deciding on where you need to construct your shed, consider its operate. Will you want a big door or a double door or particular access to the door, together with a sidewalk or stepping stones? The Persian affect in backyard fountains was felt within the enclosure of the gardens and swimming pools, the structure of which were meant to simulate the heavens. Many of these gardens impressed the well-known Persian carpet designs which have persisted to at the present time. Roman society was intricately tied to the bathing ritual, and significantly enjoyed water options in the gardens intertwined with the public baths. In the hot deserts of the Center East, the desert oasis provided the inspiration for the ancient Persian-impressed paradise gardens. Garden fountains harmonize water and are designed to fulfill both practical and aesthetic purposes. Fountains embody symbolic, inventive and social ideas as they enliven places and reinvigorate folks. But unlike sandstone is a a lot tougher materials however manageable with a diamond blade. Bluestone is available in a large variety of sizes and some interesting patterns (Ashlar is a well-liked one!) Although not fairly as obligatory as sandstone a great high quality sealer is also a good suggestion. I tend to recommend a penetrating sealer with bluestone. Concrete pavers: Of all paving this sort had the widest vary in terms of colour, sizes and patterns. The sort of paving can be a low priced and quality paving (like C&M pavers) or a high priced/ excessive end paving (Anston paving is a good instance). The large range of concrete paving will be overwhelming, and that i are inclined to advocate the medium to high finish pavers (except you might have a tight price range in fact). Think about colour and style and price range and that should help slender your search down. See the description of supplies which the sheds are made from. Whether it is made from wooden, ensure that it is manufactured utilizing business grade wood. POWER AGGREGATES In any case, a great selection would be metal model as it is designed to final years.. Besides, it is very important know what size is right for all your things that you just wish to retailer. So you must record the objects that take up flooring space in shed and measure their lengths and widths. Putting a shed collectively could be a time-consuming job, so it is always smart to follow set up instruction and equip yourself with obligatory tools to do the job. Although metallic sheds can be built sooner than picket sheds, they do not comprise the natural attraction of wooden shed. With a wood shed, people can recast the shed's look in response to their imagination and creativity. When you understand your needs, it is time for procuring. Typically, they'll present in almost any dwelling hardware store.

The only good news about this whole, awful thing is when a pet owner pulls into the driveway they come home to their pets 100% of the time. — Mancipium Avem (@cis_76) November 28, 2017

Firstly there's the kind that has feminine connectors on two sides and male connectors on the opposite two sides. Generally speaking, the feminine connectors are a collection of loops which mesh with the pins on the other two sides. There are additionally tiles available on the market which are successfully a technique connectors. Once you click on the tiles into place, you can't simply raise them up once more. Some manufacturers solely provide one design of deck tile, usually with four slats of wood operating in the same route. Sometimes there is an choice of a 5 or 6 slat tile. You'll be able to check every measurement, not that you're going to have to, these are professionally drawn plans, however made for absolutely the newbie. My Shed Plans Elite also comes with detailed full colour illustrations and part drawings, among the drawings are "minimize away" views displaying precisely how all the pieces suits collectively, so you cannot presumably get it unsuitable. And naturally they inform you exactly what sort of timber is greatest for each job and which screws or nails it's best to use. Have you ever ever gone to purchase construction materials and felt like an actual idiot just because you didn't really know what you wanted to get?

[askthealaskan]

Portland to Portland

The United States has a homeless problem. You can’t just label it and put it in your mental file cabinet anymore. It’s too much a part of everyday life in the streets of all of our cities. People living under bridges, on park benches, in cardboard boxes, or in doorway alcoves. We have become numb to it all.

To actually do something one must be brave enough to admit that as species on this planet we have an obligation to our fellow humans. How humans care for there own reflects on all of us a as worthy species to inhabit this plant. People avoid what they can clearly see every day. They put off doing something by the situation for very good reasons- they might see themselves if they look too close

Portland Oregon is where my doctor is based. It is also where my son lives at the moment, so I stayed two days with him before I picked up Morrison. Several years ago he had a very bad eye injury that was handled very well by the doctors at OHSU in Portland. I decided to give the neurology department a try.

When I got the call that the injury occurred I was traveling for work and didn’t pack anymore clothes or medicine that I needed, not expecting the extra trip. Eventually I reached point that my personal hygiene needed attention. So I headed to the mall in downtown Portland.

I was shaking pretty good and didn’t look too spiffy in my disheveled state when I went through the doors of the mall. From the crowd that went in through the door the security guard pick me out and confronted me. I was literally flabbergasted. From all that she could tell the security guard had profiled me as a homeless person. For the first time I felt indignant discrimination and shame. I gathered myself and looked her straight in the eye and told her I was looking for underwear and where might I find it. She quickly caught on that I was a paying customer. But if I had to endure this profiling everyday, I might give into it’s expectations. At first I was distressed that I was mistaken for a homeless person. Then I shifted to seeing it from the other side , the homeless persons side. After the housing crash of 2010, a lot of people who flew by a certain lifestyle became homeless. They may act the same way, dress the same way, or even say the same things, but now they have no home.

They keep up appearances and would never think of themselves as homeless. Being homeless in America is really not an economic measure. It’s is more like living life as an “untouchable” in India. It’s not a measure of wealth any more. Being completely broke and not having a home is not the worst thing that can happen to a person. Living a flashy lifestyle that deceitfully pays for itself by picking the pockets of others is far worse. Yet these people are more socially accepted than the homeless?

There could be a day that our Great Pumpkin has his taxes revealed and we find out he is below the level of our homeless. Or when we consider the idea of changing the Whitehouse function from its current use into a homeless shelter to meet the growing demand.

These thoughts were refreshed upon walking the streets of Portland Oregon. four days later I’m in the other Portland , Portland Maine on the East coast in a Portland Maine laundry mat. It’s pouring down raining and I m downtown picking up one of five drugs that I use to function to some degree.

I notice a little laundry mat nestled between Walgreens and a grocery store. It’s raining very hard as I head to it early morning. I entered the door to the sound of Billie Idol’s “Give rebel yell” playing in the background and was welcomed by squat elderly lady with a smile with spunk. She is talking with short man with pious looking appearance. I try my best to reach “spunk” level in my response.

The Parkinson’s has made it harder to manifest my emotions with facial manipulation. The docs call it the Parkinson’s mask. It gives me a disadvantage meeting new people and that all important 1st Impression. How I’m feeling at the moment may not be reinforced by my facial expression. I come across as unempathetic or unfriendly. It’s especially hard if you have a dry wit sense of humor that requires l lot of nonverbal cues to interpret. I like to think I do.

There were two ladies doing their laundry. An African American lady who looked like she needed to be somewhere else doing something more important. The other lady seemed to be a traveler. She didn’t act like a local but was comfortable with where she was like travelers do.she was writing notes and waiting for her clothes to dry.

I look to find a washing machine and see that the first three are broken. Each broken machine labeled as such by a taped over yellow sticky note.Moving past them I see one thats working but it is right next to the distracted lady’s washing Machine. If I chose that one I might just have walked up and said “what’s a nice girl like you doing in a laundry mat like this”. I look past her and see a promising machine between two broken ones near the back of the laundry mat.

I can feel the eyes of Pious man watching me slowly make my way to the machine. I find one and load it up and see the man walking toward me. He’s holding an open bag of potato chips in front him walking toward me and saying “food, it’s food” like I was a dangerous hungry savage that he was trying to convince not to bite. Oh jeez I think to myself. He’s either a monk from the church a block away or he has Down’s syndrome. I’m not sure which it is so gratefully tell him no thank you but too many salty chips isn’t good for me. He is taken aback at my response.

He seems to be disappointed in my not taking it and gives me another chance like it’s the last I’ll get at getting it. He seems to think I’m being ungrateful at the offering of food just because it wasn’t the type of food I liked. I look over to the spunky lady for a clue but she doesn’t help me. He leaves the bag half way between us and backs away. I watch him retreat back to the doorway.

From the way he talks to Spunky in kinda of stilted perfunctory manner, it leads me to think he is playing the role of concern benevolent righteous caretaker. Spunky talks with him about the w eather but it’s clear the conversation is shallow. He’s doing his assigned call s and she seems to know exactly how long the conversation will last. Soon he says he’s leaving because the rain has let up but it hasn’t really.

I finish loading and start walking toward the coin machine when Spunky stops me and says that the coin machine has a trick to it and rushes over to insert my bills for me. I thank her but she doesn’t go too far way as I insert my coins into the machine. I get three in but the fourth coin won’t go in. I see her coming over like she knew what was going to happen before it did. There’s a trick to it she says, and rolls up her fist and gives the coin box a sharp jab that would make a boxer proud and a quarter sheepishly drops out into the return box. “You can’t do it too slowly or too quickly” she says.

I walk around the room a little bit. The rain is thundering down now and I have no reason to be out in it so I stay put. I start to notice other taped yellow sticky notes. They spell out policy that you can tell come from unpleasant real life experience. One sticky note mandates that the restroom is for “employees only.” The word “sorry” in written on it apparently later in after thought with another colored pen like it was admitting it was a cruel thing to do but pleading that we really aren’t that bad.

One sticky note outlaws washing any baby diapers in the washing machine. That one provokes a nasty visual.

Another sticky note declares that the management is absolutely not responsible under any circumstance for anything you have lost or have stolen. There are eight security cameras up near the high ceiling but they all appear to be aimed at the closed door near the front of the building labeled office. None of them aimed at the sitting area for customers. They not only warn you they don’t care if you get ripped off they back it up with how they operate.

Spunky has grabbed a rag and is cleaning off the folding tables with a spray bottle of cleaner. Not that I’m not appreciative of that but the tables look pretty clean compared to the floor that is caked with dirt. I notice a mop in bucket in the far corner that doesn’t look like it been used lately. The floor is well worn 12 inch Formica tiles that were popular in the last century. The edges are starting to slowly be worn away leaving smooth curved black on the corners.

A man staggers in with a small bundle of dirty laundry. He looks like just pulled himself out of a mud hole. He is soaked with rain or something else. His blonde hair is matted and uncombed. He walks toward the travel lady who is still at her small table. Spunky intercepts him, “sir there is a machine over here”. She directs him to busy lady’s house evacuated machine.

Despite wearing a belt, His very dirty pants are falling down off his waist threatening to expose us all to see a sight none of us wants to see. He keeps pulling them up. The radio is playing Madonnas “Like a Virgin” but this guy is nothing like a virgin. He has seen hard times but in no way does he seem threatening. He places a small bundle of clothes in the machine and strips down most of what he was wearing and puts it in as well. He obviously wasn’t playing the game anymore. I could picture him cleaned up, in a suit, with a job and a boss, trying make it in a society but why in a world where the wealthy buy their candidates and make the rules. This guy has long ago checked out.

Saggy pants man sits down on the bench across the room. After a bit I sit down on the adjacent bench a little while later. He looks over at me and I nod at him in acknowledgment of his presence. He looks away and before I could engage him in conversation he has put his head back and is sleeping.

I spot some reading materials , a few women’s magazines, and books for young bored children. I spot a possible book about lighthouses. That might be interesting I think to myself but realize after I pick it up that it is religious propaganda about seeing the light of god.Religion lost its place in my world when it became political.

My clothes are clean and I take them across the room to the dryers. About half of them are sticky note tagged “out of service” . I choose one and start loading it. I hear Spunky say something to the dirt man. She is not happy with him sleeping on the bench. He staggers over to check on his load. His stagger doesn’t seem to be drink induced, nor the effects of illness, it seems to becoming from weariness or exhaustion.

I have filled the machine and I’m about to put in quarters when I swear I was hit in the head by a raindrop. It happened again and I look up to see a bulging round spot on the ceiling of Abestos panels that you see so often in offices with fluorescent lighting. There are several spots but none are a big as mine. I warn Spunky that the roof is leaking and dripping through the ceiling. I quickly move my stuff to a safer machine.

Spunky calls her boss who says she’s on her way. It’s the second time she has “been on her way” but No one hurries to get to this place. The ceiling tile slowly sagging and it will unleash an unwelcomed shower on somebody unaware.

My load eventually gets dried and I fold it military style like a saw saggy pants man man fold his earlier. I wondered if he had any idea that I learned something from him today and it wasn’t just how to fold clothes. I gather up my clothes and turn to the door. The sun has popped out and there is a chance for a new start on a better day. I wish the it were the same for Saggy Pants man.

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Damages 10

A/n: Sorry for the delay. This chapter has been a while in the making. If you need a refresh here is a link to Chapter 9. Sophia goes into labor and Gabriel is still MIA

Words: 2,214

_________________

Sophia spent the next few days waiting for Gabriel to come back home to her. They had talked a few times but nothing like Sophia would have wanted. Every time she tried to ask him when he would be back Gabriel would change the subject. Sophia had finally had enough one night.

“Gabriel I need to know when you are coming home. Our baby is going to be here soon. I am having contractions off and on. You’re time is ticking. You are just going down the road you were on before. You’re pulling away from me just like last time.”

Gabriel had sighed.

“Cupcake please don’t do this.”

Sophia was quiet for a few minutes.

“You’re doing this Gabriel. You’re missing everything. I get you are trying to prove to me that you know how to be a man and a proper husband. Perhaps I am being too hard on you but I need you to be a proper father and be here for your daughter.”

Gasped from the other end of the phone.

“We are having a girl?”

“Yes.”

Gabriel smiled on the other end of the phone.

“We’ll be together soon.”

After that conversation, Gabriel didn’t call for two more days leaving Sophia even more depressed. What was the archangel thinking? How was this supposed to rebuild her faith in him?  She wasn’t sure what he was doing but it had to be something extreme. Part of Sophia feared he was out messing with Michael and Raphael. She knew that they had to be dealt with but she would prefer that someone else do it.

The angel in her scoffed though. No one but Gabriel would be able to properly handle his brothers. Maybe if Cas could turn into God again or if she could get a hold of Chuck he could deal with his less than desirable sons.

Sophia had been awake since 5 am after a nightmare involving Raphael. Over the past few nights it had been the same thing. Sophia would wake up nearly screaming. It always started the same way. She would be in a dark room beside Gabriel. Everything was perfect. He wrapped his arms around her lovingly cupping her stomach.

“Our baby girl will be perfect.”

Gabriel’s voice was loving as he pressed tender kisses to her neck. Right as things began to get heated, Raphael’s cold voice would come from nowhere.

“Well, well what have we here.”

Suddenly Gabriel was gone. He literally vanished into thin air. Raphael would walk out from the shadows with that sneer he always wore.

“Look at you Sophia. You’re father along than I expected….all ripe with Gabriel’s bastard child.”

Sophia always tried to keep herself as brave as possible. The last thing Raphael needed to know what  that she was afraid.

“You are not to touch our child.”

Raphael rolled his eyes.

“This is just a dream but keep in mind. I will find you and I will kill both you and that bastard child. You should never be with an archangel.”

Just like that she would wake a in a cold sweat desperately wishing Gabriel was there to comfort her.  

A knock at the door jarred Sophia from her remembering of the nightmare.

Dean’s voice was calm from the other side. Sophia struggled to get out of the bed. Every day was getting to be a struggle to move.

“Who is it? Is it him?”

Dean was quiet for a moment.

“No its not Gabriel. I’m sorry.”

Sophia sighed as she stepped out of the bedroom. Dean’s eyes looked sympathetic at his friend. Poor Sophia looked miserable. Over the past few days her sparkle was seeming do dull. Dean knew Sophia’s pregnancy wouldn’t last as long as a normal humans and her time was ticking.

“Its all right. Maybe he will turn up tomorrow.”

Sophia said softly. Dean rolled his eyes mentally cursing the archangel.

“Yeah…well um come with me.”

Sophia nodded following Dean into the dining room where a red headed woman was placing a tea set at the table. The woman turned with a smile.

“Well you must be the nephilim girl. My my you are certainly pregnant. That archangel certainly has done a number on you. I am Rowena. Charmed to meet you.”

Sophia tiled her head to the side.

“You’re Crowley’s mother the witch right?”

Rowena blinked before smiling.

“You angels are amusing. So blunt. I am actually here to help you dear. Here you are trapped in this testosterone kingdom and about to give birth. From what my gut tells me you have not a clue as to what you are doing either do you?”

Sophia smirked at the slightly offended look on Dean’s face

“She likes out testosterone kingdom!”

Rowena crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m sure she loves it as much as I love going to Sunday morning services. Now Dean if you will excuse us.”

Dean nodded.

“Hells yeah. I’m gone.”

When Dean walked out, Rowena turned looking back to Sophia.

“Time for some tea!”

Sophia sat slowly.

“I apologize but I don’t think my stomach could handle anything at the moment.”

Rowena raised an eyebrow before walking over taking Sophia’s cheeks in her hands. She gently stroked over her face.

“You poor dear. That archangel’s baby is sucking the life out of you…and quickly. I’ve made peppermint tea, no potions or spells. Peppermint is most soothing on a sore stomach. You need to drink something.”

Sophia slowly took the china cup of tea from Rowena sipping slowly. To her surprise the tea seemed to sooth her aching stomach and nerves. Rowena sat down with a smile.

“I don’t give you that long until you deliver. From what I have ready with the younger Winchester have put together you won’t carry much longer. Where is the prick that put you in this mess child?”

Sophia looked down.

“I don’t know. We were together in Dubai. It was almost like a honeymoon. I found out that I was pregnant, we met his brothers, I found out who my father was, Gabe and I had this huge fight, and he made me come back here to keep me safe. He said he would be here in a few days…that’s been many many days ago.”

Rowena crossed her legs.

“I don’t think he has abandoned you. There is a lot of bad things I can say about the archangels but I am not going to. We have to plan on what to expect when this child is born. I’m trying to decide if we should expect some chaos or biblical explosions. Do you know what happened when you were born being a half breed and all?”

Sophia chuckled.

“I don’t know. My mother…I’ve never had a relationship with her and my father I don’t even know if he was there. Knowing him he was off having an orgy someplace.”

Rowena smirked.

“You’re father is Balthazar.”

Sophia nodded.

“That would be him. I love the guy but he is no father. I wish I had a clue what to expect but there is nothing in the books about this. Gabriel has no idea either. Hell we never really had much of a discussion about it anyway.”

Rowena looked if not a little more annoyed. In all of the conversation she was at least holding out hope that at least Gabriel would have known something.

“We shall make it just fine peach.”

Sophia winced feeling the baby deliver a powerful blow to her ribs. Wincing she looked up to Rowena.

“Why do you want to help me?”

Rowena sighed.

“I haven’t always been the best of people. I had a child myself. Granted we do not and will never have a good relationship, You seem like a sweet girl. Sam and Dean have been kind to me when I haven’t deserved it so why not help them out with a friend? Maybe when your archangel boyfriend gets here you can convince him to give me the same kindness.”

Sophia held her hand out.

“Deal.”

Over the next few days Rowena followed Sophia around like a puppy making sure she ate and took care of herself. Sophia meanwhile, had again not gotten through to Gabriel. Every time she called it was just voice mail city.

“Gabriel, its me again…i know you haven’t forgotten how to check your voicemail…..at lease I hope not. I hope you are still alive! By the way I am still pregnant with your baby….shes still just shoved up in there…I’m going to keep calling and bugging you until you answer.”

Rowena looked at her with a sympathetic expression.

“Men are pigs.”

Sophia nodded.

“Couldn’t agree more at the moment. I should have fallen in love with Cas. At least he went and got me ice cream at 2 am and didn’t care to go back because he got frozen yogurt instead. That was cute. I love Gabriel. I love him more than anything but he can be so damn annoying and childish at points.”

Rowena nodded as she took a sip out of her tea.

“Youngest child syndrome. The first time I had a run in with the man I knew he had it. Of course I thought he was just a trickster then.”

Sophia looked up.

“You’ve met Gabriel?”

Rowena nodded.

“Its been many many years ago. I would have never pegged him to be an archangel. He hated the angels so bad. Crafty darling sure fooled me.”

Sophia stood walking to the table where Dean sat with a empty plate in front of him. She reached down to take the plate. Dean shook his head.

“Nah you aren’t cleaning up after me. You go sit over there and be cute.”

Sophia shook her head ruffling Dean’s hair.

“Taking a plate to the kitchen isn’t going to kill me.”

Dean shrugged going back to the TV show that he was watching until he heard the plate in the kitchen smash onto the tile floor. He and Cas quickly stood running in to the kitchen where Sophia stood holding her stomach.

Cas was able to reach her first.

“Sophia are you all right?”

Sophia shook her head looking up.

“Either my water just broke or I peed everywhere.”

Cas looked down before looking to Dean with wide eyes.

“Dean situation!”

Dean looked petrified as Rowena rushed in her eyes blazing.

“Oh my it is time. Dean, help me get her into her room. Cas I suppose you will have to be your brother’s fill in. Sam try to find someway to get a hold of the archangel.”

Dean stepped forward pulling Sophia into his arms bridal style carrying her into the bedroom. He looked back at Sam.

“Get that dickwad angel here like now!”

Sophia winced through the pain. She wanted to tell Dean to stop yelling. His voice seemed 1,000,000 decibels louder than normal. She tried to focus on the searing pain that seemed to be ripping her apart. When the lights flickered Dean looked around nervously.

“You good?”

Sophia nodded.

“I will be Dean.”

Over the next few hours everyone could only watch as Sophia went through the worst pain in her life. Cas tried to be as helpful as possible with hand rubs and gently whispers however, that didn’t seem to help for too long. Rowena would check her every once and while each time never looking too pleased with her progress.

“I need to get up and walk or something. This lying here is killing me.”

Sophia moaned trying to stand up. Cas started to shake his head in protest but Rowena nodded.

“Yes! Dear that is a wonderful idea! Castiel help her!”

Cas spent the next hour walking the room over and over. Sophia froze grasping onto Cas’ shoulders crying out. Cas stood with wide eyes watching the tears roll down his friend’s face.

“We should get you back in bed. I think it is time for you to push.”

“Cas don’t leave me.”

Sophia manged to get out.

Cas shook his head.

“I’m never leaving you. You mean the world to me. I won’t let you down.”

Sophia smiled as Cas helped her back into the bed. Rowena took her place gently easing the poor girl’s legs up.

“My goodness child you need to start pushing unless you want that child to remain stuck up in there forever!”

Sophia shook her head focusing hard on Rowena’s face as she pushed. Despite Cas’ soothing rubs and Rowena’s encouragement the pain was more than Sophia could stand. The world seemed to start going black, white, and fuzzy. Focusing was becoming more than she could handle.

“Just a few more pushes. Jesus Christ where is that damn archangel?”

Rowena shouted over her shoulder. Her eyes went back to Sophia’s face widening.

“Sophia? Stay awake child! Sophia!”

…..and the world went black….

_________

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