Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! or any of its characters. I also do not profit from this work of fiction.
A/N: "Oh, ho, ho, it's magic. You know. Never believe it's not so." - Magic by Pilot (listen to it!) Important Author's Note at the bottom!
To my reviewers: Omg, thank you. You're all very sweet.
To gotenmalfoy: Thank you so much for reviewing everything, omg. It means so much to me and I'm so happy you like all of my stories. You're amazing. Thank you!
Warnings: None
Chapter Summary: Hired, handsome men, Kaiba's bruised ego, Atemu's huge fanboy crush, and Yuugi's hectic life as the undefeated Duel Monsters Champion. Boy, oh boy.
Chapter 2: Waking Up With Prostitutes
Just a few hours later, Yuugi woke up feeling warm, but slightly uncomfortable. Shifting to his side, he felt a crick in his neck and a slow, thudding headache. With a groan, he opened his eyes to see the television playing cartoons on mute. Yuugi eyed the mess on the table, his books and his papers; remnants of his tries to complete an essay that was due in three days. His deep, mauve eyes froze on a bottle of water that he was sure had been in his fridge. Beside it, sat a bottle of painkillers that he knew had been in one of his kitchen cabinets.
Yuugi, despite his headache, tried to search his memories of the night before. He remembered Anzu and their drinking. He remembered her crying and comforting her with ice cream, chocolate, badly-made s'mores, a lame horror film and popcorn. Yuugi breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that Anzu had left him with the bottle of water and the pill bottle. He snuggled under the warmth of his cover and breathed in the unfamiliar, mouthwatering cologne and something that smelled like engine grease that clung to the material. Soothed by the scent, he was just about to fall back to sleep when a nagging at the back of his mind made him look down at the black, supple leather covering him.
It was a jacket. It did not belong to him.
Confused and a little frightened, Yuugi lifted his head, stilling in shock.
At the end of his sofa sat a sleeping man. A very attractive, sleeping man. His head was thrown over the back of the couch, neck bared appealingly, arms crossed sluggishly around his chest, and legs extended as far as they could go. The man was unbelievably good-looking. He was every bit Yuugi's type; devastatingly handsome. Yuugi swore his heart skipped a beat and he stared at the man for all of ten seconds before he finally realized.
There was a stranger in his home. A hot stranger, but a stranger, nonetheless. Yuugi did not know why he was there. He did not know how he got there and much less why he was sleeping on Yuugi's couch with Yuugi's sock-covered feet in his lap.
Yuugi, again, searched his memories for a reason, the cause for the man's appearance. A blurry memory of an alluring, deep voice came to Yuugi's mind.
"I'll teach you a lesson you'll never forget. You'll be begging me on your knees for mercy and maybe, just maybe, I'll give it to you."
Yuugi's eyes widened to their limit as his body broke out in goosebumps. A sweet shiver ran down his spine and his mouth fell open to a gape.
Oh, my god. Is he a prostitute? Did I call over a hooker?
As much as Yuugi did not want to believe it, it was the only thing that made sense. Because why else would there be such a delicious-looking man in his apartment? No man that attractive would have willingly come within twenty yards of Yuugi, of that he was certain.
Embarrassment and shame filled him then. He had called a prostitute to his apartment. How? Yuugi did not know. He did not actually know how to get a hooker unless he passed by the business district at night (not that he ever had, but his friend Jounouchi had quite a lot of stories to share). He shook his head from the thought and a new feeling made his way into him; fear. His heart rate immediately picked up. He did not know this person. He did not know if they were dangerous, if they carried a knife, if they … Yuugi stared at the sleeping man.
Oh my god. Maybe he's a druggie and he passed out.
Alarmed, Yuugi shoved himself into the opposite corner, using the nice-smelling jacket as a shield. The attractive man stirred and Yuugi flinched. Belatedly, he thought that the man looked quite healthy, possibly a high-class hooker? Had he called an escort service? The man woke before Yuugi could continue to form conclusions, groaning softly as he lifted his crimson head with a grunt.
He turned his gaze to look at Yuugi who stiffened and pulled the jacket up to his face, his wide eyes peering over the collar. Yuugi's heart skipped a beat at the sight of those violet-red eyes. They were beautiful like the man himself. Said man looked a little confused and a lot groggy, but still very gorgeous. He opened his mouth to speak, but Yuugi beat him to the punch, his voice unmistakably panicked.
"What exactly happened?"
The – Oh, my god, how are you real – man raised a perfect eyebrow at Yuugi, before shrugging.
"You fell asleep shortly after I arrived."
"Oh," Yuugi bit at his lip, uncertain of how to phrase his next question. He did not really know how to talk to hot people, much less someone you paid for sex. "So … did we, uh – we didn't do anything?" A blush spread across Yuugi's cheeks and he looked down to the man's chest, unwilling to meet his eyes. He realized his mistake when his eyes fell upon the rest of the man's muscular body. Yuugi gulped dryly.
"No," the man said firmly and relief washed over Yuugi like a calming wave, "you were drunk and unable to consent. I don't take advantage of people … no matter how attractive they are."
The blush on Yuugi's cheeks spread like wildfire across his face. He felt flattered and shy, and he was incredibly grateful that he had managed to get a (ravishing) hooker with a conscience. Although, he did feel sorry that he had wasted the stunning man's time.
"Um, what do I owe you? For your time?"
The man looked confused by Yuugi's question.
"Uh," he said uncertainly, "nothing."
Yuugi was bewildered. He had wasted the man's time and the man was not going to demand a price for that? He did not think it a very smart way to go about the business, but what did Yuugi know about being a prostitute? The glorious specimen of man probably made so much money that he could afford not to charge. Still, Yuugi wanted to be clear.
"Do you not charge when you don't … service?"
"What?" the man stared at him, suddenly more alert.
"Well..."
"You think I'm a hooker!?" The man's face registered nothing but alarmed horror.
"Aren't you?" Yuugi paled.
"NO! Do you usually call prostitutes when you're drunk?" the man, who was decidedly not a prostitute, looked a little disgusted. Yuugi dropped the jacket and shook his head in denial.
"No, of course not! But why else would there be a really hot guy in my house?"
The disgust vanished from the man's face and a look of puzzlement crossed his features.
"...you don't remember last night at all, do you," asked the man, though it did not sound like a question.
"...no."
The man immediately breathed out a whoosh of air, seemingly calming down from whatever wind had aggravated him. The tenseness left his body and the man relaxed.
"You called me last night, thinking I was your friend Jounouchi," he began to explain, his gaze level with Yuugi's, "I thought it was a crank call. I thought one of my friends had put you up to it and I didn't believe you when you said you were Yuugi Mutou, the king of games" – he laughed suddenly, as though he was still reeling from the shock of it – "I was obviously wrong, but you got a little upset and challenged me to a duel when I called you a fake and … being the cocky asshole that I am, I accepted and came over. Imagine my surprise when the actual king of games opens the door."
The man flashed a bright smile at Yuugi who looked away with a renewed flush.
"But you were drunk and I – I mean, you're Yuugi Mutou! I was really excited to meet you, so I kind of ignored it. After you brought me in, though, I got you to stop drinking and gave you some water. I was going to leave, but I didn't want you to be alone and … you asked me to stay." The man straightened from his slouched position and cleared his throat.
"You fell asleep right after and I stayed up for a few hours to make sure you were alright before I also passed out. How are you feeling?" the man asked and when Yuugi turned to answer, he finally noticed the exhaustion clinging to the man; there were dark shadows under his eyes. How much had he slept if he had stayed up – Yuugi glanced at the television where a cat was chasing a mouse – watching television and looking after him? Yuugi, himself was beyond tired, his headache aggravated. And though the reason behind his symptoms was his hangover, he knew the other man had to be feeling about the same.
And, here, Yuugi had thought the man was a prostitute. Mortified, Yuugi covered his face with his hands.
"God, I'm really sorry," he said, "I-I'm fine, but my memory from last night is just spotty and kind of blank. I'm sorry I thought you were a hooker." Yuugi groaned miserably, humiliated. "I just couldn't logically explain why there was a cute guy in my apartment unless I was paying for him."
He looked up to see a baffled expression on the man's face.
"Why do you think you'd have to pay for someone to be here?"
Yuugi gave the man a baleful stare and lightly scoffed.
"Well, look at me. I'm not exactly impressive. I'm below average height and I still look like a teenager."
"Well, that's a load of crap … do you not own a mirror? You're really cute, Yuugi. Uh, can I call you Yuugi?"
Yuugi nodded absently, blush still prominent on his face and suddenly, he felt shy. His hopeless attraction to the delicious-looking man only made him more uncomfortable. He did not know how to successfully flirt, so Yuugi laughed uneasily in response.
"Um, thank you," he said bashfully, glancing away before mouthing a slight "Wow" to himself. He cleared his throat and looked back to the man. "But what's your name?"
Atemu sighed, chuckling as he shook his head.
"Atemu; I told you last night, but it figures that you don't remember. You know … you're really different from what I thought you'd be."
"How did you think I would be?" Yuugi perked up with interest.
"In a few words?" Atemu leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees hands clasped together. No matter what position the man took, Yuugi could not find a flaw. "Well, I thought you'd be all charm and maybe a little arrogant. But you're surprisingly shy; very different from when you duel. It's sweet. I'm … glad."
Yuugi felt his heart flutter in his chest and he nervously ran a hand through his hair. He could feel how untidy it was. Yuugi winced.
"So, you're a fan?" he asked trying to concentrate on anything but how gross he felt for missing a shower and after a night of drinking.
"Uh, yeah," the enticingly-toned man replied with a sheepish smile, "I'm a little embarrassed. I feel like a fanboy. I've seen every single one of your televised duels. I've always wanted to go to one. I even begged Seto to introduce me, but he always says that he would rather chew his own arm off. He even bans me from his tournaments.
"I even got a" – Atemu released his fingers from each other, making an aborted motion towards his chest before dropping his hands, his smile flickering before he looked away – "uh, never mind."
Yuugi felt confused as the man quickly fixed his muscle shirt, as though suddenly self-conscious. It was ridiculous since Atemu had absolutely nothing to be self-conscious about. Yuugi figured he would find out what that was about later as the one thing on his mind, besides how insanely attractive Atemu was, was the small information on Kaiba. He was surprised at that. He knew Seto Kaiba and the man did not ban people lightly. Kaiba must have had some really good reasons to keep the man on his couch away from him. Yuugi wondered if he should be wary or pissed.
"How do you know Kaiba anyway?"
"He's my cousin."
Yuugi's jaw dropped.
"What? Kaiba never mentioned he had a cousin!"
The man chuckled darkly in reply and Yuugi shivered, but not in fear.
"Yeah," Atemu said sardonically, "he wouldn't have. He kind of can't stand me because I've beaten him in every duel we've had."
"But I've never heard of –"
"The duels are always private," Atemu waved a hand as he interrupted, "he doesn't want anyone to know that someone other than the king of games has defeated him. And I don't mind people not knowing, anyway."
"...that explains a lot," Yuugi giggled. Kaiba wouldn't want anyone to know that he had been beaten by more than one person. He was sure that if the dueling world found out that Kaiba had lost to someone other than Yuugi, the blue-eyed man would have an aneurysm. "I wonder what he'll say when he finds out we've met."
Atemu grinned at him then before shifting to pull out a phone from his back pocket.
"Would you like to find out?" he asked with a devilish smirk.
Yuugi pursed his lips to keep from smiling, but he was sure he was failing miserably when Atemu's grin widened. Yuugi had to force himself into being reasonable.
"He must have a good reason to have kept us from meeting each other," Yuugi said.
"Yeah, it's called his ego."
Yuugi snorted and bit his lip when he noticed Atemu begin to search through his list of contacts on an app. After pressing a few more buttons, Atemu held his phone away from his face. He looked to Yuugi and pressed a finger to his lips as the phone began to ring.
Curious, Yuugi peeked at the screen to see Atemu's face looking back out. Since Yuugi wasn't in range of the camera, he did not appear.
The call connected and Yuugi blinked as Kaiba's scowling form appeared, their own screen turning small and tucking into the corner of the phone.
"I'm busy. What do you want." Seto Kaiba's voice was curt and cutting, his face turned away from the screen. Yuugi winced. As usual, Kaiba did not sound happy. In the background, there was a clacking, clattering noise which Yuugi discerned to be the clicking of keys on a computer keyboard. Behind Kaiba was a large window. Yuugi could see nothing but the sky beyond it. Seto Kaiba was at work.
Atemu rolled his eyes, his grin from before had gone as soon as the call had connected, replaced by a bored expression.
"What, I can't just call to say hi to my dear cousin?"
Kaiba scoffed, his blue eyes narrowing at Atemu, blinking before looking off the screen again.
"You look like shit and I'm guessing you're calling to tell me. You're not going in to work today, are you. You know, those rides don't fix and monitor themselves. I know you don't usually get sick, but at least have the decency to give me a twenty-four hour notice, so I can have a decent replacement. And for the last time, Atemu, I'm not arranging a meeting with Yuugi. Anything else?"
"Gee thanks so much for caring, Seto … and yeah, I don't think I'm going to make it in. Now guess where I am."
"I don't have time to play guessing games with you, dear cousin," Kaiba sent a glare to the camera before turning back to whatever he was doing.
"Oh, but you'll like this one," Atemu smirked, laughter clear in his voice.
The clicking of keys paused and Kaiba tilted his head to look at Atemu, suspicion rampant in his gaze.
"...that's not your apartment," Kaiba murmured as he studied Atemu, "you don't own a green couch, and I can't imagine you liking such a tacky-looking thing anyway."
Yuugi bristled and pouted as he looked down at the couch. His grandfather had given it to him. It meant a lot to Yuugi. He had grown up with it and it reminded him of home. When he looked up, Atemu was still smirking.
"I wouldn't insult the couch if I were you, Seto. But you're right. This isn't my apartment."
"So you're at Bakura's place. Big whoop. Let him know I'm disappointed in his taste. Can I get back to work now?"
"Not Bakura's place. But I suppose I can let you go back to work. I just thought you'd like to know that I won't be bugging you about Yuugi anymore," Atemu said as his smirk grew impossibly smug.
Kaiba's shoulders, which had been angled away from the camera suddenly turned to Atemu, alarmed and Kaiba's eyes grew wide with horror.
"You..."
Suddenly, Atemu reached out with his free hand and wrapped an arm around Yuugi, who yelped as he was suddenly pulled across the cushions and almost onto Atemu's lap. He stared wide-eyed into the phone where he could see his flustered, disheveled appearance next to Atemu's victorious grin in the bottom of the screen. Kaiba's mouth parted in astonishment.
"Yuugi!?" came Seto Kaiba's choked yell.
Yuugi could only smile halfheartedly and raise a hand in a wispy wave, not trusting himself to speak. His back was pressed insistently to the side of Atemu's hard, toned chest. The man's arm was wrapped possessively around him, strong like steel. Yuugi was starting to feel faint.
Dear god almighty, Yuugi thought, dazed.
"Hey, Seto, guess what?" Atemu raised his chin in defiance, "I win."
Kaiba's face contorted into exasperated outrage.
"How the hell –"
"Goodbye, cousin."
Atemu ended the call with a flourish before bursting into laughter. Yuugi would have joined him, but he couldn't breathe. He was sure he was dying. He was being held by the most handsome man in the world; Armageddon was surely at hand.
"Forgive me for pulling you in like that," Atemu said as he released Yuugi with a chortle. Yuugi took in a large silent breath as he slid off the man's leg and onto the sofa, his face felt hot – his whole body felt hot. Why was he wearing a stupid cardigan?
Yuugi nodded as forced himself to move away and turn around to face the amused man.
"It's fine," said Yuugi, shrugging. He pulled at the collar of his shirt, looking away to the table where the pills sat. A smile crossed his lips and he looked back to Atemu. "Thank you for taking care of me, Atemu. You really didn't have to."
Atemu shook his head, but Yuugi plowed on.
"How about some breakfast? I know it's not enough to repay you, but it's a start."
Atemu blinked at him, as though astonished by the invitation.
"Breakfast? With you?"
Yuugi nodded with a half-shrug. He would have to think of a better way to thank Atemu, but for now, it was all his hangover would let him do.
"That's … that's more than enough," Atemu said with a wide smile as Yuugi quickly took some pain medication for his headache and turned off the television. Then Yuugi motioned Atemu to follow, so Atemu did. They went into the kitchen where Atemu stood awkwardly as Yuugi went to the fridge and opened it.
"You can sit at the table, you know," Yuugi said and glanced back with a kind smile as he grabbed various things, piling them into his arms.
"Actually, can I help?"
Yuugi stepped back from the fridge and turned in surprise. He tilted his head to the side.
"Do you know how to make pancakes?"
When the eggs wavered in Yuugi's precarious hold, Atemu came forth to take them and set them at the counter.
"Uh, well … I'm a quick learner," Atemu tried.
Yuugi raised an eyebrow at Atemu and shrugged.
"Okay, then," he agreed.
With a bright smile, Atemu helped unload the things in Yuugi's arms to the table and proceeded to follow Yuugi's every direction. He was in the middle of whisking pancake batter together when Yuugi paused in his onion chopping.
"Hey, Atemu?"
"Yeah?"
"Did I," Yuugi frowned at the onions, "I didn't do anything … silly last night, did I?" He looked up at Atemu as the other froze. Atemu glanced at him before looking away just as quickly, taking up the whisking once more.
"No, not at all. Why do you ask?"
Yuugi let out a nervous laugh, trying to look nonchalant as he continued chopping the onion.
"Oh, no reason. I just … I'm not allowed to be around certain kinds of people when I'm drunk. My friends have told me I tend to get a little … handsy."
Atemu lost his rhythm, jerking a little too strongly. He cursed when the batter sloshed in the bowl, splattering onto his shirt. Yuugi looked at him with amusement before setting down his knife and ripping off a paper towel from the holder sitting in the corner of the counter.
"Here, let me," Yuugi said as he took the bowl and set it down on the counter beside the stove where the hot pan waited. He then turned back to Atemu and carefully wiped at the batter, frowning.
"Yeah, that's gonna stain. Take it off and I'll wash it real quick." Yuugi held out a hand as Atemu grabbed at the neckline of his shirt to pull said shirt off, when he suddenly halted and smoothed it back into place.
"Uh … you know what? I'm used to getting dirty. Let it stain. It's just a muscle shirt anyway –"
Yuugi laughed.
"It looks like a baby barfed on you. Let me wash it before it dries."
Yuugi motioned pointedly for Atemu to remove his shirt, earning a distressed look in return. Atemu looked cornered, hesitant. Yuugi smiled to try to put the man at ease, unsure of why Atemu was so reluctant to remove his shirt. He stepped back, waiting patiently and the man's face only grew more pained. The sudden idea that the man was shy came late to the shorter man. He made to speak when the man sighed in defeat.
"Alright," Atemu said, gripping the front of his shirt tightly, looking all the while like a man on the way to his own funeral. His eyes darted away from Yuugi's before taking a deep breath, and the shirt came off in one fluid motion. The action was reminiscent of ripping off a band-aid. Atemu pulled the shirt from his arms, avoiding Yuugi's gaze.
Yuugi, baffled by Atemu's odd attitude, made to take the shirt when his eyes fell upon the other's chest. All of a sudden, Yuugi completely understood Atemu's unwillingness to remove his shirt. His hand stilled in the air, halfway to the black cloth Atemu held. His mouth was parted, flabbergasted, his eyes wide.
Depicted in even, black lines on Atemu's smooth, sculpted chest, two-dimensional and almost mocking, it was a sight Yuugi woke up to every single day. There, on the space above Atemu's heart, a little ways to the right, was a sharply-sketched Eye of Horus in the center of an inverted triangle. Yuugi pointed at the image, words dying in his throat. He did not know what to say. He couldn't think beyond the disquiet that the image of his millennium puzzle had brought upon him. He raised his eyes to Atemu's face, searching for an explanation for the inked image, the tattoo.
Atemu did not look at him; his eyes were downcast, shame prominent on his pinched features.
"I … can explain. I probably should have explained before I showed you."
"Probably?" Yuugi's voice was cracked and squeaky.
Atemu winced.
"It wasn't a smart decision," Atemu said lowly, shrugging feebly, "It was a couple of years back. After Seto's Battle City. That night, I was so, so wasted. Exams were over and I was out with my friends, Malik and Bakura. Bakura wanted a new tattoo. We were all so drunk. Pretty sure that's the reason Malik was able to go into the shop since he's usually terrified of needles … or sharp things in general." Atemu sighed and glanced up briefly before swiftly turning back to stare at the floor between them.
"The tattoo artist didn't care that we weren't in our right minds. We had cash and he wanted to make sales. When he was tattooing Bakura, he asked us to look at his stuff to see if we wanted something done too. I didn't see anything I liked, but the guy had a television … it was playing your battle with Seto." Atemu paused to shift uncomfortably a hand coming up to scratch at his cheek with his index finger.
"I saw you on screen and – please keep in mind that I was really, really drunk – I pointed at you and asked the artist to tattoo you onto me." Atemu chuckled awkwardly, cheeks reddening in embarrassment. "Of course, after he told me the price, I changed my mind and asked him for a sheet of paper and a pen. I ended up drawing this" – Atemu motioned to the three-inch tattoo of jagged lines – "which is actually pretty impressive considering how messed up I was.
"So as soon as Bakura was finished, the guy put me in a chair, asked me where I wanted it, and tattooed me … I don't remember being made fun of as much as I was the next day," said Atemu with a grimace, "My friends were relentless; even Seto thought it was funny and he never finds anything funny. Hell, they still make fun of me when they see it." Atemu chanced a glance to Yuugi who was now gazing at him quite calmly.
"Uh … so, that's the story," Atemu said uncertainly.
Yuugi licked his lips before taking a breath, keeping his voice level.
"That's actually pretty adorable … I didn't know you were that big a fan," Yuugi said, with a half-smile. It was clear he was disconcerted by the tattoo, but trying to move past it.
"I must seem like such a creep –"
"Hey, no," Yuugi said reasonably, "At least you never broke into my house to steal my underwear."
Atemu stared at Yuugi, unsure if he was joking or not.
"What?" Atemu shivered at the thought of someone taking his undergarments. He couldn't even begin to imagine the kind of sick perverts it would take to do such a thing.
"Yeah, that was particularly unpleasant," Yuugi said placidly, "that and the time I came home to find two people dueling over who got to use the bathtub first … they were wearing my clothes. Or the time someone camped out in the tree next to my bedroom window to take pictures of me." Yuugi shuddered and cleared his throat. "It's why I live here now."
Atemu felt incredibly disturbed by Yuugi's tale. He had not known how bad it was for the younger man. He had not even known that Yuugi even went through those kinds of things. Hell, Atemu had not thought there were such fanatics out there. It did not sit well with him, none of it did. Atemu felt guilt squirm through him; he was not any different. The first thing he had done upon meeting Yuugi was ask for a picture and an autograph. How was he any different than the people who had harassed Yuugi?
It did not matter that he had not broken in to Yuugi's house or taken his things. He felt just as guilty for not thinking of Yuugi as a person, but rather as the famed King of Games. He had spent the past years of his life idolizing Yuugi, putting him on a pedestal and trying to meet him to challenge him to a game.
Seeing Yuugi now, disheveled and tired, in black sweat pants, a thin, slightly stained, white shirt, and a large grey cardigan, Atemu felt ashamed. Yuugi was not the King of Games. He was a normal person who happened to have a talent; someone who's public and even private life was constantly tampered with and televised on large flat screens for everyone to see.
"There was also that time a girl used my grandfather against me in order to get me to become her love slave," Yuugi said as he crossed his arms, reminiscing over his past, "or when that one guy stole my puzzle to get me to duel him, which was weird since it was Jounouchi who beat him in Duelist Kingdom and not me."
Atemu was quiet.
"Are you okay?"
Atemu snapped out of his enlightening stupor to see Yuugi's worried, gentle face. He gulped dryly and shook his head.
"Uh, yeah, I'm fine. Sorry. I kind of checked out for a moment."
"Are you sure? You looked really – well, heartbroken," Yuugi said softly, still appearing quite concerned.
"Really, I'm fine. I was only thinking about something." Atemu smiled for Yuugi, holding out the shirt in his hand. Yuugi's worry was like a knife made of guilt stabbing into him. "We should really get back to making breakfast if you want to get rid of that hangover."
"Alright then," Yuugi said, looking unconvinced, though he still smiled. "Let me take care of your shirt and we'll get right back to it."
A/N: By "certain kinds of people", Yuugi means hot people. (Can y'all tell I'm trying really hard to be funny. Tell me I'm funny. I'll give you internet cookies and internet hugs (if you're into that sort of thing).)
Stay tuned for the final chapter of Last X-mas (blah, blah, blah, shoulda had a shorter title).
And, VERY IMPORTANT: the final chapter of Last X-mas will make the rating go up to "M"! Warnings will be listed at the top of the third chapter. Thank you for reading!
