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scribbleseas · 2 years ago

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The Indignant Pawn, Chapter XVII: The Inevitable Equalizer

Description: You are Y/n Y/l/n- formerly known as Princess Helena, the runaway princess.

You're an assassin for hire who only agrees to find the worst of London's criminals at the business end of your knife; until a mysterious woman hires you to end the likes of Ciel Phantomhive, the King of the Underworld. You find yourself trading your weapons for your abandoned family crest in order to infiltrate his home as none other than Princess Marie-Louise, your twin sister. What's to happen when you find that the young Earl is more than a callous businessman?

OVERALL STORY WARNINGS: sexual assault (once in the prologue), objectification, misogyny, death, detailed description of blood/gore, detailed description of murder, lying, impersonation, theft, weapons, detailed panic attacks, symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder, kissing

CHAPTER WARNING: suicidal ideation, drug dealing, mentions of overdose, drugs, there’s debate as to whether drug abuse is the fault of the dealer or the individual, mentions of murder, detailed gore

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! Second to last chapter...how are we feeling? I’m so happy to have gotten this out for you, even if it was a little later than planned. This chapter was hard to perfect, and I’m very proud of it! Don’t hesitate to let me know how you feel about it. Another quick two notes: 1. MC’s views do not reflect my own & 2. I opened commissions! If you really like how I do things, have an idea you’ve always wanted to see on screen, and the financial means, maybe consider sending a request! I would seriously appreciate it, and it would really help me out.

As always,

Happy Reading!

- Dan

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MASTERLIST

. . .

MAY 7TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

“You are rather terrible at this,” Ciel noted, watching Y/n shift her croquet mallet to find a better angle. She opted for the red and yellow set of balls; she had aimed poorly throughout the game, making them painfully strewn about the garden. Meanwhile, Ciel hit his set concisely through the hoops, with a marksman’s precision. His blue and black balls consistently sailed through the course. It was clear that he was the victor in this game.

Sebastian taught him how to play properly since many betting men liked to stake claims on their prowess with a wooden mallet. Ciel wasn’t ashamed to admit that he closed one or two business deals based on the stakes of such a game. Humans were overconfident creatures, and it was a fault he would exploit in any way he could.

“Unlike you, I have not had the leisure to spend my time perfecting my proficiency in childish garden games,” Y/n replied instantaneously, a terrible loser. Ciel was an even worse winner, much in the same way she liked to gloat when besting him at draughts. They made fierce competition for one another, nearly equal in every aspect that was important, yet immensely unbalanced when it came to useless skills: croquet and board games.

“I’m not sure I would consider hitting a ball through a checkpoint proficient,” Ciel replied, confidently crossing his arms across his chest as he watched her aim her next turn. He squinted, the bright spring sun shining on the fresh garden. It caused a bit of sweat to bead in his hairline. The warm weather was a light at the end of a bitter winter, enriching his fiancée, as well. Y/n looked polished, yet attractively unsophisticated in her white linen dress. It was short, hardly falling past her kneecaps.

With a frustrated exclamation, she hit the ball into the hoop’s thin leg, bouncing off the cast iron. It bounced down the cobblestone trail and into the bushes, causing Carl to sprint after it energetically.

“Case in point,” with a nod, Ciel gestured to the dog as he crawled under the bushes and blindly swept with his paw in search of the fugitive ball.

“I did aim, though I’m not sure how much smaller these bloody hoops can be before they’re too small to let the ball through them!” she protested.

“Right,” Ciel arched his eyebrow in an incredulous look before turning his attention to his mallet and the ball. After a brief moment of angling his hold, he gave the ball a sensible hit, sending it flawlessly through the course’s last hoop. With a self-satisfied chuckle, Ciel turned his focus back to her. “They are small, I reckon.”

“Watch yourself, or I might have to angle my mallet flat into your skull,” Y/n threatened with no real malice. In a silent surrender, she let her mallet fall into the manicured grass, opting to crouch and scratch behind Carl’s ears instead. Even though he retrieved Y/n��s adlib ball, the dog seemed unsettled, his head craning towards the tree line.

A growl rumbled in Carl’s throat, though it wasn’t entirely intimidating, considering his head barely came up past Y/n’s shin. His sandy-brown hair was stained with rich dirt, causing Ciel to wrinkle his nose; though the thought of ordering his butler to bathe the creature was amusing enough to make up for it.

Frowning, Y/n faced the same direction Carl’s ardent gaze pierced into, and sure enough, Sebastian emerged from that direction with a man in tow. The man cursed in Spanish, his hands bound behind his back as the demon pulled him by his lapel jacket. However, the moment his gaze landed on Y/n, he stopped fighting Sebastian.

“Y/n! It is Diego! Tell him to let me go!” he insisted, stumbling over a loose piece of cobblestone. “Please! He ties so tight, I cannot feel my hands,” Diego complained, making a show of pain in his tight facial expression.

“Your hands will survive, you dramatic fool,” Sebastian clicked his tongue, fastening the man to an outdoor chair in seconds. He left Diego’s satchel limp in the grass to his side. “Do relax, Miss Y/n, I have already taken the liberty of disarming our guest here,” the butler said, but that did little to calm her stance. Her mallet merely dipped as Carl sniffed around Diego’s bound legs, each one tied to the chair’s front counterparts. The dog picked a sunny spot in the grass once he was satisfied.

“Why are you here, Diego?” Y/n insisted suspiciously, her attitude did nothing to quell Ciel’s disdain. He made no effort to keep the disgust out of his face, quickly noting the dirty, yet well-made, clothing Diego sported. He was a young man, he couldn’t have been much older than twenty-five. His skin looked gold in the sun, a contrast to his dark brown eyes and hair.

“Who are you,” Ciel demanded before Diego could respond. Y/n already told him that Doña, her former benefactor, was Spanish. Diego was clearly of the same nationality, and she seemed suspicious of him, and Sebastian had to disarm him. He had been lurking in the forest. He was likely a subordinate of this… Doña.

“You mean, Y/n didn’t tell you about us while you were falling in love?” Diego batted his eyes sardonically. Surely, he would have clasped his hands if his wrists weren’t tied to each arm of the chair. “That is rude. Poor, poor manners the princess has.”

“Falling in love,” Y/n repeated with enough dubiousness to nearly convince Ciel that they were far from such a relationship.

“The paper. In my bag,” Diego snapped, gesturing to the well-loved leather satchel to his side. Sure enough, he had an issue of The Daily Courant rolled up and shoved into it. The paper was wrinkled in Ciel’s hands, as if someone had held it angrily, crinkling the pristine print. The front page’s expanse was overcome with a photograph of himself and Y/n boarding the S.S Highness before they left for Italy— the issue dated back to April 28th.

The public heard word of their engagement while they were overseas.

“What does it say?” Y/n demanded, abandoning her mallet in the grass yet again and leaning next to Ciel to read the headline:

New Royal Pair: Queen’s Granddaughter: Her Highness Princess Marie Louise and Lord of Phantomhive Spotted. Engaged?

The photograph was unmistakably them, arms intertwined. At the time, what was likely a brief look to the side of Ciel’s, was pictured as a long, loving look from Y/n.

“Everyone on this damn continent knows. Doña knows, we know,” Diego added. “Do you see why I’ve come here now?”

“I have no obligation to tell you anything. I stopped being a puppet for that woman the moment she sent a dozen gunmen to kill me,” Y/n seethed, ripping the newspaper out of Ciel’s grip. “Get him out of my sight,” she told Sebastian.

“My Lord?” Sebastian questioned, never one to take orders from Y/n.

“I order you to—” Ciel started to comply.

“Hey, hey, hey. Whoa! Stop doing that, you strange devil-man!” Diego protested, shifting violently in his chair to angle his front towards Y/n. Sebastian’s glowing eyes frightened him, but the light was subtle enough for Y/n to assume it was from the spring sun. She knit her eyebrows together in confusion. “I come here to warn you. I have information. I cannot tell you what she’s planning if I am dead. Can I?”

Ciel frowned. Of course, a powerful figure from the Underworld would never let such a mortifying betrayal survive. “Forget it, Sebastian,” he sighed, rubbing his thumb and index finger into his forehead. In her hesitation to protest, he suspected Y/n felt the same way.

“Why would you betray her?” Y/n asked, clearly not believing Diego’s defense. Ciel was hesitant as well.

“Doña is family— our sister-in-law. When Phantomheave killed Manuel, we wanted to kill him right back for it,” Diego said pointedly, his scowl dark enough for Ciel to be thankful that Sebastian had him bound tightly to the chair. “Ojo por ojo, though it seems my Lord is down one of ‘em already.”

Manuel.

“But now…it has been too long, and Doña has grown too dark and obsessed. Me and Carmen and Andrea just want to return home. I am a good painter, Y/n, this is not my life. Manuel was supposed to manage the family business,” he continued. Under his vengeful exterior, he did look tired, like a man who couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried, recognize his life. For years, Ciel felt the same way. Especially the first several years with Sebastian; he’d look into the mirror and see someone completely different.

“We just want to be home,” the man said, “but Doña wants you— both of you— dead, no matter what happens to her. She is planning to intercept your wedding.”

The wedding location was so minimally disclosed that Ciel was uncertain about it. How could she have the means to find out?

But Y/n seemed convinced. “How?”

“She will not say, I swear,” Diego swallowed with difficulty, shifting uncomfortably. His stare didn’t leave hers, though sweat rolled down his low hairline. “Please, Y/n. Without Carmen and me, she has no one in England. The rest of us are home, managing business.”

Business.

Manuel, business, Spain. Manuel, business, Spain. Manuel, business, Spain.

“What is this Doña’s real name?” Ciel demanded. The sudden intensity in his voice was enough to startle both Y/n and Diego, while Sebastian’s grin only deepened. The demon knew what was going on. He knew how Ciel was related to this woman, Manuel, Spain, and why she wanted him dead. That grin of his made a joke of his imperfect memory— thinking nothing of a simple mission for Her Majesty that took less than three days of his time.

Ciel told Elizabeth it was a business trip to discuss textile exports. He brought back a gown for her, and Spanish wine for her family as if it had been a vacation of leisure.

“I cannot betray my family more than I have. Though, surely you know, Ciel Phantomheave. You would truly be a sick bastard if you did not remember the family you slaughtered.”

Y/n paled, taking a step away out of surprise. He didn’t blame her. It sounded horrific. The memory was more graphic than most missions. Sebastian and himself killed everyone that passed... all except for one woman, who Ciel found in the leader’s study, cradling the dead body of a man in her lap. Sebastian left a bullet precisely between his eyes.

“Shall we finish this one, too?” Sebastian had asked him, approaching from behind.

“No. We’re finished here.”

“Master?”

“Look at her. She could not possibly rally now.”

Apparently, Ciel had been wrong about that.

“What does he mean?” Y/n asked, looking every bit as queasy as the moment after she met her family and sicked every bite of her breakfast into Buckingham Palace’s shrubbery.

Ciel took a sharp breath in, “I will not repent for harm that was just in its end. If you’ve come here searching for an apology, then I am afraid you will be sorely disappointed.” His voice came out steadier than he would have expected, given that he was the subject of such an unfiltered look of pain and confusion on Y/n’s face.

For a moment, Diego looked as if he might curse Ciel out for his indifference, or sob over the loss of his family. But instead, he pursed his lips and retrained his gaze on Y/n, too hurt to continue looking at Ciel after such a blunt response. He tried his best to look detached, scarcely maintaining his composure.

“Y/n, I ask for the means to return home in exchange for this information. This man has claimed the soul of my entire family — and Doña’s. He will not have ours,” he said.

“Mariana’s soul,” Ciel corrected. He had to have confirmation that it was his pity, his rare show of mercy, that put him in these circumstances. “That’s her name, is it not?”

“…It is,” Diego admitted hesitantly, still refusing to look at him. There was a new note of respect in his voice, less aggressive than when he presumed Ciel had forgotten about the family entirely. “Manuel was her husband, me and Carmen’s brother.”

“Release him, Sebastian,” Y/n ordered after a halting pause, her nimble fingers quickly unclasping her earrings. They were teardrop diamonds set in gold, an engagement gift sent from her Uncle Edward and Aunt Alexandra. The Prince of Wales and Princess of Denmark, respectively. The heirs to Her Majesty’s throne.

Those earrings sat between the flesh of generations of royalty, and Y/n unclasped them and offered them in her palm without a semblance of hesitance. When she refastened the stoppers on the back of the earrings, she repeated herself: “untie him, Sebastian.”

“Unfortunately, I take exclusive orders from my Lord, Miss Y/n. Forgive me,” Sebastian replied without a hint of apology. He was awaiting Ciel’s response, trying to predict which would win: his affection for Y/n or his pride.

“Ciel,” Y/n’s stare pried into the side of his head. “He wants to go back to Spain with his sister. You killed the rest of their—”

“His family was made of drug dealers, responsible for the overdoses of potentially dozens of English li—” he started to explain.

“Drug dealers coerce no one to take the drugs that cause overdose,” Y/n fired back incredulously, crossing her arms over her chest. She wanted Ciel to release Diego; therefore, she expected Ciel to release Diego. Sometimes Ciel wondered if she still thought herself a royal in their dynamic.

“They supply it!” Ciel replied.

“The individual decides to take their supply! It’s a business! It is not the same as pulling a trigger and murdering like you did them.”

Sebastian observed the argument with the same amusement he would watch a sparring match. Diego seemed interested in expecting his boots, all too calm considering they were debating his future.

Y/n continued breathlessly, “Diego risked his life to come here and warn us today. We can make preparations against her now. Our wedding can be safe from her because of him. What will you do, otherwise? Kill him too? Make her more determined to kill us? You don’t wish to give him your money? Fine! I can fund their way. All you stand to sacrifice is your pride.” Her face was red.

Sensing the growing tension, Carl picked up from the sunny patch in the grass and whined, rubbing against Y/n’s dress. At least Ciel knew which side their dog was on.

There was no reason for Ciel to kill Diego beyond wetting his own thirst for blood and self-righteousness. His morality wouldn’t let him kill uselessly, particularly when the man provided him with invaluable insight that could save the woman he was rather fond of, himself, and a significant day for both of their lives. Their wedding was a day that needed to go flawlessly, and the forewarning gave them time to make the preparations to ensure it.

His resolve melted, and judging by the way Sebastian’s smile fell, he sensed it as well.

“Let him go,” Ciel said. “That is an order.”

Y/n released a long breath, watching Sebastian expertly undo the knotting around Diego’s limbs. The Spaniard cursed, rubbing at the red imprints the rope left in his skin. His movements lagged as he picked his satchel up and hung it over his shoulder. Sebastian returned his handgun.

“Take these,” Y/n said, offering the heirloom earrings. Just as Diego extended his hand obediently, Ciel interrupted.

“No, Her Majesty will notice if you stop wearing those. Sebastian, get him a cut of last week’s profits from the company. We wouldn’t want to have to explain to the Queen that you’ve given away a classic royal heirloom as a gift to a commoner,” he explained.

“Consider this payment my reparations to you. Although I do not regret fulfilling the Queen’s wish— dispelling drug trade between Colombia and Britain — I will give you the means to move forward,” this was the best manner to proceed. At least it would take the target off his back, somewhat. Unless Diego was double-crossing him. That offense would have to result in death, no matter how Y/n pleaded with him.

“Thank you,” Diego nodded. “Y/n, I hope he makes you happy,” he tacked on, somewhat awkwardly. Naturally, he couldn’t fathom the idea of his family’s killer inadvertently romancing someone to the extent that they couldn’t kill him, abandoning their mission and lifestyle, altogether.

After all, being a princess was a full-time commitment. Surely, Y/n recalled that she could never return to the life she lived before stepping onto his estate. There was no feasible way for her to continue living the life she lived.

“Thank you, Diego,” Y/n finished refastening her earrings. “Good luck, truly.”

“Come, I will show you the cut the Lord wishes to offer you,” Sebastian said, guiding Diego into the manor. The Spaniard sent Y/n one final wink before following the demon.

The moment the two were out of earshot, Y/n faced Ciel once more. “To best prepare ourselves, we need to pool our knowledge. Tell me about her while we walk,” she motioned for him to follow. This was the trail that rounded the estate perimeter, weaving through the structures that were on the grounds; the guest house, main manor, stables, and conservatory. The sun had been at its peak during their game, and now it was beginning its descent for the early afternoon.

“Fine,” Ciel said, offering her his hand while they walked. They were only able to act so frankly when they were alone, holding bare hands. Nothing was quite as grounding, save for the way she ran her thumb over one of his knuckles methodically. He could never tell if the repetitive motion was to soothe him or herself.

He told Y/n about Queen Victoria’s request for her Guard Dog to sever ties between the Colombian drug trade and British consumption. The number of overdoses and drug-related theft in her nation was beginning to upset her, and her researchers traced some of the cocaine influx to Os Caeos, a branch of the Spanish mafia. The group was facilitating connections and trade over the Atlantic, and Victoria wanted it to cease.

She gave Ciel the assignment, and the best way to end the business was to pull it up by its roots. The family was too enshrined in its work to stop after a mere threat, and much too far removed from the British Underworld. They wouldn’t connect Ciel, a young British nobleman, to being the Queen’s Guard Dog. That left him with leaving them no choice but to stop— killing them.

Ciel and Sebastian took a steamship into Barcelona. It wasn’t difficult to find the Baulo operations manor; the family lived there for decades. Civilians could point to it from the street. Everyone knew the Baulo family by face and name. Their mafia was a close, family-operated company, spearheaded by Manuel, the eldest son of the previous head. He was married to Mariana Baulo-Hernandez; they were expecting their heir.

“Clear it out. I want the whole lot of them killed,” Ciel ordered, “I will find their records for Her Majesty.” He took his gun out of his deep pocket, the metal heavy in his hand. “Do not let them kill me, Sebastian,” he said, an ironic smile twisting his lips. His heart raced with adrenaline, excitement. Not fear. Anticipation. It was the same sureness and clarity he used going into any chess match, really.

Ciel would stomp out these enemies for Her Majesty. Such was his duty as a nobleman and a Phantomhive. He crushed who she wished silenced.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my Lord,” Sebastian chirped, pulling his gloves off neatly and tucking them into his pocket. He never liked to soil his gloves. The contract on his hand glowed now that it was exposed, a manifestation of the sheer supernatural power that flowed through the demon. He made easy work of bending the metal gate open, each hand holding one fortified metal bar and pulling it apart with the strength and disquieting pleasure of an automaton.

The butler wasted no time afterward, shouldering through the main door and killing the servants who met him. Ciel heard their brief screams from a grotesque choir, each fallen one replaced by a new terrorized individual. It didn’t take long until gunshots accompanied those cries. Of course, nothing of such earthly strength could stop a demon.

After another brief moment, Ciel took after his butler, looking at the sparse corpses adorning the halls with contempt stoicism. They were servants dirtying his shoes with their blood. No one aiding these criminals was innocent, whether that came in the form of cooking their dinner or washing their floors.

This was how to pull an ingrained institution out by its roots. Like a weed— the gardener doesn’t simply cut the plant down, he pulls it out of the ground and chars it.

Ciel stepped over a maid’s limp body and started up the staircase. He already knew where he was set to go, forward-thinking enough to have mapped out the manor’s vague layout beforehand. Even so, any smart business leader would keep their office secluded on the top floor.

It was easy to ignore the pained screams from around him when he had a fixed mission in mind. No one was going to escape. Ciel was the cat, these foolish drug dealers and their staff were the mice, and he supposed…Sebastian was the trap.

Curiously, the office door was closed when Ciel reached it. There were notably more guards on this floor and near this room— loyal servants to their very end. How kind.

Even still, blood pooled under the door and it stained the copper door knob. As the cacophony of sounds quieted, he could hear the soft, labored breaths of someone crying.

Cry. Nothing in front of you will change if you cry.

The knob only jiggled stubbornly when Ciel turned it. He frowned.

Locked.

The crying stopped, the person in there likely realizing that there was someone outside, trying to get in. Demanding to get in.

Ciel took one of the fallen guard’s truncheons. The weapon was about a foot long, and heavy in his hand. With a grunt, he put all of his strength into ramming the end of it into the knob. It gave slightly, the copper denting and leaning out of the hole. He repeated the process twice before it gave way, roughly falling to the floor. The door swung open, revealing a hastily made, and last-ditch barricade: two office chairs.

He grew tired, but he forced himself to refocus on the new room. The office was a wreck, a mess of scattered papers, two bodies and books were strewn about the room. There was a bookcase next to where the door was, most of its books carelessly thrown across the floor. The piece of furniture seemed like someone pulled it several centimeters out, likely trying to add another layer to the haphazard barricade before they realized the wooden fissure was too tall and dense to move alone.

Ciel wouldn’t have noticed her if she hadn’t stayed insistently close to the man’s body. His legs peaked out from behind the desk, but she was small enough to have stayed reasonably hidden if she wanted to.

He unlocked his gun, but she didn’t seem to care. Instead, she sat on her haunches and cradled the man’s head in her lap. It made sense that Sebastian found and killed Manuel Baulo in his own office. A bloody serrated knife sat to her side, pulled out from between his eyes. She pushed his wavy hair down his forehead to hide the wound.

She kept her eyes closed, surely aware that Ciel was with her, but she ignored him. Instead, she held Manuel’s limp left hand with both of hers, intensely whispering into it in Spanish. Likely praying. Her matching ring sat on her left ring finger as well, a big diamond set in gold.

This was his wife, Mariana.

“Descansa, fácil. Mi amor,” Mariana kissed his knuckles, leaving a smear of her crimson lipstick on him. Tears streamed down her cheeks when she opened her eyes again. She was rather young, but then again, her husband was as well. The previous head of Os Caeos contracted some unlikely disease and died early, leaving his eldest and his wife to run a business when they couldn’t have been older than thirty.

Very slight smile lines creased on either side of her mouth, twin dimples on her cheeks. Her eyes were dark and soulful as if her pupils took over her irises entirely. They were intelligent, easily taking Ciel in— from the top of his head to the bottoms of his shoes. Despite his best efforts, they were stained. Her eyes lingered on his gun.

“If you are killing me, you do quickly,” she said, finally addressing Ciel. She wore a white nightgown, dressed down like her husband’s body. After all, the sun was just beginning to rise, breaking through the gloomy clouds. It was rather untimely, the glorious light made the man look like a martyr when he wasn’t.

“Or if you feel nervous to kill a pregnant woman, give the gun,” Mariana added, “there is nothing left for me in this world, Ciel Phantomheave.” Her position and small maternal bump would have concealed evidence of her pregnancy. It had slipped Ciel’s mind.

“You know of me?” Ciel asked, masking his surprise. He let his gun waver. She was in no state to so much as threaten him, much less attack.

“Of course. We thought we might meet you soon, although…Manuel thought we would have time to negotiate. His father thought we needed to kill you after your return. But…my husband disliked the thought of killing children,” Mariana sighed, gently running her fingers through Manuel’s curls.

“I make it a policy not to negotiate with criminals,” Ciel said. She was not going to manipulate him.

“I know that now,” Mariana replied, “almost my entire family was in this manor. Let me be with them. I only want to be with them.” She wiped a stray tear away with the back of her hand, collecting herself admirably, given that her husband’s lifeless body was splayed out in front of her.

“My Lord?” Sebastian entered. He must’ve been silent coming in, given neither Ciel nor Mariana noticed his entrance. “Shall I finish this one off, too?” he questioned, knife at the ready. The demon was the trap. Mariana was the final mouse in the maze, but she didn’t want the cheese. She wanted the trap.

“No, Sebastian. We’re finished here.”

There was nothing Sebastian disliked more than when Ciel showed mercy. “Master…?” he asked, confused. He was reluctant to put his knife away.

Mariana sighed as if she had been expecting Ciel’s response. She looked up at the two of them, her hands never left her husband’s body. She wasn’t a woman who wanted to die. She was stronger than that and smarter not to re-establish the Spanish mafia after Ciel had crushed it so decisively. Letting her go would let her raise her child in the country, and Os Caeos could remain some distant memory. A story Mariana would relay to the child when they were old enough to learn about their father.

“Look at her. She could not possibly rally now,” Ciel replied, gesturing to the broken woman’s scattered stare. They would be leaving her to her own devices— whether she survived would be up to her will. “I want to leave, Sebastian. Now.”

Y/n listened to Ciel’s recollection of that morning with surprising calmness. She merely nodded along, keeping her thoughtful gaze fixed ahead as they walked. Nothing about it seemed to surprise her, though he suspected she worried more than he was letting on.

“I see why she would want you dead,” Y/n admitted. Ciel did as well; he went through a similar trauma to Mariana, and his sole purpose in life is to find those responsible and force them through the exact torment and pain he suffered through. She was no different. Those who Y/n killed for were no different.

“Frankly, you might have asked this woman why she would want me dead before ensuing on this mission,” Ciel replied, “why did you never ask?”

Y/n waited a moment, unsure how to reply. “I knew she was telling the truth. Sometimes…people go through suffering that goes beyond words,” if any kind of pain that would qualify, it would be cradling your killed spouse in your lap; feeling so hopeless that you’d prefer their murderer take you too as opposed to living in a world that he was ripped away from.

“Ciel, she isn’t going to give up, even if Diego and Carmen really do go back to Spain. I know her,” Y/n added after a beat of silence.

“Then we will simply need to make every defensive measure,” he replied, not entirely believing his own words. Mariana showed what she was capable of— finding and locating the lost German princess, manipulating the monarchy into believing she was her sister, and even picking up a destroyed business and restoring it to its former empire without Ciel so much as noticing.

To be able to out think a capable woman her would take immense planning and luck, but fortunately, Ciel had a demon for a butler. No matter what he thought of his fiancée, Sebastian would be duty-bound to protect them if that was what Ciel ordered him to do. It wouldn’t be the first time Ciel forced Sebastian to act despite his will.

After all, that’s what their contract was. Sebastian obeyed him, and in the end, Ciel would let him take his soul.

Y/n shook her head, “she will find a way, no matter what we do. Whether it’s next week or next year.”

“You underestimate us, and the staff. We can handle her,” Ciel insisted. His servants were the most elite in the world, handpicked by Sebastian, the protectors of Phantomhive secrets. They’ve fought off mafia men, psychotic circus performers— even Y/n herself. He was unwilling to allow his confidence to tremble in the face of a grief-stricken woman, looking for vengeance as a means to give her life purpose once again.

“But you would be underestimating…Mariana.” She said, stopping in the middle of the pathway. Saying the woman’s name made her face contort uncomfortably.

“Our wedding will be perfect, Y/n. Honestly,” Ciel said, stopping with her. He turned to face her properly and let her hand go to properly brush strands of her hair out of her face. The pads of his fingers settled on either side of her neck, touching her skin so lightly, he barely felt it. He could feel her pulse drumming beneath his thumbs, but her gaze softened.

He’d put everything he had and more into protecting her, no matter what the cost.

“There is nothing I would not do for you. And I know you feel the same,” Ciel insisted, unlike himself. He was always unlike himself when he opened his mouth and failed to filter what came out. It was disgusting, but no one could bear witness besides her.

Her.

She was classically beautiful with a regal face that was unmistakably royal. How could anyone think otherwise?

Ciel’s thumb brushed over her scar, the only defining quality that separated her likeliness from her twin. It was so thin and faded, one would have needed to know where to look in order to notice it.

“You’re right. I suppose we can sort it out,” she conceded reluctantly, but Ciel still disliked the worried frown on her lips. She was the most important person in his life— even if his priority was and would always remain vengeance. This woman was the first person to bring light back into his world.

No one was going to ruin this for them, not when they’d finally gotten all of the rubbish out of their way. Life couldn’t be so cruel. The world was an inevitable equalizer. It was not cruel. It would not steal from Ciel more than it already had.

“Whatever might happen, we can face it together,” Ciel said, internally bristling at himself. He loved the warmth he felt toward her. He detested the way it made him act, the vulnerability it gave him.

Something you love is something you can lose.

Ciel wasn’t sure if the thought of losing her lit an irate fire in his stomach, or if it hurt so much it made him feel ready to be consumed by such an inferno.

Though, of course, Ciel trusted her to fight for herself more than he trusted himself. Still, he wanted to kill her enemies, leave their bleeding bodies strewn about the corridor, left for dead. He wanted to be the person to tether her when the night tried to consume her.

Without realizing it, he had been leaning down, and closer, his stare locked on her pensive lips. Quick to react to any subtle movement, Y/n tilted her head and closed her eyes, meeting his lips with hers.

Slowly but surely, they were beginning to improve each instance they kissed. They found a balance, a smooth rhythm that allowed control to oscillate between the two of them. Y/n’s lips pressed and moved impassionately, his would follow. Like a waltz.

Feeling her lips against his always awakened something in him.

The air around them grew thicker— and thicker— and if Ciel had half of his wits about him, he might have noticed the intertwining clouds in the sky. He might have smelled the musky smell of the earth moments before the rain. But at that moment, he was rather occupied, and the sheets of rain that fell came by complete surprise.

The rain drizzled. The tree leaves whispered, and the sky rumbled. Ciel broke their kiss to regain a sense of their surroundings; unmoved in the middle of the pathway, lined with manicured rose bushes. The trail of dirt and paw prints told him that Carl was smarter than his owners, likely having sensed the new pressure in the air and rain back to the house. Sebastian installed small doors for the clever dog, and it took less than an hour to train him to find them.

Ciel gasped in surprise, somewhat from the sudden rainfall, but more so from Y/n’s clenching on the front of his shirt to bring him back down to her level. She was commanding him to act, putting every bit of her assertiveness into the way she moved with him, channeling all of her worry into something tangible and intoxicating.

“I want to go to your room,” she whispered against his lips. “That is an order.”

Ciel’s heart pounded. Y/n chuckled, clearly feeling it as her right palm trailed down his chest. Every touch electrified his skin. He was static. She was electric. The air was growing heavier by the moment, and it wasn’t only from the rain.

“Yes, sure,” even if Ciel wanted to, he couldn’t have made himself say no. He wasn’t sure he knew how to pronounce such a word.

Within moments they were making a horribly uncoordinated effort to run up one of the side staircases. Y/n was practically dragging him, her soaked dress was thin and sticking to her corset, a gown that would have been improper if they were anywhere but on manor grounds…simply playing croquet. Ciel remembered making a conscious effort to disregard the simplicity and inherent lewdness of such a dress.

It hardly covered more than a nightshift.

He closed his door and locked it before Sebastian could materialize and suggest Y/n leave and catch a warm bath before she caught a cold, or before he could offer a tray of tea.

There was something Ciel wanted much more than a steaming cup. He wanted her. He took a sharp breath in, so much that it made his lungs stutter in his chest. She was straining to unlace the back of her gown, pushing her hair over the side of her shoulder to get it out of the way.

Something about the back of her neck…

“It’s cold in this thing,” she complained, her cheeks growing fiery. “Ciel.”

“You would allow me?” Ciel felt as if he was barely in control of his transgressions, his fingers gracing over the delicately tied satin. “Are…you certain?”

“Yes,” she replied, keeping her hair out of the way. “You can do it, or I will.”

Ciel had it undone in seconds, and the wet garment fell to the floor, leaving Y/n in her corset, tall stockings, and surprisingly short drawers. They ended centimeters above her garters at mid-thigh. Ultimately, she exposed nothing entirely incriminating, but seeing the curve of her waist and her stockings’ garters wrapping around her upper thighs was certainly…more. Her necklace sat between her collarbones, guiding his focus down her corset’s hemline, which kept her breasts pushed upwardly.

His face burned. He was sure if he were to put the back of his hand against his cheek, it would blaze.

“Speechless. And this was all it took,” Y/n made a haphazard attempt to joke, clearly content with being stuck in wet undergarments for the time being. He didn’t blame her, and frankly, Ciel wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle her needing to dry off in front of him more. “If I knew this would be the outcome, I might have tried it much sooner.”

He rolled his eyes, “you’re impossible.’

“Perhaps,” Y/n fired back, growing more comfortable. She smiled at him, her eyes soft, yet searching. It was a strong façade, but she was nervous. Of course, she was nervous. He was nervous.

Ciel reluctantly shouldered off his jacket, which took the brunt of the rain. They didn’t stand out there for long enough to be soaked to the bone, so it was likely Y/n truly was much drier without her most superficial layer of clothing.

He wanted to unbutton the top of his shirt, but his fingers stopped. He paused as if she’d slapped him across the face.

She would see the mark. The Mark of the Beast.

If knowing the sorts of atrocities he pleasured in carrying out for Her Majesty wasn’t enough to fully drive her away, then surely, being marked by sadistic cultists would be.

“Ciel?” The playfulness in Y/n’s face dropped the moment he hesitated. “Are you alright?”

Ciel was, but he wasn’t.

He wanted to unbutton his shirt and bury his face into the floral scent of her hair, and kiss her lips until they chapped.

But she couldn’t know yet, could she? Could she handle it?

Of course she could. She knew the worst of him. He knew the worst of her. This mark wasn’t something he wanted; it wasn’t a deal.

He pursed his lips for a moment, swallowing despite his dry mouth. “If I am to show you this, then you must not tell a single living soul, do you promise?”

Y/n tilted her head but nodded once nevertheless. “Of course not. Your secrets are my secrets,” she said, and frankly, that sentence shot fresh jolts of electricity down Ciel’s spine.

What’s yours is mine; what’s mine is yours.

They were one another’s great equalizer.

“Alright,” he released a breath and went to unclasp the pair of buttons, but Y/n reached upwards to put a gentle hand on his chest. She stared at him— sometimes he detested the bloody eyepatch he wore — her face was stern.

“Not if you are not ready, Ciel. I mean it,” she insisted, but he had his mind made.

Your secrets are my secrets.

“I am,” he said, carefully removing her hands from his shirt to unbutton it. Y/n stopped refuting him, newly distracted as he took his shirt off. Now he understood where her reluctance came from, once he’d finished unlacing her dress. She looked at him with a barely restrained passion, and it was a heavy gaze to be picked apart under. He imagined he looked just as intense and serious as she did.

“Ciel…” Y/n frowned, immediately catching onto the brand on his left side. The mark was burned into his skin, slightly under and to the side of his torso, the far part of his ribcage. While all the redness and irritation were long-subsided, the brand left the afflicted skin slightly raised and swelled, like a stamp. It was going to remain there forever— until the day he died.

“Who did this to you?” she asked, anger flashing in her eyes. Strangely, it was a comfort to him. The Queen on his chess board was prepared to fight for him, much in the way he wanted to kill every last one of her enemies.

I returned to discover the same thing. We can take them down together.

“It’s an old wound,” Ciel guided her fingertips over the raised skin to show her that it didn’t hurt. He was healed, stronger than ever at one another’s side. The foreign touch made goosebumps raise in his arms, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. “Those who did this to me are dead.”

Sensing his unwillingness to speak about it further, Y/n didn’t press. She seemed satisfied knowing that the perpetrators were long gone, but almost sorry she couldn’t do it herself, judging by her frown and the protective toughness in her eyes. Ciel was sorry he couldn’t kill those cultists himself, either. Sometimes, he’d dream about aiming his gun and shooting them between the eyes, or in the heart. Anything to watch them bleed out.

Y/n kissed him, putting another intimate kiss further up his jawline, close to his ear. “I hope they suffered immensely.” Such a curse shouldn't have been erotic, but it was.

Her fingers wrapped around his wrist, guiding him to the edge of his bed to sit. Ciel moved without another thought, blushing when she stood in between his legs once more. She was ethereal in the orange candlelight, her skin deceptively soft, despite the number of healed wounds all over it. He wanted to trace each one. Kill everyone who inflicted pain on her, though he was sure most of them were dead. Not to mention, he was one of those people. Ciel’s gaze flittered to the light scar next to her throat.

She was poetically beautiful. Pulchritudinous.

He thought of the first time he read William Wadsworth: she was a Phantom of delight, When first she gleaned upon my sight; A lovely Apparition…

At the time, Ciel thought the man had been a lust-struck fool, thinking with the contents of his trousers. Now the American poet was beginning to make sense; did that mean they were both lust-stricken fools or was this idolatry normal?

Y/n chuckled when he pressed his lips into her knuckles, then the inner part of her wrist.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Ciel didn’t have an answer for her. He preferred to find her lips again and let her climb onto his lap, her thighs bracketing his legs. Her garters were white and made of lace, matching the dress that they left in a heap on the floor. He couldn’t keep his hands from fiddling with them, grazing over the sheer material her stockings were made of. Eventually, his hands settled on her hips, comfortable on the junction between her upper thighs and waist.

This is why polite society made married women chaperone nobility. If Ciel had known that something this pleasing was possible between himself and Y/n he would have struggled much more. Truly, it was no wonder couples never engaged in such illicit acts until they were married.

Y/n attacked every one of his senses. The moment she had him unlace her dress, he was finished. Now he was touching her warm skin, close enough to smell powder and rosewater. She made soft gasps each time she rocked in his lap, sounds that would undoubtedly haunt him.

Ciel was not a gentleman with her; he was not the Queen’s Guard Dog; he was not the head of the Funtom Company; and most significantly, he was not the next head of Phantomhive.

For the first time in his life, his identity was irrelevant. Privately, Ciel found solace in that.

Solace with her.

. . .

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tinyboxxtink · 3 years ago

Text

"Doppelganger" *Part 5*

See ya'll i'm so sorry this took so long!!!! Warning for this chapter is SMUT, and it's....I mean, really technically Rafael? Also no I didn't go the "full" rape route, the trauma is gonna happen in the next chapter.

Oh yeah also warning this is gonna get darker before it gets happier. Be prepared.

Tag List

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@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

Part 4

Part 6

------

Rafael paced in front of the student theater, dialing your number over and over again. He could hear it ringing over the phone, but-- was that your ringtone?

He stared at the doorway to the lobby where Javi and Gabi were still standing, Gabi’s purse was lit up. She finally noticed it and picked it out of her purse. Her eyes grew wide with shock and as she looked up to see Rafael had caught her, they went wide with fear.

“We gotta go,” Gabi grabbed Javi by the sleeve. “NOW,”

Rafael ran around the side of the building as fast as he could. He may have been getting up there in age, but when he was determined he could do anything. And he was determined to find out why Gabi had your phone. He met them at the side door as they were coming out.

“WHY do you have Y/N’s phone? Is she--is she even in there?” His face grew white as he slowly put together what was happening.

“I...Um...Well--” Gabi was shit at lying.

“DON’T give me that bullshit, ‘Gabi’,,” Rafael scoffed. “I KNEW you were trouble, god dammit I KNEW it!!” He made fists like he wanted to strangle her.

“Yeah well luckily your girl isn’t as intuitive,” Gabi chuckled.

“You stupid--” He lunged for her, he didn’t care if she was a woman she had you somewhere-- she had you TAKEN somewhere.

“Whoa whoa whoa there abogado, take it easy,” Javi stepped in between the two of them to protect Gabi. “Your girl is in no danger, I promise you that,”

“...Yet,” Gabi muttered with a smile.

“I swear to GOD--” Rafael tried for her again. “If anything happens to her I’ll--”

“You'll what?” Javi was now smirking. “Please, tell me you big bad abogado, tell me what you and your snarky words are gonna do against Nevada’s men and guns?”

“Nevada?” Rafael fell backwards, he felt sick to his stomach. Nevada had you; the most dangerous, notorious, ruthless Drug Kingpin in New York had YOU.

“What does Nevada want with my fiancé?!”

“Obviously to get you to do something, cabron,” Javi pointed out.

“Do what?! I have absolutely nothing he needs!” Rafael shook his hands.

“Let’s just say you and him have a common denominator that he just discovered, and he’d like to exploit that,” Javi smirked.

“Damn Javi, turning me on with that book speak,” Gabi licked her lips seductively.

“I go to night school,” He grinned at her.

“Yeah I’m sure, to mop the hallways,” Rafael rolled his eyes, making Javi punch him in the gut.

“All you need to know is that Nevada has your girl, and if you go to ANY of your cop friends, he’ll know. And he’ll kill her, right on the spot. Trust me Nevada has zero patience cabron, I wouldn’t test him,” He warned Rafael while he was doubled over in pain.

“....And then what?” He stood up, rubbing his stomach.

“And wait for a call from him. I’m sure it’ll be soon,” Javi assured Rafael.

“Yeah after he’s done with her,” Gabi smirked.

“Oh my-- NO. NO You can’t let him--” Rafael began to panic, begging them not to let anything...traumatic happen to you.

“Don’t worry abogado, I’m sure Nevada will take good care of her,” Javi smirked as he punched Rafael in the stomach one last time, leaving him gasping for breath as they made a getaway.

-------

Meanwhile

The limo pulled up in front of the Ritz Carlton. “Rafael” got out first and then took your hand and helped you out of the car. You just stared wide and starry eyed as you walked into the lobby. You had never seen a place so beautiful, so elegant. You never had money to travel ANYWHERE-- you knew your small town in Jersey, and New York City. That’s it. And you’d never stayed in a hotel, let alone a luxurious one.

“Rafa….Wha…Why are we here?” You looked at him with starry eyes.

“....I just thought we’d celebrate the end of your semester, mi amor,” “Rafael” smiled, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb.

“You’re too good to me,” You kissed him, and he once again took it to a whole other level. You’d never seen him this aggressive, you’d never kissed him like this. It was...off.

“Never, carino,” He shook his head as he broke the kiss and took your hand in his as he led you to the front desk.

-----

After checking in, you found yourself walking into the Penthouse Suite of the Ritz Carlton, something you’d never thought you’d be able to say.

“Oh my god, it’s so beautiful!!!” You clapped your hands together and bounced up and down as you immediately started to explore the room.

“Rafael” had to admit, he was a little amused by your excitement over things he’d gotten used to. But this was no pleasure trip, it was strictly business. He needed leverage on that abogado and you were going to give it to him. He marched over to you before you could head into the bathroom to check out the spa. He grabbed you and threw you on the bed aggressively, lust in his eyes.

“Well, somebody wants to get down to business,” You growled seductively.

“You read my mind, Carino,” “Rafael” smirked. “Ah but… first,” He walked over to the overnight bag he had brought and pulled out handcuffs, and a blindfold.

“Um, Raffi--” You nervously giggled. “We’ve um, you’ve never--”

“I thought we might try something a little different tonight, carino,” He licked his lips as he inched towards you, like a cheetah stalking its prey.

“Well, I-- I guess--” You stammered, staring at the objects in his hand. You had never been so...adventurous with anyone, let alone Rafael. “Rafael” could tell you were more than a little nervous, but he needed to get that blindfold on you. He may have Rafael’s face, but their bodies were more than a tad different. “Rafael” had tattoos on his wrists, and more than a few scars from various assentation attempts and fights. He needed to turn this up.

“Please,” He gave you his sweetest puppy dog pout eyes, before beginning to nibble on your earlobe. He had never done that before, but you were quickly learning it might be your new favorite spot. Time stopped moving, your mind turned off, all you could feel was pleasure as you felt his tongue in your ear, his teeth on the lobe.

“Whatever you want,” You sighed, not knowing what you were allowing.

“That’s exactly what I’d hoped you would say…” He growled as he tied the sash blindfold around your face, pulling it tight. You couldn’t see anything, you were completely at his mercy.

“Rafa….?” You called out to make sure he was still there, as if he would have just blindfolded you and ran out of the room.

“Yes, amante?” You heard his husky voice behind you as you felt your arms being fastened to either side of the headboard.

“Rafael I don’t know about this--” You bit your lip nervously.

“Shut up and let me work,” He barked, making you wince.

“...What?” You could swear that the voice was different from normal, something about it was more...dark.

“I mean, I thought we’d try...role playing, y’know where I’m a dominant asshole, and you’re my prisoner,” His tone suddenly went back to loving and soft, as he laid a tender hand on your bare stomach,

“Oh I-- I didn’t know you were into that,” You nervously replied.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Y/N,” You heard the husk again. “But you’ll learn tonight,”

You could hear him getting undressed, and then undressing you. Something about it seemed so...wrong. And real.

“Rafa--”

“DON’T call me that,” He growled. “I’m not Rafa anymore, I’m Vada,”

“....Vada?”

“Uh yeah, like-- like Darth Vada,” He joked, making a thick New York Accent saying “Vader”.

“Um, ok ‘Vada’, I don’t think I like--” Before you could protest anymore, Vada’s mouth was on yours in a hungry animalistic kiss. His hands began exploring your body, pulling and prodding every inch of you. Everything was heightened by the darkness of the blindfold, and it was exquisite. His mouth travelled south, biting and kissing every inch of you on the way down. You writhed in pleasure while strapped to the bed, you knew your arms were going to be sore tomorrow.

“Now, be a good little whore and don’t make a SOUND while daddy works, or you’re going to get punished,” You heard the husky voice commanding you.

“A good little what now?” You asked defensively, he had never talked to you this way-- and you weren’t sure you liked it. No matter who he “was.”

“I said QUIET,” The voice grew more cruel, but two fingers went inside you giving you instant absolute pleasure it was impossible to be mad. His digits roamed around inside you like he was digging for treasure. He hit every inch of your walls, flicking your clit harder and harder until you were practically vibrating off the bed. You began to scream, but you felt his mouth over yours before you could.

“WHAT did I say, puta?” The voice barked. “Not a SOUND,”

You usually loved hearing spanish coming out of his mouth, but ‘puta’ didn’t sound like a term of endearment.

“S-Sorry,” You stammered, as he continued to work. He slipped his fingers out and replaced them with his mouth. His oral skills had improved massively in a surprising amount of time, but you weren’t exactly wondering why. His tongue lapped you up like a dog drinking water, he sucked on your clit like it was a lollipop You bucked and spasmed under his mouth, this time biting back screams like hell, it was almost painful.

“Now, mi puta, are you going to come for me?”

“Y-Y-es,”

“NO! You’re NOT,” suddenly everything stopped. There were no more fingers, tongues, nothing going on downstairs, except for a now exceedingly excruciating pain throbbing from your clit-- is this what blue balling felt like?

“Please,” You whimpered, the pain was tormenting. Little did you know, Vada was enjoying every second of your suffering. It was one of his favorite things, watching powerless victims writhe in pain under his god like tongue.

“No, you’re gonna wait for ME,” All of a sudden you felt his dick inside you, pounding you like a rock. He wasn’t his usual, gentle self. He was pulling in and out of you like a jackhammer, and you loved every second of it.

“Now, mi vida,” He whispered as he continued to thrust in and out of you. “Now, you may scream my name,”

“RAFAAEELLLLLL!!!” You screamed at the top of your lungs as the most powerful orgasm you’ve ever had in your entire life came crashing over you like a tsunami. Suddenly you felt a slap to the side of your face.

“That’s NOT my name!!!” He yelled while he slapped you across the face as he violently shook inside you, the rage seemed to send him over the edge. He pulled out of you and sprayed his white manhood all over your face.

Everything was still and silent for a moment, both of you recovering from the events. It took you several minutes for you to drift back into your body, but when you did-- you realized what he had said. And you also realized you were covered in sticky white cum.

“Ew, Rafa why--” You made a face, trying to shake it off.

“I wanna see you lick it off. Lick off your face like a dirty whore,” The husky voice commanded you.

“Okay it was fun and all, and probably the best sex we’ve ever had, but enough’s enough,” You were starting to get annoyed with the whole “dominatrix” thing.

“....What did you just say?”

“...Yes, fine, okay I guess I’m kinkier than I thought. Because baby that was THE best sex we’ve ever had...maybe in my life,” You giggled.

“Oh,” You could hear a dark, evil chuckle. “Oh carino, you have no idea how happy that makes me to hear you say that,”

“...Why?” You were starting to get really freaked out. You felt the blindfold come off, but you were still bound to the bed. Your eyes took a minute to get used to the light, but when your vision finally focused you saw Rafael--- with arm tattoos?

“....Because I’m not Rafael,” He grinned wickedly.

#rafael barba x reader smut #rafael barba smut #rafael barba x you smut #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x you #nevada ramirez fanfiction #nevada ramirez x you #nevada ramirez x reader #nevada ramirez #nevada ramirez smut #trouble in the heights #law and order svu smut #law and order svu fanfiction #law and order svu #doppelganger

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jazy3 · 4 years ago

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Thoughts on Grey’s Anatomy: 17X12

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Well that was an intense episode. Wow. I have to say this episode left me shaken, but I think that was the point. To put it in your face and make you take notice. The other bad stuff going on in the world doesn’t just stop because there’s a pandemic going on as much as we all wish it would. In this episode the show covered a lot of ground. They showed the Black Lives Matter protests and talked about previous protest movements that have taken place. They tackled police brutality and anti-black racism and violence and how traumatizing and fatal a simple traffic stop can be if you’re black.

They showed anti-Asian racism and the difficulties of treating someone who doesn’t think COVID-19 is real. They addressed issues about health care reform in the United States and how the most vulnerable people in society are the hardest hit right now. It was a hard watch. It boggles my mind that there are people out there that think COVID is a hoax or that health care professionals are getting kickbacks of some kind. People who believe that have a greatly over estimated view of how government and health care institutions operate. The idea that a government or a hospital would ever be in a position to do such a thing is absurd and the idea that people would perpetuate that on a mass scale is just ridiculous.

The patient that Bailey treated who was a COVID denier infuriated me! How can people be so stupid? So ignorant? So disrespectful? I get why Bailey freaked out and had to take a minute. I would too. I love that she still tried to help the man get better and tried to frame things in a way he could understand. But he still refused and while she was gone, he signed out AMA. Ultimately, he was killed by his own ignorance and I felt for Bailey when she was ranting to Teddy about how ridiculous it all is.

This was a small moment but when Bailey comes over to talk to the COVID denying patient he calls the surgical resident whose treating him, Dr. Mabel Tseng, a nurse. After Bailey corrects him, he doesn’t apologize he just calls them ‘her’. So not only does this guy think COVID is a hoax but he’s also racism and sexist. I like that they showed that just because there’s a pandemic going on and the focus of the episode is on anti-black racism and police violence that doesn’t mean that the racism and sexism that other people experience magically goes away.

I like the way they handled the protests and showing the different ways people choose to respond in times of crisis. Richard went to march, Jackson realized he felt like he wasn't doing enough, Catherine continued to try to work within the system, and Hayes had to make difficult choices about whether to let his boys go to protests and was injured when he had to step in front of someone who tried to attack his sons. I hate that this stuff isn’t fictional. I hate that there are real people out there getting hurt and killed every day for no reason.

As a white person I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for parents and guardians to have to make decisions about this kind of thing. How do you keep your child safe when the people you are supposed to call in an emergency want them dead? What do you do when the state itself considers you disposable? A non-human object? Do you march and protest and try to make your voice heard and make a difference? Or do you stay home and keep to yourself and try to help in other ways? What do you do knowing that just being at home does not keep you or your child safe?

One bright spot in this episode for me was seeing Hayes interact with his sons and getting to see more of their dynamic. Watching him grapple with figuring out what the right thing to do was with regards to letting his boys protest or making them stay home was heartbreaking. Also the fact that he was so blasé about getting hit on the head with a Billy Club to the point that he needed stitches to Jackson really got me. The fact that he had to step in front of his children to stop them from being attacked by a neo-Nazi is insane and I hate that real people in real life have to deal with this.

I loved getting to learn more about who Hayes is as a parent and his relationship with his boys and his sister-in-law. I loved the scene at the end there where he told them he realized he was wrong and that this was their country and if they want to protest, they should but only during the daytime and only with him for safety. I particularly liked that scene because they’ve established that Hayes is Irish and that he grew up and spent most of his adult life living in Ireland before moving to Switzerland and then the U.S. But his wife Abigail was an American which would make his boys Irish American and most likely dual citizens.

His boys are black and biracial, and they were born in another country and recently immigrated to the U.S. This episode takes place at the end of May in 2020. Trump was still in office and things were going from bad to worse. Which is a very scary time to be all of those things for Hayes’ boys, so I get why he struggled with this. But I also understand why he decided to let them protest. As Hayes says this is a moment. I wish that coming up on a year later we could say that things have radically improved. And while there have been some improvements not enough has changed. In the U.S., Canada, and so many other places.

The scenes with Winston being stopped by the police were scary and I hate that that is the reality for so many people. A lot of the issues they showed in this episode with regards to how black people are treated are just as much of a problem here in Canada. The rates are less in some cases because our population is lower than the U.S. and we have stricter gun control laws, but the issues are just as real and as heartbreaking. I felt like I was going to throw up watching those scenes.

It was so hard to watch, and I was so scared for Winston. What really got me is that I knew Winston wasn't going to die because they upped him to a regular cast member at the start of this season but for the real-life people who go through this that is not a guarantee. They don't know if they are going to make it out alive at a simple traffic stop. My heart broke for Winston and for Maggie. As a white person I cannot imagine the terror that black, brown, and Indigenous people in my own country and elsewhere must feel every time this happens. I got why Maggie was so distraught and unable to focus. I would panic too.

It would be extremely difficult for anyone to focus on their work when you know the police could be murdering your fiancé at that very moment. I'm glad that Richard was there to help and support her so that she could then help her patient. I definitely think Maggie and Winston are endgame. I got that vibe from the beginning and I still feel it now. I’m starting to feel like this season’s finale will feature Maggie and Winston’s wedding.

I also thought the scene where Jackson came to talk to Catherine about why she didn’t take him to protests as a kid and why they don’t go to protests was interesting. Jackson was upset because he suddenly realized that he felt like he wasn't doing enough or being involved enough. He wanted to know why his mother didn't take him to protests and why she taught him to work inside of a system that was never made to include people like them and still isn't. He's angry because that clearly isn't working. Catherine for her part felt like she had suffered enough and just wanted to keep her son safe and took what Jackson said as a personal offense.

This is one of the aspects of Catherine's character that I really don't like because she takes things really personally that aren't really about her at all. I liked seeing some more follow up to what Jackson and Mama Ortiz were talking about last week and Jackson's ongoing fight to really help people in Seattle in a more systemic and long-lasting way. I have no idea where Jackson is headed at the end of the episode and I'm really interested to find out. I also liked the scenes in the hyperbaric chamber where Levi heard Meredith's voice in his head telling him what to do and not to panic. He’s really coming into his own as a doctor. He’s no longer the bumbling idiot who dropped his glasses into a body cavity on his first day.

I thought the editing and the inclusion of Meredith’s voice was really well done. I’m disappointed that Jo is switching specialties and choosing to go into OBGYN because as I’ve said before I don’t feel that they’ve given us enough set up here. I thought we got some great set up in that one episode about her switching to Urology and being mentored by Catherine and I’m sorry they’re not going that route. She briefly talks to Hayes in this episode and they’ve worked a few cases together now and she still hasn’t brought up her desire to switch so I think it’s safe to say that Hayes won’t be mentoring her or training her. My guess is that Carina will be the one doing that. Although I can’t understand why Jo hasn’t approached her on screen or mentioned that by this point.

I think this storyline will only last so long if the show gets another season. There’s only so much content they can create out of ‘Jo delivers babies and sleeps with Jackson’. I think Jo will make the switch and then will get bored quickly and wind up re-specializing again in either pediatric, fetal, or neo-natal surgery. It was nice to see Teddy back at work and doing better and I really loved the sweater that Amelia wore in the brief scenes that she had. While watching this episode my best friend and I were talking about how those of us who lived through the pandemic and this time of social unrest will probably never want to re-watch certain episodes of this season and other shows or media from this time because it's just too hard.

It's too painful. It's too raw. I understand now why people who grew up during times of war and social unrest don't want to talk about it. Don't want to look at anything that reminds them of that time. We're still in it and I already feel that way. Onto next week’s promo! And it looks like I was right! Derek is coming back in what appears to be his last appearance. Him and Meredith are shown talking and embracing and I think Meredith is going to wake up and return to the land of the living once and for all. It’s also been revealed that April will be returning not next week but the week after. I’m excited to see what April returning will mean and how it affects Jackson and Jo’s storylines.

Until next time!

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msjr0119 · 5 years ago

Text

What took you so long?

Part 10

Liam had been assassinated, Drake had left Cordonia before this. He had heard from Savannah about his friend- he felt guilty not returning. Someone had blackmailed him to not return, with only his sister knowing the truth. Leo had taken over the throne in place of his brother due to there being no heir....

*CHARACTERS BELONG TO PIXELBERRY*

{Drake x Riley}

Tags:

@annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @yukinagato2012

******

“No. I can’t make you happiest commoner alive.” Feeling guilty seeing his face fall due to the response. She bent down to his level- kissing him passionately, confusing Drake.

“I’ll make you the happiest Duke alive.”

“Really?” Drake felt relieved, his heart almost sank believing that she had rejected his impromptu proposal.

“Yes, really. I need some new memories.”

Standing up, he picked her up and held her tight. Not wanting to let either of them go. After her mistake with Liam, he never believed that she would choose him over the King. Now she had agreed to be his wife, she was the mother of his child- she was his everything.

“I’m going to protect you both. I don’t know what you see in me. I love you both.”

“You’ve always had my back Drake, even when I was pregnant with Liam’s baby you were there willing to support me. I’ve fucked up with majority of my life decisions. But I’m not fucking this up.”

“Neither am I, I’m going to throw you onto my bed- I’m not letting you go, ever. I love you.”

*****

The night of the ball arrived, Liam had asked if the Duchess and soon to be duke would want to prepare for the ball in their home - Valtoria.

To Riley, she had only briefly visited before the attack- the palace at the moment was classed as her home as was Drake’s cabin.

Trying on every dress, she wasn’t happy with any end result- possibly due to her pregnancy hormones. If she could- she would happily attend the ball in her Pajamas. Drake walked in, wearing a classic suit that he had lent from the palace for special occasions, seeing his fiancée surrounded by a pile of clothes on the floor crying.

“Brooks? What’s up? We don’t have to go. It’s going to be traumatic I know. But I will never leave your side.”

“It’s not that... well it is. Anton is in the cells, nothing will happen. I just... I feel fat in everything I put on.” Sitting next to her, he wanted to laugh but he didn’t know how her hormones would react.

“You don’t look fat. You are the most beautiful Duchess in Cordonia- don’t tell Liv that though- she may threaten me.” Winking at her, he witnessed a smile slowly appear on her face. “We can go for a bit, then sneak out as soon as you want. Blame it on tiredness from the pregnancy. It’s a good excuse.”

“It really is a good excuse. What do you think to this one?” She pointed to the blue figure hugging diamond covered dress.

“It will match your beautiful eyes. Get ready then I’ll escort my fiancée to the ball.” Standing up, he held his hand out to help her stand up also.

******

Drake and Riley felt content at the ball, possibly due to the congratulations that they had received about their engagement and baby news. The last time they was here was the fatal night that both Riley and Liam were shot, Drake was threatened by Anton and Riley had lost her memory. Holding her tightly, he didn’t want to let her out of his sight- even if it meant forgoing whiskey for the remainder of the night. The song began and the guests coupled up- Drake bowed to Riley.

“I love you Mrs Walker to be. Would you care to join me for this dance?”

“I’d love to Duke Walker to be.” She replied knowing it would frustrate him.

“Quit with the Duke thing.”

“Or what?” Riley smirked as she asked in a seductive tone of voice. Unable to resist, he stopped dancing, just admiring her- still trying to comprehend that she was his.

****

Liam was sat in the corner of the room, with Olivia by his side. Both of them watching Drake and Riley being loved up like love sick teenagers. Olivia knew deep down in her heart that Liam still loved Riley- Of course he would, their one night stand resulted in an unwanted pregnancy. His chance at being a father. His chance that got torn apart from him. Olivia was the jealous type, but she knew she would have to be civil regarding the love triangle that was in the past.

“Ask her for a dance, Li. Drakes mouth looks too dry. He could do with a whiskey before he faints- he’s not her bodyguard.” Kissing the redhead on the cheek, he knew he had to begin to return the love she had for him. Walking over to Drake and Riley, he lost his stoic attitude- almost forgetting how to perform as he became nervous. Riley turned to face him after inhaling his cologne- seeing his Adams Apple bounce she wondered what was worrying him.

“Duchess Riley, may I have a dance?” Liam asked almost robotically, knowing that Drake’s eyes were darting towards the bar every so often. Riley hesitated at first, feeling guilty about their past; the abortion, the love that wasn’t returned.

“I’ll get us a drink. Don’t steal her away from me Li.”

“Of course I won’t.”

Leading Riley on to the dance floor, he had wished that things were different- that they were dancing as king and Queen. No you’re with Liv, she’s engaged to Drake- having his baby.

“I will always love you, always Riley. But I’ll get over you... eventually.”

“Liam, I’ll always love you too. But I’m so sorry about everything that I’ve done. You and Olivia can live happily ever after. I love you both.” Liam didn’t respond immediately- which was unusual, he was never one to be ignorant even if he wished to be.

“Liam! Liam!”

Riley stood frozen, shaking- hearing Drake’s voice echo in the distance as she fell to the floor, with Liam’s heavy body hovering over her. Rolling him off her, she stared at her blood covered hands.

“Riley!” Drake and Bastien ran over, Drake scooped Riley in his arms. Bastien demanded medical assistance urgently- before helping Drake prevent Riley from hyperventilating.

“Drake... I cant... I can’t breathe... it’s happening again.... it’s ... it’s like what happened in my dream....”

“Shhh. He will be fine.” Hurry up for fuck sake! Where are the paramedics.

“Everybody get out! Now!”

In the rush Riley lost Drake, the guards escorted them outside- organising them into groups. Riley insisted on going back inside to find her fiancé. Sneaking away, some arms went around her- feeling relieved she hoped it was Drake. Covering her mouth the man escorted her abruptly into the palace grounds. Covering her eyes there was a sudden darkness, the mystery man didn’t want to provide his true identity just yet.

“Riley?” Hearing his voice, she wasn’t sure if it was her imagination playing tricks on her.

“Liam?”

“He’s alive, don’t worry. We just wanted to scare you all.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Claudius. I work for Anton. The ‘paramedics’ all work for Anton too. Now Duchess Riley....” Claudius placed a kiss on her neck, running his fingers through her hair. His hot breath against her made her skin crawl- wishing Drake was here to save them. Where the fuck is Drake? She thought as panic ran through her body. “We can do this the hard way. Or the easy way. All you have to do is convince the king here to give up the throne.... and no one will get hurt.”

“Don’t you dare hurt her!”

“Oh shut up your Majesty.” Claudius sarcastically said, before he began to cackle- no matter how afraid Liam was about his and Riley’s safety- he couldn’t back down and give in to their demands.

“I mean it. Leave her out of this vendetta you have against the crown!”

“What do you say Riley? You co-operate with us and no one will get hurt.”

“Let him go. Just take me.”

“No Riley! You’re pre- you need to think about yourself.”

“Please just don’t hurt him. I’ve already done that. Please.” Holding her stomach discreetly, she didn’t want to harm her baby but Liam was Cordonia’s future. Placing a blindfold over her, he pushed her aggressively- making her fall into Liam’s arms.

“I’ve got you. But you need to get out at any given opportunity Ri.”

“Ohhh isn’t this sweet. The King and his mistress reunited.”

“Anton?” The both said in unison, they may not be able to see anything but blackness but they still had their sense of hearing.

“So King Liam, what will the answer be? Leave Cordonia and hand over the throne to me? Yes or no?”

“Never!”

The sound of a gunshot echoed throughout the now eerie atmospheric palace grounds.

#theroyalromance #choices trr #riley brooks #drakewalker #olivia nevrakis #drake x riley #liam x riley #trr whattookyousolong

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bluehhj · 5 years ago

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listen to me — chapter 20

LISTEN TO ME — 0020

listen to me masterlist;

WORDS: 2.5K

As they waited in the queue, Jinah repeated to herself that she didn't have to be afraid, for all that was fake blood, special effects and costumed people. There was nothing to fear, it was just a movie like any other.

Jisung, who was standing next to Choi, would choke out a laugh every now and then while looking at her out of the corner of his eye. Although he had seen more than three times, he had chosen the movie "The Nun" to make sure that Jinah had never been interested in even looking at the trailers, and the queue for that session wasn't so long and so they would've to be in the midst of so many people inside the movie theater, since neither of them liked crowded places.

"You know you don't have to go, do you?" Han asked as they advanced a little further toward the entrance. As much as he wanted to see her false pose of brave collapse like a house of cards, he didn't want her to be traumatized. "We can change and see a romance."

"I don't want to." Jinah smiled nervously. "This movie isn't scary, I don't know why you're so worried."

Jisung laughed and raised his eyebrows quickly, "All right, you're the one who knows."

When they handed in the tickets and entered the dark room, Jinah swallowed hard to note that besides her and Jisung, only about ten people were there, most of them concentrating on the front seats. Her intention was to have something to distract herself with, whether it was a child chewing popcorn or a couple kissing, but apparently she'd have to keep full attention in the movie until it finished and twisted to avoid suffering a panic attack during the mission.

Jisung chose a pair of seats from the next to last to sit down and Choi tried to see the bright side of the situation. At least if she was reasonably close to the door, she might run somewhere else if things started to run out of control — and out of control she meant witnessing some evil manifestation off the screen or something. The straw of the soda glass was stuck between her lips during the entire sequence of unnecessary trailers and advertisements, and Jinah even considered the possibility of actually watching that movie as a normal person, but then the following words came out before her eyes: "Based On Real Facts".

"Fuck, Jisung!" she complained, taking care not to speak as loudly as she wanted. "Why didn't you tell me that this shit really happened?"

"You said you weren't afraid."

"I-I..." Jinah thought for a moment and fell silent, regaining her composure. "I'm not afraid, I just don't like leaving my house uninformed," she lied.

Jisung laughed again, amused by all that, and murmured a "relax" before looking at the screen. The movie had just begun.

♡˖°

It was as if Jinah was a balloon about to burst with every new fright.

No matter how many times she looked at the clock, the minutes just didn't seem to go away. Her heart was so fast that she felt like an old woman with a tachycardia; her eyes didn't stop quietly anywhere and her nervous system was being extremely tested by Han, who laughed at her face every five minutes.

"I can also watch a horror movie, she said," Jisung mocked. "I wonder where that brave girl has gone now."

And even as she was about to ask for help, Jinah still wanted to support her fearless image: "I'm still fine, if you want to know."

"It's not what it looks like." Jisung put his hand on the girl's damp palm. "You're sweating, you're so nervous."

Choi would certainly say some tattered excuse, such as blaming the nonexistent heat, but, before she could open her mouth, the fucking idiot Nun reappeared just to put an end to the little self-control she still had and her first involuntary reaction was to squeal a little and squeezing Jisung's hand against hers, entwining their fingers without even realizing it, and then bringing close to her heart.

"I don't want anymore!" she whimpered.

The boy smiled and, even in the partial darkness, stopped to watch the girl's face as he felt the beating of her heart. It was undeniable the fact that he had found her beautiful from the first moment he laid eyes on hers, but he didn't always admire her details so closely. Jinah was sweet and sour in the right dose. Sometimes it sounded a bit childish, but it was captivating. Beautiful eyebrows, beautiful eyes, flawless smile, rosy lips; Jisung couldn't deny even to himself: she was beautiful at his sight.

"Why did you want to come, being so afraid of this kind of movie?" he asked without taking his eyes off Jinah's almost terrified face. Part of him wanted to hold her.

"'Cause I wanted to go out with you again" there was this detail: Choi didn't hide things when she got nervous.

"But we could go out anyway, you silly girl." Jisung got up and pulled the girl to do the same. "C’mon, let's eat something."

Jinah didn't protest and followed the boy out of the room. The funniest thing was that they were walking hand in hand around the mall as if they were a couple and only noticed it halfway to their chosen diner, which resulted in a minimally embarrassed Jisung and a half-annoyed Jinah cause she had lost the touch. After facing the queue of requests — Choi recovering from the trauma of the movie and Han teasing her —, they sat at a table by the window.

"How's the internship?" Jinah changed the subject, since she didn't want to talk about the events of minutes ago after having sworn that she'd never see another horror movie in her life. "I know it's only been three days, but do you feel well already?"

"Yes, it's interesting." Jisung took a sip of soda while his eyes searched the place to see if there was anyone he knew. "The only problem is that, sometimes, the people are too noisy."

"At least you're not in Changbin's place, who's going to start his next Monday. Imagine just having to put up with an entire classroom full of hyperactive kids." Jinah grimaced in disgust. She envied her friend's patience to deal with that sort of thing. "At the very least, I think I'd have a stroke."

"Does he really want to be a teacher?" Jisung frowned. "He'll scare the kids with his homicidal face."

"Of course not, Changbin's a baby inside."

"I don't know... This week even he was completely angry there in the store, just missing breaking everything."

"It must be because Jade and him were going through some problems, but now they're well again" Jinah glorified the heavens for that. It was horrible when the two of them weren't well, because a tense atmosphere settled in the apartment and everything seemed out of place. “The infamous jealousy."

Jisung shook his head in brief agreement and there was a pause in the conversation as they ate their sandwiches. Added to the topic of jealousy, it was a perfect loophole for him to begin to travel in his own thoughts and to bring up subjects he didn't want to revive, but which were always there, marking presence inside his head. Jinah soon noticed the boy's rapid change of mood.

"Are you thinking of her?" she asked cautiously and Jisung sighed. Han felt as if he could never be with Jinah without the shadow of Chaerin appearing between them as a barrier. He didn't want to ruin the night with his problems, but Choi was willing to listen to them, because, in her conception as a psychologist, you can't overcome anything by trying to choke it.

"No" Jisung lied and forced a slight smile. "It's just bullshit in my head."

"It's okay, you don't have to lie to me. You were like this after I told you about jealousy."

"We had a few crises," and before he could stop the words, Han was already venting. It wasn't his fault that talking to Jinah was so comfortable. "Or rather, I had a few crises..." another sigh. "Before I didn't realize it, but, looking better now, we haven't been well for a long time. It was a hard way to reach the last point."

"Can I ask how it happened? I mean, you say Chaerin ran away with another guy, but I wanted to get it right" Jinah knew she was stepping on eggshells by asking all those questions, but just kept insisting on them because the boy, however, didn't show any hesitation at the time of answering them.

"She had left home early that day" was the first time Jisung had spoken openly about it. He remembered hiding many details when he reported what had happened to Yoorim and Hyunjin. Not because he didn't trust his friends, but because he didn't feel comfortable enough. "I called and always fell in the mail box. She didn't even respond to the messages. She just came back at night, when I was already thinking that something serious had happened, she apologized before going to the room and packing" Jisung even would cry, but when it came to his ex-fiancée, his tears were already dry. "I asked what was going on, but she held the cry and didn't answer. Something told me it was a cry of guilt." rolled his eyes. "She left and I couldn't do anything. When I looked out the window I saw Seungmin's car and it was clear."

"So, you already suspected she might be having something with Seungmin before that happens?"

"Maybe" Jisung bit his lower lip for a moment. Even though it was complicated, he felt good talking about all those things that had been trapped in his throat for so long. "I had read some messages and noticed strange things, but it was always 'my head's thing'" he made quotations with his fingers, repeating what he heard so much from Chaerin's mouth whenever he asked about it. "But I can't feel as much anger at Seungmin as I wanted, after all, if Chaerin hadn't paid attention to him, we'd be fine now. It makes no sense to blame only the affair, because who really owed me respect didn't."

Jinah nodded, approving Jisung's way of thinking, so she wouldn't have the trouble to make him understand that part.

"When the two left," Han continued his account of the worst night of his life. "I felt the whole world fall on my back. It was difficult to clean up the mess of glass shards I made in the room, and, before I could ruin the whole kitchen too, I remembered the call center number. I meant to talk to Sorn, I think you know her." Jinah nodded again, smiling slightly as she remembered the Thai. "She had helped me a lot in the last few days, but it was you who answered this time. And by the way, the service wasn't one of the best," he joked, although he was telling the truth.

"I confess I felt a little bad for not having the standard treatment with you," Jinah admitted. "But I only started to act normally after I was sure you wouldn't do anything you could regret, otherwise I wouldn't have said so much bullshit. We would've extended the conversation if you hadn't turned it off."

"You threw it in my face that at least you hadn't been kicked by your fiancé, you wanted what?"

"But you did stress me first!" Jinah defended herself, patting the table as she remembered that Jisung had also thrown unnecessary things into her face. "I didn't return because I thought you wanted to be a little alone, or maybe you'd call again to talk to some other attendant, but, anyway, the idea of looking for you in college was already firmly in my head."

"I actually thought about calling again to talk to someone else, but your voice..." Jisung pressed his lips together as if he had no weapons to deal with. "It managed to calm me even by saying idiots."

"I realized you liked it" Jinah smiled. "So much that you must've wasted a good few minutes looking for my branch in the early morning."

"Just a few" Jisung smiled too. "Still, I thought you didn't care."

"You thought wrong. And I do care until today, you know that."

"Thank you, JinJin." Choi used all her willpower not to freak out when she heard Han call her that way without being drunk. "I don't even know how to thank you for all this."

"You could thank me by moving on," Jinah murmured, hesitantly for the first time. No one could blame her for looking at Jisung and feeling an overwhelming desire to kiss him, but not being able to do so, after all, the boy was still trapped in his old relationship. It wasn't as if she expected the love he felt for Chaerin to disappear overnight, but she believed he had to at least try, and Jinah was so willing to help him overcome all those bad things... "I know it's hard, but it's been almost a month. Life has to go on, don't you think?"

"With moving on," Jisung put his elbows on the table. "do you mean to get a good mood or open my heart to let other people in? Because, if it's the first choice, I think I'm already doing it."

"The two options sort of complete."

"I don't know, Jinah." Jisung ran a hand through his hair absently. Choi almost died without air. Why did he do that to her poor heart? "I don't want to be with someone while I love someone else, and it's not like I have too many suitors."

Jinah blushed, so much that it was impossible to hide from the boy.

"Wait..." Jisung's eyes widened. "Don't you-..."

"No! Of course not!" the girl had tried to fix it, but her face only turned redder. "Aish, don't start to misinterpret things!"

It wasn't the first time that Jinah had given him signals that shouldn't be given to mere friends, but Han always took it as a joke. However, since the small meeting at the home of Hyunjin and Yoorim, when Choi quietly asked for a kiss, a set of internal doubts struck Jisung. If Woojin was there, he'd probably tell him to stop being dumb and grab the opportunity, but, in his head, it wasn't as easy as it seemed.

"Sorry" he disguised as if he really had misunderstood and believed in the girl's acting. "Would you like some ice cream?"

He didn't even have to ask twice.

And as he looked at Jinah without her realizing it, Jisung wished, with all his heart, that he might correspond to her correctly someday.

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artificialqueens · 6 years ago

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The Devil Named Sharon Chapter 7 {Shalaska} - imafuckinglibra

Hey, hi, how are you? I have so many other stuff to write but you know what I picked the most neglected fic I have so enjoy my children. Some fluff, some frankly traumatic smut, and some comfort bc god knows I’m out of practice and this is a bit rushed, I apologize. Anywho imma go look at the shiny new ring I got my hopefully soon to be fiancé enjoy k bye

“Yours.” Alaska repeated just as she had done earlier in the morning after Jinkx had left Sharon’s office and left her battle axe of a boss in this horribly foul mood that came to bite her in the ass. Multiple times.

First when she barked at her for forgetting to put her bottle of sparkling water on her left instead of her right.

Then when she ordered to have her lunch sent to her office in 15 minutes even though she good and goddamn well knew it was impossible to get from the upscale Manhattan restaurant in less than 25 on a good day.

As soon as the poor delivery boy soaked in nervous sweats arrived with perfectly cooked steak, side of grilled in season veggies drenched in some sort of vinaigrette and the standard order of pompousness that came with each of their meals arrived however, Sharon simply scowled at the food.

Disgusted by it’s presence and just how nonchalantly it sat there watching her across the room. “What’s this?”

“Your…lunch?” Alaska hesitantly and very confused by the lack of praise for completing, what she had deemed and rightfully so, an impossible task.

Instead she simply drop her bag and oversized black coat onto Alaska desk as she marched past it into the big glass framed office where the food stood. Dismissing her meal with a displeased shove on the side of the plate shaking the contents enough to fall off onto her desk.

“I said I’m having lunch with you do you remember or are you completely retarded?” Another bite in the ass.

“Uh…” Alaska stammered unsure of how to respond.

“Are you, completely, retarded?” Sharon looked up from under her lashes to snarl at her the longer she took to think of a response. “Good thing you’re pretty.” She grunted picking up a few mock copies of other runway related magazines, securing them under her arm as she made her exit again.

Slapping Alaska’s cheek even as her mouth still gapped open and shut in a dazed panic before she dug her nails into her cheekbones. “I’m hungry, let’s go. Pet.”

“Who do you belong to!?” Sharon repeated her question with her authoritative growl turning into a blood curdling scream through her dark empty eyes.

“You…” Alaska futility again tried to follow commands with whatever dignity she had left so utterly exposed under Sharon’s relentless wrath.

She had brought the younger girl to her apartment under the rouse that it was to pick something up before going to lunch with her roommates.

Instead Sharon had managed to push her into the living room with hunger, torment, unexplainable fury and too many pent up emotions heavy in her heart scaring Alaska down to her core.

Inciting both terror and passionate lust that rushed down her thighs and back up through her veins, bringing her to a state of helpless obedience when Sharon sprawled her open next to the fireplace.

Her legs dangling off the old leather ottoman to the side of the room and her tight red leather dress that stuck to the matching material of the furniture pulled up over her flat, taught stomach.

Bunching up in a sticky mess below her protruding ribcage with the top half of the hidden zipper in the back pulled down enough to allow the top half to be pried off her chest enough that her braless breasts could hang open for Sharon’s desire.

Following orders as the eager to please pet usually did despite the foggy haze of bewilderment and excitement she soon found her self repeatedly having to affirm her ownership to the older.

The repeated “yours” slipping through her messily smeared lips even as her chest heaved, her ribs’ outlines poking through her skin as she kept the firm pressure she was told to on the small swollen bundle of nerves Sharon’s index and middle finger had prodded over merely minutes ago before they slipped through her lips inside her.

“Rub your clit.” Sharon breathed out tightening her left hand’s fist around her neck to push her thumb into Alaska’s pressure point. “Harder.”

Thanks to the ever tightening vice grip on her throat Alaska found it increasingly difficult to breathe let alone obey, and when her boss noticed this sudden lack of cooperation she mumbled something inaudible to herself and had her thumb take over the job.

Using the momentum of the force with which her fingers were pounding into her petite hole to push her closer and closer to the edge Alaska had already been toppling over.

She also noticed how Alaska was getting dangerously close to blacking out, her lack of consciousness growing as clear as the bruising already forming under her fingertips on the pale porcelain skin.

“…Sharon…” Was all Alaska managed before she realized her words weren’t coming out, her words now just barely moans as her eyes rolled back into her skull.

Her face turning a dark, dangerous beet red as her eyes teared up further from lack of oxygen, the droplets now streaming down her cheeks as she again tried gasping for air. “Sha…”

“Keep going!” Sharon ordered harshly pounding her fingers deeper into her. “Push through this baby.” She mumbled so softly under her breath that Alaska couldn’t even hear it over her broken babbles and incoherent whines.

“…I…p…”

“No! Do not disobey!” If Alaska had been paying attention, well if she’d been able to, she would’ve noticed the sobs of guilt filling the room wasn’t her own.

But she was too lost, too far gone to even comprehend her own surroundings much less pick up on the war raging inside Sharon as she watched with a heavy heart how the frail boney hands tried clinging to the wrist around her jugular.

“Atta girl.” Sharon praised her for her perseverance, hiding the hitch in her breath. “There you go, cum baby.”

“Tha…thank.” Alaska’s voice failed her once again as her long built up climax crashed down on her. Knocking whatever wind was left in her out if her body as she wormed around in ecstasy.

Her knees drawing closer to each other like magnets to squeeze Sharon’s hand so tight all movements halted. The hands around her wrist grabbing on tighter, scared without her she’d fall apart even though Sharon had already let go.

“Good girl.” Sharon praised softly, wiping the stray tear out of her eye, focusing all her efforts now on the broken body beneath her. “You did so good, honey.” She placed a kiss on Alaska’s forehead.

“Thank you jesus for cutting your nails.” The smaller blonde eventually laughed to lift her own spirits as a way of fighting of showing just how drained she suddenly became.

“Sh, don’t talk too much.” Sharon cooed pulling her up slowly to put her on her lap where she could hold her closely. “Do you think you can go back to work?”

“No.” Alaska breathed out still regaining any form of composure as her spent body sunk into the arms holding her so tightly. Sharon’s lips pressed against her forehead where they whispered sweet nothings, comforting her racing mind.

“Okay. I’ll have the life raft fill in.” Sharon eventually reached for her phone to inform who she assumed would be Detox of her duties for the day while Alaska began drifting to and fro sleep.

She felt like she had just run a 40 mile marathon and her orgasm had been the final 10 mile stretch that she had to push through. But God it was well worth it.

She came like she never had before, pleasure washing over her entire being so violently she doubted she’d ever be able to come down from the high it gave her.

Not that she wanted to.

“Was that a treat?” She finally asked lifting her sleepy eyes up to stare up at her boss’s beautiful blue eyes that had softened once again. “Or a punishment?”

“Which did it feel like?” She asked wiping the hairs off her sticky forehead to place another well earned kiss, this time lingering longer than she needed to take a deep inhale of her sweet shampoo and perfume that she’s grown accustomed to whenever Alaska walked into her office.

“I can’t tell.” She admitted almost to honestly.

“I’m sorry.”

“I liked it…I, I hated you for a second but I liked it.”

“You’re always so blunt.” Sharon scowled down at her unsure of how to take this sudden declaration.

‘I know I went too far but hatred? Really?’ Sharon internally said the words she didn’t have the courage to say out loud in the possibility it could offend the young girl in her lap.

“You say that you like me or you take care of me but sometimes your love just feels down kind of…cruel.” She let her words flow freely still high of her undeniably glorious orgasm and the delicious scent of Sharon’s perfume against her nose buried in her neck.

“I know it seems malicious but it’s not.” Sharon’s softened tone began harshening again as if she was shielding herself from her own words. “I needed to remind myself I was in control. I needed you to make me feel in control.”

“You’re selfish. That’s why people can’t stand you, but they put up with you because you scare them. You don’t want to be in control you want to make people fear you so they don’t see that you’re scared of them.” She continued burying her head lower into the bosom beneath her like a child cuddling up to their parent. Pulling the arms she had around her in tighter to let Sharon know everything was alright.

“I don’t need to explain myself to you or anyone.” Sharon snapped. “Do you need a ride home?”

“No. I need you, I’m not scared of you or letting you control me because I know how protective you get over the things you care for.” She continued taking the risk to tilt her lips towards Sharon’s for a much needed kiss.

Too her surprise instead of her display of affection and, what can be taken as frankly quite rude words, being returned with a slap to the cheek Sharon kissed her. Refusing to release her lips until she needed breath but even then never letting their lips linger apart for more than a split second.

Her groggy mind growing even more foggy in her embrace, not even registering that Sharon had picked her up till she felt the lush carpet beneath her feet where she was ordered to the bed. “Sleep off what you need here and when you wake up go home, I’ll call you if I need you.”

“Okay.” She discouragingly mumbled looking down at her feet when the older placed a kiss on her cheek as a rushed, distracted goodbye with her phone already in hand.

When she woke up god knows how many hours considering it felt like she’d been asleep for at least 40 years she realized she was still in Sharon’s bed where she had crawled in earlier to recover, for lack of a better word.

“Get dressed.”

“Huh?” She looked to her side following the voice to see Sharon sitting by the counter attached to the mirror next to the big walk in wardrobe with no make up and her glasses on.

This wasn’t the first time she’d seen her looking so bare but she had to admit it was still such a foreign sight it nearly knocked the wind out of her.

Her naked eyes red and tired, her naturally pale rose tinted high cheekbones and plump lips a pale pink highlighted in the reflection of the small hand held with the circular light around it.

Clad in nothing but a thin lace bra with patterned ridges ending above her ribs and a matching set of high waisted panties with the garter already clicked in place attached to long brown silk stockings.

“Get dressed, we were invited to dinner.” Sharon instructed again rubbing some sort of creamed primer into her face.

“But I…”

“You can get dressed and go with me or go home. Pick.” As she gave her the ultimatum she began walking over to where Alaska had been sitting with the covers pulled over her naked chest.

Pulling the straps of her bra that had been hanging over her arms up over her shoulders as she approached her to look at least some what more put together.

“But I’d really love it if you went with me.” She sincerely smiled cupping the young girl’s face.

The smell of expensive perfume and the cigarette she’d been smoking that rested in the ashtray next to where she’d been sitting lingering in the air before the smell of the cream on her fingers hit her too.

“Okay.” She smiled halfheartedly shuffling out of the covers. “What time is it?”

“We have about an hour and a half to get dressed.” Sharon informed her without needing to look at any clock as if she knew everything even time itself, which she probably did.

There had been too many times since meeting her that Alaska considered if her eccentric / lover was really some supernatural being.

But then she’d usually think back on the image of her humming songs while she cooked breakfast or how she purred when she slept. Small things that made her seem so vulnerable and human Alaska craved for more every time she’d look at her.

Disregarding the young girl entirely now that she’d gotten her spoiled way Sharon proceeded to walk back to where she was before where a chic yet much more casual outfit than what either would normally been wearing laid. “I already took a shower, take one too and than put on the panties I put aside.”

“Is that mine?” She ignored the order much to Sharon’s annoyance who grabbed her wrist tightly before she could touch the white tank top she’d aimed for.

“If you’re a good little girl.” Sharon purred removing her hand from her wrist to give her naked ass a hard slap. “If not you can go back to that sad excuse of an apartment naked for all I care.” Letting her palm slide along Alaska’s behind and down her thigh as she turned around.

“You’re the boss.” She sang in a sultry voice while walking into the brightly lit bathroom, turning first to look behind her and lick her top lip playfully. “Unless you WANT to punish me again.”

“Dinner first, play afterwards.” Sharon smirked with a smug half smile returning to her make up that laid spread out on the table top.

Taking her sweet time to relish in the feel of the scolding water rushing down her petite body Alaska stood still for a minute with her eyes shut and her face to the wide copper shower head.

Wiping her palms with the thick rose scented shower gel over her face she washed away any trace of exhaustion still on her eyes as if it was as easy as her leftover make up.

Her aching muscles tired after the draining day soothed by the jet of water pouring down onto her shoulders and washing any evidence of their encounter on her thighs away.

When she was finished she slipped on the underwear next to the towel Sharon had set aside for her and returned to find her lover already half way through doing her make up, almost hesitant to disturb her but decided the kick she always seemed to get out of Alaska wearing whatever she picked out was worth it.

“Pleased?” She asked sliding the door open to let the steam out into the dark eery bedroom as she stood with her legs together, her ass sticking out a bit further and her arms apart so Sharon could examine her naked body in just the pair of sheer white panties.

“Put it on and give me 30 more minutes. Change in the bathroom I don’t want you bothering me.” Sharon ignoring her display grumbled motioning to the outfit she tried admiring before.

‘What a waste.’ Sharon thought staring at the best view she could’ve ever asked for - Alaska’s ass in a thong. The younger who’s back was turned to her already wiggling into her shirt clearly not noticing the side eye staring or salivating lips. ‘I can never keep white clean.’

The younger blonde had to admit she was more than somewhat worried about the fact that Sharon had neglected to give her a bra but she shook off the doubt by reminding herself that the older knew what she was doing.

Not to mention the thought of being so on display without having to worry about anyone even daring to bat an eye at her, knowing she was the great big scary Sharon Needles’ girlfriend send a bolt of confidence like no other through her.

“Now?” Alaska asked again putting on the same little showcase after she’d put on the thin, almost see through tank top that just barely showed off her perky tits and high waisted blue pants with white stars scattered about and thick red stripes down the sides. Matching the sewn in suspenders she had already strapped over her shoulders.

Instead of the reaction she had hoped for Sharon simply flicked her now elegantly painted eyes in her direction with a contorted frown and handed her two hair ties from the bottom drawer of her desk with her left hand as her right continued effortlessly blending some sort of white into her cut eye crease. “Let the suspenders hang loose and put your hair in buns, then come sit next to me.”

“Yes ma’am.” Alaska rolled her eyes hoping Sharon didn’t pick up on it but the spank on her rear showed differently.

‘Yes ma’am indeed, sly minx.’ She praised her young pet for being so self assured she dared show her attitude. Finding this new bravado quiet endearing.

She was the perfect blend of independent yet obedient, she knew when and how to stand up for herself and could take on anything or anyone she wanted to - even sharon.

Yet she never defied an order or hesitated to please her every whim, no matter what curveball she threw at her.

After doing as told Alaska had to admit she looked pretty fucking cute. Her outfit was, albeit inappropriately revealing thanks to the shirt’s thin material and the fact that it was short enough to expose a part of her ribs, quite perfect, just like any the older always picked for her. Dressed down enough that it was casually fitting for a dinner yet fashionable enough that she wouldn’t look too out of place entering a room with the industry icon.

“Perfect.” Sharon dropped the brush she’d been using on the table, admiring herself in the mirror from a few different angles making it difficult for Alaska to tell if she was talking about herself or her girlfriend. “Come.” She tapped the empty spot on the bench next to her.

As full of surprises as ever, to which Alaska should’ve been used to by now, Sharon carefully picked the tube of foundation that best matched the younger’s skin tone from the group of products lined against the edge of the table.

With her middle finger delicately holding her jaw still she began the process of turning Alaska into someone who looked like they could be off the cover of Runway itself.

“Like I said earlier it wasn’t a punishment or a treat, it was purely because I was so angry I didn’t know what to do with myself and you’re the easiest thing to take it out on. If I hurt you too much I apologize, just know it hurt me more than it did you.” Sharon finally admitted after what felt like an eternity of silence.

“I get it.” Alaska flicked her eyes to Sharon’s, her face scrunched in concentration as she moved to blending in the contours that showed off every perfect edge of her face into her foundation.

“Just know if you can push through like you did today you’ll want for nothing with me, understood.” Sharon sat back with her fingers now digging into Alaska’s jawline to keep her attention.

“Yes.” She nodded and with a satisfied nod Sharon leaned in for a quick kiss before reaching beside her to tap off some excess black dust on her brush. Tapping the same black eyeshadow with a hint of red undertones she’d used on herself onto Alaska’s lid.

What the younger didn’t realize and probably wouldn’t realize until many years later was that Sharon wasn’t trying to break her down or degrade her. She in fact taught Alaska how to be stronger.

She taught her just how much she can actually endure and helped her learn how to push through any obstacle to get what she wanted. Just as Michelle had taught her all those years ago, in a different context but it still applied.

“You’re my girl, I’ll look out for you come hell or high water, and tomorrow I’ll buy you new furniture…and new scarves.”

“You don’t have to.” Alaska began laughing at Sharon’s struggle to keep a straight face at her own joke before she scolded her for not sitting still. “Fine, but if it wasn’t either that means it was a test?”

“No.” Sharon pursed her lips and shook her head.

“Then what happened to you?”

“Told you, I was angry.”

“So I get that every time you’re angry?”

“No.” She repeated the same monotonous way she did every short answer as if either her questions were boring her, which they probably were hence why she was warned never to ask anything, or because she was so focused. Maybe both.

“I can’t figure you out.” She worryingly whispered opening her eyes to look at what her lover was doing when she was finally given permission too.

“That’s the idea, careful not to smudge the liner it might not be fully dry yet.” She ordered packing her make up neatly back in their places while Alaska simply shook her head unsatisfied with the answers.

Catching her off guard Sharon took hold of her with her arm around her waist and the other with the brush still between her fingers on her cheek.

Leaning her back down to kiss her passionately and softly, their lips remaining locked for longer than Alaska could keep track of till Sharon eventually pulled away and looked between her eyes. “You may be my pet but you deserve better, I’m not as bad a person as people think.”

“I know.” Alaska admitted. “That’s what I keep trying to tell you.”

“What can I say, I’m stubborn.” Sharon shrugged with a more playful smile than normal helping her back up. “Help me get dressed and then we’ll finish your lips, alright?”

Going in theme of casual yet classy as with Alaska’s outfit Sharon wore a perfectly tailored pitch black suit with a white button up buttoned only halfway to show off her ungodly gorgeous cleavage and a loose satin black tie hanging around her collar.

Her hair slicked back completing the sleek androgynous look with her pair of thick rimmed black glasses and a dark smokey eye with blood red lip’s matching the red in Alaska’s pants completing the look.

“When I say I’ll listen to anything I mean it, I believe like fashion or any other art form music can be beautiful or hit home in any way shape or form.” Sharon explained away the Manson shirt Alaska had found as she fished around her make up drawer filled with more tubes of lipstick than anyone could ever need. “That being said, tilt your head, there are still good and bad and those who don’t know the difference aren’t worth my time. If you express yourself through what you listen to, wear, paint whatever and it’s shit, people know you’re shit. Open.”

With her fingertips holding Alaska’s jaw as if it was fine delicate china that she was admiring the beauty of, Sharon began sliding the tube of pale nude lipstick as neatly as possible onto her lips.

Alaska of course keeping as still as a mannequin to avoid damaging any of her work. Finding it difficult though thanks to just how erratically fast her heart was racing, the thin material of her shirt suddenly felt far too tight as butterflies fluttered about in her stomach, making her feel almost lightheaded.

Nothing moving except her eyes that flicked to and fro from Sharon’s hoping she could try and capture this moment and save it forever. Save this feeling of being loved, being cared for before she whispered. “And I am?”

“Perfect.” Sharon answered in a calm caring voice with a half cracked smile, sitting back to admire her handy work but more importantly the girl underneath it. Giving her a quick kiss on the cheek as a reward in the same way you’d give a child a gold star.

While she was packing away any stray make up products that she had forgotten back where she’d found them originally Alaska seized the opportunity to finally examine herself as a whole.

Her dark eyeshadow and thick winged liner contrasting the subtle highlights and contouring blended into her foundation that ran all the way down her neck to hide the bruises she’d received earlier. Her nude lips a damn near perfect match to her skin tone just slightly tinted on the redder side making her lips look bigger somehow, juicier, if she had to pick a word.

The monochrome look of her make up playing beautifully off her bright outfit and ditsy styled hair, she worried she’d look silly or overly cutesy next to Sharon’s sleek no nonsense business attire but the pair ended up somehow matching perfectly with subtle elements matching together. As always.

“And we’re only 10 minutes late, you ready?” Sharon asked, her finger’s crawling onto the exposed abdomen next to her as she joined her date for the evening in viewing their reflection as though it was a fine work of art.

“As I’ll ever be.” Alaska whispered inhaling a much needed deep breath to aid her in standing up taller, more confident and ready to face whatever may come.

But dear God above nothing couldn’t prepared her for this.

“Not much has changed since college, has it? Hi mama.” Chad, ‘not that Chad’, as Jinkx had put it earlier greeted Sharon with wide spread open arms to hug her so tight Alaska eventually became jealous.

She looked like she had everything on her face sliced, injected, carved or pumped more than just once or twice…or thrice even Alaska noted in a childishly sour grapes fashion to Danny who she spotted and collided with almost as soon as they got there.

In an uninterested and frankly uncaring, border lining on rude, fashion Sharon had shoed Alaska towards the the sidelines with the boy, snarling at his audacity to greet her.

“If I have to even smell your pathetic existence near me again tonight I swear to God.”

“He’s my friend, be nice ple…shit.“ Alaska tried defending him hoping if anyone could soften her up she’d be the one to do it but the abrupt nails digging into her ass that made her yelp loudly said different.

Her cheeks turning even brighter red than Sharon’s lipstick when she saw the eyes of their fellow dinner guests looking her way.

“You’re fucked.” Danny huffed under his breath behind his hand, playing it off as a cough.

Sharon however dropped her head into her neck, so close she could feel her warm breath on her skin sending shivers down her spine as she whispered into her ear. “The idiot finally got something right, now show off those good manners I taught you.”

A chill shot down her body again sending goosebumps to flare along the exposed skin on her ribs and along her arms as she thought back on Sharon’s words.

“I hope I look that good at her age.” Danny shifted his hip to rest on his other boot, looking somewhat uncomfortable in the suit he was wearing that Bianca probably forced him into.

“Which one?” She asked taking the drinks they’d been ordered to get for their bosses. Examining Sharon up and down as she had done many times before realizing she’d never stopped to think about her age. “How old is she?” She accidentally whispered out loud.

“37…but I’d rather be like B.” He quickly rambled off in her direction as they approached the group of reminiscing woman that now included the host of the evening as well. “She’s everything I wanna be when I’m 57 - ouch-uh!” He whined when Bianca slapped his arm.

“Hey I heard that asshole!” She scolded making Alaska laugh, a laugh that was quickly hidden when a not so subtle glare and a disapproving shake of her head was thrown her way by Sharon.

“Go see if they need help in the kitchen, make yourself useful.” Bianca took her drink from him and pointed with the glass of white wine towards the door next to the bar.

“You too.” Sharon threw Alaska’s way.

“Wait no.” Chad stopped her. “I want to take a look at this outfit first, you pick it?”

“No, Sharon did. It’s not what I’d normally wear.” She began explaining looking down at her half naked chest, the comment making her blush proudly. “But I actually love it, it’s very cu…”

“Yes yes, you’re very fetching dear, now go fetch.” Sharon rolled her eyes in her usual uninterested fashion to keep herself from staring too much as Alaska sauntered off following Danny’s lead.

She founding herself bonding with her fellow assistant almost too easy, conversation flowing freely and inside jokes already sticking between them.

Jinkx however who had been stirring some kind of soup when they went in hadn’t even gotten so much as a how are you from her.

She still had an off sense of competitiveness towards the older ginger and after seeing her so casually and over friendly with Sharon in her office that morning she was ready to dip her face in said soup.

Not that she was a bad person, she seemed pleasant enough but something about her made Alaska’s gut bubble with jealousy.

“How much longer you think it’s gon’ be?” Bianca came into the room at one point to check on the dinner’s progress soon after Jinkx had taken the soup starter off the stovetop.

Alaska wouldn’t normally have been this nosey but seeing Bianca’s arm so lovingly thrown over Danny’s waist, a sight she didn’t ever get to see at the office, made her curious. And envious.

It made her long for Sharon more than anything else, it made her wish the older woman would come in and do the same.

Envisioning her forearm with the small bat wings tattooed on it wrapping around her ribs to pull her into her embrace where she would drop her head into her collar for Sharon to place a peck on her forehead.

Running her fingertips and her freshly manicured, considerably shorter thank God, nails through her tangled hair and across her scalp, disturbing the cute puffy top knot buns.

She’d then say something witty and annoyed about Alaska always coming undone so easily and they’d laugh it off while she fixed her hair for her.

But none of that happened.

She knew none of that would happen but still a girl could dream. Even when another woman with big black hair and a sweet Disney esch voice came in to introduce herself and help with the meal preparation she kept daydreaming.

Pictures of Sharon’s hand wandering across her inner thigh like they did at the Runway gala, or even her fingernails scratching up and down her forearm that laid on the table while they ate their meal flashing through her mind.

Taking her back home when they were done after their final glass of wine or coffee where she’d pull her into her lap in the big lush chair in the living room.

Kissing her with as much passion as she did while they were getting dressed but this time she’d be able to return it. Able to run her hands up into Sharon’s hair with no concerns of getting smacked, no concerns of being scolded for messing up her hair but just soft kisses along her jaw.

Then she’d take her to bed where she’d sit on her face and then fall asleep with her arms around her, whispering how much she loves her as they fall asleep together.

But somewhere the back of her mind began producing images of Jaremi too. Her little scenario reminding her of him too much - trying to keep up appearances of a happy couple all night but then getting home where they’d fight, fuck and go to bed.

“Let me touch up your lips before dinner.” The voice of the woman she’d been fantasizing about spoke behind her.

“What’s wrong with them?” She tried, and failed, shaking off the sinking feeling in her gut. Hoping Sharon wouldn’t pick up on it if she didn’t turn away from the dishwasher where she’d been busy placing the utensils they’d used away.

“You smeared them, c’mon. Here.” Sharon’s heels could be heard clicking into place behind her.

When Alaska finally turned around ready to obey she was met with Sharon standing closer behind her than she’d expected, just one small step separating her from the finger pointed at the ground.

She also noticed for the first time that in her daydreaming the others had already left to go dish up for their waiting guests and that Sharon had taken off her coat.

The sleeves of her button up tucked into her pants now rolled up over her elbows exposing the tattoo she had envisioned wrapping around her.

“Now.” Sharon sighed when Alaska took the step forward. Unrolling the tube of lipstick she’d kept in her purse while her other hand kept her face still. Her thumb sliding softly over her cheekbone as a small act of comfort. “From one weirdo to another who’s done this one too many times before, why are you hiding away in here?”

“Was just thinking of this paper for my end semester I have to - “

“Bullshit.” Sharon stopped her harshly, bringing up the other hand as well to tilt her head to the side so she’d have to look her in the eyes. “Tell me.”

“I was hoping you’d come in here, and then you didn’t and I…I started thinking about Jaremi…” She admitted waiting for whatever negative response she’d get.

“Do you want to go back to him?” She asked with a hint of protectiveness in her soft voice to which Alaska feverishly shook her head no. “I’m just catching up with old friends, baby. God I can’t let you out of my sight for a minute.” There it was, that comment she’d been waiting for. She had to admit her heart skipped a beat from knowing Sharon so well, that or she was just way more predictable than she’d care to acknowledge.

“I’m good though.” She lied making Sharon lift her brows knowingly. “I will be, I’ll be good don’t worry.”

“Atta girl.” Sharon smiled at her kissing her forehead, her lips lingering against her scalp a minute before placing a kiss on her lips too. “Now c’mon, you’re being rude by making everyone wait.”

“Can I ask a question?” Alaska finally asked when they got into the ride home.

“It you have to.” Sharon groaned rubbing her eyes with her thumb and index finger.

“Why the pants?”

“Sorry?” She looked up confused from under her lashes, her hand still hovering over her forehead moving towards Alaska’s back.

“You always pick really showing dresses for me, why pants?”

“I didn’t trust either of us in skirts tonight.” She admitted, leaning closer to her so she could graze her hand up from her knee to her inner thigh where it gave a tight squeeze as her other hand drew her in closer so she could kiss her neck. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands from wandering.”

Alaska released an involuntary moan and instantly felt her cheeks growing red, embarrassingly red. Quickly squeezing her legs shut to avoid Sharon’s hand repeating what it had done at dinner.

Shortly after they’d returned to the dinner table Sharon introduced her to her ‘prodigy designer’ Giovanni, a young boy who recently turned 20 that she’d been grooming to be one of the greatest names in fashion before he’s even 25.

The same one who so politely complimented her pants, reciting the way it was made and how there had been exactly 5 of them made thus far before he asked who the genius was that designed ‘the simply fabulous garmet’.

To which she blushingly smiled acknowledging him as said genius and started a conversation about how Raja’s punch had to be avoided at all costs unless she also wanted to end up in Hoboken in just a poncho. After that they all sat down to enjoy their well earned meal.

Almost all of them, Alaska hadn’t even taken one spoonful of her soup before she felt Sharon’s fingertips graze against her crotch. Playing it off as simply missing when she tried to take her hand so they could say grace.

After that eating felt impossible, every time she’d let her guard down to eat she’d feel long lanky fingers prodding through the fabric at the soft part of her inner thigh right next to her clit.

Granted it wasn’t all bad. Throughout the night aided by copious amounts of fine wines that were expertly paired with each dish and a lot of reminiscing Alaska had gotten to know the human side of Sharon.

Not just glimpses here or there but she actually seemed to enjoy herself, laughing with the group as they recounted stories of their college days together. It was as if she could picture herself and her roommates joining in in 10 or even 20 years and they’d still be as cheerful.

Halfway through the night there were no longer and snuck stares or longing gazes between courses at each other, Sharon’s hand was either resting on Alaska’s thigh or holding hers. It was better than any of her fantasies could’ve conjured.

By the end of the meal while they were having coffee before dessert the topic had switched to their assistant days at Runway. When Chad held Bianca’s position and she was merely a credited deigned in the back pages.

And while they were in full nostalgic swing Sharon rested with her hand in her palm as the other leaned across to scratch lazy patterns and shapes into Alaska’s forearm.

They were finally at peace, and she wasn’t ready for it to end.

“Told you if you were good you’d get to play.” Sharon growled in her ear tugging at her lobe but releasing it just in time so the driver opening her door wouldn’t catch them.

Sharon strutted as powerfully and effortlessly as she always did into her apartment building with Alaska nervously dawdling behind her all the way till the elevator where they were met with a young ish looking couple who quickly ran out when the saw the ever fear striking Miss Needles walking their way.

“Never gets old.” Sharon winked in her direction when the doors closed behind them.

She’d waited for Sharon to suddenly pounce her like she had done that first night together behind these very closed doors but instead the older woman had seemed far too distracted with some business email on her phone.

Giving up on the prospect of being ravished right there and then Alaska took a deep breath and slowly released it again, feeling like for the first time all day she could take a breather without the fear of what might happen to her next. Or the impending cloud that loomed over her scared of what impression she’d make on the other guests.

“Let’s go, my beautiful little girl.” Sharon stroked her hand with the back of hers, cocking her head when the elevator doors opened.

With a possessive hand on her hip Sharon lead her towards the front door where she told her to remove her make up, undress carefully to avoid ruining the outfit and then wait for her in bed while she finished her work for the evening.

Like the good little pet she had grown to be and honestly sick to death of having to walk around in the ungodly tall boots she had been in all night or the thick make up, she made her way up the stairs and into the en suite bathroom.

Just like she had done earlier in the evening she rid herself of any troubles, metaphorically of course, with two square cotton wipes and a simple tug of her pants.

Carefully stepping out of her shoes as well as the far too expensive pants but deciding to keep on the top since it matched the now, thanks to Sharon’s relentless teasing, ruined panties.

Making her way to the oversized bed where she’d napped in earlier after splashing some cold water on her face.

Sitting up on her knees first she double checked that she was once again, and 100% authentically this time, Alaska. Alaska plus some new bruises but Alaska none the less.

“God they would not stop droning on would they?” Sharon exasperatedly sighed leaning against the bedroom door with one hand so the other could take of her pumps. “That top is cute on you by the way remind me to get you another one.”

“Why another one?” Alaska inquired to no avail, scooting over to the edge of the bed where Sharon had plopped herself down onto with her pants already unbuttoned.

She began helping her undress by first sliding off her jacket for her. “Thank you my love, my neck is killing me.”

“Can I?”

“You may.” Sharon corrected her as if correcting a child, running her fingers through her hair while Alaska leaned over her shoulders to unbutton her shirt further as she began nipping along each new piece of exposed skin.

Aided in her unclothing process when the older stood up and turned to face her so she could grab the bottom of the shirt and pull it out of her pants before she carefully maneuvered it off as well.

Hesitantly at first kissing her stomach where some faint red lines had formed on her skin from the tight pants digging into her. Her eyes locked on Sharon’s every move, even the way her chest rose and fell rhythmically.

God it was like everything she did was beautiful, and she couldn’t keep herself from looking away for even a second in case she missed it.

“Let me go take my make up of first.” Sharon took one of the hands creeping into her pants along her waist, kissing her knuckles before she removed her pants herself and wandered off into the bathroom.

Repeating the same process Alaska did but adding an extra step in which she washed the product out of her hair first.

Flicking off the bathroom light so it would really look like she was Nosferatu himself as she sauntered back towards the bed now in just her ungodly sexy lingerie and nothing else, not even a stitch of make up.

“You’re pretty.” Alaska yawned wiggling her butt so she’d be sitting more comfortably on her knees as she watched Sharon slip the straps of her bra off and unhook her garters.

“Unhook me please.” The older asked disregarding her compliment with her back turned to her. Giving Alaska a grade A view of her perfectly curved ass while she helped her remove her final items of clothing. Even her panties. “Thank you.” She smiled turning around to crawl onto the bed with her.

Her hand stretching on onto Alaska’s bare stomach to give her a hard push so she’d smack down onto the bed.

Crawling over on top of her towards her face, or that’s how it seemed from Alaska’s point of view, instead she stopped when she reached her navel.

Taking two small bites along each hip bone as her eyes stayed locked on the glittery browns of Alaska’s eyes she lowered herself onto her elbows, tilting herself lower so she’d be able to lean back on her knees and give the pool of lust that stained the thin white panties a long slow lick.

“Oh fu…” Alaska breathed out dropping her head.

Sharon’s cheeks spread into a devilish grin as she watched Alaska worming around in the sheets from just one small touch. “This is gonna’ be fun.”

She placed another quick kiss right where she’d licked and then another on her thigh next to it, then between her hips, then her navel. Continuing till she reached Alaska’s neck where she carefully, making sure she didn’t hurt her, bit into the bruises on her neck before giving each a lick.

Her fingers sliding across the fabric as carefully as possible while her free hand held the back of her head, coaching her up to look her in the eyes.

“If you’re still sore tell me okay?” She made Alaska promise first before she sat back up, straddling the smaller girl’s waist to hook her hands into the cleavage of her tank top. “But we won’t be needing this anymore.”

“I thought…” Alaska instantly jumped up onto her elbows in a panicked daze when she saw Sharon pulling her arms apart to rip the shirt straight down the middle. “That’s worth more than a year’s world of my rent and you just…”

“Tonight.” Sharon interrupted her matter of factly with a kiss. “I don’t care.”

Another kiss.

“No rules.”

Another.

“You can touch.”

Another.

“Kiss, cum, scream.”

Another.

“As you please.” This time instead of a kiss she sat back pulling Alaska up into her lap. “No rules, no restraints. You know why?”

“Hm-mh.” Alaska bit her lip to hide her cheeky grin as she shook her head, drunk of Sharon’s touch.

“Because, I love you.”

#the devil named sharon #imafuckinglibra #sharon needles #alaska thunderfuck #shalaska #adore delano #bianca del rio #cisgirl au #smut #fluff #rpdr fanfiction #submission #lesbian au

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not-that-blog · 5 years ago

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Things my heavily abusive ex-fiancé did that I’m making a post out of because I spent too long on him and all these things were red flags.

- Told me I wasn’t good enough one minute but told me I was the next. He made me feel crazy for doubting myself when I was upset with anything that wasn’t him, but guilty and confused if it was because of him or would affect him.

- Told me who I could and couldn’t see/date despite me being very adamant from the beginning he did not get to have that kind of power. So instead, he took any negative he could find and made me think that’s what was hurting me. Not his actions. He apologised for what he did so to him he was fine, but my beautiful ex-gf whom I still love, he blamed her issues with transitioning and my ex-bf who I’m still friends with was ‘too emotionally manipulative’ (how the fuck did I ever believe that idk) and ‘wanted attention when I was clearly exhausted and couldn’t give it’ (like yeah, it was just before I got my wheelchair, but that’s still kinda bs)

- Refused to share the bed with me because ‘there wasn’t enough space and it caused pain’ but would then become super upset and aggressive if I didn’t sleep next to him. Seriously, he didn’t care if I was on the couch or the floor or a chair downstairs or stayed up all night with my face in a brick wall, but he 100% gave a shit when someone else cuddled me on the couch because they were worried because I’d cried in my sleep (my current adoring partner) or if I went and slept on a friend’s bed (which they’d offered to sleep on the couch for me to have but I was like ‘hell nah, we’re sharing it’ this was also my current partner who’s freaking great and loving and makes me feel so safe after everything I went through)

- Told me they would do things I physically couldn’t do, didn’t do them till I’d asked multiple times and would then yell at me for asking them to do something they were ‘too tired to do’ and would go off at me for not doing enough... I was fucking paralysed most of the time. I physically couldn’t move.

- Was inappropriate around my friends, intentionally outcasted me, made me feel guilty for his actions and told me I ‘didn’t prepare him for it’ well enough, then discouraged and sometimes was an actual physical barrier stopping me going to parties.

- Upset my family, what I didn’t realise was this was because he insulted me and mocked me regularly, even when I wasn’t there. He wouldn’t show affection or offer to help me around them. And I know now that’s because he didn’t help me to help me, he use to help me to distract me from things he’d just said or done that if I wasn’t instantly distracted from, I would know were red flags.

- Told me I was responsible for the suicide of my first girlfriend.

- Told me I was a horrible person because of choices I made at 13-14 that were realistically me setting boundaries and saying I didn’t want a drug addicted person who hurt me in my life anymore because they decided to react badly to that.

- Told me that if I ever left or told the truth about things he’d done to me he would kill himself and it would be my fault.

- Told me that I was being stupid and straight out refused when I asked him not to do certain things sexually because they made me afraid.

- Refused to ‘please me’ before trying to have penetrative sex and would constantly tell me it was my fault he couldn’t get it in me and that it hurt to the point I would cry. Would then go off at me for not being able to please him in any other way because I was having a panic attack.

- Told me that me not wanting to shave made me gross and would shame me into shaving my body, fully. My first act of defiance from that was not shaving at all in my new relationship, my current partner didn’t say anything about it and still finds me beautiful.

- Masturbated on top of me while I was paralysed in my sleep. I woke up to this multiple times.

- Forced me to preform oral sex. I won’t go down on anyone anymore because the flashbacks are so bad I get suicidal.

-Raped me. It was first thing in the morning. I was paralysed and he held my hands together so I couldn’t fight him. He had me pinned and raped me. I never told anyone it was an*al rape. I didn’t stop bleeding for a few months. I never went to hospital or saw a doctor. I can still feel the scaring when I move. I wake up from nightmares sometimes. Until my new partner, the idea of being little spoon to anybody made me cry in fear. Even now, I can’t sleep without pants on if I’m little spoon. I don’t wear dresses to bed anymore. We went to a party that night. I told an incredibly drunk friend what had happened to me, the next morning, they didn’t remember. It was the only time I’ve told anyone in detail. I didn’t drink, I tried but it made the pain and the bleeding worse. After it all I self harmed. He told me if I ever self harmed he would leave me. I wanted him to leave me. He didn’t.

- He told me he loved me and that he was sorry and it would never happen again and that it hurt him soooo much and that the flashbacks of what he did to me haunted him. It was all lies. He never loved me. He never meant the apologies. He never cared. He silenced me by crying knowing I wouldn’t know how to respond. It was all fake. He was a fake. He hurt me.

He was abusive and cold and manipulative.

I discovered he told his family we were engaged and that I’d left him and that I was dating his use to be best friend, all after we broke up. Because he told his ‘best friend’ to avoid his family in public. He never told me that.

His mother probably hates me, because she thinks I’ve ruined her sons life be stealing his best friend and running away.

He lost his best friend because he told them that he was the one who’d sexually assaulted me last year then began fake crying and pretending to be apologetic and told them how traumatic it was for him and that he loves and wishes he could stop me from hurting... while I’d had to go to the bathroom to calm my panic attack because he was crying trying to emotionally manipulate me into dating him again. I’m still impressed no one punched him.

I feel like a broken shell and honestly I’m still barely holding onto life because of what he did to me.

I just hope I can make sure no one else ignores red flags

#mine #personal #red flags #abuse

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liayeee-blog · 6 years ago

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To summarize it to my best degree, the next chapter of this book, named Destruction is basically about Rose’s experiences with her current ex boyfriend/fiancé. She called him “RR.” This chapter is the longest chapter in the book, I’m pretty sure, so I’m only going to mention the significant details. She met RR at a fancy party in France. Instead of partying, they were both sitting alone on the couch. Naturally, they started to talk. It was pretty much love at first sight for Rose, but RR was a director, and as an actress, she didn't want people thinking that she was simply sucking up to him in order to get a movie role or something. After the party, they didn't talk again for many weeks, until one day, they coincidentally texted each other at the same time. Rose saw this as some kind of sign, and from then on they were pretty much inseparable. Things went super fast. She reflects on this, saying, “Please take heed: when someone tries to insert himself into your life very quickly and rushes to tell you he loves you, that should be a big warning sign.” Unfortunately, Rose didn't realize this at the time, and when RR’s true identity started to show, she was too blinded to see it. They moved in together, and the relationship quickly became toxic. For starters, he already had a wife. Because of this, Rose was constantly afraid of him leaving and going back to her. She did anything and everything to keep him happy. He would become outraged if even just the name of one of Rose’s exes was mentioned in the media. He encouraged her to cut off all contact with her friends and family, and she did. He told her to cover up, and she did.

Being a director, RR wrote a movie that Rose would star in. The movie is called Planet Terror. RR promised Rose that he would save her career. He was always telling her that she was lucky to be with him, and she believed it. Once they started filming, Rose was put under a lot of stress. At the time, she was also still filming the T.V. show, Charmed. She was constantly going back and forth, from L.A. to Texas. She barely got any rest. It didn’t help that the two roles she had to balance were completely different. On the set of Planet Terror, she had to perform her own stunts, all while wearing high heels on one foot, and a giant, uncomfortable cast on the other (long story, yes her leg was okay). Over time RR would get meaner, and meaner. He wrote in scenes that forced Rose to relive her traumatic experiences, knowing what had happened. Rose had lost a lot of weight from stress. At one point, RR accused Rose of cheating on him (she didn’t). He said he was going to fire her. Rose had a full on panic-attack, of course. She was afraid of losing her job, and the guy she loved. He forced her to take a lie detector test. The results were inconclusive.

Later that day, back on set, Rose was forced to do a stunt that ended up giving her permanent nerve damage. She told RR that she couldn’t do it, but he still made her push harder. She felt her arm snap. She felt like she was going to faint from the pain. Despite that, she still continued to film for the rest of the day. She talks about how acting can ruin a person. “As an actor, you trick and abuse your emotions, bringing pain up only to have to shove it back down when you hear, ‘CUT!’ I believe acting, dramatic acting, is a form of self-abuse.” I thought this was really interesting because I’ve never considered it this way. RR didn’t help Rose pay for the surgeries for her arm. She ended up having three. It cost her thousands of dollars, and she still suffers from pain today.

#aplang19book

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dirtymikekidd · 4 years ago

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One of my biggest issues..

Work... I used to be one of the best employees a company could ask for. I wasn’t the kind of person to come in late and half-ass their work. I was the one who was always smiling and ready to jump in with everything I had. I looked forward to every shift. Not because I was getting paid, but because I enjoyed everyone I worked with. My first job was technically a kitchen position at Dairy Queen back in 2009. I know everyone’s first job is fast food. But I don’t consider that my first job. Mostly because I was in a co-op class (so I went to school for half the day then I went to work.) which interfered with marching band--that was an important grade for me. I had to quit Dairy Queen when they threatened to fire me for going to a required band competition. So fast forward to December of 2011. I scored a delivery position at an pizza place called Mazzio’s. There I met who would become my fiancée later down the road. I thought I was doing decently well there until they started scheduling me less and less. Which while it sucked at the time, it helped push me to start looking at other places to possibly work. There was a few months of unemployment until I landed a food prep position at a BBQ restaurant called Charlie Dave’s. Funnily enough, one of the owners, Matt, was actually my dad’s high school bestfriend. Over the 2 years I was there, I moved up the ranks until I was the co-cook during the weekend dinner rushes. During the week I was the one who came in, got the smoker fired, meat prepped and on the grill, and then started cooking orders through the day I was there 6 of the 7 days a week. 9am-10pm. The pay was enough that I could keep gas and insurance on my truck...(most of the time at least.) Close to the end of my time there, I started listening to that voice in the back of my head. You know the one who tells you how bad you’re doing, and how much things would be better if you weren’t there. Even if someone complemented me on how well something cooked. I wouldn’t believe them. I actually did Matt and Chuck dirty by walking out on them right as a twenty top came in for dinner. I never apologized to them for it... On some days I cut my schedule in half because I had gotten another pizza delivery job at Domino’s and I had to work both places. By the summer of 2014 I was living about an hour and a half one way from both jobs. and I couldn’t afford making the drive there and back. Especially when I had to deliver pizza on top of the drive. I quit Charlie Dave’s about two weeks before Domino’s. Neither were totally planned out. I didn’t have any money stashed away to keep myself afloat while looking for other work. I tried working as a cook at a homestyle restaurant that my girlfriend at the time’s mom managed. I didn’t last long because of that ugly voice in my head coming up again. I didn’t even make it a week before I quit. My girlfriend and I broke up and I moved back to my hometown. By this point I felt like I was at a new low. I barely wanted to get out of bed some days. By late summer of 2014, I responded to a help wanted ad for lawn mowing. Perfect I thought. I already enjoyed cutting grass at home. and I wasn’t getting paid for it. So I got hired. I thought I was doing pretty good. Well except on my first day. I managed to run a weed-eater up a customer’s bush, killing it in the process. But I was getting the hang of things. As the season was ending, my boss told me about how he owned a BBQ restaurant. Just so happened to be the only competition to Charlie Dave’s in town. He offered me a cooking position, but I couldn’t start for about a month because I had to be 21 to work there. My 21st birthday passes and I call him to let him know. Perfect. I was back to making money and being productive. February 2015 rolls around. I request off for Valentine’s weekend. I had a romantic weekend planned for my girlfriend and I. You know nice weekend away from everyone and a hotel room. But work that Friday night had other plans. The person who was supposed to be there with me decided she didn’t want to be there anymore because there wasn’t anyone really coming in. so she leaves and it was like a bunch of buses let out in front because I was instantly hit with a line of people that stretched out the door. I was one person doing the job of four. I was taking orders, making the food, running it to the tables, and clearing tables. Something that I obviously couldn’t get done on my own. But I did what I could. I even Clocked out and hour and a half passed what I normally would’ve. The next day I drove her to park at the lake. I had her close eyes before I parked so that I could pull up next to the water where I thought the scenery was beautiful. I had forgotten that she had a traumatic event with her car and water. so when she opened her eyes, all she saw was water. Panic instantly overcame her. Which was the total opposite of what I was trying to do. I had taken her there so I could propose to her. She did say yes at least. We continued our date day, making our engagement posts on all of our socials, before finally going to our hotel. The next day I was supposed to work. I walked in the door and the boss pulled me into the back office. He told me that what he had walked into the day before was completely unacceptable and that he needed my key. I was fired. I tried to explain what had happened and that I had tried calling him multiple times trying to get help. He wouldn’t listen. I gave him my key and walked out. I went from being on top of the world to wanting to drive off a bridge. All in just 24 hours... I had never been told how bad of a job I did. In a way though it was a blessing. The food was shit. And it all came cold and was “cooked” in a microwave. The blessing came a couple months later when they went out of business. It probably wasn’t karma, but I like to think it was because Fuck him. About a month later I landed a job as a closing clerk at a gas station. After I got hired I found out my manager was actually a cousin of my fiancée’s. When I started the gas station job I was told that they couldn’t keep a guy working there very long. I made that my new mission to break the streak. After about a year, all of the clerks that had been there before me had quit. I had broken the record. I also managed to get promoted from clerk to assistant manager. By the fall of 2017 though, I got involved in a he said/ she said situation. Which completely broke all of the confidence about my work quality. After two weeks of suspension, I was told i could go back to work. But I also was warned that if i said or did anything that could be taken the wrong way, I was going to be fired on the spot. I couldn’t deal with that kind of worry and constant looking over my shoulder...I quit and left. Fast forward to 2019. After almost two years of not working and hating myself, I got a job cooking at Buffalo Wild Wings. I instantly hated it. I was too worried about the quality of the food i was sending out that i actually got into it a couple times with the other guys in the kitchen. The last shift i was there, there was someone mirco-managing me and I snapped and went off on them telling them to leave the fuck alone and to worry about their own shit. Bad move. Turns out it was a district supervisor. I walked out before they could fire me. Summer passes and I’m still looking for work. I answered an ad looking for stage hands. My dream job. If I couldn’t make a living playing music, then setting stages was the next best thing. Every gig we worked, I didn’t feel like it was work. It just felt like a dream. I guess it kind of was. 2020 happened and I went from working almost every weekend to only working 4 times in the entire year. With all of the down time I started listening more and more to that voice in my head. It was sounding more and more true about how much of a shit employee I was. 2021 starts and I start to work with my fiancée at an art manufacturing company down the road from our house. It started okay.. Until the voice came back. Now I’m back to putting too much pressure on myself because I’m worried I’m going to fuck something up and get fired. Honestly at this point I wouldn’t be surprised if they did. I loth waking up each morning. I feel trapped in an endless cycle. After not showing up for three days without calling, I found out I would be fired if I did it again. So I cut my availability in half in hopes of not being fired for leaving at noon. I don’t know what I’m doing. People there tell me I’m doing a good job. But honestly I think everything I send out is fucked up in one way of another..

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ernmark · 7 years ago

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Do you think Rilla loves Damien the way he loves her? It seems that she loves him as a friend and less romantically

I was wondering the same thing the first time we met her. Now that we’ve spent some time with her, though, the short answer is yes, I absolutely think she loves him as more than a friend.

We’ve seen that Rilla repeatedly prioritizes Damien above herself and above others around her. Of course, it’s hard to see that clearly because Rilla is naturally a lot lower energy and generally more reserved than Damien is, so we see her express her feelings a lot less openly than he does– and she has a vested interest in keeping it that way.

Before I plunge into my evidence jar, though, I’d like to add a caveat:

Aromanticism is a thing that exists. You could easily make the argument that Rilla is aromantic and that her love for Damien is more in line with a queerplatonic relationship than a romantic one, but either way, Damien’s going to hold Most Important Person status in Rilla’s book.

Rilla prioritizes Damien. A lot.

I’ve talked before about her grand entrance during the second duel: she heard the sounds of a struggle, she saw a dead rat the size of a horse, she knew he (an armed, trained Knight of the Queen) was in danger,and she (a civilian specifically not trained in combat) came running to his aid anyway.

So we already know that she prioritizes his safety over her own. You could make the argument that that’s kind of her schtick as a medical professional. After all:

You try having as manypeople relying on you as I do, Marc, and then tell me if you can afford tobe scared.

Even so, she worries about Damien to a degree that we haven’t seen her worry about anybody else-- particularly Marc and Talfryn. Marc refers to Rilla as being “like my sister for as longas I can remember”, which indicates a pretty solid and long-lasting friendship; I wouldn’t be surprised if they were counted as two of her best friends. Marc and Tal are capable, but they’re still both civilians, they’re poorly outfitted and equipped, they’re seemingly always just short of essential supplies like food and Marc’s medicine, and they don’t have the Knights of the Citadel backing them up when they leap headlong into danger. But Rilla pointedly doesn’t freak out about either of them the way she does about Damien.

Look at her priorities when it came to destroying the Damien decoy:

I just knew that if he wasreal, and if you or I or Dampierre or anyone else somehow got hurt trying tosave him, he’d never forgive himself.

Note that it wasn’t “I couldn’t let you or Dampierre get hurt”-- it was that either of them getting hurt would be bad for Damien specifically. (This isn’t to say she doesn’t care about her friends, just what takes precedence in her mind.)

I think it’s also important to point out that she was willing to kill Damien herself-- which was incredibly traumatic for her, even if it wasn’t actually him-- in order to spare him from a trauma so intense that it would be “worse than killing him”.

That’s all in the dramatic life-or-death stuff, but it also shows up in the little everyday things. Look back to the first night of the festival:

RILLA: I don’t like to admit it, but I always look forward to the Festival of the Three. The flags, the fights, even those goofy-looking tents…DAMIEN: It’s Saint Aaron’s Night tonight. You should go see some of the fights in the square.RILLA: I don’t think so. I think I’d rather be here. With you.

Looking at the context: it’s almost midnight, she’s exhausted, she’s already seen Damien that morning (probably early that morning, too), there’s an event below that she’s really excited about, and she’s probably got other friends down there that she could hang out with. But she climbs at least four stories worth of stairs to come see him while he’s on guard duty, and she insists on hanging out with him even after he tells her to go and have fun without him.

Even in the little everyday ways, being with him is her priority.

So yes. Damien is Very Important to Rilla. Arguably more so than most of the people in her life. But that comes across more in her actions than in her words for one big reason:

Rilla isn’t very open in general.

It’s a pretty striking contrast, really: Damien is energetic and excitable, and he’s so quick to talk about his emotions that “I must speak my heart” is his freakin’ catchphrase. Standing next to him, absolutely anybody is going to look quiet and reserved by comparison. Rilla in particular has a fairly low-energy personality, and she’s particularly not the kind of person who talks about her feelings freely.

If her behaviors aren’t enough evidence on their own, we can always point to her description in the script:

Likes people, but really likes her alone time. (KotC/LotS)

Mostly just wants to beleft alone. (TH)

The woman is a Grade A introvert.

(Speaking of extremely introverted ladies with extroverted love interests, this isn’t the first time on the Penumbra that we’ve seen a relationship that’s lopsided in terms of energy levels and emotional expression. In fact, I’d argue that Juno and Peter are even more so, with one key difference: Juno is the narrator, so we can see all the pining and infatuation that doesn’t actually make it into his dialogue.)

Like I said, Rilla’s pretty emotionally reserved. The first time we see her hold Damien’s hand, it’s while he’s working himself into a panic about Angelo. The first time we see her hug him, it’s when he’s freaking out about Arum. We see her gently ribbing and being casually affectionate with him (calling him “sir poet”, laughing with him, teasing him during the story, etc), but when he’s upset, she’s a whole lot more clear and careful about her affection. It’s important to her that he understand that she cares about him.

It’s not just Damien she’s reserved with, either-- she teases Marc too, but a lot harder, and it’s clear that it hurts him:

MARC: I’ve been riding days to seeyou, Rilla! You must have a couple minutes for your best friend.RILLA: I already said hi to Dampierre.MARC: (NERVOUS LAUGH) Careful. If you keep joking about that, I mightstart to think it’s true.

Compare that to the way she speaks to Damien just a few minutes before:

RILLA: I had a good time, Damien. I’m just tired.DAMIEN: Tired? Have I tired you?RILLA: (EXHAUSTED) No. Actually, staying up all night at the festival made me tired. Weird, right?

She’s a lot more gentle with him, and for good reason. I think if she started joking with Damien the way she does with Marc, he’d take it to heart instantly. I mean, look at what happened when Rilla sidestepped a question:

Did I ask her when? I don’t recall. Did I ask her and she didn’t answer? What does that mean, Saint Damien? Does it mean she doesn’t want to marry me? That she doesn’t love me? Perhaps she doesn’t today. Perhaps she never has, or what if— No, no. That’s absurd.... But… then why wouldn’t she answer? Have I pressured her too much? No, no… but what if I have?What if I always have? I’ll have to ask her....

And so forth.

Where Rilla is relatively callous toward Marc, she goes out of her way to reassure Damien that she does love him.

RILLA: I know it’s hard for you. I’ll say it as many times as I need to. I love you, Damien.

Her wording here-- “as many times as I need to”-- seems to indicate that this is a bit outside of her comfort zone. Most of her behavior here seems to be a little bit outside her comfort zone, actually. She doesn’t seem the type who typically says she loves people so directly, or initiates casual physical contact. The fact that she does for Damien’s sake says a lot.

Rilla doesn’t do vulnerability.

I’ve mentioned before that when Marc is hurting or scared, he gets mouthy. Rilla does the opposite. When she starts feeling vulnerable, she tries to stop the conversation altogether.

RILLA: The poetry’s seen better days. He’s in the middle of a sonnets phase, but at least it’s better than the odes.MARC: And the monsters?RILLA: (TOO DEFENSIVE) They’re monsters? What do you want?MARC: You… just didn’t mention—RILLA: Marc, do you mind? I can’t with you talking.

Notice how abruptly she goes from a perfectly normal (if a little bit grouchy) conversation to completely shutting him down. And then we see her do it again:

MARC: Alright, so. We just need to figure out if this is an illusion, right? So could this have been pulled from the pain-center of your brain?RILLA: Oh, what a shock. The sight of my fiancée being crushed to death upsets me.MARC: No, I mean… today. Tal was on my mind today and the Rattle-Panther was on Dampierre’s. Why would you be worried about a monster killing Damien today?RILLA: (SNAPPING) Just stop and let me think!

And again:

MARC: Ha ha, Rilla, you did it! Did you see that thing burst? It was another fungus-illusion all along! (PAUSE. SHE DOESN’T RESPOND. HE TRIES TO CHEER HER UP) So, um, how did you figure it out?RILLA: I didn’t.MARC: Uh… what?RILLA: (PAUSE. WHEN SHE SPEAKS, SHE NEEDS TO COLLECT HERSELF, NOT THE SAMPLES) Listen, I… just need a second to collect some samples. We still have to make your medicine.

She tries really hard to do it again, but Marc isn’t backing down, and eventually she cracks and actually starts saying what’s on her mind:

MARC: Are you sure… are you sure you want to marry someone like that? That mushroom showed us the thought hurts you, but… it’s going to happen, one day. Do you really want to live through that?RILLA: Marc, I’m tired. Just take your medicine and get out of here, okay? Please?MARC: Rilla, I’m trying to talk—RILLA: And I’m trying to stop talking, so drop it.(BEAT. THEN, ANGRY)Don’t condescend to me, okay? I can be scared that Damien is going to die in the slime of some monster and still want him to be a knight. I think he’s an idiot for it, but whatever. I love him. I want him to be happy. And if that means burying him with a talon through his heart one day, fine. I’ll do it.

Marc isn’t the only one she shuts down this way when she gets upset-- but when she does it with Damien, it sounds different:

DAMIEN: Please don’t worry for me, Rilla. This is my duty as a knight.RILLA: I’m not worried about you. You’ll win. You always win. I’m just trying to keep you from killing yourself in the process.

DAMIEN: But… my duel tonight…RILLA: After your duel. (HIDING HER CONCERN IN A BORED TONE) You’ll win, Damien. You always win.DAMIEN: But if I don’t… promise me you’ll remember me for last night? Dancing beneath the bell? Not—RILLA: Fine, I promise. Now go. I want sleep.

Once again, she shuts down the conversation-- but rather than snapping at him the way she does with Marc, she uses droll confidence to deny that Damien dying is even an option.

She probably could talk about this with Damien-- after all, he prioritizes her as much as she does him-- but if he thought his being a knight was hurting her, he’d probably seriously consider giving it up, and she’s not willing to stop him from doing what he loves. So she keeps her mouth shut and swallows her anxieties. And yeah, at times that means she can be a little short with him. But even then, it’s never without love.

#the penumbra podcast #penumbra meta #second citadel #remembersunflowers #this is the meta that died before

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browneyedbibliotaph · 7 years ago

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Perplexing YouTube Video(s)

My eldest enjoys watching videos on YouTube. And I can’t blame her -- YouTube has some great videos, and I spend a great deal of my time watching videos pertaining to my interests while I’m working & cleaning. However, over the last week or so, she’s told me about some videos she’s watched by this one user (and I’m not going to say what channel because I don’t want to start any serious issues; I just want to strike up a conversation and a discourse) that got me thinking about the types of content that she’s seeing.

One video that she told me about was the guy told his girlfriend/fianceé that he was done making YouTube videos because he couldn’t handle the stress. He ran out of their room and onto the balcony & jumped over the banister. Completely unknown to her, he had an inflatable bounce-house or something at the bottom that kept him from being seriously injured. The video I watched with her tonight while I made her dinner was equally perplexing: the man told the camera/viewers that his girlfriend/fiancée’s biggest fear was that someone would break into their house (understandable fear given that they have a young daughter), and then went on to prank her (his words). He had a friend come to their house later in the night and act like an intruder. He played along and, only after his girlfriend/fiancée was close to breaking down, then confessed to her that it was all a prank.

I’m just not sure how I feel about this kind of content. And it’s important for me to point out that this particular channel isn’t the only one that has put out videos like this. My daughter has told me and shown me various other channels that do similar things; it just struck me tonight in particular because of the way my daughter reacted: “Wow! That was hilarious.”

Now, I know that’s what it’s supposed to be. It’s supposed to be funny and it’s supposed to be entertaining. These are YouTubers and that is, more or less, their job -- to make people laugh and to entertain their viewers/subscribers. Maybe I’m reading too much into this WHOLE thing, but I can’t help but wonder: what is content like this teaching our children?

Of course, as I said, I could be reading way too much into this, but I think it’s something that should be considered. As someone who is currently struggling with PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder), I can’t even begin to understand what that young woman feels when she realizes that what she’s gone through -- the fear, the panic, etc. -- are the results of something that were meant to be funny and were meant to be a part of a means of entertainment. I also think it’s important for me to point out that, as I’m thinking through this, is ENTIRELY POSSIBLE that she knows what’s happening; she’s a part of this YouTube channel so it would make sense that she be involved in the process of creating videos and coming up with ideas for videos. So is it possible that she’s just a really awesome actor and isn’t actually being emotionally/psychologically damaged with these pranks? ABSOLUTELY.

But the viewers don’t always know that. I don’t think my daughter would think of that, and though she’s intelligent and understanding of the world around her (within reason), I don’t think she would immediately assume that this young woman is aware of what’s happening. So what kind of message does that pass on?

What do y’all think? Do you think there’s some kind of damaging or unpleasant messages that are being sent through content like this? Or is it nothing more than just fun and something made for entertainment and for causing some laughs? Let me know! I’d love to start a discourse with you guys about this kind of thing.

#Personal #Perplexing #YouTube Content #Motherhood #Mom Thoughts #Personal Thoughts

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chickpow · 8 years ago

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Can't Buy Me With Strawberries

Chickpow here: I found an old disc/floppy disc in my attic containing a lot of very old fanfiction from authors and websites that are either gone or taken down. I am not the author but I would like to share what I’ve found. if you find the author please let me know so I can credit them properly. Thank you and enjoy

Can't Buy Me With Strawberries

Authors' notes: In the first manga of Dragon Ball, Bulma says "I'd wish for a mountain of strawberries, but first, I need a fiancé" (or smething close to this, I read it in French, heh). This is where her passion for the fruit in this fic comes from.

Chapter I: The First Kiss

- Good bye, Goku! Take care! - See ya guys!

Bulma waved insanely to the little boy on his golden cloud until he was out of sight, then sighed with a sad smile, already missing her strange friend. Since they had met, the simple quest for Dragon Balls had turned into a great adventure and even though she hadn't been able to make her wish, she did get a fiancé. She gave a look at Yamcha, who was piloting the flying engine as laughing with Puar. "He's so cute" she thought, her heart warming up. "Cute, strong, sweet, caring, courageous..."

- Hm, Yamcha? she said with an innocent voice. - Yes?

He smiled lovingly to her. Even though a tooth was missing, his smile was still the brightest. Bulma blushed and patted his knee.

- Why don't you let Oolon pilot? We could go on the back seat and... Get to know each other better...

She winked at him, causing Oolon to whistle and Puar's eyes to widen beyond realistic possibilities.

Yamcha's skin turned to a strange shade of blue under his tan as the young girl's hand was making its way up his thigh.

- He... Couldn't reach the pedals, he said with a panicked voice. - He just have to change into something with long legs! - But I couldn't pilot for more than five minutes, said Oolon, unwilling to be the pilot.

Bulma frowned, a bit annoyed. Yamcha stared at her, helpless.

- Puar then! - I don't know how to, said the blue cat, worryingly looking at Yamcha. - Sounds like I can't go on back seat, he said, relieved.

The blue haired girl took back her hand and crossed her arms.

- Fine.

Her cold voice made the three others shiver. Yamcha felt a little bit guilty, but the relief of staying on the front seat was stronger.

After a moment of silence, he dared giving a look to his girlfriend.

- Hmm... Bulma? - What?!

"She's mad..."

- Huh... Where are we going, exactly?

~ ~ ~

- It's right there, said Bulma as pointing buildings under them.

Three pairs of eyes widened.

- It looks like a palace! said Puar. - A modern palace, corrected the teenager with a proud grin. You can land there, Yamcha. - O... Okay...

He carefully landed the engine on the perfectly green grass, almost ashamed of touching it. Bulma opened the bubble that took place of door and jumped out. She stretched, a large and satisfied smile on her face.

Yamcha helped Oolon to get on the ground, then turned his plane into a capsule. Bulma wrapped her arms around one of his, visibly forgetting her anger of a while ago.

- Let's go inside and eat... Strawberries!!

A hungry gleam lightened her blue eyes, she licked her lips. Yamcha sweat dropped, but smiled still.

She started dragging him to the main door when she noticed Oolon and Puar, one standing and one floating behind, looking a tad embarrassed.

- What are you doing?! You come too! We have a lot of place and dad loves animals, don't worry!

They both gulped and pales, but followed the couple, as Bulma as telling Yamcha about the refreshing taste of a big, red, juicy strawberry crushed by the tongue against the palate...

~ ~ ~

- Isn't it good?!

Bulma filled her mouth with some more strawberries, childishly happy. Yamcha smiled, playing with the belt of his brand new pants, gotten for him less than an hour after he'd entered Capsule Corporation. Bulma had decided he couldn't go around with his wild clothing.

- If you wanna train like that, ok, but I won't be seen with you dressed like that! she had explained, quite rudely.

He'd accepted because, anyway, he wasn't to spend his life with the same outfit. Plus, she seemed very please by his appearance now. Or almost. As she wolfed down more of her favourite fruit, her blue gaze didn't leave him, like it was looking for a default.

- She's the Goku of strawberries, whispered Oolon as sipping his coffee. - She's gonna be sick... said Puar, worry.

Bulma shook her head as she swallowed, grinning.

- I'm a lucky girl, she said. I never get sick of those delicious little things...

And more disappeared between her lips. Puar shrugged.

Mrs. Brief then walked in, her blond hair up and puffy as usual, a nice and carefree look on her beautiful face.

- Would you like to see your rooms? she asked. - Sure! quickly answered Oolon, almost drooling over the V-neckline of her dress. - Yamcha and I will stay here, said Bulma, grabbing the boy's hand and squeezing it. But Puar, go.

The cat looked at Bulma, then at Yamcha, who was grimacing but nodded to his friend.

- Go, Puar, he said. I'll see ya later. - Ok...

Once her mother and guests were gone, Bulma pulled herself closer to Yamcha, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He blushed and felt a wave of panic rising inside. "Calm down... She won't hurt you..."

- Don't you eat some? asked the young girl, posing the strawberries bowl on his lap.

Without letting him answer, she picked one and smiled nicely. Obedient, Yamcha opened his mouth and accepted the fruit. She fed him like during a moment, and he actually felt good with it. She was very close to him, but it was fine. He smiled.

- Oh Yamcha! You're so cute!

Suddenly her face was terribly close. He could smell her breath: a nice scent of strawberry... Her eyes slowly closed...

The bowl fell on the floor, its content rolling in different directions. Bulma frowned, glared at Yamcha who had jumped to the other side of the room, panicked.

- What's the problem, now?! she shouted.

Yamcha shrunk. "I can't help it..." He felt terribly bad, but he didn't think she'd believe him, especially if she hadn't noticed it by herself. So he sighed and looking down.

Bulma waited, but as he didn't answer she only got angrier. What was it with him? She wasn't good enough for him?! He bent forward and a piece of his long, black hair fell along.

- Listen, if you intend to live here, you better... Cut your hair! It's way too long!

She left the room on those words, slamming the door so hard that the walls trembled.

Yamcha ran a hand through his hair, speechless.

~ ~ ~

It was silent at the Brief's table that evening. Oolon didn't dare talking, Puar was worry for Yamcha, Bulma was still angry and her parents knew better than chatting when she was upset. Yamcha was absent. No one had seen him since his "fight" with Bulma.

Puar sighed sadly. He hadn't been separated from Yamcha like that since they knew each other...

Bulma stared at her plate, angrily chewing on her bottom lip. She wasn't hungry, filled as she was with strawberries, and felt bad about Yamcha. "I wonder where he is... He might just be lost in the house, but... Oh, I hope he's fine... I didn't mean to yell at him..."

- Yamcha!

Suddenly, Puar flew from his chair to the opening door, hugging Yamcha's arm and crying loudly. The teenager sweat dropped and patted his little friend, looking sorry.

- Where the Hell were you?! screamed Bulma, jumping on her feet, eyes in fire.

He ran a hand in his short hair, staring blankly at her.

His short hair.

He had cut his hair! Obviously... For her...

It suited him well... With his new clothes and that, he didn't look like a desert bandit anymore.

- Hello, Yamcha! I hope you're hungry, we kept food for you, just in case!

Bulma's mother got up, probably to get Yamcha's plate. Mr. Brief and Oolon's eyes followed her, shinning in the same way. Bulma shook her head and hugged her boyfriend.

- I'm sorry, she said. I shouldn't have yelled at you... - It's fine. I'm not... The perfect boyfriend... Hum... - I'll work on that.

Her charming smile made him redden. Then she noticed he was holding a bag.

- What's that? - A little gift...

The sapphire eyes started to shine and Yamcha smiled. She was so beautiful...

Suddenly he found himself pulled in a labyrinth of corridors and doors. Bulma was impatient to see her gift and wanted to do so in privacy... "Just stay calm and it'll be cool..." Yamcha told himself.

- This is your bedroom? he asked when his feet finally touched the floor again. - Hm-m.

She was already sat on her bed, peeking in the bag with a curious smile. Yamcha blushed at the way her shirt was tightly fitting her and he wished she had been wearing shorts a little longer.

- Strawberries! Oh thank you! That's so sweet! - I'm glad you like it...

She grinned, bit into a big strawberry whose juice trickled on her chin. She licked it as much as she could, wiped the rest with the back of her hand. The whole time, her eyes had stayed on Yamcha.

- Why don't you sit down with me? she asked, winking.

Yamcha hesitated. She would obviously try to kiss him again and just thinking about it was getting his knees weak. On the other hand, he didn't want her to be angry at him again. So he made his best smile and obeyed.

- I'm sorry for this afternoon, she said with a lower, warm voice. I didn't want to scare you. - No... I... It's me. I've been like that with women forever. Especially... Pretty ones.

Her cheeks blushed. She took his hand.

- It's ok... I... I won't go too fast for you. - Thanks...

She smiled to him. "So... Beautiful" he thought. She would give him time... She was nice... Very nice...

He kissed her on the lips, softly. Bulma, surprised, played with the idea of laying him on the bed, then figured it could traumatize him and just went for a more passionate, strawberry flavoured, kiss.

Can't Buy Me With Strawberries

Chapter II: A New Life Together

To Paladone, who(don't try to know how) inspired me this fic

It's been a few days since Bulma was back form her quest for the mystical Dragon Balls. From it, she had gotten new experiences, new friends and, even more important, a boyfriend. The cute, strong, brave, sweet boyfriend of her dreams. Yamcha. He was perfect. He even got his hair cut for her! He loved her, she loved him.

Everything was perfect. That day, Yamcha and Puar were alone in one of the many living rooms of Capsule Corporation, talking about their old life in the desert.

- I miss it, admitted Puar, sad looking. - I sure miss it too, agreed his friend, resting his feet on the low table. It was a great time. Total freedom, no rules, no... - YAMCHA!! Don't put your feet on tables, for God's sake! You're not in the desert anymore! - Hi, Bulma...

He put his feet back on the floor, sighing. He started to get used to the girl's fits of mood.

- You come with me, she continued, pulling him up from the couch. - Where? - Shopping for school stuff! - ...School?

Bulma's eyes narrowed, scanning the perplex face.

- You're sixteen, you must go to school, she stated, frowning. - ...Hum, ok... If it pleases you... - It's the law!

She dragged him out, leaving Puar behind. Before he disappeared behind the door, Yamcha gave his friend a sorry smile.

Once alone, Puar stopped floating and stayed immobile on the couch.

Things had changed since they had moved here. And they weren't happy changes for him...

~ ~ ~

Yamcha sighed heavily. He was now sure of it: he hated shopping. At least with a girl. Well, at least with Bulma. She had been trying dozens of clothes of all kinds, asking him his opinion just to not buy it. She had talked about school stuff, but all he'd seen so far was clothes.

Bulma stopped out of the cabin once again, posed for him with a playful smile. She obviously adored pointless shopping.

- So? she asked, moving her hips slowly.

The short-but-not-mini-yet skirt slid a bit and Yamcha reddened.

- Ah... Huh... Yes... he managed to say, the eyes locked on her belly.

Bulma rose an eyebrow, rolled her eyes. Yamcha's phobia hadn't entirely vanished... She shrugged and went back into the cabin. Anyway, she didn't like the way this skirt was brushing her thighs at every move she'd do.

She was trying a dark blue dress when she heard a voice, a feminine voice.

- Excuse me... Could you tell me what you think of that outfit, please?

The young girl rolled her eyes once more. "That kind of girls can't do nothing by themselves. Poor..."

She then heard a familiar groan. The girl was asking his opinion to Yamcha! Her Yamcha! She slightly opened the cabin's door and frowned at what she saw. The girl in question was horribly sexy and the outfit was a quite suggestive bikini. Opening the door a little more, she saw her boyfriend, eyes three times too big, jaw approaching the floor, hair sticking up in a scary way. That did it.

- YOU JERK!!

Even a trained fighter like Yamcha couldn't escape from the monumental punch that hit him right on the nose. The poor boy flew into a rack of little shirts that all fell down, on him or on the carpet.

- Go the Hell!! screamed Bulma as slamming the door of the cabin.

Yamcha rubbed his nose, shocked and confused. The girl in bikini shrugged and disappeared in another cabin.

"What did I do? I was just... It's not my fault if she..."

"That bastard! Drooling over some hot chick like that!"

~ ~ ~

It's when Bulma had asked the salesman to call the security instead of talking to him that Yamcha knew he was better to leave her alone. So he apologized and left quickly, alone and lost. He'd guessed she was angry because of the girl in bikini (just the thought of her made his knees shake weakly), but he didn't understand why exactly. He'd done nothing...

As he passed by three teenage girls, he caught the words "...real cutie..." one said as looking at him. "Me? Cute? Naah..."

He stopped by a barber shop, stared at himself in a mirror. He had black, deep eyes, his newly cut hair was just as dark and a bit messy. He had a nice carnation, pleasant facial features... "Maybe..." Then he noticed the strange looks he was receiving from other costumers and quickly walked away. A sixteen years old boy staring so intensively at its own image didn't seem to be normal.

"I hope she won't stay mad..."

~ ~ ~

- Bulma! Huh... Where's Yamcha? - He better be in Hell as I told him to go! sharply answered the purple haired fury, heading to her bedroom.

Puar stayed in the air, shocked. But surprise quickly vanished to leave the place for worry. He hoped Yamcha was fine and would come back soon...

As bad as he knew it was to think like that, he thought it'd be good if his friend would decide to go back to the desert and live like before again.

~ ~ ~

Bulma stared at the pieces of broken vases on the floor, wondering why there was so many vases in her bedroom when she needed to throw stuff into the wall, until tears made them too blurry. Then she collapsed on her bed and cried her heart out.

Yamcha was the first guy she loved and that hadn't make fun at her name or hit on her because of her family and wealth. He meant a lot to her... How could he just look at that... Bitch like that?! With that look on his face that made him so ridiculous?!

A box of capsules joined the shattered vases on the floor.

And he was supposed to be deadly scared of women!

"I've been like that with women forever. Especially... Pretty ones."

- Go to Hell with your pretty girls! Bastard!

Her pillows followed the capsules box's flight into the wall, down to the floor.

~ ~ ~

"Ok, I'm lost. Now what..."

Yamcha looked around him, feeling as desperate as a five years old kid in a crowded mall who lost his mom's hand and can't see her anymore. He didn't know the city, Bulma hated him, Puar wasn't even there...

- Hey...

He looked down at a small but pretty girl who was shyly smiling at him.

A fire lightened in his stomac, a wave of panic filled him. But he could control that better now...

- Yes? - Do you have time?

She did a charming pout, her finger wrapping blond hair around itself. She had the same blue, shinning eyes than Bulma. "No, Bulma's eyes are seas... Hers are skies..."

- Huh... No, s... Sorry... - Oh. Well hum... Ok... Bye!

She left with a blinding smile, leaving a cherry perfume behind her.

Cherry... Yamcha liked strawberry better.

- Yamcha?

An air-bike came down in front of it. The teenager immediately recognized the lavender hair and the warm voice. Bulma pulled her driver goggles over her head.

- Need a drive? - ...Yeah. - Climb.

She gave him her goggles. He put them on as sitting behind her, relieved she was talking to him and being nice, though something in her attitude wasn't right. She was... Colder.

- Hold me well, I'm a fast driver.

As soon as she'd said that, the air-bike rose in the air and flew over the roads at full speed. Gasping, Yamcha wrapped his arms around Bulma's thin waist and held onto herm eyes shut tightly. She hadn't tie her hair that day and it slapped his face, soft as velvet. She had used strawberry shampoo... How this fragrance suited her...

He found himself smelling he collar bone, his nose pulling her very lousy neckline toward her shoulder, his arms pressing her against him.

- Yamcha...

He quickly pulled his head up, almost letting her go and falling from the bike.

- Sorry... he said, red of embarrassment.

"Her skin is too soft..."

She didn't reply. And for the rest of the travel, he felt terribly bad to be touching her.

~ ~ ~

It probably had been better that Yamcha had backed off when she'd said his name, but Bulma missed his strong arms around her, his face against her neck... She'd never been held like that and it'd been so intense, so good...

Now she didn't know what to tell him. He was standing beside the air-bike, worryingly waiting for her to speak. She hadn't taken him t Capsule Corporation, but had driven out of the city, onto a small yet nice hill.

She remembered the mix of relief, happiness and fear on his face when she'd arrived close to him on her engine. He had looked... Just like a kid...

- I'm sorry, he said, breaking the silence. I... I really am.

She perfectly saw he was. It was so obvious. "I'm a monster to doubt of him..." Tears came to her eyes as she shook her head.

- No, it's me... I over reacted... You did nothing bad...

A sob interrupted her. She closed her eyes to stop the tears and, within a second, was tightly held by those muscular arms she loved so much. He gently brushed her hair, kissed the top of her head as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

- I'm sorry, she whispered. - It's ok, Bulma... Don't cry... Please...

She obeyed, but didn't move. She felt so good in his arms... So close... Protected...

Yamcha couldn't believe he was holding her in such a way without feeling anything else than care, love, comfort... Actually he felt a lot of things, but only good things. No fear, no panic, no irrational heat. Just him and her.

- I love you, she said softly, looking up at him. - I love you too...

Her lips connected to his, stopping him from talking. He didn't mind at all though. All that mattered was that she was there, she was happy, she loved him and, finally, he felt perfectly good with her.

Can't Buy Me With Strawberries

Chapter III: Back To School

Yamcha nervously stood in silence as Bulma described circles around him, slowly, her critical eyes running non-stop from his head to his shoes. She finally stopped in front of him and smiled proudly.

- Perfect!

It was their first day of school. During the last week, Bulma had filled him so he'd catch up a little with the many years he'd missed of school. A least, he still remembered how to read, write and count...

- In fact, today we only get our schedule, locket, books and stuff like that. Real school begins tomorrow! How do I look?

She turned on herself, her skirt revealing some more of her thighs. Yamcha blushed, nodded in approbal as she fixed the ribbon of her ponytail.

- Wonderful, he said, bringing more joy on her face. - Let's go now.

She caught his hand and held it as they walked out of the huge building her home was. Bulma's air bike popped out of its capsule, they jumped on it, the young girl as the driver and soon disappeared at the corner of the street.

Puar sighed and left the window of his bedroom. He'd hoped Yamcha would at least wave him good bye...

~ ~ ~

- Hi Bulma! - Miss Brief! Hello! - Yo, babe!

Bulma politely waved her hand around, smiling proudly as pretty much everyone greeted her as she walking through the school's hall, closely followed by Yamcha. She stopped by a group of adults in tie and suit.

- Hi, Mr. Meeley, she said nicely, grabbing her boyfriend's arm. - Miss Brief! exclaimed the taller man. We were wondering if our genius would ever arrive. - I was put late by Yamcha, sorry! He's new, so...

Yamcha gave her a stupefied look. "Late because of me?! It took her an hour just to chose what she'd wear!" But he didn't say a word.

- Well, I'll see you in class, she told the others, probably teachers. Let's get our schedule, Yamcha.

She pulled him to a table where piles of sheets were being dug by a few students, under the cold supervision of a strict looking woman. Bulma casually saluted her and started looking for her and Yamcha's schedules. This one stayed behind, feeling useless. He was admiring the ceiling's color (he was also bored) when someone tapped on his shoulder. He turned his head to the person.

It was an incredibly gorgeous girl, smiling at him warmly.

For the first time in weeks, Yamcha felt his legs changing into cotton and heard a volcano of panic erupting not too far.

- Hi, said the beauty, pushing her long raven hair behind her shoulder. I'm Dolby. You are...? - Huh... I... My... Yamcha...

She shook his sweaty hand, like she didn't notice the strange blue coloration of his face.

- You're a new student, right? Because I never saw you before and I couldn't forget such a cute guy... - I... It... Huh...

He was about to run away, or to plain faint, when Bulma smacked a sheet of paper on his chest, violently.

- Come with me, baka, we must get our books!

She pulled him by the ear, since he wasn't able to walk, let go a scary growl when Dolby giggled and winked at Yamcha.

Once out of the hall and alone in a corridor, Yamcha regained his composure, though remained a bit lost.

- How could you?! screamed Bulma, slapping his cheek. On the first day here! - What have I done?! - YOU WERE HITTING ON THAT GIRL! - I WAS?!?

His surprise was so true and huge that she fell over in the classic anime way.

- Bulma... You know I can't help it... Don't be mad, I wouldn't cheat on you in three hundreds years!

The young girl sighed. She perfectly knew that.

- Sorry... But when I see you like that... With such a girl... I... I can't control myself...

She bit her bottom lip, looking down. Soon enough he hugged her tightly.

- It's ok, he said. Just know that I love you, and only you. - I know...

He and kissed her softly. She kissed him back happily, glad she'd found such a perfect guy.

~ ~ ~

- Hmm... We only have physical education together, concluded Bulma after comparing their respective schedule.

Yamcha pouted and gave a look at hers. He'd chosen easy classes and didn't exactly plan on working his ass off at school, and was curious to know what her semester would be like.

His eyes widened as he read ADVANCED before every single class name.

- Huh... It's... - Yeah, don't seem like a though year for me.

He paled when he realized she was serious, but then remembered she'd built a detector of Dragon Balls and a few other genius things. So he just smiled.

~ ~ ~

Since they both had useless class in the morning (advanced maths and geology, who needs them?), Bulma and Yamcha only arrived at school for the second period; physical education. They could have skipped it as well, but it promised too much of fun.

- Hello kids. Nice too see Miss Brief deigned joining us this year.

Bulma grinned. She had already told Yamcha that she hadn't gone to any of those class in two years.

- Today, we'll do some soccer, announced the teacher after the usual and repetitive welcome-back-to-school speech. Please divide the group in three teams...

Bulma immediately picked the best players in her team, as well as Yamcha. "No girl with us, no problem" she thought as playfully messing with his hair.

The first match opposed them and another team mainly composed of girls, to Yamcha's despair.

- Just focus on the ball and send it into that big goal without using your hands, ordered his girlfriend.

Yamcha nodded, hoping nothing would go wrong. He looked at the ball, decided to follow Bulma's advice and started running after it. He wasn't exactly pushing, but soon realized he was running much faster than everybody. As he kicked into the ball, he wondered if there was any worthy fighter in this school. As he followed the ball to make sure it wouldn't hurt anyone before it reached the goal, he remembered Goku and the thrill of fighting him. "I hope I see him soon!"

- GOAL!!

He immobilized, smiled proudly at the group.

He then realized they were all staring at him and blank expressions, Bulma included. He sweat dropped.

- What is it? - The game started less than a minute ago! exclaimed a boy on the bench. - You're fast, commented the teacher, more than impressed. - Thanks...

"I wasn't going that fast!" He noticed his team mates' angry eyes. Not only that freak had taken Bulma from them, but he was also fast and good player! Judging by his muscles, he was probably strong as well...

Yamcha felt hated, as he tried to ignore the admiring looks from the girls. For the rest of the game, he just jogged with the running group, carefully not touching the ball.

~ ~ ~

- Hey, Bulma?

The young girl buckled her belt, staring at a little group of giggling girls as waiting for them to talk.

- Yamcha... Is he really your boyfriend? - Yes, she answered with a frown. Why? - Because he's so cute... - And fast! - And cute! - And sweet! - And nice! - And cute! - Stop saying that! - ...that we couldn't believe he'd go out with a girl like you.

Bulma shut the door of her locker angrily. She quickly tied up her hair and faced the group, fire in her eyes.

- Well he does! He loves me very much and you better not do anything to try stealing him from me! Understood?!

Without waiting for an answer, she left the changing room and rushed out of the school. The Hell with mechanic class, she was probably better than the teacher anyway.

~ ~ ~

- DAD!!!

Dr. Brief jumped of surprise. The magazine he was holding fell on the floor and his hands grabbed a tiny hammer nervously.

- Yes? he smiled at his daughter, not even thinking she should be at school. - You have to use your influence so Yamcha and I are in the same classes! Or I put a bomb in the school and you know I can do it!!

She immediately left the lab and a minute later, a door was slammed shut.

Dr. Brief sighed, took back his magazine and returned to his more or less intellectual lecture.

~ ~ ~

It was probably a nightmare. It had to be one.

Yamcha couldn't pass the door of his home economic class. It was full of girls. No guy. None at all.

But someone pushed him into the class, laughing lightly.

- Yamcha, isn't it?

He recognized Dolby and could barely stop himself from running away screaming at the view of her tightly fitting dress.

- Tell me... Are you really Bulma Brief's boyfriend?

Suddenly every single girl in the class was staring at him in disbelief.

- Well, yeah, he said, holding onto the idea they would now forget about him. - How can you be with such a... A... With her? - Huh? She... She's nice and funny and smart and... Pretty...

The girls shook their heads.

- She's snob! - And slutty! - She's a bitch! - She's a teacher sucker... - And has the temper of an harpy!

Yamcha blinked as they all shouted random insults. "Ok, she can be scary and violent but... She's not that bad!"

- Well I still love her, he finally said, shrugging.

Silence. Then they all "awww"ed him and he noticed a little bit of pity in their voice. But he didn't care. He did love Bulma and it was the only important thing. Bulma sighed. She had been about to step into the class to drag Yamcha to the principal's office so he'd get a new schedule, when Dolby had asked him how he could be with her. His answer, and the way he ended her bashing, made her heart melt. He did love her... "I love you to." she mentally told him.

She decided to not change him of classes and headed to her mechanic lesson, happily whistling. She didn't care the girls hated her and hit on Yamcha; he wouldn't even dare cheating on her. She just knew it now.

Can't Buy Me With Strawberries

Chapter IV: Dance With Me

Bulma was ecstatic. She wasn't walking anymore, but dancing; she wasn't talking but singing. Instead of getting incredibly angry at nothing like she'd normally do, she'd laugh and pass on.

The reason of that exceptional good mood wasn't the full moon. It was because of a party that would take place in Capsule Corporation in a few days. A great, huge party, with pretty much everybody from school.

Usually she wouldn't organize such a thing. People didn't exactly like her. They admired her, feared her, hated her, but she never really had any friend. But since Yamcha was there, things had strangely gotten better. "Maybe because he makes me so happy and that makes me nicer... I don't know, I don't care!" She smacked a kiss on the young man's cheek for the Hell of it, then shove a strawberry into her mouth.

- What was that kiss for? he asked, slightly blushing. - Because I love you and I'm happy! - Allright!

He put his arm around her waist, smiling. He'd spent a little more than two months with her and flirting was way easier now.

- I hope it'll be perfect, sighed Bulma, thoughtful. - Hm? What? - The party! And you know, I want to start it with a dance with you.

She wrapped a short piece of his hair around her finger, while her other hand fed her mouth with more of the red berries. Yamcha grinned nervously.

- A dance, huh? - Yep! - Great... - Is there a problem? - Well hum... I... Can't dance. - How come? - Idon'tknowhowto.

Somehow Bulma understood his words and shrugged, still smiling.

- Oh! We still have a couple of days before the party, I can teach you. No problem!

Yamcha smiled, relieved. "I just hope the other girls will leave me alone..." he thought.

~ ~ ~

- Put your hand on my hip... And I take the other one... Now stop being so red and... One, two, three... One, two, three...

Yamcha did his best to follow his girlfriend, but dancing wasn't natural for him and, confused, he quickly stepped on her foot. The oceanic eyes widened but Bulma stayed calm.

- It's ok. Just pay more attention to your foot. - Yeah... It's tougher than I thought. - You can do it! Come on, one, two, three... One, two, three... A little twenty minutes later, he could finally follow her without stepping on her feet or turning to the wrong side. They danced for a while, Bulma's head now resting on his shoulder. The odor of her shampoo filled Yamcha's lunges and he wondered if she also tasted like strawberries.

- Bulma? - Hmm? - Are we going to dance like that at your party? - No. But it's the classic dance to first teach and it doesn't hurt to know it.

Yamcha sweat dropped, but that dance was nice and it felt good to hold Bulma like this, to have her so happy. He wished it would never end...

They kept dancing for a long moment, close, silent...

~ ~ ~

- I warn you, Oolon! One bad mood and I throw you onto the Moon! - Ok, ok... Can I go now?

The perverted gleam was shinning in the pig's eyes, making Bulma sigh deeply. She nodded, grimaced when he shouted "WOOHOOOOO" as running out, and turned to Yamcha and Puar. The tall boy was trying to convince his friend to join the party as well. The little cat was refusing, with obvious sadness inside.

- Listen, Puar. Next week-end, what about we go camping or something like that? Just the two of us! - ...Bulma won't let you... - Of course I will! warmly said the purple haired beauty, even before Yamcha's eyes begged her to help. You two share such a great friendship! I don't wanna ruin it!

Puar sighed.

- Fine... But I don't go to that party. - Ok. Think about what we could do, then. Anything you want! - Ok!

The cat smiled, obviously feeling much better. Yamcha patted him on the head (Puar reminding him of a little kid so much) and turned his face to Bulma.

- I think we have to dance, now? - Yep! And if you wanna join us, Puar, feel free to come at anytime! - Thanks, but I'll go to bed now.

The two humans sweat dropped; it was only eight o'clock or so and the little cat looked terribly serious.

~ ~ ~

- You bastard! How could you kiss her thinking it was me?! - But... Honey... - HA! You're drunk!!

The slap sent the drunk guy into the wall, the girl left, fuming with rage.

Bulma laughed, held onto Yamcha's arm. It remembered her of the shopping-for-school-stuff day she'd spent with him, weeks ago. That night, the memory of it was just hilarious. It was such a great night. She felt her boyfriend's arm holding her waist more tightly than usual and grinned. He'd drunk... maybe his phobia was totally gone now...

- Hmm... I'll be right back, darling...

With a sorry smile, she left his embrace and ran to the bathroom. Yamcha wasn't the only one to have drunk... When she came back into the party, she didn't find her boyfriend where she'd left him. Perplex, she looked around. Couples dancing, guys hitting on girls, guys hitting guys... But no trace of Yamcha. She frowned, scanned the moving crowed carefully. He couldn't have left like this!

Finally she saw him. He was dancing.

With an atrociously sexy blond girl.

With another girl.

- YAMCHA!!

He only had the time to turn his face in her direction before her fist hit him.

A big hole was made in the wall a few seconds later, as Yamcha flew through it.

Everyone shut up, immobilized in order to not miss a thing of the fight. Whispers though spread when Yamcha got up, only a little shocked, and walked toward his furious love, guilty and sorry looking.

- She asked me to dance with her while you were gone... I wasn't... - SHUT UP!! I know what I've seen! You were drooling over her silicone, bastard!

Yamcha's dark eyes widened, he dangerously paled.

- But... It's not that... You know I... - Oooh! That's too easy, Yamcha! Go to Hell with your phobia!

She spat at his feet and ran away so no one would see her tears. Yamcha stared blankly at the door closing behind her. "But... She... She never believe me..." When he noticed all eyes were on him, he turned to a remarkable shade of red and quickly left the room.

After a moment, the party just continued as if nothing had happened.

~ ~ ~

Bulma couldn't breath with her pillow pressed against her face like that, but if she'd put it away she'd start crying and wouldn't breath much better anyway.

"That bastard! How could he..." She pictured him again, the hands on the way-too-thin waist of the buxom blond, laughing at whatever she'd just said... "I'm supposed to be the only one he can touch like that!" Finally she couldn't hold back anymore. She threw the pillow away, bursted into tears. "Dammit, Yamcha! I trusted you!"

~ ~ ~

Yamcha felt sick. When that girl had asked him to dance while waiting Bulma's return, he allready felt bad, having this twisted feeling in his stomach with the usual panic toward women. But he told himself it wouldn't hurt anyone... It was also a way so heal from his phobia. And that girl did seem nice. So he'd accepted. It had surprised him that after only a few minutes, he felt much better. The twisted thing was only growing though and when Bulma had yelled his name, it had exploded within him.

Now he was outside, rubbing his temples. Flying through a wall gives you one big headache. Being yelled at by Bulma Brief gives you a headache from hell. You can imagine how Yamcha felt, especially that the beer he'd drunk was also contributing to it.

"Gee, Bulma... I thought you knew I love you..."

~ ~ ~

The next day, a Sunday, they didn't talk to each other. Bulma spent her time in her lab and a few explosions were heard. Yamcha trained most of the day, harder than ever, only taking a break when he was about to lose consciousness. Puar assisted him, worry but not daring to ask anything. His friend seemed (no, was) hurt, and anger had grown during the night.

"She shouldn't get mad at me!"

BANG! He waited for the punching bag to come back.

"I was only dancing!"

SBAH!! A seam cracked, but he threw another powerful punch.

"She has to trust me!"

The punching bag suddenly opened and its content fell onto Yamcha. Surprised, he fell on his butt, cursing through his teeth.,

His fist hit the floor. "Bulma! Why do you make it so hard?!" He shut his eyes closed, not want Puar to see the tears that were filling them.

~ ~ ~

- Bulma? You have to talk with Yamcha! - Oh, come on, Puar. I don't talk to that kind of jerks. - But you know he wasn't cheating on you at all! He loves you... And he's very affected but your... Hum... Attitude.

Bulma sighed, posed her tool on the table. She knew Puar was right. Once again she'd over reacted and said things she didn't really think. She had to apologize, to tell him he hadn't done anything wrong...

- Ok, Puar, I'll do it. Where is he? - Right now? In the shower.

~ ~ ~

Yamcha wrapped a towel around his waist, then returned to his bedroom. He was still tensed from his fight with Bulma, even a warm shower didn't help.

His eyes widened as he entered the room.

Bulma was sitting on his bed.

He was so surprised he dropped the towel.

Bulma's eyes grew bigger than his, but he was still redder than she got herself, even coming close to the violet.

He turned around, picked up the towel and quickly covered himself. "Just a pay back," he thought, remembering when he'd seen her in the shower... He reddened some more.

- Yamcha...

She put her fresh hands on his back, causing him to shiver.

- I'm sorry... I know you would never...

He faced her, put a finger on her lips.

- I'd like you to trust me, Bulma, he said sadly. - I swear I will from now on! I won't react like that anymore...

He smiled, her heart melted. He was so nice, always forgetting and understanding... A tear of joy trickled on her cheek as they kissed.

- By the way, she whispered in his ear before she left, you're incredibly sexy with that towel... And without it...

Yamcha thought his head would explode because of all the blood that immediately rushed to his face.

Can't Buy Me With Strawberries

Chapter V: Merry Christmas, My Darling

Bulma checked her make up in the mirror one last time. She ignored the sadness in her eyes and forced a smile on her now cherry colored lips. She had purposely put every strawberry flavored cosmetic aside, choosing anything but those. Deciding she was looking good, she stood, put on her jacket and left her bedroom.

On one of her many tables, a giant bowl of strawberries had been placed during the night, the usual Christmas gift of her father's company. This year though, when she turned the lights off before closing the door, none of the little fruits had been touched.

~~~

- Mom! I'm going to a party, don't wait for me! Bye! - Ok, darling! Have fun!

"Sure I will" bitterly thought the purple haired teenager, shutting the main door close. A few seconds later, she was allready driving her air-bike away.

Sat on the couch of her favorite living room, Mrs Brief hummed happily as turning the pages of a fashion magazine. After a short moment, she looked up from it, a gaze of confusion in her eyes.

- But... She wasn't with Yamcha!

~~~

- Come on, Yamcha... Stop training now...

Puar sighed sadly as his friend kicked another robot's head off, with a scream worthy of one of those giant dinosaurs still living in certain areas of the world.

- Yamcha! It's Christmas Eve, stop training!!

Yamcha took a minute to breathe, wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He was wearing his bandit outfit and with that angry look on his face, he could have been in the desert just as well.

- So what if it's Christmas?! Just send me another one!

The floating cat obeyed, directing a new robot to go and fight Yamcha. Dr Brief had built him a huge set of those some times ago, seeing how strong the young man was and how much he wanted to get even stronger. Unfortunately, he did have gotten stronger and with the anger now boiling within him, the robots were being destroyed one after the other in little time.

"This fight with Bulma is very bad" thought Puar, watching Yamcha kicking the robot furiously. "It's Christmas Eve and they still don't talk to each other..."

~~~

- Hey, Bulma! You didn't bring your boyfriend with you?!

Almost breaking the glass she was holding, Bulma glared at the young girl who had dared to mention Yamcha.

- WHY would I bring such a moronic jerk with me?! she shouted.

Everyone around her fearfully made at least one step away, knowing how she was when angry. Bulma noticed it and growled furiously. "It's all your fault, Yamcha!" she thought, drinking the whole content of her glass in one time.

~~~ Flash back ~~~

- You can't celebrate Christmas and the New Year in jeans! Now stop complaining and tell me how I look!

Yamcha sighed, wondering why she was trying clothes if they were shopping for him. "If we could just..."

- You look fabulous, he said.

"...find what she wants me to get so I could go back to Capsule Corporation..."

- Doesn't it make me look... A little fat?

"I mean, it's not like she really cares about my opinion!"

- What do you think? - Yes, Bulma, you're right...

"I bet she's not going to buy it any..." A slap cut off his thoughts. His eyes widened, more of surprise than pain, and he jumped on his feet to face a very angry looking Bulma.

- What have I done?! - You insulted me! - I did?! - You said I was fat! - I did?!? - Stop repeating the same damned thing! - But... I didn't...

Bulma's oceanic eyes narrowed, she clenched her fists.

- Were you even listening to me? she asked with a low voice.

Yamcha paled.

- Why, yes... Of course I was! I always listen to you! - LIAR!

The palm of her hand met his cheek again, more fastly, more strongly, and this time, it left traces of fingers on the boy's face and he felt little pain. His dark eyes grew even bigger.

- Go away! yelled Bulma. And never dare talking to me again!

She locked herself in the cabin she'd used, violent hipcups shaking her body.

Awared of the many looks stuck on him, Yamcha shook his head and left, not showing how truly hurt he was.

A long moment later, Bulma left the cabin, changed into her own clothes, her eyes red but now dry, a flame of anger burning within them. That had happened an entire week ago and they still hadn't talk to each other.

~~~End of Flash Back~~~

- YAMCHA!!

The young man in question cringed, missed his attack and fell on his back. Puar quickly flew to him, regretting his call a little. But he couldn't stand seeing his best friend like that, fighting with all of his strenght against robots just to forget about Bulma...

Panting heavily and wincing with pain, Yamcha sat down, avoiding the worry eyes of his little friend.

- I'm just taking a break, he said, stubborn. - Yamcha... You should talk with Bulma. I'm sure she's sad about this too! - Who's sad? I'm not sad. I just want to train, ok?! - You're not a good liar, you know.

Yamcha ran a hand through his hair, sighing.

- Then why can't she ever believe me?! She's always angry at me with no reason! I don't understand. - Women are complicated...

Puar stopped himself from banging his head on the wall. "Woman are complicated! So much to help him!"

- Bulma is extremely complicated, said Yamcha. When I think I start to understand her, she does something that totally confuses me. She doesn't even notice! - Why don't you tell her? - Because we aren't talking to each other, if you hadn't noticed.

They stayed silent for a while.

- I love her, suddenly said Yamcha. But I'm never sure about her. How could she be loving me if she always get angry, if she never trust me? - Maybe she's afraid of losing you... So she always tests you. - If she goes on like that, I'm afraid she will lose me. - That's why you two must talk!

Yamcha reflected about his friend's words for a moment, then a thankful smile ligthened his face.

- Thanks Puar. What would I do without you?

The little cat flew into his arms, glad he'd been able to help his best friend ever.

~~~

- YO PEOPLE!! MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

Bulma bursted out laughing loudly as shutting the door. She let her jacked fall onto the floor, walked to the nearest living room, with trembling legs and unsure gait, fell on a couh, eyes closed. Now the alcohol had stopped making her insanely happy and her head was hurting.

- Hi Bulma! Did you have fun? - Shh... groaned the young girl. My head... - Oh, sweetheart, don't tell me you're drunk! - Ok, I won't tell you...

Bulma heard her mother's disappointed sigh. "If she think it's because of Baka..."

- Bulma... You shouldn't drink because you had a fight with your boyfriend. - That's not why!

Angrily, she lifted herself on her elbows, glared at the blond beauty on the other couch. Mrs Brief shook her head sadly.

- Darling, it's so obvious... You know what Christmas is about? - Freezing outside and more people at the mall! - Yes, and it's also about love and forgiveness! I know you just want to forget all of this and run into his arms. Why don't you do so? He's dying for it!

Bulma stared at her mother, shocked by this sort of wisdom she wouldn't have expected from her.

- You're sure? she asked with a little voice. - Of course! He's in his room, I think. - Thanks mom!

The suddenly-not-so-drunk-anymore teenager litterally flew to her boyfriend's bedroom. Her mother was right. She had drunk to forget she was unfairly mad at Yamcha again, to forget she was just longing to be in his arms again. When his door appeared to her, her heart jumped. What if he wasn't ready to forgive her? It'd be normal; she was so mean to him most of the time... Her pace slowed down as she approached, nervousness and fear filling her. She stopped in front of his door, not daring to knock. "I don't deserve him..."

After a moment, she just went to her own room.

~~~

Yamcha had heard her steps in the corridor and remained silent as she stood in front of his room. He'd hoped she would enter and say that their "break" was over, that they'd spend a merry Christmas together... When she left without a sound, he felt his heart breaking a little. Didn't she care at all?

He got up, stepped around his bed. He had to see her, to talk with her... He needed to know if she loved him or not...

He left his room, headed toward hers.

~~~

She was eating her strawberries, not caring about the tears falling freely on her cheeks. She didn't deserve a guy like Yamcha, he'd realize it soon and would leave her and...

The door opened, Yamcha entered. He looked so serious... Her heart fell. "So handsome... Why can't I..."

- Bulma... Do you love me?

Her aquatic eyes watered at little more, but she nodded furiously.

- Of course I do! I'm so sorry, Yamcha! I'm never nice and...

She was obliged to shut up when his lips met hers. He'd approached so quickly... She quickly changed surprise into relief and kissed him back, yet wondered why she felt relief withim him too.

- Cherry, he said as he broke the kiss. I love strawberries better, you know...

She shove one into his mouth, holding him close.

- Yamcha, I... - Shh... We'll talk later. Look...

He designed the window and she looked. Snow was falling at last... White, big flakes of snow, covering the Capital, cleaning it, bringing a peaceful atmosphere with their cold beauty. She smiled, hugged Yamcha tighly.

- I love you, she whispered. - I love you...

He softly kissed her again. They spent the night in each other's arms, eating strawberries and watching the snow fall, enjoying their love more than ever.

Can't Buy Me With Strawberries

Chapter VI: Cheater

Bulma sighed dreamily, starring at the pale blue sky by the window. Everything was so perfect by now. The weather was good, school was as easy as ever, people were more friendly with her and, best of all, she hadn't fight with Yamcha in nearly a month. She was so happy, she...

The bell interrupted her thoughts. Grinning, she hurried to pick up everything and ran to the door, impatient to be in his arms again. But just when she stepped out, someone called out her name behind her.

- What is it? she asked, still smiling. - I... I have to tell you something.

It was Laita, a quiet but nice girl. She never said a thing against Bulma (at least for what she knew) and the purple haired girl liked her. But that day, Laita seemed nervous and her brown eyes were looking at anything but Bulma.

- Well, tell me!

Bulma's smile was already more impatient, a little bit annoyed.

- It's Yamcha... finally said Laita. He...

She sighed, gathering her courage. Bulma frowned.

- I saw him with another girl.

Laita cringed even though no scream was ruining her ears yet. After a little moment, she dared looking up at the ogther girl and was a bit scared to see she was perfectly calm.

- There's tons of girls in the school. Of course you'll see him with... - But they seemed very close!

Bulma's mind raced to a conclusion. Yamcha + other girl + close + Laita isn't the foolish liar type of girls =...

- Who?

Her voice rolled like a low thunder.

- Huh... A girl in his English class... Pecan... - Pecan? Very well.

Bulma left immediately, her pace a little bit faster, her fists clenched. "Calm down, Bulma... Stay calm until you're sure... Maybe he was just helping her and..." But anger was blinding her, so much that she didn't notice people running out of her way, their widened eyes starring at her fearfully.

Finally she arrived at his class. As promised he was waiting her, but he wasn't alone. A girl with long, wavy blond hair and a charming smile on the lips was laughing with him. Bulma held back a scream. "He can't help it if she's like that... Calm..." But she didn't like the way his eyes were, shinning and locked on that girl.

She was approaching them, refusing to let her instinctive anger take the control of herself, willing to keep her happiness intact, when he caressed the girl's cheek. A simple touch, very short, but he'd done it, with his best smile and she giggled.

- Bulma, hi!

Yamcha walked to her, lovingly kissed her on the lips. "Bastard" thought Bulma as she forced a smile.

- Who is she? she asked, trying to sound natural. - A classmate of mine, Pecan. Pecan, Bulma, my beloved girl.

Bulma glared coldly at the blond girl who was smiling to her. "Is she mocking me or what?! I could just scratch that make up layer off her face..."

- Are you ok?

She shook her head, smiled to Yamcha.

- Yeah, just a little tired. Can we go now? - Sure...

He put his arm around her shoulder, casually saluted Pecan.

As they walked to the exit, Bulma couldn't stop her mind from showing her, again and again, how his hand, the same that was holding her shoulder right now, had brushed another girl's face.

~~~

The persistent silence was getting uncomfortable. Yamcha nervously gave a look at Bulma. She was starring at the TV, her eyes as cold as ice. Yet she didn't behave like she usually did when angry. She was calm, smiled to him... But her smile was different somehow... It even started to scare him.

But since he couldn't find the smallest reason she could have to be upset, he thought it was probably a "woman thing" and focused on the movie.

~~~

Physical education class took place in the gym during the winter and the teacher, a nature and huge spaces lover, wasn't really enthousiasm about it. Result: the students were pretty much doing nothing, or nothing serious. That day was no exception. Depressed by the grey layer of clouds over the city, the teacher proposed a "free period", which meant to do whatever one wants to do. Usually, the students would sit down and talk, or even leave, but for once, a volley ball game was organized properly.

Bulma served first and didn't seem to see Yamcha's smile to her. Instead, she winked back at another guy. Yamcha shrugged and wondered how fast he could allow himself to go if he wanted to win yet to be "normal".

A few minutes later, Bulma ran into that same guy. Yamcha didn't like the way she smiled as apologizing, but he couldn't tell why. "Just a smile." He thought her eyes were shinning too much, but it was probably the excitation of the game.

But as the match went on, the little feeling within him grew, each time she would smile to that other one. When she giggled at a joke he made, Yamcha smashed the ball a little too strongly and a nice hole was created in the floor. Bulma raised an eyebrow at him.

- Calm down, Yamcha. It's just a game.

"Why does it sound like she's making fun of me?" He sighed. The past weeks had been so great. Why couldn't it last?

The match continued on another field. It was now obvious that Bulma was flirting and Yamcha didn't know what to do. "If it was me, she'd rip my head off but... I can't do that..."

- Watch out, Brief!

The warning came too late and Bulma's eyes shut close before the ball would hurt her. But it never did. Someone had stopped it just in time...

- Thanks Ya... Kyosuke. - No problem, my lady, charmingly replied her protector, sending back the ball.

Bulma smiled, completely ignoring her boyfriend.

- Keep playing without me, she then said. Kyosuke, mind walking me to the bench?

He offered his arm, she took it and they left the game, like they didn't notice everyone was looking at them, shocked. They all knew Bulma was still with Yamcha... Suddenly, every single eye was on him, excepted of course for Bulma and Kyosuke's. But he didn't care.

His Bulma... She was flirting with someone else... Had he missed something or what?

His mind fell as she played with Kyosuke's hair, her light laughter coming to his ears like a knife would stab his heart. She used to play with his hair that way... It sure didn't help when Kyosuke put a piece of her hair behind her ear. And the way she was smiling to him...

It was too much.

~~~

After Yamcha had run away from the gym, Bulma had noticed how everybody was looking at her : with pure disgust and scorn, thirty times worse than ever. Suddenly she realized she'd gone way too far.

Ignoring Kyosuke's confusion, she left the gym as well, changed into regular clothes in a cold sort of torpor. Yamcha wouldn't forgive her now... She knew him, how he cared, how he loved her... "I ruined it all, this time."

Tears rolled freely on her face as she drove her air-bike away from school. She'd only wanted to take her revenge... It hurt so much to see him with another girl... And Laita had said...

But she knew Yamcha would never cheat on her. "Why can't I ever trust him?! I want to! And I always do stupid things... I'm so sorry, Yamcha!"

~~~

- Hi, Yamcha! Already back? Where's Bulma?

Oolon and Puar looked at Yamcha crossing the room without a word, a sign or even a look. His eyes were darker than ever, his expression absent.

When he'd left, the two morphic animals looked at each other.

- Maybe he failed an exam, said Oolon, shoving another piece of chocholate into his mouth.

Puar sweat dropped. Yamcha didn't care about school... Only one thing could bring him so down. Bulma.

~~~

It had started to snow, but Bulma barely noticed. She hated herself for being so hard to Yamcha. "I love him, why do I have to hurt him all the time?!" She always had been impulsive, jealous and unthinking, but it was the first time it really bothered her.

As she headed toward Capsule Corporation, she refused to hope he could forgive her. She didn't deserve it.

~~~

Usually, a fight with Bulma meant intense training. But that time, Yamcha wasn't angry. He was terribly hurt, just thinking she didn't love him anymore and wouldn't even tell him. And it was worse when he thought she could have been acting like that on purpose to hurt him.

After a moment, laying on his bed and starring at the ceiling in the darkness annoyed him. He had to move, but didn't feel like training.

He got up, put on his coat. A long walk outside would clear his mind. Being in her house hurt too much.

~~~

Bulma sobbed as turning her air-bike into a capsule. It was over with Yamcha. She'd messed with him for the last time. Maybe he loved her, but it couldn't be at the point of forgiving anything, even thought she cruely regretted it.

She imagined his face when she'd taken Kyosuke's arm. "How could I've been so stupid?!" Her cries doubled as she opened the door.

She froze there, her eyes locked on Yamcha. Obviously he was going out... She read surprise in his eyes, then sadness. He looked down and didn't move.

Bulma's chin started to tremble violently. He was hurt, because of her. She wanted to apologize, but no word came to her mouth. So she stood there, snow slowly melting in her hair, small drops trickling down her forehead.

It seemed to last forever. Bulma couldn't look away from him, couldn't move or say a thing. Yamcha kept on looking down, silent and immobile as well.

Finally, his jet-black eyes came back to hers, as deep as the sky during a star less night. She wished they still had that gentle light she loved... It was her fault if it was gone now... She sobbed, breaking the heavy silence.

His hand rose in the air, softly wiped the tears from her cheeks. She felt his fingers caressing her wet, messing hair.

- I'm sorry, she whispered, her voice torn with despair and hope.

Slowly, his lips drew a smile.

- I know. I love you, Bulma...

Her eyes widened, but her relief was total when he added:

- I could forgive you everything, you know.

She found herself held tightly by his arms as he kissed her forehead. Tears kept from falling from her eyes, but they were relieved and happy. "Oh Yamcha... You're too good..." She vowed to never hurt him again, though a mean voice in her head laughed, saying she wouldn't be able to not do so. She ignored it, focusing on the kiss he'd offered to her lips. If he loved her enough to forgive her... Then she would never hurt him again.

Can't Buy Me With Strawberries

Chapter VII: The Big Move

There was definetely something strange about Bulma. Since a few days, her behavior had changed from happily loving to lovingly seductive and Yamcha couldn't help but noticing she would now choose clothes of a certain kind... Nothing slutty, but still terribly suggestive, though it suited her well. Her perfume was somehow more intense, filling his lunges until he had to go out to breathe fresh air. Not that he minded, but those subtile changed were disturbing him a little... On February 14th, Valentines Day, he gave her the classic chocolate/flowers/kiss, as well as cute earrings in shape of strawberries. Bulma thanked him, delighted, but pretented a meeting with her father and the board of directors of Capsule Corporation and left quickly. Yamcha had strong doubts about it, Mr and Mrs Brief being gone for some love travel for a few days, but Bulma seemed excited about something and he had a good feeling about it.

So he shrugged and decided to train a little bit.

~~~

Oolon hanged up, visibly frustrated, and gave a dark look at Bulma, who was searching for something in the huge refrigerator, humming.

- What is it, Oolon? she asked. - It's the fourth girl who refuses to go out with me! A cute pig like me! On Valentines Day! Can you imagine?! - Of course...

Oolon blinked. What kind of answer was that?

Finally, the young girl came out of the refrigerator, the arms full of cans. The pig's eyes grew bigger.

- Whip cream?! he exclaimed.

Bulma giggled, her cheeks blushing slightly.

- Tonight is the night, she announced. But don't tell anyone! It's a surprise!

She left the kitchen, singing joyfully. Oolon starred blankly at the door for a moment.

After a few minutes, he shook his head and grabbed the phone. Now way he'd spend that day alone!

~~~

Yamcha gave a last punch to the robot, sending its head into the wall, while the body fell in front of the young man. Satisfied, he smiled and accepted the towel Puar brought him with gratitude.

- Enough for today, he decided, mopping his face and neck. - I hope so, sighed Puar. You've been training for three hours. - Really? I didn't notice. I'll take a quick shower and get supper then.

~~~

When he came back to his bedroom, a towel tightly wrapped around his waist and totally relaxed, he noticed the suit someone had put on his bed in his absence, a note pinned on the collar.

Wear this for the dinner, please, Bulma

Yamcha smiled as a light odor of strawberry came to his nose. "If it's what it takes to make her happy..."

He dressed up and was a little surprised to see it suited him perfectly. The suit was a black tuxedo and a red rose was decorating it. "Classic" he thought as starring at his reflection in a mirror. He was obliged to admit he did look good, even with his messy hair. He'd tried to comb it properly, but in vain. With his best smile, he headed toward the dinning room.

~~~

It took him a minute or two to recognize the room. A red cloth was covering the table, set for two. The lights were turned off, many candles lightening the room softly. A nice bouquet of red and white roses was decorating the table.

It was incredibly romantic and Yamcha felt dispaced with his wild hair that also needed to be cut. "Where's Bulma?" he wondered, not daring to enter the room. A hand touched his shoulder from behind and he turned his head. It was her, more beautiful than ever.

Her lavendar hair was done in a complicated yet nice way, a few curls framing her face. She was earing his earrings and he could smell her characteristical strawberry perfume. Yamcha couldn't help but noticing how her dark blue dress suited her, revealing her forms yet being sober and tasteful. A golden heart shaped pendant was decorated her neck.

She was just the vision of a Goddess.

Chuckling at her boyfriend's admirative shock, Bulma gently pushed him toward a chair.

- I planned at nice evening for us, she said as sitting down, a smile floating on her face.

Yamcha smiled, imitating her. But her voice had awaken an old feeling inside and they was her sapphire eyes looking at him just made it grow. But he was over with this since a long time now, so he did his best to ignore it and enjoy what she'd organized for him.

~~~

After they had eaten the dessert (which surprised Yamcha by not having the smallest trace of strawberry), they kept talking for a while. The annoying feeling had disappeared and Yamcha's eyes were softly glowing because of the wine.

- That was great, darling, he said, sighing gladly. - Was? But it's not over yet...

A mysterious smile appeared on the red lips.

The feeling came back in a rush, filling Yamcha with a wave of panic.

Bulma got up.

- Let's go to my room, she proposed.

~~~

In fact, she didn't bring him to her huge half bedroom, half lab, room, but to one of the many innocupied rooms of the building. Yamcha was almost as pale as the snow outside, but he refused to give up to panic and to disappoint her.

When she opened the door and indicated him to enter first, it took him all of his courage to not stay frozen in the corridor or, even worse, to run away.

The room was, just like the dinning room, only lightened by candles. The large bed was covered with red satin sheets and he noticed roses petals on the pillows. On a table beside the bed, he saw a big bowl of strawberries and another one, smaller, full of... Whip cream?

Holding back a desperate moan, he walked to the bed, sat on its edge. Bulma soon rejoined him, her eyes shinning with the little flames of the numerous candles.

- It's our first Valentines Day together, she said, almost whispering. I want it to be special. - Of... Of course, Yamcha managed to say, nervously. - Very special...

Her hand rubbed his shoulder slowly, made its way down his back... He quickly grabbed it, kissed its back gently. Bulma smiled.

- You're so cute.

Her other hand reached for the bowl of straberries, picked one and dipped it into the whip cream. Then she brought it to her mouth, carefully put in on her tongue without having cream all over her lips.

As she chewed her fetish fruit, Yamcha noticed his eyes were fixing her mouth, mesmerised. He shook his head, still holding her hand so she wouldn't try to touch him again.

The next berry went to his mouth. He let Bulma feed him, this being something they would usually do anyway.

It lasted for a long moment, velvet silence filling the semi-obscur room. Yamcha relaxed, enjoying how nice and pretty she was for the "special" night, even more than usual. "She wouldn't have that in mind... We're only seventeen..." he told himself. He smiled goofily and the strawberry missed its goal: whip cream spread on his cheek. He raised his hand to wipe it, but Bulma stopped him.

- Let me take care of it, she said.

Yamcha reddened as her face approached his and he felt himself shaking when she started to slowly lick the cream.. She put her hand on his thigh to keep her balance and that contact burnt him. Then her tongue slided into his mouth for a kiss and her hand moved to his shoulder, relieving him.

Not for too long though, because she pushed him onto the bed, her kiss becoming more passionnate. He opened his eyes wide when something grabbed him between the thighs. Unable to hold back anymore, he pushed her away and ran from the bed with a panicked shout.

Once at a "safe" distance, he looked at her, fallen on the floor and shocked.

- WHY did you do that?! she said, getting up.

She was clearly upset and offensed, like he'd insulted her. Yamcha felt bad, but he couldn't do that... Not yet...

- I'm sorry... I... I tried to control it, but... - Remains of your phobia, huh?

Her voice was annoyed. He nodded without looking at her. "I ruined her evening... She's gonna be so angry..."

- Yamcha...

Her hand cupped his face, obliged him to face her. He was surprised to see her smiling, even sorry looking.

- It's ok, she said. We don't have to do it.

Endless relief filled him. Not only she wouldn't force him into it, but wasn't even angry at all!

- I'm sorry... I'm ruinning your plans...

Even though a huge smile was now stuck on his face, he was truely sorry for her. But she smiled, losing him in the sea of her eyes.

- It's fine, really. I should have known you wouldn't be ready for that.

He pulled her against his chest for a hug. That's why he loved her so much. She was the first girl he had started to feel good with and she could be so understanding when he needed it.

- We can still eat the strawberries, right? she asked, with the usual I'm-gonna-eat-strawberries-and-they-happen-to-be-my-favorite-fruit-ever light in her eyes. - Of course, he laughed.

They sat back on the bed, even closer to each other than before, Yamcha's arm tightly wrapped around Bulma's waist. She continued to feed them both with the red berries covered with whip cream, but when one would have cream on his face, the other would just wipe it gently with a finger.

Time passed; they laid on the bed, side by side, finishing the bowl. Yamcha had taken his vest off and unbuttoned the first buttons of his immaculate shirt, Bulma had undone her hair and lavendar waves were brushing her shoulders.

Even when there was no more strawberries, they stayed in the room, laid on the bed, Bulma in Yamcha's arms. Silence had come back and they didn't want to break it, both loving how the evening had turned out. It wasn't the passionnate and memorable night Bulma had planned, but it was somehow better.

- Yamcha, I love you, she whispered at last, almost inaudible. - I love you too, he said on the same tone, kissing the top of her head. - Can we stay like this forever? - Sure...

Of course, forever only meant the night, but for them it seemed it could never end. Bulma smiled, pressed her face against his muscular chest, likeing the fact she could hear his heart beat. He was so cute... Sorry... I'm ruinning your plans...

They slowly fell asleep, in the same intime embrace, smiles remaining on their face.

Can't Buy Me With Strawberries

Chapter VIII: Reflections

Every five years was organized a mondial Tournament that would reunite the strongest men in the world so a champion could be chosen. Martial arts experts, sumos, boxers; every kind of fighter had its chance.

The twenty-first edition of the World Martial Arts Tournament would take place on Papaya's Island, in only a few months. Now able to afford the travel, Yamcha would realize a life time dream and participate. He hadn't stopped training since he lived in the West Capital and knew he was much stronger than the average. But he also knew there was even stronger people, such as Goku and Master Roshi, so he started an intensive training, even missing the less important classes at school (what would eventually mean every single one).

Most of the time, Puar would assist him, but that day, Bulma had taken the cat's place. She liked to watch her boyfriend train. Then he would forget about the world around him. He'd be her desert bandit again, especially now that his hair needed to be cut again... He had tied a headband around his forehead and was wearing his red and black suit, looking just like the day they had met. The only difference was that he didn't have his sword anymore...

And when their eyes would meet, instead of reddening, losing balance and running away, he'd smile to her.

- Could you bring me water, please? he suddenly asked as sitting down for a little rest.

He was breathing heavily and drops of sweat covered his face, but he was smiling, satisfied of himself. Bulma brought him his bottle, loving the way his muscles were standing out after exercises. As he drank she started massing his shoulders.

- Aren't you tired? she asked, though she knew the answer. - A little bit, but I gotta continue... The matches won't stop because I'm tired, you know.

Of course she knew; it was the tenth time he told her that. But she smiled.

- But this isn't a match, Yamcha... - Come on, Bulma. But you can go if you want to... - Oh no!

She wrapped her arms around his neck, filling her lunges with his wild odor.

- I love watching you training... But I don't want it to put your health in danger. - Don't worry for me.

He patted her as he could and she liberated him, guessing he was already ready to return to his training. He stood and stretched slowly.

- I tried to find Master Roshi's house, then said Bulma. But I couldn't find it and they don't give the good number in the phonebook. - Why do you want to see him? - I want to see Goku! You think he'll go to that... Tournament? - Maybe. I don't know. He's stronger than I am, so he'd have good chances, especially if Master Roshi trains him! - That old pervert! He's gonna turn Goku into a younger version of himself!

Yamcha held back a laugh. He knew Master Roshi as an exceptional art martial artist and couldn't worry for Goku. The boy's innocence seemed to be endless and he doubted that even a huge perverted man like Master Roshi could ruin it.

- You should move back a little, he said gently. Or I might hurt you.

Bulma nodded, returned to her chair, then only watched him fighting against an invisible opponent. Many opponents in fact, judging by his movements. As the "fight" went on, his speed increased and Bulma even started to not see him. Pride filled her. That was her boyfriend and he'd surely win that championship of his.

Slowly losing interest since she couldn't really see him, Bulma's mind started to wander. Yamcha needed a haircut quite badly... She remembered when he first cut it, for her... Just to please her, because he loved her... He'd done so much things like that, not really important but that meant everything. Each time, she'd love him even more and feel worthless. What has she done to deserve him? Most of the time she'd yell at him, accuse him, fight with him...

Now that she thought back about it, she was fighting alone most of the time. She couldn't remember one time he had talked back. "Oh Yamcha... You're so nice and I'm just so mean..." With time it did get better though. She'd control herself, trust him... "I wish I could show him how much I love him..."

He reappeared, falling back on his feet, clenched fists and taken by his fight against ghosts. Bulma smiled. Her warrior... She'd fallen for his bad guy style, but now she knew better. He was soft and caring... The memory of his strong arms around her made her shiver.

The Valentines Day came back to her mind. They'd spent that night together, though not the way she had imagined. She was glad it'd turned out like that. Such a sweet memory to cherish... She remembered when she woke up in the morning, before him... He was so cute, looking just like a child, so innocent in his sleep with his creased shirt and his hand holding hers...

She sighed, a dreamy smile on her lips. She had always dreamt of a man like him: strong, brave, with dark and deep eyes, but also tender and caring... Of course, her imaginary lover wasn't scared of sex like Yamcha, but it was fine. "Part of his charm, I guess..." It was better like that anyway. With hindsight, she figured she wasn't exactly ready herself, in spite of her attitude.

Yamcha started to slow down and her eyes were able to follow him again. Tiredness started to fill him at last, but he wasn't ready to stop yet. As he described slow and large motions with his arms and legs, which would usually make her laugh a little, she admired his concentration.

She knew that sometimes, he'd fight against a few guys in the streets, those who sparred for money. A way to make his own money and to not be too dependant of her... After all, he had his pride and having bed and board at his girlfriend's was probably not that thrilling for a young man who's lived years in the desert by himself.

Bulma yawned. It was getting quite late. But Yamcha was still doing his yoga-style moves and it seemed he wouldn't stop until a while.

He slowly pushed a piece of hair behind his shoulder and placed his arms and hands as if he was doing a Kamehameha. But of course he didn't know the technique and anyway, he was just so tired now. Sighing deeply, he stood straight and walked toward the young girl. A smile lightened his tired face when he realized she had fallen asleep, lavender hair hanging down before her softened face. "She looks so innocent when asleep." Carefully not awakening her, he picked her up and headed toward her bedroom. He would just put her in bed... For a second he imagined how he'd change her into pyjama and almost dropped her.

As he made his way through numerous corridors, Yamcha couldn't stop himself from admiring her, so gently asleep in his arms. Suddenly he noticed how fragile she could be. Bulma played the though girls, sometimes she could be a real bitch, but somehow she was very fragile. When tears would run down her cheeks as she'd yell she hated him, she would unwillingly show her weak side. She was hurt and wanted to hurt back, to not lose the fight. Bulma was a proud girl, with strong will and amazing arguing skills. She needed to be on control. With time he'd understood that and managed to please her, yet not be totally dominated. She wouldn't like a too submissive boyfriend anyway...

Slowly, he laid her on her bed, still doing his best to keep her asleep. After he had tucked her up, he starred at the angelic figure illuminated by the already strong moonlight. She looked younger, peaceful. His fingertips brushed her soft cheek slightly, tenderly. "Who would believe you can be as cold as ice..."

It was so easy to compare Bulma to a rose. She was beautiful, her scent intoxicating (at least for Yamcha it was), but she had painful thorns that were able to hurt so much if you didn't know how to take her... And in the end, she was as delicate as a flower...

He remembered how it was to hold her close, very close, to feel her heart beat against his own chest, to just stay there in silence, as if the love they shared was too great for words. Such a wonderful sensation... Back to the desert, he would never even have imagined something like it... Now he wished it'd never go.

While gently brushing her silky hair, Yamcha realized how she had changed him. When he was a bandit, he didn't really have any ideal, any plan for the future. He'd just steal money, capsules or anything valuable he could sell afterwards, without caring who he was robbing, though always and carefully avoiding women. The only one he'd trust, his only friend, was Puar. But then they met Goku, Oolon and Bulma, decided they wanted the Dragon Balls and they both ended at Capsule Corporation. Someone would have predicted it one year ago, Yamcha would never have believed him.

But he was so glad it had all happened.

Despite her many fits of mood, unfair angers and scary jealousy, Bulma made him so happy. He knew he simply loved her, no matter what, and that was the best feeling ever. As months passed they seemed to only go along better and he couldn't picture himself without her anymore.

It was a little bit scary though, loving her like that. He was dependant of her, economically and emotionally, and knew it. What if she dumped him? What could he do? Just thinking of it was bringing a twisted feeling into his heart. He hoped he was just being a fool and that him and Bulma would last forever.

In her dream, Bulma mumbled something, turned her head to the other side.

She was so beautiful...

With a silent sigh, Yamcha kissed her, infinitely softly, on the forehead and left the bedroom, longing for a good shower. The image of a sleeping, adorable Bulma was occupying his mind, leading him to walk into a wall inadvertently, lost as he was in his awaken dream.

As he shampooed his dark hair, he vowed to win that Tournament for her. She'd be so proud... A smile appeared on his face and he was so focused on different thoughts (all related to Bulma somehow) that he barely felt the white liquid trickling into his eyes.

He'd win and be her champion. That was the least he could do for her.

Can't Buy Me With Strawberries

Chapter IX: Temptations

The young spring of April, with its clear sky, cool wind, green grass and fresh air, was putting smiles on every face, cheering up everybody. The end of the school year was approaching and the exams were still so far away from the students that they couldn't care and worry yet. So, everybody was happy and carefree.

That day, the afternoon's sunrays were warmer than usually and the home economics class was filled with a delicious odor of cookies and laughters. Even Yamcha, who usually remained quiet among all those girls, was talking and laughing with them. He wasn't the young man who panicked at the sight of a woman anymore and when Dolby put a hand on his shoulder as complementing his cook's skills, he only smiled gently. The black haired girl emitted a charmed "aww".

- You're just so cute, Yamcha!

Her hand squeezed his shoulder slightly.

- And muscled, she added, her black eyes sparkling.

Something moved in Yamcha's stomach but he didn't pay attention. This Dolby was very pretty... "I like Bulma's eyes better though. Those are too... Dark. Blue eyes are just so beautiful." He barely heard the bell as the other girl stepped closer, a playful light dancing in the obscures eyes.

- You have flour on your cheek, she said softly, rising her hand to his face.

He wondered if she noticed how hot his skin was all of a sudden, but she only smiled while slowly wiping the flour from it.

From here he could smell her perfume. Something fruity... Oranges... No, peaches. He longed for a strawberry one...

Her fingers slipped into his hair. He remembered how Bulma would do it and wished she was there.

Dolby's smile changed a little. Was it... Seducing? Yamcha asked himself when she had gotten that close to him. He was about to say something when a well-known scream was heard.

- YAMCHA!!

Suddenly Dobly's hand vanished, she wasn't so close anymore. But it was too late and Yamcha prepared himself for another squabble with Bulma.

The purple haired girl was hardly breathing, her fists convulsively opening and clenching, visibly trying to control herself.

Yamcha felt guilt growing inside. In the past, he'd been too freaked out to stop girls from hitting on him. But this time, he had let Dolby do and honestly, he didn't know how far it could have gone. Guilt mixed with disgust and shame for himself.

Finally, Bulma exploded. Her words hit Yamcha like sharp wind and even though he didn't really understand every word, he looked down and stayed silent. What else could he do anyway?

After a moment that seemed to never end, Bulma shut up. Dolby was gone, but she didn't care. Something was wrong with Yamcha. He wasn't trying to explain and didn't look unfairly yelled at as usual. He was silent and impassable, and it scared her suddenly.

Something wrung her heart. Fear?

- Don't you say anything? she asked with a shaking voice.

His onyx eyes plunged into hers and she shivered. What was it with him...

- If you don't trust me, just say so, he said calmly.

Neutral voice. Bulma paled. Had she over reacted one too many times? Was he breaking up?! Little drops of cold sweat appeared on her forehead, her throat dried up.

- What do you mean?

Her voice was so faint suddenly! She held onto his past words: I could forgive you anything. It was taking him too much time to answer...

- I trust you...

A shadow fell on his already so dark look, but his face softened. He smiled.

- It's fine, Bulma. I know you can't help it.

She hugged him gladly, but had the feeling it wasn't really fine. Something in the way he hugged back... But willing to have and keep an happy couple, she just kissed him on the cheek, smiling as if she was completely relieved, denying the feeling.

~~~

The punching bag loosily turned around, came back toward the young man who gave it another weak punch. An heavy sigh was covered by the sound of the punch.

Puar looked at Yamcha as he waited for the red bag to return to him, visibly lacking in motivation. "What's wrong? Bulma isn't angry... Maybe there's a problem at school or something..." Usually, he'd ask his friend what was going on, but he couldn't dare this time. There was something in his eyes... Something forbidding questions.

The bag balanced slowly until it immobilized. Puar blinked a couple of times. He didn't even have noticed Yamcha's departure...

~~~

Having dozens of rooms in a house can be very useful, but also very annoying when you're looking for someone who isn't in his usual places. Bulma was starting to lose patience. She wanted to ask Yamcha about his reaction at school and couldn't find him. She roared as discovering another empty room. Where was he?!

~~~

It was the first time Bulma would arrive at school without Yamcha since the beginning of the year. For what she knew, he'd disappeared from Capsule Corporation after having trained a little and hadn't come back at all. She was worry more than upset. Did he really think she didn't trust him? "You're stupid, Bulma, stupid! This is all your fault!" Why had she yelled at him like that anyway? It was always the same mess, always because of her...

No... Not the same mess... This time, it was different. The young girl was even more scared than usual, because she didn't know what to expect from Yamcha now. He didn't show up in physical education. Many students gave Bulma wondering, if not mean, looks. She tried to not care, worrying a little more at every minute passed. Finally, she left before the end, returned to Capsule Corporation, hoping he'd be there.

Of course, he wasn't.

~~~

After wandering in the city for hours, Yamcha had slept freely in a motel after defeating the place's champion. He'd slept in and arrived at school quite late. In fact, right after the physical education class, which was good because he wasn't too sure if he wanted to see Bulma.

He couldn't just do as if nothing had happened. Not only he had let that girl hit on him, but he knew he'd hurt Bulma... As much as she had hurt him in the past with her mistrust, he hoped.

He'd said he could forgive her anything, but not for an infinite among of times. Somewhen she had to really trust him... He was starting to be sick of her jealousy, of her angers for nothing...

This time, he'd give her a reason to scream. He smiled as heading toward a beautiful black haired girl.

- Hi Dolby. Feel like skipping maths?

~~~

"I wonder what Bulma's doing..."

- ...and then they looked at me and said "Really?!" so I replied "Of course, duh!" and Bob...

Yamcha sighed. Dobly was cute (ok, gorgeous), but so boring and self-centred. He couldn't even remember who Bob was.

- ...Amazing, no? Anyway, I told him to...

How long could she talk without breathing? Her perpetually moving lips were hypnotizing him...

- ...in red! Right? I mean, green is so... So green!

Red? Green? Confused, he just gave up. Going out with Dolby just to anger Bulma was the dumbest thing he'd ever done, especially that she didn't even know about it.

She didn't even notice when he left.

When he was pretending to listen at Dolby, Yamcha had realised he couldn't stop thinking about Bulma and feeling bad. He was cheating on her, in a way... How could it have sounded right, just an hour ago?! It was so dumb...

Not feeling like going to school, he walked back home.

~~~

That part of the huge building was amazingly quiet for once, the heavy silence only broken by Yamcha softly, almost shily, knocking at a closed door.

- Bulma? You there? Can I enter... Please... We have to talk.

The purple haired teenager shivered at her boyfriend's voice, wiped small tears from her eyes.

- Sure... Come in.

He opened the door, closed it silently behind him. He was wearing his last day's clothes and seemed a little desperate. One hand held a small box. She recognized it as a strawberries one and held back a smile.

- Where were you? she asked, a little too rudely. - With Dolby.

The two words fell on her and it took a few seconds for her to react. With. Dolby. As in, with another girl?! She felt her eyes watering again.

- But I was wrong, he finally added, slightly shaking with nervosity. I don't love her, she's... She's not the one. You are.

He held out the small box, daring a sorry, hopeful smile. In vain. She shook her head, as if horrified by him.

- I'm really sorry, he said quickly, nervous. That was very stupid, I know... I'll leave the strawberries there and go, then... - I don't care about strawberries! I don't need them, I need you, Yamcha! You know I can't control myself when an idea jumps into my mind, now what if I can't even trust you?! - You can... - You were with someone else! - But I'm back! It's all clear now, Bulma. You're the one I love. Please, believe me...

And he stayed there, begging and sorry eyes, lost face and scared heart, as she stared at him in silence.

- You thought you could buy me that... she whispered, her extinct eyes on the strawberries box. A little too easy, no? - I didn't mean it like that... I just wanted to please you...

She sighed. She could feel his sorrow and wanted to forgive him... But the terrible feeling that she couldn't trust him anymore was haunting her still, trying to rip her heart.

He was sorry... Wouldn't do it again...

He had been with Dolby...

He regretted it... So much...

Finally, she smiled softly.

- You lucky bastard.

He walked up to her, hugged her tightly, relief obvious on his face, in his eyes, in his kiss... She was the one he loved, the only one... He had to remember it from now on. It would be so easy... He suddenly felt a new sort of love filling him: a confident, strong love...

- I love you, she whispered in his ear.

Yamcha breathed her perfume as replying:

- I love you too...

It sounded new, even more true and real than before. They smiled to each other.

- So... Do we eat those strawberries or not? The End

#Yamcha #Bulma #DBZ #Lost Fanfiction

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