#do you know what it is to be a 27 year old woman who's been crying most of the day and gets asked to put her camera on

[fingertipsmp3]

The class went better and worse than I expected

[purplecoffee13]

NFWMB - part 1

Summary: “Harry is a retired boxer who owns a gym and teaches self-defense classes. He considers himself a strong man, but when a gorgeous innocent woman attends a try-out class, she manages to leave him weak in the knees…”

Wc: 4.3k

Tropes: boxer!Harry x innocent!reader

Warnings: mentions of violence and SA

A/N: hello everyone! This is my new series NFWMB, named after one of Hozier’s most horny songs😄. I am so incredibly excited for this series omg it’s gonna be so good!!! If you don’t believe me, go listen to NFWMB and you’ll get a vague idea of what’s coming ;)

P.S. header = pov change

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Harry Styles was not one for regrets.

His life may not have turned the way he expected it to, but he was still proud of where he had come.

Being a professional boxer was a risky job, and Harry had known that when he had decided that it was going to be his career. But there was no other logical option. Harry was an exceptional boxer who was able to go pro at age 18, where he defeated a lot of men who were older and bigger than him.

It was his passion, it always had been. Which was something that was quite remarkable, especially to his closer family members, because Harry was anything but a violent person in his day to day life. He was quite reserved, and managed his temper very well. The years in the boxing ring did harden him quite a bit, his reserved nature developing into something more akin to stoicism.

Nevertheless, Harry loved boxing. It wasn't so much a fight to him, but more of a puzzle. Each opponent had its own made up riddle, and it was up to Harry to solve it as quick as possible. Much like a dance you learn the steps to along the way. A perfect combination of intuitive technique.

He hadn't planned on having to retire at the age of 27 already. It was supposed to be his peak; it had been for almost all boxers in history, and he was looking forward to how far he would be able to push his body during his prime.

He never got the opportunity to get an answer to those questions. A car accident got in the way.

He wouldn't have been able to stop it, he knew that, and he had forbidden himself from thinking about what could've happened had he not taken that specific road back home that horrible night. There was nothing he could do about it now, so there was no point in dwelling on it.

After a year of recovery, he was slowly able to get back into the rhythm of his old life again. Well, except for the boxing part. Knowing that his career in that field was over, he began thinking about some other options of his, and decided on fulfilling another dream of his: opening a gym.

He had always wanted to do it, but he always imagined to be retired by the time he would start on that.

Now, two years later, his gym was already in multiple locations, but Harry was still working at the first one he opened. He would visit the other ones every once in a while to see how everything was going, but he was mainly at the one nearest to his house. It was special to him, the place where it all started.

Despite running the place, and therefore not needing to be on location all the time, Harry was at the gym 24/7. He wasn't a personal trainer—wasn't really his style—but he would help people and teach self defense classes to women.

Every Thursday between 6 and 9, he would teach groups of ten women everything they needed to know on defending themselves from whatever threat they may run into. It was one of the things he was proudest of; the turn out at those classes. That these women put their trust in him, and let him help them become even tougher than they already were.

Tonight, after teaching the last group, Harry had gone to the bar with some of his friends. One of them was Sophie, a woman he had become friends with since she'd joined his self defense class. She was a great person with an impeccable sense of humor, and Harry was glad he had introduced her to Greg, his best friend. They were basically made for each other.

Harry had to admit that he envied his friend for the relationship he had. He was happy for them, but sometimes couldn't help but think that his lack of a partner was this one puzzle piece that would make his life even better. All in good time, he reminded himself.

"Hey," Sophie caught Harry's attention when she waved her hand in front of his face. His gaze shot to hers, eyebrows raised. "So, I was talking about your self defense class today at work. You know, promoting your business and all."

Harry chuckled at the cocky tone in which Sophie told her story, chin up high. He mumble a soft 'thanks', to which she grinned.

"You're welcome. Anyways, I have this new colleague and she seemed so intrigued by it, but she was too insecure about joining. I mean— she didn't outright say that, but I could just tell." She huffed, Greg rubbing her back. Sophie was a very happy person in general and wanted the best for everyone, this new colleague of hers included. Harry had the same habit, it's why he immediately suggested:

"Why don't you invite her along next week? A free try-out."

"But your try-out classes aren't for another two weeks." Sophie noted.

It was true. The self defense classes had become very popular, and since Harry taught them himself, he had scheduled one night of try-out classes a month. He was only able to take on so many people, but he didn't mind making this exception.

"She can join your regular class." Harry shrugged, and Sophie's eyes beamed with excitement.

"Thank you Harry!" She squealed happily, giving Greg a hug to channel her enthusiasm. "Oh, I hope she'll come along!"

"I'm sure she will." Harry assured her with a smile, and took another sip from his beer.

Y/N had never been one for risks.

She had never been the type of person to take the leap of faith, relying more on familiar feeling of security. Why risk hurting yourself when you could be safe and content?

It was the logic she had always operated with, the logic she had been taught from a very young age. Y/N had had a sheltered upbringing. Her parents wanted her and her little brother to be as safe as possible, and that was just fine to Y/N.

Her little brother was the more feisty one of the two, and his childhood consisted of a lot of fighting. It hurt Y/N to see the people she loved so much be so angry all the time, and it only motivated her to be as good as possible. She never drank, smoked, or went to parties. She turned in her homework early and got an A on almost every test. It did put a strain on her relationship with her brother, especially since Y/N's behavior would be used as ammunition towards him.

They still didn't talk all too much, but Y/N hoped that one day, she could repair that relationship again.

Moving a few towns away was a big deal for her parents, but the wonderful job she had gotten as a secretary at quite a prestigious law firm had made it all worth it. They helped her with moving into her apartment, but Y/N would regularly visit them on both weekdays and on the weekends. All in all, she'd had a safe, comfortable, content life.

Until a few months ago.

It was a Friday night, and Y/N had agreed to a date. One of the lawyers at the firm, Oscar, had been flirting with her ever since she started working there. Not wanting to be impolite, Y/N never outright rejected him, and so the flirting continued. She was a bit uncomfortable about it — especially since he was nearing his forties and she was only 23 — but figured the banter was part of the job. She was so shocked when he did ask her to go on a date, she said yes.

It wouldn't be too bad, she figured. She would just go on the date and tell him she wasn't interested afterwards. It could be casual, and no one would be too hurt. The date was definitely out of her carefully moderated comfort zone, but she would step out of it for one night.

The date was fine. Like she had expected, she wasn't interested in Oscar in a romantic way. Still, she listened to his stories, laughed right on cue at all his jokes, and told some of her own anecdotes as well. The dinner was great, and he even offered to walk her home.

They were nearing Y/N's apartment when Oscar had suddenly slowed down his walking pace. She only noticed when she was a few feet away from him, and walked back to where Oscar was standing.

"Are you okay? We're almost there, I promise." Y/N smiled politely, much like she did in the office. Oscar didn't say anything in response, only the corners of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly.

"You're so beautiful, do you know that?" He  complimented her, and Y/N looked at her feet, not quite knowing how to handle the flattery.

"Thank you." She said softly, and froze when Oscar's fingers tilted her chin upwards. Her eyes widened when he suddenly leaned in and put his mouth on hers. After the first few seconds of pure shock slowly passed, Y/N pulled her head back.

Not getting the hint, Oscar grinned and leaned in again, this time with both his hands on her face. Y/N let out a yelp, stumbling backwards. Her body's alarm bells were ringing so loudly, but Oscar must've been deaf to her body language because he backed her up against the wall and kept kissing her.

Y/N cried out as she tried to push Oscar off with her hands, but he only grabbed them and pinned them above her head. Finally, not knowing what else to do, she lifted her knee and kicked him right in the crotch. Oscar shot backwards, groaning loudly as his grip finally loosened on her. He looked incredibly angry.

"What the fuck?!" He bellowed, standing up straight again. Y/N's lip quivered, tears running down her face.

"You wouldn't stop." She said softly, almost in a whisper. Her entire body was shaking from the adrenaline. Oscar's mouth opened to say something, but the conversation got interrupted.

"Oscar!" A woman's voice shouted from down the street. He turned his head, and his face morphed from sheer rage into a lovely smile, the same one he always put up for Y/N back in the office.

"Sophie!" He said, but the mention of her name sounded strained. Sophie... Y/N recognized her name, but she hadn't ever met the woman. She was one of the three female lawyers at the firm. Had been working there for only five years, but her reputation was so badass, everyone knew who she was.

"What are you doing out tonight?" Sophie asked as she gave Oscar a hug, and turned to Y/N. "Who's this?"

"This is Y/N." Oscar replied. "She's a secretary at the firm."

"Nice to meet you." Y/N extended her hand, and Sophie shook it.

"Nice to meet you too! How come I've never seen you around?" She tilted her head.

"I— I work on a different floor."

"Well, I'm glad I met you, Y/N!" She said, the kindness in her tone being a real comfort after that scary moment she just had to live through. Somewhere in the way she said it, and in the way her eyes softened slightly, it almost felt like Sophie knew.

"I— I should go. It's getting pretty late." Y/N decided that this could be her sweet escape.

"Right, I'm gonna bring Y/N home." Oscar said, and your eyes shot to him. Anxiety filled your lungs until all you could breathe was fear. You didn't want to be alone with him. You had no idea what he would be able to do to you. What were you going to do about it? You weren't even half as strong as he was.

"Oh, which way is it?" Sophie asked, turning to Y/N, who was about to open her mouth but got interrupted by Oscar.

"That way." He pointed toward the direction of Y/N's house. Sophie side eyed her colleague, then nodded.

"Exactly the way I was going! Let's go." She hooked her arm into Y/N's, and began walking, ranting about how it was unacceptable that they didn't work on the same floor.

Y/N wordlessly nodded along, filled with gratefulness to Sophie or the universe—or both—for not leaving her alone with Oscar again.

She got home safely about five minutes later, not daring to look Oscar in the eyes as she hugged him and said goodbye, and she only allowed her tears to fall down her cheek when she closed her front door.

Y/N spent the rest of the weekend in bed, not in the mood to do anything. By Monday, she felt both better and worse. She had had some time to come down from the shock of what happened, but the terror that filled her at the realization that she was to see Oscar again, had her stomach turn. On Monday morning, she even got into work late as a result of a wave of nausea that hit her once she'd grabbed her keys, spending the time she used to drive to work to puke her guts out instead.

Later, she'd found out that Oscar had called in sick that day. It gave her some time and space to breathe. Sophie visited her the same day, and she hadn't stopped visiting since.

Oscar did eventually return to work, but they never talked anymore. Y/N didn't dare to look him in the eye, and she avoided him at all costs. One day, about two weeks after everything happened, she did see him waiting by her cubicle, but she hid in the toilet for half an hour and by the time she returned he was gone.

It had been two months since that horrible event, and Y/N had entirely isolated herself. Back to the normal routine, back to what was familiar. It gave her a sense of control. She was fragile, and sensitive. She had just pressed down her sadness and anxiety that lingered as a result from the date, and instead focused entirely on what she could control.

She figured it would be easier. Well, except for the mental breakdowns she'd get when something small didn't go right. The dishes not being cleaned, her vacuum not taking up every speck of dust; it just set her off. It wasn't healthy, but she had no idea how else to deal with these things.

When Sophie mentioned she was following self-defense classes a couple weeks ago, Y/N's ears had perked up. She tried to be subtle about it; asking questions to pry some information about the classes from her. But, being the amazing lawyer she was, it didn't go over Sophie's head, and before she knew it she had an invite to a class.

"See you next week!" Harry exclaimed as the last of the women from the 7pm class left the room. He was still busy putting everything back into place before the next class which would commence in about five minutes.

He was just about done with everything when Sophie walked in, another girl walking in close behind her. Harry couldn't really make up her face, as she stayed closely behind Sophie, even upon nearing him.

Sophie looked proud, probably feeling very accomplished about the fact that she had been able to convince this colleague of hers to take her up on her offer.

"Hey!" She greeted Harry cheerfully, giving him a quick hug. He was still smiling when he turned to the woman standing next to Sophie. His mouth went a bit dry when he took in her face.

"Harry, this is Y/N."

For starters, she was a bit shorter than Sophie, and quite frail too. Her hair was up in a ponytail, leaving her features to be admired out in the open. Her eyes were soft—radiating mostly insecurity at the moment—and wide. Those Bambi eyes and plump, rosy lips...

She looked so... innocent?

He wasn't sure if it was the right word, but he was sure that he had to say something before the silence became too long.

"Hi Y/N." He repeated her name, seeing the slightest flicker of surprise run through the eyes of the woman in front of him. But the slight relaxation of her body told him that his usual trick was working. It was a typical 'strategy' that he would often use with people who were a bit unsure about him. His voice would soften, he would always wear a hint of a smile on his face, and he'd repeat people's names to create a bit more of a familiar environment. It always worked, and he was glad it did. He never wanted anyone, especially a woman, to feel uncomfortable around him.

"Hi." The corners of her mouth tugged up.

Angel.

That's all he could think of as he looked at her. Jesus Christ, she was beautiful.

"Thank you for joining the class. You don't have to join in on everything if you don't feel comfortable. Just observe and see if this is something you would like to practice more often, okay?"

The girl in front of him nodded intently the second he had finished talking. Her eyes widened ever so slightly before she peeped out an, "okay."

Harry grinned, his gaze shooting to Sophie—who was looking at him with this suspicious look on her face that she only got once in a while—before calling everyone in a circle and commencing the class.

This girl, Y/N, turned out to be a real distraction for him. He was so focused on trying to read how she was feeling that he trailed off during explanations a couple times. It was embarrassing, really. He was a grown man for God's sake, why couldn't he just concentrate?

Y/N only joined in for a couple of the basic movements, but she stayed back for most of the class. Her big eyes observed every movement Harry and the others made, impressed with how developed everyone seemed to be in their techniques. He noted that it only seemed to make her more timid, though.

His eyebrows kept knitting every time he looked at her, getting lost in his thoughts on how he could help her become more comfortable in his class. She'd caught his stare about halfway through the class, and at the way her eyes shot to the floor he realized that his gaze was actually doing the completed opposite of what he wanted to do, which was help her.

When the class ended, Harry gave his usual speech about how good everyone had done their job, and that he would see them all next week. Afterwards there would always be a couple of women hanging around to ask questions, and he would stop a few on their way out to compliment their improvements. When the rest of the women had left, Sophie walked up to Harry, Y/N following closely behind.

"Great class, Styles. Thanks for teaching me some ass kicking again." She teased, smiling at him before she took a sip from her water bottle.  Harry chuckled, shaking his head faintly.

"Glad you liked it." He turned to Y/N. "What about you?"

Her cheeks started heating up, mouth falling open ever so slightly. "M— me? Oh, uhm, yeah, pretty good."

"I'm going to use the bathroom really quick, I'll be right back." Sophie chimed in, and began walking towards the door. "Keep her company for me, will ya Styles?"

Harry almost laughed at how Y/N's eyes nearly popped out of her sockets at Sophie's announcement. She was nervous around him, and it was quite endearing, but she didn't need to be. Although it was very cute, Harry wanted her to be comfortable around her.

"You hated it, didn't you?" He said as soon as Sophie was out of sight. Harry was amused, watching Y/N scramble for words when she realized what he had said.

"What? No, no of course not! You're great! Teacher— you're a great teacher, I mean." She stumbled over every last one of her words, making it sound even less convincing than it already was, even though she did really mean it.

Harry solely raised his eyebrow, indicating that he did not buy any of that, and it was all it took for her shoulders to slump and a little sigh to leave those pretty lips of hers.

"It's really not you, I promise. I just get... a bit nervous in group settings, especially when it comes to sports. I don't even go to the gym." She confessed, and Harry nodded. That certainly made more sense. His heart warmed a bit at the fact that she reassured him that he wasn't the reason she wasn't liking the class all too much.

"Why don't you go to the gym?" Harry asked further, his tone soft. He didn't want to press too much, but he did want to know more about her.

"It's... embarrassing." She shrugged. Harry chuckled.

"I go to the gym all the time. I mean, I own this one. I can only imagine how embarrassing I must be."  He joked. He had to say he thought it was pretty funny, the way she blushed as he teased her.

"No, I didn't mean it like that! You're not embarrassing at all— I mean, you’re like the opposite. You're lean, and strong. You have like— big arms and you know what you're doing." She ranted, and had no idea how much Harry's ego was fueled by the compliments she was unknowingly throwing at him. "Whereas I— I have no idea what to do at a gym. I hate the idea of people being able to watch me and judge me if they want. Not that I think everyone's focusing on me all the time! I— I don't think that..."

Y/N's heart was racing as she finally got herself to stop talking. It was a nervous habit she had always possessed. As soon as something got awkward, her mouth would open and it would just never shut again. All communication skills flew out the window as soon as something — or in this case someone — made her nervous. She couldn't even remember half the words she just said.

"I can teach you, if you want."

The offer was as unexpected to Y/N as it was to Harry. He hadn't quite anticipated the words rolling off his tongue, but he didn't regret them either.

"It'll be a private class, and it can be in a closed room, like this one, or after closing time. Whatever suits you." Harry tried his hardest to sound casual, and not like what he was offering was something he literally never did. He had to hire a cleaner at home because he was too busy to get around to cleaning the house, that's how much he had to do. But the prospect of losing even more free time did not seem to bother him at all. In fact, he hoped Y/N would take him up on his offer as he scanned her face and waited for her to say something.

"No, I wouldn't want to ask that of you. I'm sure you're busy with a lot of other things." She declined politely, but he didn't miss the glimmer of hope in her eyes. Those private classes had sounded intriguing to her, he just knew it. So instead of accepting her rejection, he shrugged.

"How about this. I'm always in till late on Tuesday's. If you're sure you don't want private lessons, that's fine. But if it does sound like something you want to do, just be there at 9. I'll be there either way." Harry suggested. He didn't wait for a response — hearing Sophie's footsteps nearing — and instead said,

"Just think about it, alright?"

Y/N merely nodded, not even able to croak out a 'yes' before Sophie walked back into the room.

"Okay, I'm ready to go. Y/N?" Sophie asked, watching as her friend agreed and grabbed her things before walking towards the door where Sophie stood.

"Thanks for the class." Y/N turned around and smiled at Harry, throwing him a small wave as she started following Sophie out the door.

"Anytime." He winked at her.

"Bye Styles!" Sophie shouted, her keys clinking as she waved at Harry, behind her.

"Bye Soph." Harry called out, his eyes still transfixed on the girl behind his friend.

He didn't take her eyes off her as they walked towards the exit, taking in every detail of her delicate body as she moved further and further away from him. She was painstakingly beautiful. How had she just walked in? As soon as the girls disappeared behind the door, Harry let out a big sigh.

"Fuck." He murmured under his breath.

He really hoped Y/N would take him up on his offer. Harry had very quickly and very suddenly developed this intense need to help the girl, and that couldn't mean anything good.

Maybe he'd never see her again. She did sound very unsure. Besides, who said that she even wanted to go to this class? For all Harry knew, Sophie could've just used her manipulative convincing tricks, and Y/N, the polite angel she was, would've felt too bad to decline. Maybe, she thought he was an ass and didn't want anything to do with him.

In spite of the countless theories flying through his head, he knew that she wanted it. He had seen it in her eyes. She did really want to join the class, she was simply too nervous. But whether she would take him up on the offer, that was the question. He'd have to wait until the following week.

Strangely enough, he couldn't wait until it was Tuesday. He couldn't wait to find out…

[stark-ironman]

Hello, Is it possible to do a request of read x hugh. The reader was in their 20s and hugh 55 and the reader brought hugh to meet the parents,but the parents didn't agree with age gap? (no smut, ending can anything) Thank you so much :)

I Choose You

18+ Only No Minors

A/N: I sort of know what this is like since I have an older man, not as old as Hugh but still so I hope you like it!!

You grip Hugh's hand tightly while he drives down the street to your parents house, nervously biting your lip as you both approach the house. "Darling, it's going to be okay." Hugh calmly tells you once he pulls into the house. "I told them you was a bit older than me but I never specified to them the exact age. They're going to flip on me." You whimper but Hugh hushes you quickly.

"I'm sure it will be okay. Besides, with my beard shaved off I don't look a day over 40." He jokes, causing you to choke out a laugh and look at him. "Promise me you won't leave me after their interrogation?" You ask. Hugh leans over to console and kisses you softly, "It's going to take more than meeting your parents to get me to leave you, love." He sincerely tells you with a soft smile.

"Let's do this then.." He gets out of the car and walks over to your side, helping you out and let's you lead the way, your hand intertwined with his. You knock softly on the door as Hugh wraps an arm around your waist, kissing your forehead softly right when your mom opens the door.

"Y/N! Oh, it's so good to see you!" She exclaims, hugging you tightly before letting you go. "Oh... who is this?" She asks, her eyes roaming over Hugh with a weird look on her face. "Hugh, ma'am. Nice to meet you." Hugh extends his hand out to shake your moms but she turns slightly, calling for your father.

"There's my little girl," Your father says with a smile, pulling you in for a hug as he looks over at Hugh. "Well, who is this gentleman?" He asks as he checks him over. "Hugh, sir." Hugh smiles and extends his hand out, your father taking it cautiously.

"Aren't you a bit old to be dating my daughter?" Your father asks and you grab Hugh's hand nervously. "I probably am but it's something we talked over very thoroughly before anything fully happened." Hugh explains as he smiles at you.

"How old are you exactly?" "55.." Hugh slowly says, knowing the reaction he's most likely fixing to recieve. "What on earth does a 55 year old man have to do with a 27 year old woman!" Your dad exclaims, causing you to flinch but you calmly look at him. "I'm the one who came onto him, dad. He would've never acted on anything if I didn't initiate it." "He has no right being with you. He's only a 10 years younger than me!" Your dad yells.

"I know but I couldn't help it. I love him, dad. He makes me the happiest I've been in a long time." You smile at him, Hugh staring proudly down at you but your father quickly ruins the moment. "No daughter of mine will date a man this old. Either you break it off with him or stay off my property and don't come back."

You look at your father with wide eyes, trying to make sure you heard him right as Hugh steps in front of you. "Let's not make any rash decisions while angry. I know this is a shock but I promise, I'm not going to hurt her and I know you don't either. She's the light of my life and I don't want anybody doing or saying something they're going to regret." Hugh tries to say but your father shakes his head, "Get off my property, both of you."

They go inside the house and shut the door, tears flowing quickly down your face as you bury your face in Hugh's chest. "You should go." He quietly says, causing you to quickly look up at him. "I'm not worth you losing your relationship with your parents. Go inside with them. I'll be okay." He says, tears forming in his eyes as well.

"I'm not doing that," He looks down at you, eyes staring at you with sadness, "I don't care what they say. I'm happy with you and you're everything to me. I don't care that you're older, I love you for who you are. If I have to go no- contact with my family or friends then so be it. You're all I need, Hugh." You explain and he kisses you deeply, holding you close to him.

"You're all I need, darling. I love you more than life itself." He kisses your forehead then rubs your shoulders. "Let's get out of here before they come out with a baseball bat." You say, leading him back out to the car, getting in and he starts the car.

"It's us against the world, darling. Nothing will ever change that."

[flamingpudding]

I'm back with a part 4 if you want to do it it's kind of more of a crack write I just need Klarion trying to explain the family tree

But not explaining how he was made at all So Young Justice and the Justice League are now convinced that a the Ghost King was a teenage parent who is now 27 years old and just passed college with a degree in astronomy and machinery

Klarion's other parent is a a crazy fruit loop 64 year old millionaire who went to college with Klarion's Mom parents who had an emotionally unhealthy obsession with his mom's mother and then it passed on to his mom.

And he has an older sister who is technicality a clone of his mom but also has the bastards DNA so fundamentally making Ellie Vlad Master and Mom's first born kid but there's six other siblings that Klarion had that died back a while back but Mom got granddad who's apparently the time lord AKA Cronos which is a whole another long story to go back in time and save those kids get them fixed up and now Klarion technicality has seven older siblings which all do their own things

And then he starts mentioning his uncle who is a 9 ft yeti his technicality auntie who is a medieval ghost princess who can turn into a dragon his auntie Pandora and his his grandfather cronos

My names for the six other clone children are Donald (he/him), Cecelia (they/she), Bartholomew(Them/They), Kyle AKA Bite(He/It), Brutus(He/They), and then there's Danna (She/Her) who actually really like the name Dan and asked Klarion if could have it when Klarion changed his name

Sorry if this is a little bit too much I've just really been thinking about au for this after the last part you made I hope this helps you with your writing or at least makes you laugh but I really love the idea of Danny's AKA somewhat clone children and finding their own personalities and and fighting themselves out of just being failed clone of their mom also I love the idea of Danny going back in time to save the rest of the clone kids cuz now he's a mature adult who wants to save their lives and wants them to grow into their own people.

(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

I probably did way to much research into all the fandoms I am in to see what I could tie into this... And yet this feels shorter than it should but I also currently lack the time to add more. But for now I hope this will be satisfactorily.

Also this family tree idea especially the part of saving the melted clones. LOVE IT!

So even though it took me a while! here is Part 4 you inspired! Thanks so much for the ask!

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"Dude, you are making us only curious!" Impulse spoke up as he sat down next to Klarion who had his head in his hands. "Like you and your mom can't just drop your family lore like that!"

The witch boy on the other hand looked up with narrowed eyes at the speedster. "What lore?"

"Let's see, the part that apparently a Vlad tried to kill your Grandpa to make friends several time. That your mom is 'ghost' adopted by the lord of time Cronos and Pandora, which makes us family too by the way, and that you have a sister that apparently is even crazier than what we got to know of your family so far." Wonder Girl counted off her fingers next to him grinning as she mentioned the part of probably being a part of his 'crazy' family too. Which hell yea, that sounded like a lot of fun to be explored she would have to talk with Wonder Woman about that as soon as possible.

"Also..." Red Robin added as he flipped through the photo album that apparently no one remembered he had. He was turning it around and pointed at a particular photo with a wild bunch of people in it that varied between more human and well... less humanoid people. One of them definitely was a Yeti and there was also what looked like living armor as well as Teekly (they knew that demon cat at least), a giant green dog and for some reasons there was a green aggressive looking Octopus in the background too. "...how are you related to a Yeti?"

"Hey that man there and those other teens in the picture actually have some resembles with you! Do you have older brothers too?" Superboy additionally asked as he moved around Red Robin to see the photo better pointing at a man that appeared to be in this late twenties, blue eyed, black haired and a little on the buffer side. If he didn't know any better and the fact that he should keep his mouth shut about their actual identities he would have jokingly asked Red Robin if his family would like to add more kids considering Klarions family apparently had a bunch of black haired blue eyed members too, judging by the photo at least.

"What are you talking about. That man is my mom and yes the others are actually my older brothers and that Yeti is uncle Frostbite who also happens to be the best medic in the Infinite Realms" The four teen heroes looked stunned at the picture and then back at the Ghost King that was smiling at them, still seated by the dinner table with their mentors. Who by the way were now perking up at the change of topic and the information they could gain with it, well Wonder Woman was more interested in the apparently extended family she had.

"Oh I remember we took this photo last year, it was such a hassle to get everyone into one place with them all being busy doing their own things." Danny mused for a moment, remembering fondly how he had to literally drag some of the kids home through a portal.

"It was more annoying than anything too since I was declared to be the youngest...." Klarion muttered also remembering that day not as fondly as his mother.

"Wait, wait, wait! That is a picture of your family? I need an explanation buddy!" Impulse cut in without shame, quickly removing the picture from the photo album to get a better look at it before holding it out to Klarion so he could explain all the individuals. "Plus why does your mom look soooo.... human?"

The witch boy on the other hand stared at him for a couple of seconds before looking over towards his mother as if waiting for something. After a moment the teen heroes as well as their mentors saw Danny nod with a little smile. "This dimension doesn't have the GIW so its fine, the Justice League Dark won't be a problem either, right?." Constantine flinched at the smile the Ghost King was giving him, muttering something under his breath as he had hoped his presence had been forgotten.

"Since mom is giving his okay...." Klarion mutter sitting crosslegged on the ground as he snatched the photo album from Red Robin and flipped through it. "Lets start with the easiest stuff to explain."

Danny chuckled noticing that not only the teen heroes but their mentors as well showed an interest. He choose to stay quiet letting the adults listen in on the kids, and if things went bad he would just ask Clockwork if they could revert time back to this moment and he would change his nod of permission to a shake of denial.

"Okay first of, this is my mom and his sister Jasmine, this is Danielle my older sister and that hulk with flaming white hair and blueish skin is me. That was before I got deaged because of destabilising." Klarion explained flipping to a photo of him, Danny, Jazz and Danielle. "Mom was around fifteen, Aunt Jazz about seventeen and Ellie should have been about a year old but she was aged up to twelve. They look human in this one because well they are. Mom was originally human and became what you call in this dimension a Meta through an accident."

"Wait... that would mean your mom... How could he have two kids at that age of fourteen? You look like an adult and your sister was aged up?" Wonder Girl couldn't help but ask as she looked from the photo and back to Danny at the dinner table again.

"That's cause Vlad was a fu-"

"Language Klarion!"

"Vlad was a fruitloop. That photo was taken shortly after Vlad and I sort of redeemed our selfs. Plus, mom didn't really have my sister and me willingly.... we were kind of forced upon him in a way." Klarion explained shrugging. "Old Man Vlad had an obsession with his mom that then turned on mom, which resulted in my oldest sister Danielle first. Actually, a lot of my elder siblings resulted from that, but they didn't survive it the first time, Mom got Old Man Clocks help to save them once he got used to being the Ghost King. I got added to the mix shortly after my sister, but... i wasn't in the best state of mind at first, kind of went through a redemption phase in which mom had to fix the timeline of our original home dimension, too."

Danny chuckled again at the disturbed looks the teens were giving his son as well as the looks their mentors sent him. He probably should correct Klarion's wording... but being one of the gremlins of his family he just smiled on, not commenting. He really understands now why Pops Clockwork liked watching the chaos he used to cause as teen, and still sometimes causes as adult.

"Klarion... how old is this Old Man Vlad?" Red Robin asked grimacing as his eyes under the mask flicked up to the Ghost King and then back to the witch boy both seemingly unbothered by the disturbing information they were sharing.

"In human years... probably around 67? You stop counting age at some point if your a halfa." Klarion shrugged, not noticing the grimaces of the teens around him. "Anyway, Ellie is sort of the first born. I came in after that, with my core being a mix of Mom and Vlad. Not DNA wise though since I came to be because of their ghost cores. That's why I look like that in this photo. Though human DNA wise I am probably now mostly Moms, we never bothered to ask the old man."

Danny muffled another chuckle, coughing as Superman sent him an incredulous look of shook while he felt Batmans burning gaze on him.

"You... mentioned more siblings?" Red Robin asked carefully sharing a look with his team, feeling like there was a whole lot of trauma in Klarions family he wasn't sure they should address or not. So asking after his siblings was probably, hopefully the safest option. They didn't know that while there was trauma in the witch boy's family it was not the kind they were imagining.

"Yea I got a bunch more brothers, Vlad was a evil crazy fuitloop, before he redeemed himself. They all kind of melted in one timeline but mom and Grandpa Clock found a way to save them." Klarion nodded flipping to another photo containing him, as he looked now, and all his siblings.

"So, Ellie you know about already. The one with the sunglasses and died hair is Bartholomew, second oldest. They made themselves a home in other dimension, barely at home cause he has to much fun messing with something called a 'Starstream' by being a 'Constellation' and throwing gold coins at 'Incarnations'. Don't ask me what that means, I barely pay attention when he gushes about his favorit 'Incarnation'. They spent like all their money and pocket money there. Aunt Jazz thinks he might develop a gambling addiction if we don't stop his spendings." The teen heroes eyed the teen that looked like a young adult grinning in the photo as the witch boy pointed at the one next to them. "The one with the vile is my elder brother Bite, most responsible one of this bunch. Mom even allowed him to take care of a couple of dimensions by taking the role of being their God of Death. I think he messed them up more than helped but he is doing a somewhat good job, even if he is sort of obsessed with making some red head his saint or something..."

"One of your sibs is a God?" Impulse gabbed and Klarion just blinked at him with a shrug. "My Grandfather is the ruler of Time, your point is? Wonder Girl is also related to a God of your dimension."

"Never mind him, moving on." A yelp resounded as Superboy pushed Impulse head down leaning in more to see the photo better. "You got one emo looking brother there!"

"Oh that's Yamikumo, he is like a year or two older than me right now, in human years. He barely got any of mom's powers so he choose to try to life a somewhat normal life but weirdly enough he choose a dimension that is ruled by people who have powers and abilities, you know like the Meta Humans of this dimension. Now that I think about it, he is also the only one who actually is studying on how to be a Hero."

"Do you end up fighting with him if he studies to be a hero?" Wonder Girl whisper asked him with a quick glance towards their mentors, to which Klarion shook his head. "As long as we leave the dimensions one of us choose to live in alone we usually don't fight about stuff like that, aside from the usual sibling fights that is. Then again I do have some siblings that like to make bets like who is better at ruling as demon lord, or who can safe a dying timeline quicker."

Danny chuckled again as he watched the kids, Klarion had definitely caused some misunderstandings with his wording. Then again it wasn't like Klarion said anything that wasn't true, but then again his son loved chaos. So there was a suspicion that Klarion intentionally choose the way he worded the explanation about how he and Ellie came to be as well as the rest of siblings.

"So....." Superman slowly started wondering how he should bring up the topic. "...you became a mom at 14?"

"Say Danny is there a way for me to meet this Vlad? You know since we are family." Wonder Woman also asked smiling in a certain way that reminded Danny of Valerie when she was mad but didn't want to show right away how mad she was, to which the Ghost King on reflex could do nothing but gulp for a moment. Not noticing that a green post it note appeared on the table before him.

[ashsimpsalot]

Coconut oil & honey (Monkey Man Kid X reader)

A/n: I haven't written anything in so so long. Like a year long. This is a fluff fic erm... OKAY ENJOY

Gentle love?

Gentle love.

He's 27 now, almost 28.

28

He's the age that his mother will forever be, and after 18 years, he's found that feeling he's been desperately craved, he's mistaken for trying to fill that hole in his chest by the only thing he's understands; pain.

The angry 13 years old boy with tiger stripes on his wrists would be baffled if he'd find out that the emptiness he feels is that yearning for love.

The stoic 20 years old boy with knitted eyebrows will scoffs if he's told him that he needs to open his heart bigger to fill it up.

"what is grief if not love with nowhere to go?" his woman had said while tracing his scarred palm with her perfect fingers.

Perfect.

She's perfect.

Who would've known that he'd find the missing half of his cursed soul in a cursed hotel? Not him.

"where'd you go, handsome?" you asked, sweeter than sugar cane, quieter than the night outside of her shitty apartment.

Just the sound of your voice had crafted a small, soft smile on his otherwise tight lips. "I'm right here, jaanu", " Kid would answer just as quiet as you, reaching behind, taking one of your hands out of his curls, planting a kiss on your palm ignoring the distinct smell of coconut oil and honey. By pure muscle memories you flatten your palm out and placed it on his cheek.

"you're getting all the oil on your lips and cheek, silly." you chuckled.

and right there and there he'd understand that half of his heart had spilled out of his chest and now free to roam the world in the form of his lover.

Kid's nights used to be filed with snoring men and loud voices of his mother's screams.

Now it's this, you sitting on the couch, him sitting on the floor between your legs, eyes pinned on whatever movie you decided to turn on, your fingers that are red with henna along with small ring he'd bought with whatever money left in his pockets wrapped around your ring finger that are willingly buried in his curls, working their magic.

A determine look on your face as you massages your homemade hair oil into his scalp.

He'd never know that the smell of the coconut oil and honey that hits his nose when he first met you would stay in his life for this long, and he's wish upon all that he knows for it to stay forever.

"lost you there again, bandhar." you said softer this time, he knows what that means, concerned. He almost whined when your fingers left his hair, he knew that you're done.

He shakes his head, held your hand and continue to do so as he settles to sit next to you.

"thank you." he whispered, kissing your palm and pushes his cheek against it next. You smiled. "you know I love playing with your hair. This is purely for my pleasure." you joked.

He didn't laugh, he shook his head. "not that, you saved me, you found the heart that I lost all those years ago, you.." he stopped, he realised he doesn't have the words to let you understand just how much you meant to him.

"I love you" you replied, you understood, you always do.

He smiled and leans in to kiss you. "I love you much more than you can ever imagine," he whispered, with his forehead pressed onto yours, colloused thumb softly rubbing on your chin.

He felt it again, the love you have for him spill onto him just by your hands, your hands in his curls, your hands on his cheeks, your fingers in his palm, your hand on his chest.

"I love you," he repeated, he'd laid down on the couch, pulling you with him, the desire to be close to you is too strong, you can't be closer, the only way to do that is to open him up and crawl into him, you've laid your head on his chest, eyes back on the screen. You're watching the TV and he's watching her.

"I love you," he repeats again.

"I love you" he repeats, not giving you a chance to reply.

"I love you," if you've forgotten.

"I love you," if you've doubted him.

He sighs and kisses your forehead. "I love you,"

You softly chuckle and move up.

"i love you," he said again, you had leaned in to kiss him to shut him up, hand caressing his cheek as you do so. He thought he'd die, he thought the love in his chest is too much it'll burst open and kill him.

"I love you too," your voice silenced him.

He smiled as you went back to lay on his chest, finger tracing circles on his chest.

He closes his eyes.

He knows now.

He's knows he's loved.

He matters.

He matters.

[kiefbowl]

Im slightly scared to ask this elsewhere because of the attitudes ive seen but im bisexual and have recently broken up with a man ive been with since my teens. I'm worried that as I get older, I'll be less and less likely to ever have my first experience with a woman. I'm 27 now, I'm always seeing posts about the fake bi girls, the ones who've only ever dated men, the ones who treat women as an experiment. Is that all I'm going to be seen as? What woman my age is going to want to handhold someone through their first time? Be with someone who's never more than kissed a girl and not even that since she was 18. Who wants to be with someone nervous and figuring it out and inexperienced when I'm nearly 30? I'm scared that I'll never get to feel this part of myself, that every woman I show interest in will look back with derision or tiredness. I don't want my partner to feel used. Do I just hope to find a woman in the same position as me?

Don’t worry about being seen as a fake bisexual. If you find a woman you love, or a woman you love to make love to, or a woman you have a crush on, then what does it matter what the world thinks. What happens in your heart and head are not projected for the world to see, so you have all the time in the world to muse on your anxieties and fears, and no one has to know.

There are so many kind women in the world who would find you endearing and be happy to take that journey with you. You can’t know that until you put yourself out there, so stop dreaming up the pseudo women you think you’re only worthy for, and go out there and meet all the different kinds of women who can tell you what they like or don’t like about you. They think for themselves, and a 30 year old woman interested in dating women for the first time because she’s been in a decade long romance with a man before that doesn’t sound odd, it sounds pedestrian. Go forth and get your smooches, my dear.

[cafeinthemoon]

It's a Fire - Chapter I

Chapter 1

Wordcount 3,5k

Title Retired Hashira

Fandom Kimetsu no Yaiba / Demon Slayer

Symbols ⭕ ➕ 🖤

Warnings: arranged marriage; age gap; mentions of increasing in criminality and poverty; grieving; non diagnosed depression (the condition wasn't properly understood by the time this story is settled)

Tagging ? (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N.A.: So Kimetsu no Yaiba returned and I'm taking the opportunity to finally start posting this story that has been in my list of ideas for several months!

A while ago I made a poll where I included the option of writing a fic with the Rengoku family, and it was this one I was talking about. I know there are other stories I need to work on already, but let me tell you that this very fic just saved me from a creative block, which was caused by what I suspect to be the beginning of a burnout (I'm about to go on vacation and I just can't take it anymore, but I don't want to discuss this rn).

A few words about the ff itself: It's a slow burn, arranged marriage story between reader, who's 27/28 yo, which makes her closer to myself who's a bit older than this, and Shinjuro Rengoku, who's struggling with the same problems we see in canon, but somehow accepts her as his wife: she was the daughter of old acquaintances of his, so the marital contract is sealed to allegedly honor the friendship between the families. However, things are way more complicated in reality.

Of course, because of the things we see in the original media, such as violence, alcoholism and etc., I need to make it clear that my personal opinions on these subjects may diverge from what I'm putting in this story (due to personal family experiences), and each chapter will carry the necessary warnings. Also if you notice similarities with Beauty and the Beast, know that it isn't just a coincidence haha Finally, the title is a song by Portishead, which didn't influence my writing but its lyrics somehow fit this plot 🌹

I hope you have a good time reading this ❤

“You walk a lonely road 

Oh, how far you are from home” 

(Enya, May it Be) 

That fate didn’t care about your preferences and desires, you knew well. 

You wished you had your mother with you for long years, and that your relationship grew stronger as you spent your time together, dedicating yourselves to the art of the sword, but most of her time and energy were directed to her work as a member of the Demon Slayer Corps, and it was like this until the day you received a messenger from Ubuyashiki-sama to inform you about her death: she didn’t fall to the Oni, but couldn’t resist the injuries from a battle against a group of them. 

You also wished your father, after losing the woman he claimed to love, stood up to his remaining family, that is, himself and you, and took reasonable measures to protect his territory and the people who lived in it, but he preferred to lock himself in his office and ignore the demands outside it, firing half of the house’s servants for the sake of saving money and willing to leave the property to the dust and the insects, not seeing this happening thanks to you, who took the task of maintaining everything by yourself, even doing some of the physical work. 

There were, in fact, many other things you wished for, but didn’t have the chance to see them coming true. One of those other things were continuing to live in the house you grew up in, and using your education to dedicate your life to a career of your choice, though your options seemed limited by your sex. But even this was taken from you when, on an ordinary day, you saw your father leaving his office in the company of a man you’ve never seen in your life. You wanted to question him about this strange visit, but you didn’t have to: your father came to your chambers later, and without measuring his tone or giving you time to process such news, explained the meeting’s main subject. 

– I’ve recently contacted an old acquaintance of mine, someone who was also known by your mother – he started – And explained our situation here. 

You knew what he was talking about: after your mother passed away, your lands’ protection has been neglected, and appearances of demons have been reported more often by your servants and the people who live in the villages near. No one dared leaving their houses at night, and the local economy were deeply affected by this, since part of the basic work used to be done in this period of the day; this led to an increase in poverty and criminality. You, on your part, weren’t immune to these difficulties despite growing up in a privileged family. 

Your father addressing this situation to you, however, was something new, and you exposed this impression to him. 

– Things are getting harder for everyone here, that’s true – you agreed – But why are you discussing this with me now? 

– Because I asked this acquaintance for help, and he answered me – he took slow steps toward your window, half opened by that time; he closed it with firm hands, but without making much noise – The thing is that, at the same time our lands are now dangerous to people, specially to young women like you, it’s time for you to take the next big step in your personal life, daughter. After all, you’re almost twenty-eight. 

You frowned. 

Next big step? What is he talking about?… 

Your father might have noticed your confusion, because he soon clarified his words… and you wished he never did it. 

– I’m talking about marriage, y/n – he spat – You declined the last two proposals, and I respect your reasons for that, but this time the circumstances aren’t in our favor. This man who visited me earlier is a messenger from the Rengoku House, and he brought me a positive answer from their head: I offered your hand and a good dowry in exchange for your protection, and in respect to your mother, who worked for the same cause as him, Shinjuro Rengoku accepted you as his wife. You’re leaving the house this week. 

You were speechless. You tried to stand up and show a sign of protest, but your legs didn’t obey you; you opened your mouth to say something, but no word left it. You knew your father have been struggling, but you could never suppose he was becoming insane – arranging a marriage for you without your consent? Other men used to do this to their daughters, but the man who married your mother would never… But, apparently, he was no longer this man. 

Maybe he was expecting some disagreement, but seeing your silence made him frown. 

– Don’t you have anything to say about this? 

You finally seemed to wake up. You gave him a dead glare, murmuring your response. 

– And what do you expect a woman to say after being sold and sent away from her own house out of nowhere? – you moved your head to the side, irony leaking from the gesture – Thank you? 

Your father clenched his jaw. 

– I certainly don’t expect your gratitude – his voice was lower now – I know this isn’t the future you wanted for yourself, and I didn’t want things to be like this either, but… 

– Why marriage, father? – your tongue was released, interrupting his thread of thoughts like a storm – I could stay temporarily with them, work for them, anything! But marrying someone I’ve never met?! Don’t you remember that I’ve declined the other proposals after at least seeing the faces of those men? 

– You’ll meet him on the wedding day, and you’ll have all the time of the world to know anything there is to know about him – his tone was louder again, as his patience was running low – Besides, Shinjuro is an old friend of mine. I give you my word that he’s a decent man, besides being a formidable warrior. He was married to a respectable woman once, and built a good family with her. I trust him, and so did your mother. No problems should be expected from his part, so the same must be expected from you. 

Shinjuro. It was only the second time you’ve heard that name from your father’s mouth, and you didn’t know what to think. In fact, you’ve learned from your mother that among the Demon Slayer Corps there was an elite group known as the Hashira, and one of them was Shinjuro, the Hashira of the Flames. He was the current head of the Rengoku family, but personal struggles – including the death of his wife – forced him to a retirement despite his capacity as a warrior, so that his eldest son, Kyojuro, took his place. However, you also heard that this young man was dead, so it was impossible to tell how things were going for his family members now. And that was the environment your father was willing to throw you into, even spending money in the process. 

You sighed. 

– Father, when was the last time you’ve met this man? I don’t remember you talking about him – you crossed your arms – I’m only familiar with his name thanks to mother, but now you’re telling me that he’s an old friend of yours. How old is he, exactly? 

– Not as old as me, of course – his reply came with a mixture of embarrassment and indignation – I can’t believe that, of all the things involved in this arrangement, this is what concerns you more! 

You scoffed. 

– I’m not that futile, but if he’s old enough to have a son capable of replacing him in the battlefield, I think I have the right to be concerned! – you took a step toward him – If I have no choice, I want to know exactly where I’m getting into. Can’t you even make such a small concession to me, father? 

No, he couldn’t, and you soon realized that. 

Your father decided the conversation was over. He returned to the room’s door and opened it. 

– It is decided, already – and, with a sort of sadness in his eyes – I’m doing what I think it’s best for my daughter. I only wanted her to trust me, at least for once. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat. 

– I wanted this too, father. But you’re making it too difficult for your daughter. 

He stared at you for a moment, then left without any word. 

*** 

Things really happened the way you feared, in the path your father stated they would follow. He said that, but until the end he kept acting like he had no control over the flow of events, in a frail attempt to soothe his own conscience that only served to unnerve you, and not even seeing the disappointment in his daughter’s eyes each time he looked at you was enough for him to leave this pretense aside. Had he no shame anymore? 

During that fateful week, you avoided his company, leaving the burden of communication to the remaining servants and only speaking to him when utterly necessary. What was left for you to talk about when, as he said, everything was decided, and when you had nothing but sadness for him — for him, the adversities he’s been through and for the way he chose to behave in face of them? It was useless to argue on this, and whether you liked it or not, you had little time to put everything in order and couldn’t have the luxury of wasting it: would it be worthy to cause a delay in the arrangements under the risk of leaving a bad impression in your future spouse, even when he was someone you’ve never saw before? 

You sighed at the thought. 

And, as if I hadn’t enough things to worry about, I still have to consider this. 

In fact, you didn’t want to take much stuff from that house with you at the same time you didn’t want to cause any difficulties to the servants, who have already seen their load increase the last months, so you were quick to select essential items and packing them with the help of a maid, from your clothes to the gifts brought by your mother, and instruct her about what to do with the other things: some of them you gave to her, knowing that she had a daughter who was younger than you and who’d appreciate your charity, and the others, such as the furniture, should be sent to the villagers, for you wanted your things to be with people who would make good use of them instead of letting them rot in a place to where you’d never come back. 

Among all of this, the last object you packed was the only thing you made a point about carrying by yourself, and the only thing you didn’t trust anyone to pack but yourself: the sword of your mother, which was sent to your house by Ubuyashiki-sama and now belonged to you. Your mother has been teaching you lessons since you were a teenager, but she hasn’t lived long enough to see if you were going to develop your own Breath; well, until that day you haven’t, but you’ve never stopped practicing even under your father’s disapproval. You didn’t know what you would find once you stepped into your husband’s house, but you wouldn’t want to depend on his protection on everything; besides, having a wife who knew how to wield a sword must be an advantage, right? 

The train of thoughts, feelings and concerns was such that you were robbed from sleep the night before the ceremony. You knew women who had their marriages arranged as well, but you never got to talk to them about it; you had no idea of how you were supposed to feel, or how you were supposed to see the whole thing. How one should feel when they saw themselves trapped in a situation from which they couldn’t get out? Without having answers, you just relied on the feeling that seemed reasonable to you, that is, utter fear. 

The next morning came silent and inexorable, just as the ones before it, and you saw yourself leaving your bed and taking care of your duties without putting your thoughts on them. It was only your body working by itself, saving your soul from the burden of being conscious, or perhaps you were just accepting your fate after a night of tears and rage. 

Having dismissed the maid’s help, you bathed and dressed alone, and left the house where the most important moments of your life took place without one last look. To be fair, your eyes were so sore and tired that they barely registered the appearance of the weather while you walked to the carriage, but you guessed it was a warm, sunny day, though not enough for you to get sweaty. Your father was already in the carriage’s interior; you took the seat beside him with no signs of acknowledging his presence. 

The coachman shook the reins and yelled something to the horse, and the crack of the wooden wheels was heard as the vehicle moved along the road. 

*** 

The ceremony took place in a building in the city of (…), near your father’s property, which served as the head office of a group of law professionals, including the man responsible for your marital contract. 

You wouldn’t call it a ceremony, really: it was more of a sequence of bureaucratic procedures than a social event with the purpose of uniting two families; a mere formality to allow you to move to a man’s house without ruining your reputation. It was quick, direct and cold like a financial operation, and the people involved seemed to make sure it looked like this. 

Your father led you to a sequence of stairs and then through a narrow corridor, until he stopped in front of a door and opened it, entering the room and inciting you to follow him. You did it, and found out you weren’t the first to arrive: the officiant was already in his position, behind a table upon which you saw an open book; at its right, there was a small inkwell and a feather; around him, two officers which function you couldn’t guess and couldn’t care about. And, finally, in front of the table and observing your arrival with a stern glare, the man who was about to become your husband. 

Whatever you were expecting to see, Shinjuro was nothing like you might have imagined, except for the fact that he was younger than you supposed – and, indeed, younger than your father – and stole the attentions among all those men despite the quiet, composed manners. Well, he would do it in any place he’d step in, for his appearance was extravagant, to say the least: on his severe face he carried a pair of orange eyes under two thick, black eyebrows, a wild trait that made you think of a lion; framing his expression and matching his eyes, he had thick, blond hair that decreased to red on its edges, spreading over his shoulders. And, as if his looks weren’t enough to draw the whole room’s attention, he was dressed in sober, dark clothing, more like someone attending a western funeral than a wedding. 

As you walked to the center of the room, led by your father, and took the spot beside Shinjuro, you felt your skin burning in discomfort under his merciless eyes. You breathed deep and, when he nodded to acknowledge you two, you made an effort to greet him, as well as the other men. 

I knew he wasn’t the same person my father claimed to know. He stated that he was good and trustful, but everything in this man screams danger. What kind of hell I’m getting into… 

The officiant announced the beginning of the ceremony, and you turned to him in silence. After a few, composed words to the new couple, he gave you both clear instructions on where to sign your names, and you did as he said, Shinjuro first, then you; you glanced at his hand offering you the feather and took it in a second, taking care your hand didn’t touch his. You tried not to think of your gestures as you wetted its tip on the ink, but a tremble reached your wrist the instant you approached the feather from the paper. 

So… That’s it. I write my name in a book and enter a path from where I can’t go back. 

The realization was too much to bear and time was passing, so you bit your inner cheek to prevent your mind to entertain the thought and scribbled your name at once. When you moved the feather away and put it back on the inkwell, your hand acted by itself, and your arm gone numb once you recoiled it to your side. 

Your mouth was dry, and a hole seemed to have taken the place of your heart. You barely noticed when the officiant and the other witnesses analyzed your signatures and approved them, bringing the ceremony to an end. You refused to believe all of that was real until the man announced you were free to go, and both Shinjuro and you turned away, preparing to leave. He didn’t bat an eye at you while doing so. 

The head of the Rengoku family stopped to exchange some words with your father. You were close enough to hear the conversation, but didn’t want to pay attention; you just wanted to leave this place, even though you weren’t going to a familiar one after it. 

You only understood their conversation was over when you heard your father’s voice calling your name. You turned to him and your stomach curled in disgust when you saw the pleading smile on his face, the only thing that reminded you of home and now a sign of everything you lost. You’ve never felt so alone. 

Later, you’d try to remember his exact words for you at that moment, but you’d find yourself unable to do it. Maybe it was a formal wish of good luck or something. The only thing you remembered was your reaction: you stared at him for a few seconds, then, without a word, you turned your face away, walking toward the door. You knew your husband was observing, but his approval was the least of your preoccupations now. 

*** 

Little was recalled by you from the travel to the Rengoku house, except that it was silent, even calm period. The only abnormality was caused by you: unlike your other belongings, who were sent in another vehicle ahead under the supervision of a servant, you decided you were going to carried your sword with you in the carriage, to everyone’s surprise and your father’s discontentment. 

That occasion was also when Shinjuro spoke to you for the first time. 

— Why are you doing this? 

The question, made when you were already in the carriage, was direct but not devoid of politeness, so you granted him an honest answer. 

— This sword once belonged to my mother, and now it is mine. If my father had his way, I’d never carry it with me, but I refuse to leave it behind — and, glancing at him, — I couldn’t risk him checking my things and subtracting it from them without my consent. 

Shinjuro only murmured an “I see” in response, and the conversation died there. 

You were beside the carriage’s window and might have slept to the warmth of the sun and the constant noise of the wheels in movement, but you weren’t sure if you did. As your body was now avoiding visible reactions, your spirit was suppressing the emotional rush for your own good, since no advantage would come from a breakdown in the middle of the road, right in front of your new spouse who, just like you, didn’t seem all pleased with the whole thing: sure, he didn’t show visible discontentment whether with your appearance or your manners, but you’ve been dealing with middle aged men for too long to sense when they were seeing something they didn’t find appropriate; and, in the present case, it was clear to you that Shinjuro already formed his opinion: to him, you were a stubborn, spoiled brat who didn’t have her way and was decided to make it everyone else’s problem. Yes, the idea of acting like that wandered through your mind for a while, but you thought you were better than this, and opted for a balance between bitterness and decency, not wearing plain clothing and displaying rude manners, but also not being extravagant in anything; still, you couldn’t convince the man of your good nature, and he let it clear with the inquiring about the sword, so now you completely gave up on seeking his favor. 

You were just waiting for the travel to end. 

Chapter 2

[swap-tech-enterprise]

From Maid of Honor to Best Man Part A, Customer Swap Stories #1

When my best friend Jessica’s boyfriend finally proposed to her, I was so excited because that finally meant we would be able to live out the dreams we’ve had about being the maid of honor in each others weddings! However, that soon began to fall apart when Jessica announced that it was going to be a destination wedding in Italy. I was heartbroken because I wanted to be there for my best friend, but financially couldn’t afford to be there. That was until one of the other bridesmaids suggested I use Swap Tech Enterprise’s (STE) vacation swaps. For a small fee, STE would swap your body with someone who lives in the location you are looking to go too and vice versa. After doing some research, it wasn’t a bad deal so I decided to move forward with it. I filled out the quick form provided on their website and paid my 100 dollar deposit, and from there I received an email with all I needed to know, including the date and time I needed to head down to my cities local STE Swap Bank. After months of anticipation, the day had come and it was time to become someone else for the week. As I entered the Swap Bank, the front desk attendant checked me and brought me to the swap room to get ready for the swap. As I sat on the bed waiting for the swap to happen, the swap technician explained how the process worked as they hooked me up to the helmet that would connect me to my swap partner. Finally it was time for the swap to happen and the swap tech began the count down from 10, instructing me to relax. As the tech counted down, I could feel my heart beating faster and faster and I was nervous about becoming another person for a week, especially since I purchased the cheapest swap package that only allowed for me to pick the gender and age of the body I was going to be in, not the body itself. All these thoughts were running through my head when suddenly everything went black. Moments later, I began to regain consciousness.

Opening my eyes, I could see I wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants.

I also noticed that my feet were much larger than that of a 27 year old woman. On top of that, I noticed I no longer had breasts. “What the fuck is going on?” I said quickly covering my mouth because of the deep baritone voice that came out of me. That’s when it clicked, I hadn’t been swapped with another woman, but a man instead.

Turns out that when filling out the form, I accidentally clicked the male option instead of the female option as my preferred gender type. I explained the mistake to the swap tech at the Italian Swap Bank I was now and asked if it was possible to get swapped with a female body, but they informed me that they can’t authorized a swap from a body that isn’t my own to prevent having too many cross swapped customers. Looks like I’m going to spending the week and celebrating my best friend’s wedding as the best man rather than the maid of honor. Hopefully she understands the mixup.

[marzipanandminutiae]

I'm pulling you back onstage, what's this about the dangers of white lead makeup being known already at the time it was used?

They were!

Giovanni Paolo Lomazzo, writing in 1598. For anyone who's struggling with the typeface (spelling preserved):

OF CERUSSE, AND THE EFFECTS thereof. The Ceruse, or white lead, which women use to better their complexion, is made of lead and vineger; which mixture is naturally a great drier; and is used by the Chirugions [surgeons] to drie up moiste sores. So that those women which use it about their faces, doe quickly become withered and gray-headed, because this doth so mightely drie up the naturall moysture of their flesh. And if any give not credite to my reporte; let them but observe such as have used it, and I doubt not but they will easily bee satisfied.

That's putting it mildly- ceruse could also cause skin peeling, hair loss, paralysis, seizures, organ damage, a host of other symptoms, and even death. But still, they were at least aware that it was Not GoodTM, and it's possible other sources I haven't read more accurately stress the gravity of the danger. Certainly it was known to be deadly by the 18th century, when the death of 27-year-old socialite Maria Gunning, Countess of Coventry was ascribed to her alleged use thereof. (I've never seen proof of this, and it's important to remember that as an Irishwoman, she may have faced undue hostility in English high society- and had very light skin naturally).

It's also difficult to trace just how popular ceruse even was, because less harmful forms of white face paint and powder also existed. One could speculate that this woman or that used ceruse, but nobody did a survey of such things. It was definitely real- cosmetic white lead tablets have been found dating as far back as ancient Greece -but whether it was the Sephora foundation of its day or the BBL (ie a dangerous beauty aid that a few devotees turned to but most eschewed) cannot truly be known.

By the 19th century, ceruse makeup had passed completely out of use as far as I know. Its legend grew as a cautionary tale on the dangers of vanity; the "fact" that Queen Elizabeth I used it was repeated over and over until it became common- if totally unsupported -knowledge. They had arsenic complexion wafers in the latter half of the 1800s- although one brand much advertised in the US was tested by contemporary scientists and found to be mostly lactose with only tiny amounts of arsenic or none at all, so cost-cutting entrepreneurs may have accidentally prevented illness or death. IF the wafers were popular at all, which once again remains unknown- certainly few letters and diaries I'm aware of mention them, if any.

(Interestingly, there's an echo of Maria Gunning's legend in Victorian newspaper stories about socialites "enameling," or applying a plaster-like layer of semi-permanent toxic makeup to their faces. Enameling was alleged to be undetectible but It's Definitely There; Trust Us; A Friend Of A Friend Of Alva Vanderbilt's Cousin's Underbutler Said, etc. This is similarly lacking in any solid evidence; recipes for a product called "enamel" do exist in period texts, but it always seems to be more akin to liquid foundation today, and I've personally only seen one such preparation containing lead. Many even included zinc oxide, which might have provided some unintentional SPF.)

[befemininenow]

Even though our younger days are gone, we’re also glad that those darker days are left in the past. At an older age, we’re confident enough to fulfill those wishes of our younger selves while stronger enough to challenge those who wish to kick us back into hiding. Let’s just bring back the fun retro stuff instead of the bad stuff that shaped the past.

This picture dates back to 2007. I was barely a teenager during this time period and my signs of being trans were also starting to be noticeable. One of those signs is feeling jealous of girls like the ones in the pic. I didn’t know what gender envy was while my knowledge of transgender was limited to gender bender transformations at best. While their fashion sense wasn’t really the best, I had a soft spot for these girls and in my mind, I really wished I woke up one day transforming into one of these girls.

Nowadays, we have much more knowledge of what being trans means and HRT access is more readily available today than in 2007. Trans people born that year will finally become adults in 2025 and unfortunately a lot of them are currently unable to take even basic HRT due to a flood of anti-trans laws being enacted in several states and counties to people under 18. There have been horrific spikes in $uicide attempts among trans kids since these laws have been active. I don’t even want to know what post-2025 will look like for trans people in general, regardless of age.

It sucks because I can recall how bad my dysphoria was as a kid. I would spend an unhealthy chunk of my free time looking at gender benders on DeviantArt, YouTube, or stuff like Mashiro’s Castle wishing it would happen to me one day. It wasn’t until the early 2010s that I had a better idea of what being trans was. But by then, I was already becoming an adult. I survived, but unfortunately I can’t say the same for other trans kids and trans people that are no longer with us.

The only thing I can do now is keep going and fulfill any possible void I can at an older age. Just to give you an idea, these girls aren’t teenagers. They’re over 27 years old in this pic and they’re currently well into their mid-40s. Yet, their outfits definitely seem like the typical teenage stuff I saw growing up. It isn’t strange to see girls in their late 20s-early 30s today looking like teens due to their looks, clothing, and sometimes personality. Those of us at that age range tend to inspire the younger generations and create something even bigger. In my case, I rather do this my way and become the best trans girl (or woman) I dreamed of being. So what if I’m a little too old to wear an alt outfit? I’m going to wear what I want!

If you’re reading this long rant and flashback Friday moment of mines, I just want you to know to keep going. It isn’t the end yet. It’s just the beginning of something new.

[speedycoffeedelight]

An Animalistic Disaster

Summery : Where they go through the interview and you get a bit drunk

Masterlist

CH-16: Job hunting (part two)

After parking, you three headed towards the cafe you all talked about. The owner of the cafe was a pair of old couple and their son. Their son was a barista who wanted to make his dreams of a successful cafe come true.

Unfortunately, he wasn't great with communication and they couldn't afford to hire a waiter with a nice amount of money. So it was their last attempt at saving the cafe. How do you know all that? Well being in the news industry has its perks when it comes to information collecting.

The horns on Charlie's head and the antenna's on Vaggie's is kind of a big problem. You prayed that they would look past them. It was a small cafe in middle of the bustling road. It looked like it badly needed some renovations. Still it looked cozy enough. You four finally entered. A small ring sounded out from the bell above the entrance door, alerting the boy that was cleaning the tables of the empty cafe.

"Ah,new customers! Welcome!" A freckled, orange haired boy wearing an apron quickly rushed towards you all. His blue eyes were glittering with excitement."Please come this wa-" You cut him off quickly. "Oh no, you misunderstand. We're here for the post of the waiter."

The boy stopped in his tracks and scanned the lot of you. "Are you all here for the interview? " "Oh no only these two" you said pointing at Charlie and Vaggie.

"Gotcha, please take a seat. I'll inform inside."

You nodded and sat down nearby on a table. "Alright, we need to go through something first. Charlie, Vaggie."

"Yes!"

"Yes (Y/n)?"

"Try to act casual, okay. Try to give your best shot during the interview. If they ask you where you came from, just say overseas. It should help skip a lot of questions."

"Will do! But which country should we say if they ask?" Charlie said nervously scratching her neck. "We don't really know much about earth."

"Hm, Charlie could be from America and Vaggie from Spain I guess. I think that checks out."

"Alright then we'll say that!"

"Also about your age...."

"I'll turn about 271 this year I think -" Charlie replied.

"Great, you'll say you're 27. As for Vaggie"

You turned to the black haired girl "You can say 26 or something close to Charlie, got it?"

"Got it ."

While talking with the two and preparing them about various questions. The freckled boy came back. "I hope you're ready for the interview. Come this way please."

"Best of luck you guys!" You pulled Vaggie close before she could follow the other two. "Make sure Charlie doesn't say anything stupid. I'm trusting in you." Vaggie nodded and they followed him to another corner of the cafe where an elderly looking couple was sitting.

"Please take a seat girls."

They nodded and took the seat in front them. "I apologize we couldn't do this in more formal way...things have been a little hard." The old man said. "No, no it's fine, it's fine! We don't mind." Charlie replied laughing nervously.

"Did you two both come for this job? You know there's only one post right?"

"Yes, we know that. Well we wouldn't mind if any of us gets picked really."

"I see, are you two close friends?"

"Girlfriends, actually.." Vaggie replied.

"Oh my, that's great sweetie" the old woman said with a smile. During the whole interview, the orange haired boy stood close, listening to the whole process. (Y/n) was right, they didn't push them too much. The interview was going smoothly.

"Do have any other experiences in working somewhere?"

"Why yes, I run a hote-"

"What she means to say is, we used to work at a hotel, mam." Vaggie quickly chipped in.

Mostly smoothly, with Vaggie coming in clutchs to save Charlie's ass a couple of times.

"We probably wouldn't be able to provide you with much money yet...as you could probably see the cafe's not in its best shape right now. I hope this won't be a problem." The old man sighed.

" Oh no please, don't worry. We'll take what we can get."

"Thank you girls. Our son Adrian is intent on running this cafe. I told him he could do so much better but he insisted on staying with us."

The couple whispered at each other for a moment and then turned to Charlie and Vaggie. "Could you please go back for a bit dear? We'll come with answers soon."

Their son Adrian quickly came forward to guide them back to you.

"So you both are.... girlfriends...? Part of the LGBTQ?"

"Yes, we are. Why?" Vaggie replied.

"Nothing, it's nothing. Don't worry about it."

He turned his head away before both of them could say something and returned to you. Both you and Pentious were sitting anxiously. You let out a sigh of relief as they came back.

"So how did the interview go??" You asked pulling Vaggie close.

"I think it was fine. The owners were nice people."

"And did you pass?"

"They should announce it any time now"

After a few minutes, the couple came back alongside Adrian. You all looked at them nervously for the answer.

"Charlie's hired! I think we could use a nice cherry girl like you around here." The old man laughed. "Thank you! I'll do my best to help!" Charlie jumped off the seat in excitement.

"Just call me Mr.ronald." He shook Charlie's hand. "Could I expect you to work form tomorrow if possible? We need all the help we can get..."

"Yes of course. I'll be right here." Charlie said smiling. "Thank you Mr and Mrs.ronald."

After saying goodbyes and going outside, you let out a cheer. "You did it Charlie! I'm so proud of you." You hugged her in joy and she returned it just as happily.

For the next stop, you went around the market for cheap and broken things. You also bought some tools and equipment that Pentious said he needed. They weren't cheap, but you hoped it would be worth the money.

On your way home, you bought a bottle of wine to celebrate the victory. The others were happy to hear the news as well. Both you and Pentious jumped to work first as soon as you came. In the night, you popped open the wine bottle and poured it for the ones that transformed. You set aside some wine for Pentious since he still insisted on working outside.

Husk got caught trying to drink from Pentious's cup and you quickly moved him away. "Husk that's bad for you!" Husk just grumbled unhappily. He hadn't had booze in such a long time that it was making him go crazy.

You kept Husk on your lap and kept petting him while talking with others. Alcohol was clouding your sense a little bit so you forgot about the fact that you were fondly petting a grown man, or well a demon. Husk tired to leave couple of times but you kept a firm grip on him. And as much as he would hate to admit it, he kind of liked it. He began making purring noises unknowningly as he gave up on getting away.

Alastor and Angel were snickering looking at him from across the room. 'You finally got used to being a pet huh?' Alastor said teasingly making Husk hiss at him. You noticed this and picked up Husk and smothered him against your chest.

"Bad deer! Don't annoy my precious kitty!" You scolded Alastor and looked at Husk who was blushing madly and trying to get away again by pawing at you. "Are you alright kitty?" You held him in front of your face and he mewed in annoyance.

Charlie chuckled looking at you two. "I think you had quite enough drink (Y/n). You should rest." You wanted to say no but your head was pounding quite a bit. "Okaaay, but I want to pat the bad deer first! He still didn't let me touch him!"

Alastor's ears perked up at this statement as he quickly moved towards the door to make a run for it. But you were faster in your wobbly legs. You quickly attached yourself to his neck and nuzzled closer. Alastor briefly considered pushing you away with a violent shake. Briefly since Vaggie sensed it as well and decided to speak fast.

"Don't you try to shake her off Alastor. You'll hurt her." Vaggie replied from the chair she's was currently sitting on. She tried to gently peel you away from Alastor but you wouldn't budge making him groan. This time it was Husk's turn to laugh.

"Just indulge her a bit will you? She'll be normal once she wakes up." Charlie requested Alastor. 'Do I look like- gah, fine...'

He sighed giving in after seeing the girls glare at him. You smiled in happiness when you sensed no resistance from him anymore and dragged one of your hands to his ears. All the other demons in the room watched this eagerly.

'Shit, I really wish I had a camera right now...' Angel whispered.

'Same..' Said Cherri and Husk in unison. They both knew they won't get to see this type of thing so soon again. Cherri thought about how much money she could sell the picture for if she got it and Husk thought about how he'd have something to blackmail against him.

The fur on his ears was soft, terribly so. You carefully moved your hands from the base to the tip of his ears. You were drunk, but you were still gentle. Alastor could feel all the eyes burning at him. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so embarrassed. Unknown to him, his tail was swaying behind him making others have the time of their life seeing it.

"Soo... fluffy...." You whispered softly. Alastor's ears perked up again as he caught that. 'Okay I think that's enough. Charlie please move her before I shove her off.'

Charlie, who was having a hard time holding in laughter, immediately jumped into action. Prying you away from Alastor was no easy task. You still had a lot of strength in yourself. While you were getting dragged to your room, you got a hold of Husk who let out a meow of help. But this time, no one came to help.

Charlie tucked you inside your bed with you still holding onto Husk who just accepted his fate at this point.

"Now just rest up okay?"

"Mmhmm, I will!!"

You replied with a childlike glee making Charlie's heart swoon. She couldn't resist planting a small kiss on your forehead before exiting the room. Husk raised a eye brow at that but decided not to question it. After all, Charlie is normally known to be pretty affectionate.

Resting Husk on your chest, you began to softly pat his fur, making him purr again. He hated how much power you had over him. He was grateful no one was there to witness it this time. Charlie probably told others to keep out of your room for now.

Then suddenly you started crying. Husk was stunned. He mewoed at you to ask what's wrong.

" *Sniff* I miss you... cotton..tails..." You whispered softly. 'Who the fuck is cottontails? That can't be a person.' Husk looked at your crying face once again. He sighed and then nuzzled his head to your cheek trying to comfort you.

"Thank you kitty...." You held Husk close and rubbed your face together. 'Ugh..gross...' Husk mumbled. Then you settled him on your chest again and finally passed out.

'Finally you sleep..god I can't handle these shit being sober. I was so damn close to that wine.." Then he looked at you and found you crying softly again. 'Oh for the love of-' Although he was mentally cursing up a storm in his head, it still sucked seeing you like this. He leaned his head over and softly licked your cheeks while purring.

'What the fuck am I even doing? This shit ain't normal...' But seeing you finally stop crying and then pop up a small smile, if his eyes weren't mistaken, it felt like it was worth it.

'Sleep well kid. I'll be here when you wake up.'

He looked at you with an amount of softness he hasn't looked at anyone in a long time. He rested his head down and closed his eyes.

'Maybe feeling like this ain't bad sometimes..'

Soft yellow light engulfed the room. This time it wasn't as intensely as the ones before. It still bothered you so you turned around while holding the cat. Well the cat who just got turned into a human without either of you knowing. The light was so soft this time, others didn't notice it either till next morning.

.

.

.

.

.

Several half-humans and animals surrounded your bed, mouth agape in shock and astonishment. Vaggie and Charlie were the first to find you like this. Charlie then called everyone to ask what to do. There you were, cuddling a grown ass man who they recognised as Husk, sleeping away peacefully like there's no tomorrow. And the other thing they all noticed was that Husk was shirtless. Charlie refused to believe he was naked with you since you were both still under a blanket and they couldn't see downwards.

'I'm going to wake them up. I can't stand this cheesy show in front of me.' Cherri said suddenly.

"No no you definitely should let her sleep a bit. Maybe we could get Husk to get up.." Charlie said.

'Do ya think they fucked before sleeping like this? Cause it feels like it.'

"Angel you're not helping!"

'I'm just sayin what I think.'

"Angel!"

'Cannonball!'

While they were busy chatting, Cherri took the liberty of jumping on your face,promptly waking you up. She used her tail to swat Husks face as well.

Needless to say, you never expected to wake up cuddling a half naked guy in the morning. So nobody could really blame you for the scream you let out.

A.N: (Please read) There's one thing I wanted to make clear early on is that this book may contain some spicy stuff in future. Not full smut though. I don't believe I have the capability to write those stuffs. Mostly it'll be chill and normal with some shenanigans.

Also let me apologize for writing the two things shit with Pentious 😭. I thought it would be funny to add since it's already canon. But then later I wanted nothing more than to go hide in a hole and decompose from embarrassment reading some of the comments.

That being said, although it would be bit of a spoiler but lemme just say Husk is not naked. I don't want a return of those comments :') they all wear the outfit of season 1 when they transform.

Also Charlie's age thing is reference to an annoyomus ask on Tumblr. I quite enjoyed the scenarios so I decided to throw a bit here.

Tag list: @legostars @glowinthedarkbones1150 @darifes @aria-tempest @rainbowcake1212 @luxylucylou

[pollymorgan]

Ex-husband Negan Part 5

Warnings: An asshole named Negan and a woman who can't get over him.

Luckily, nothing serious happened to David, except maybe the scare of his life. Negan really pulled himself together. Maybe he has finally become sensible. I had actually given up hope.

When my daughters miraculously went to school on time and Negan left the house with them, I took a deep breath.

What had happened in the last few hours?

I really feel that as soon as my ex-husband is near me for longer than five minutes, he throws my whole life into absolute chaos.

Inevitably, I had to think about the last night and my pulse immediately accelerated. It was just madness. This man still knows my body better than I do. No one can touch me the way he does. Instantly, I felt that tingling in my stomach again. That damn feeling that has often led me into misery.

19 years ago

Even though I had left my old home eight years ago to build my own life in New York, I kept in touch with my best friend Harper. Harper and I spent our entire school years together, and our connection never broke despite the distance. We used to be a trio, but Scarlet unfortunately became one of the main reasons why I had moved away so hastily.

God, I was so stupid back then not to recognize the signs and always make excuses for Negan and her. But sometimes you are so blinded that you only realize it when you see it with your own eyes.

The fact that Harper has been dating Negan's best friend Simon for a few years was, admittedly, really strange for me at first. After all, I tried with all my might to erase Negan from my life, but by now we had been separated for ages and the anger had subsided over the years. The anger, yes, but unfortunately not all the other feelings I felt towards him. If I was honest with myself, I immediately compared every new man in my life to him. Even though I didn't want to, I thought so often about our time together. Everything reminded me of him, even though I lived in a completely different city, but you can't run away from feelings.

Whenever Harper happened to mention something about Simon and Negan during our hours-long phone calls, I immediately became quiet and absorbed every piece of information. Of course, I never asked directly, my pride was too great for that, but it seemed that this guy would remain my weakness forever.

This is also how it came about that Harper invited me to her birthday. I was very excited for the house party at her place and took a few days off to fly to my old city.

After we were both incredibly excited on the phone that I would be able to follow her invitation, Harper suddenly became quite serious at the other end.

"Negan will be there too..." she said calmly.

Immediately I was speechless. Why would he show up there? After all, it's my best friend's birthday, not Simon's. I cleared my throat briefly, but then I absolutely did not want to spoil their, or my, mood.

"Yes, of course... it's totally okay! I'm looking forward to seeing him again after so long... Oh man, we were teenagers and now you're already 28, you old hag..." I joked, even though I didn't feel like joking at all, thinking about my ex-boyfriend who had broken my heart in such a brutal way.

"Yes, yes ..first get to my age! At 27, you still talk so easily." Harper countered.

Until the day of the party, I managed to push the thought of seeing Negan again out of my mind. However, when I rang her doorbell, the nervousness crept up on me. Is he already there? How will he react to me? And how will I react to him? Does he still think about me sometimes? Does he even miss me occasionally?

When Harper greeted me with the words that I was the first guest, a weight was lifted off my shoulders. Of course, postponed is not canceled, but in that moment I felt a strange relief.

We embraced joyfully and I congratulated her from the bottom of my heart. Then I handed her a bottle of her favorite Prosecco and a self-made voucher for a weekend in New York. She had wanted to visit me so many times, but the plans always failed and in the end, I was always the one who visited.

The greeting with Simon was a strange mix of a handshake and a hug, so I was glad when Harper asked me if I could help her in the kitchen.

It was my first visit to the two of them since they had moved into a shared apartment. The whole thing was really strange for me, everything seemed so adult, almost bourgeois. Not at all like I knew her. Okay, we had grown up, but somehow time seemed to have stood still for me. Since I went to New York at the age of 19, not much had changed in my lifestyle. Except that I had a steady job and earned my own money.

Harper's kitchen was full of modern appliances, while at home, I was happy if I could find a sharp knife.

But before we started preparing the rest of the food, Harper opened us two beers and within seconds, everything was just like old times. We joked and laughed about the most trivial things, and soon the first guests arrived. The doorbell kept ringing, and then Simon opened the door to let the next ones in. People would then show up in the kitchen after a few seconds, congratulating my friend on her birthday. Some of them I knew from before, while others were new acquaintances, mainly her coworkers. Mentally, I tried to match the names to the stories that Harper had told me during one of our phone conversations.

Superficially, I played it cool, but inside, I was boiling. A thousand times, I played in my mind how I would react if Negan walked in through the door. I kept envisioning that one scene that made me startle every time the doorbell rang.

I opened another beer and then helped Harper set up the buffet. The salads were piling up, she had prepared so much. Everything was planned down to the smallest detail. The color scheme of the decor matched, and the dishes were all from the same brand.

With my arms crossed on my hips, I admired everything. "Wow, I have to say, you've really become the perfect housewife, while I..."

"While you still have the hottest ass in all of America... Damn, just look at her. God bless America!" a very familiar voice interrupted me.

Amidst all the commotion around us, I hadn't even noticed that Negan had entered the kitchen. Being surprised by his presence made it even harder. I took a deep breath and then turned with a smile on my face to face him.

He was already so close to me that there was barely any space between us, and his face put on that typical grin. I hadn't seen him in so long, but his green-brown eyes looked familiar to me. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me in for a kiss on my cheek.

I literally inhaled his scent, a mixture of rugged aftershave, cigarette smoke, and his own unique scent. Instead of letting go immediately, he held me much longer than necessary, and I was frozen in his arms.

"It feels unbelievably great to finally feel you so close again..." he whispered in my ear, and I immediately got goosebumps all over my body.

None of the prepared lines came out of my mouth.

He hadn't forgotten how to charm me, if anything, he seemed to have perfected it.

I stared at him wordlessly until he suddenly leaned in even more. Bewildered, I evaded him, and he grabbed one of the beer bottles that were right behind me.

Amused by my reaction, he winked at me and clinked his bottle against mine. Then he disappeared into the living room. Suddenly, a former classmate approached me and hugged me to greet me. She immediately started talking a mile a minute, but I couldn't follow her words as I kept thinking about the recent situation with Negan.

Some time passed before we all decided to move to the living room. Negan and Simon were standing by the window, smoking a cigarette. I tried my best not to stare at him constantly, but I caught myself doing it repeatedly.

Harper introduced me to Daniel, one of her coworkers. The three of us sat down with a few others at the living room table. The conversation was already in full swing, so it was easy for me to just join in.

I was in the middle of telling the others about the most unique restaurants in New York when I suddenly felt someone sit next to me on the couch. Without looking, I could tell it was Negan. Immediately, my heart rate increased, but I tried not to show it and continued talking.

Negan started a conversation with Daniel, who was still sitting next to me, so I leaned further forward so they could talk better. Negan leaned even closer behind my back to his conversation partner, and suddenly, I felt his hand on my hip. A bolt of electricity shot through my body, but I tried not to show it. As if that wasn't enough, my t-shirt had ridden up slightly in this position, and Negan began gently stroking the bare skin of my back with his thumb. God, how I had missed this feeling. I pushed all doubts aside and just focused on his tender touch and what it was doing to me.

It was only when I heard my name that I was snapped out of my trance.

"What?" I asked, startled, looking at Negan, who straight ened and then smiled knowingly at me.

"The beer at Dawson's is a disaster..." he laughed.

I leaned back against the couch and then looked at Daniel.

"Oh yes, terrible... gave me the hangover of my life," I tried to somehow join the conversation.

"That was probably more about the quantity than the quality..." Negan noted amusedly and reached for my thigh. His hand stayed there for the next while, until I loudly declared that I needed to visit the restroom and disappeared there.

Upon reaching the bathroom, I straightened up in front of the mirror and looked at my reflection questioningly. Where was all of this leading? I didn't have an answer.

As soon as I opened the door to go back, Negan was standing right in front of me. Lost in my thoughts, I bumped into him.

"Hey... not so hasty! Is it already midnight, or why are you in such a hurry, Cinderella?" he said, holding my upper arms.

"Would you search for me if I lost my shoe?" I asked, looking at him inquisitively.

"I may not be a damn prince, but fuck, honey. I would turn the whole world upside down to find you..." he replied.

I'm not sure if I was the one who took a step back, or if he led me back to the bathroom, but suddenly we were there. Negan closed the door behind him and locked it, not taking his eyes off me.

"And what would you do when you find me?" I asked innocently, nervously biting my lower lip.

Negan pulled me towards him abruptly and kissed me just as passionately.

"Exactly this..." he whispered into my open mouth before our tongues touched. In that kiss lay all the desire and the incredible longing that had been dormant in me for the past years. I clutched onto the hair at the back of his head as if I never wanted to let go.

Slowly, my mouth traveled along his jaw, his beard pleasantly scratching my lips, and when I touched his neck, I felt his Adam's apple slightly vibrate.

"I was such a damn idiot..." he now whispered softly.

"Oh yes, you were... I think now would be the right time to make things right..." I said, as I was already undoing the belt of his pants.

Negan grinned at me, "If we stay in here any longer, everyone outside will know what we've been up to in here."

"Very good..." I said with a smile and was about to kneel down, but he stopped me.

"Stop, we don't have time for that now..." as he said that, he turned me around so that my back was to him, then crossed his arms in front of me and pulled me close to him. The feeling of his strong body made me even more unrestrained.

"Baby, believe me, I'll do anything you want, but first, I just need to feel your sweet pussy around my cock... I've missed you so incredibly much..." he growled in a deep voice directly into my ear and pushed me towards the washing machine, until I eventually leaned against it.

The lower arm of his left arm landed on my back and gently pushed my upper body down. While holding me in this position, with his right hand, he pulled down my jeans and underwear, and I excitedly helped him until they were hanging around my knees, presenting Negan with my naked behind. His hand traveled up the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, and I spread my legs as much as I could. Then his flat hand landed directly on my center. Gently, he ran his fingers through my folds, and just the feeling made me moan.

"Please, I need your cock..." I pleaded.

With the hand that had just touched my most intimate area, he gave me a light spank on the behind.

"And let no one say dreams don't come true..." Negan exclaimed enthusiastically.

[ateliersss]

I wish I could stay in the Past

Pairing: Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader Summary: Who would have thought that 27 years after the first Woodsboro massacre, you still couldn't live in peace? Now, you have been asked by Agent Kirby Reed to come to New York, where apparently a new Ghostface killer was on the loose. For you, this meant going back into your past and meeting the person you were trying to protect from your life since she was born. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: Spoilers for Scream VI, English isn't my first language Word Count: 5,890

Kirby stood in front of the white board plastered with photos of every Ghostface killer from 1996 to 2022, of the masks found at the crime scenes, and of the victims killed so far.

“…Mickey Altieri, Nancy Loomis, Stu Macher and Billy Loomis. Number One and also the father of our chief suspect.”

Detective Bailey, arms crossed before his chest, nodded before adding, “It’s all leading us back to Sam.”

“What about the girlfriend?” Kirby suddenly mumbled, more to herself than addressing the Detective.

“What? Who’s girlfriend?”

“(Y/N) (L/N). She and Billy were childhood sweethearts. Although she was never personally involved in any Ghostface incidents following 1996 she could never quite live her life in peace. I mean, come on. The mourning love interest has to be a main suspect. His mother tried to avenge his death and no one thought about that either. Then boom! Dead teenagers everywhere.”

Bailey turned his face to look at her with a raised eyebrow.

“What? It’s just an idea.”

“Hm.” He hummed, “It could be worth a shot.”

A totally stupid shot, because what sane person would suddenly seek revenge after 27 years? Well, if it keeps her occupied, who am I to stop her?

“Any idea on how we can reach her?”

Kirby smirked. “Of course I do.”

New York was far too loud, far too big and far too dirty for your liking. You preferred the calmness and the quiet of a nice little town somewhere far away from any crime or even the smallest hint of being dragged into another drama. You really thought you would finally be at peace, having that calm and quiet life, until you got a call from Agent Kirby Reed. You remember that name well. Besides Sidney and Gale, obviously, she was the only victim who survived the Second Woodsboro Massacre. On the phone she told you that someone had put on the Ghostface mask again and was after a group of teenagers. She wanted you to come to New York right away so you could be questioned.

It wasn’t the first time you were a suspect but being one again after almost 30 years? You were about to give vent to the familiar old feeling of simmering anger for being falsely accused again when…

“Your niece was among those who were attacked.”

“Sam?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m on my way. It’s going to take a few hours.”

“That’s alright. When you arrive in New York go straight to the NYPD and tell them you are here to see Agent Reed. Someone will show you the way to the office I’m currently occupying.”

You were just about to open the car door and leave the parking lot near the police station when you got a text.

[Agent Reed]: Change of plans. Someone thinks you need to see this too. Come to this address.

So now you were standing in front of some kind run-down movie theatre, not knowing if you were at the right place. You read the text message again… nope, still the same street name and the same house number. You were about to dial Kirby’s number when someone called your name.

“Over here!”

You turned to the blonde woman standing a few meters away from you, holding open a metal door. “Agent Kirby Reed?” You asked.

“The one and only.” She nodded for you to follow her. “Come in, the others are already inside.”

It’s strange, you thought. I’m actually meeting Samantha.

You stopped at a metal bar door that already allowed you an insight of the room ahead of you. There was tingling feeling in your belly.

“You’re ready?”

You nodded as an answer, not trusting your mouth to form a decent sentence.

It felt like you were pushed back into your 18-year-old-self. Mannequins, display shelves and cases were set up and lead to a stage. It was impossible to take everything in at the same time so you walked through the row that was closest to you. Years of evidence put together like it was a museum, like a fucking…

“A shrine.” Kirby said from behind you. “Dedicated to every killer that put on the mask.”

You barely registered what she just said when you saw what was displayed at the end of the row. You almost couldn’t believe your eyes. There… There were Tatum’s clothes, the ones she wore when she was killed… and there was the robe Stu wore at his party… and Billy’s bloody t-shirt. You walked past a sitting mannequin looking exactly like Steve Orth until you were standing right in front of the white cloth still covered in blood. Huffing out a shaky breath, you reached out to touch it. Your fingers traced from every hole where he was stabbed until it stopped on the chest of the mannequin. You almost expected to feel a heartbeat underneath your skin…

Oh Billy.

Maybe it was the overwhelming, morbid nostalgic feeling that almost crushed you seeing all those reminders of your past, but you still hadn’t noticed the small group on the stage next to you watching you either with curious or wary eyes.

You were still caught up in your head, thinking back to that afternoon on September 28th in 1996 — you, reading another true crime novel and playing with the brown curls of your boyfriend’s hair while his head rested on your lap, napping. You two had stayed in this position until the sun went down. The clock read 6 PM when you decided to make dinner and he left the kitchen to make a quick phone call. When he got back…

“Billy, are you serious? There is a killer outside!”

“Stu lives only 10 minutes away. I’ll take the car.”

“Are you sure? Shouldn’t we call the police?”

“No, it’s alright. I’m just gonna make sure he doesn’t overdo it. You know how he is.”

You laughed, “Yeah, I do and I love him for that.”

Billy tilted his head, an amused glint in his eyes. “Oh really? I thought you loved me.”

The smile on your face grew brighter as he bent down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. “I do love you. So much.”

You snapped out of your thoughts.

It would have been perfect. A concerned Billy wanting to make sure his best friend was okay so he goes to his party to check on him, but is surprised by the killer. Both, he and Stu, are fighting to survive and in the end, sadly, they are the only ones still alive. The police would have believed them that it was Sidney’s father all along and you and Billy could have lived a happily ever after in another town, away from all that traumatic shit he ‘went through’.

But the reality was different. Billy had been a psychotic serial killer, murdering friends and class mates and even Sidney’s mother. He had been the one getting addicted to the feeling of killing someone after Maureen Prescott, he had been the one who had done all those horrible things…

“Kirby, who’s that?” A female voice asked.

Kirby gave you a quick look before answering, “This is (Y/N) (L/N)-“

“(Y/N)?” Gale interrupted her and watched you climb the stairs of the stage.

You first inspected each of the 9 Ghostface mannequins — your eyes lingering on the middle one a little longer — before acknowledging her. You still held a grudge against her considering how much she had turned your life upside down.

“Hello Gale. Long time no see.” You greeted her with a tight smile on your lips. “And since I was ordered here for an interrogation, let’s be honest. It’s actually (Y/N) Carpenter.”

Everyone but Gale suddenly straightened up before the teenagers of the group looked at the two girls closest to the Ghostface costume in the glass case. Both looked at you with furrowed eyebrows as if they were trying to somehow place you in their family tree.

Looking at her made you tear up. You smiled. “Hi Samantha.”

“It’s… just Sam, actually. I’m sorry, do I know you?” She asked you, confused, still trying to remember where and when she met you.

“You don’t, but I know you. Christina told me everything about you, always kept me up-to-date.” You took a quick breathe to control your emotions. “God, you’ve grown. You look so much like him.”

Sam shifted on her feet, not liking where this conversation was going. “Him? You mean my father.”

“How do you know our mom?” The short girl next to her butt in. She seemed just as wary as her sister.

“Christina is my older sister.”

“So you’re our aunt.”

“Not exactly. I’m your aunt, Tara.” You said before addressing Sam directly, “Christina called me when you found out who your real father is in those diaries.” You were really about to drop the bomb. “You know, those diaries weren’t hers… they were mine.”

“What are you saying?”

“That the one who got pregnant by Billy Loomis wasn’t Christina. It was me.”

Sam looked at you like you've grown a second head. “So what? You’re… You’re my mother?”

“Biological, yes. In any other way, probably not.”

“Oh my God.” She started to walk up and down with her hands gripping her hair. “Oh my God.”

“I know it’s a lot, but-“

“A lot? You just come here, a total stranger, and tell me you’re my mother when the woman who raised me all those years isn’t actually my mom but my aunt!”

“I don't expect you to replace her with me and accept me as your new mother, Sam. I’m not planning on taking you with me to force you into mother-daughter-relationship after 26 years. I’m here to help you.”

Sam’s head whipped around to look at Kirby.

“She’s on my suspect list, Sam.” Kirby shrugged, “Apparently no one thinks about the revengeful love interest.”

“But I have an alibi.” You defended yourself, “I wasn’t even near New York when the teacher and the students were murdered. Same goes to the therapist and your two friends. I actually expected being questioned at the NYPD, but if you actually want to interrogate me here, go ahead.”

“Then why are you here? This very place?”

You looked back at Tara. “Because Agent Reed told me to. From what she told me we experienced similar situations and she thought I had a right to see this too.” You looked around the room. “My past is on display here as much as hers or Gale's.”

Sam shook her head, taking a step forward. “So, just to get this straight. You get knocked up by a serial killer and then just leave the baby with your sister? You found out you were pregnant with me and dumped me because what? You didn’t want to be a mom at such a young age? Or was it because you were disgusted by me?”

Your eyes widened. Of course you expected some resistance and some accusations, but it was still like a knife to your heart to see her betrayed expression and hear her furious voice. “No, of course not. I loved you the second I held you in my arms.”

“Then why?”

“I had no other choice! Do you know how hard it was, living like I had to after your father died? The names they called me? And you… you were the size of a grape and they already called you the Devil’s Spawn. No one wants to raise a child in an environment like that.”

“So you just abandoned me? Left me behind so you could get away from everything?”

“I didn’t abandon you, I gave you a safe life away from every threat that could hurt you or even corrupt you. After that night when… when it all happened, my normal life was over. Either all those blase do-gooders in Woodsboro treated me like I put a Ghostface mask on and killed all those people myself, or I was viewed by these Stab-obsessed lunatics as some sort of precious artifact left behind by their idol. I was ambushed by dozens of assholes in costumes and got 3 or 4 calls a day. Even after I moved to other towns, fuck, even to another state, and I still couldn't live my life in peace. Thanks, by the way.” You turned to Gale.

“What, me?”

“The tirade of hate you wrote about me in your damn books. First the boyfriend, then the mother of the boyfriend, and then even Roman Bridger just because he was the one who stirred Billy on into going on a killing spree. You even mentioned me in your fourth book when I literally had no connection to anything that happened that year! You made it look like I pulled the strings, egged on every Ghostface, and was planning every murder, Gale.”

“No, I didn’t.”

 “Yes, you did. Just like you called Sam a born killer, you called me the secret Ghostface that got away who will someday get revenge on Sidney for killing the love of her life.”

Gale opened her mouth, but having nothing to reply with, she closed it again.

Using the following silence to return to the current problem, Chad asked, “So, just to make sure before that–” He awkwardly gestured to you and Sam “–happened. Someone killed these chucklefucks and took over?”

“Someone who believes that Sam masterminded Woodsboro.”

“If this would be a movie this would be the killer’s lair.”

“Which means this isn’t a normal Stab movie.”

Apparently that gave Tara the rest, as she left the stage with brisk steps and disappeared into an adjoining room. Sam was hot on her heels.

Shortly thereafter, the rest of the group split up — Kirby joined Mindy to sit on the edge of the stage, Ethan and Chad were on different sides of the room, looking at the displayed evidence, and Detective Bailey was talking to someone on the phone.

You finally had time to walk to and look at the glass case in front of you. It was a bittersweet feeling, knowing that the one you had loved the most in this world killed four people and thereby started a future death streak, all committed in costumes of his alter ego.

You were so deep in thought that ten minutes had passed and you hadn't noticed that Sam was back and was standing behind you.

“Are you married?” She asked, attracting your attention.

You took your eyes off of Billy’s name plate and looked into her brown ones that reminded you so much of her father’s. “What?”

Sam nodded down to your hand. “Do you have a family?”

Ahh…

“Oh, no. No, I don’t. That’s a promising ring. You know, when you promise someone to stay together forever and maybe get married one day. Do you kids still do that?”

“Yeah, when we’re like twelve, not fifty.”

You chuckled. “Ouch. I still have six years until I’m not that old.” Sighing, you touched the ring and rolled it around your ring finger. “No, I was actually twelve years when… well, when your dad gifted it to me. So young and he already wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. This one–” You held the hand with the ring at eye level, “–was never ever replaced since then. His is right here.” You pulled the silver chain from underneath your t-shirt and revealed a similar ring just slightly bigger.

A shiver ran down Sam’s back, before asking in disbelief, “You kept it?”

“I did. And I know it seems like I went crazy or something while grieving, but I was young and devastated. I just lost the love of my life. Some grow distant and want to avoid anything that has to do with their lost loved one or being constantly reminded of them. Others, like me, have to hold onto every little fiber of them. I wore his clothes, put on his cologne… God, it was really a terrible way to cope.”

Sam grimaced.

You smiled slightly. “What?”

“It’s just strange hearing someone talk about him like he was…”

“Human?”

“He killed people, he was murderer, and you… you loved him.”

“Do you think it’s easy to stop loving someone in mere seconds? Minutes, hours, days, weeks? You have that person who you would die for, who you would kill for. This person is your everything, and you can’t imagine a life without them. So you plan it with that person; how you will graduate, how you will find a job, how you will leave both your parent’s houses to move together, maybe move to a new town, how you will have children with them, how you will marry them, and how you will grow old with them. Billy was my person, the one I wanted all those boring normal things with. And you have those normal things. You hold hands, cuddle, kiss, go on dates...” You stopped and took a breath. “Until the police shows up at your door and tells you that the one who had murdered your friends was him all along. There’s a sliver of hope that maybe, maybe you can visit him in prison so you can talk to him. But that won’t happen because the police tells you right after that he had been killed by your best friend, Sidney Prescott, and that they have some questions for you.”

You still remember how they interrogated you and asked you if you knew about Billy’s doings, if they were signs that seemed suspicious, asked you about the places you have been when he and Stu killed another victim and if there were people who could vouch for you. After two hours they finally let you go, saying they would call you if they had any more questions. You asked if you could see him, his body. Since his mother left, his father was nowhere to be found and Billy had no other close relatives, you were the next best option.

The moment you saw him, lying there cold and pale on that metal table, your whole world crumbled. With slow shaky steps you had walked closer and closer to him. Almost relieved for something to hold on, you had supported yourself by grabbing the table. At that moment you didn’t care who could see you or who could hear you… you just cried. Your sobs and hysterical breathing had filled the room, your knees buckling and your knuckles turning white from how hard you had clutched the table.

“No. No, no, no.”

You had started to hyperventilate. It got harder and harder to breathe. The walls seemed to grow closer.

And then everything went black.

When you woke up in a hospital bed you were greeted by a nurse who tried to calm you down. She told you, according to the coroner, you had passed out after having a panic attack. Just to make sure that was the actual reason they ran a few tests — nothing special, just the usual hospitals did when patients arrived unconscious. She had reassured you after you gave her a concerned look.

“Don’t worry, honey. The results of blood tests didn’t show anything worrying, but I can give you my congratulations. You are pregnant.”

Pregnant.

With Billy’s…

“You are three weeks along. The embryo is as tiny as a poppy seed, just a millimeter.”

You had gaped at her still in disbelief.

Pregnant.

You were pregnant.

You were pregnant with Billy’s baby.

Billy…

Tears had started to form in your eyes and the nurse got blurry. Again there was this feeling in your chest that there was not enough air around you and it got harder to breathe.

“Hey, it’s okay, sweetie. Since you’re only eighteen, we called your parents. They should be here soon.”

Your mom and dad had been more or less supportive. They had always loved Billy. There had been many get-together’s with his family — barbecue, picnics, movie nights. Your parents got along well. But when Billy was revealed as the Ghostface killer, yours had cut ties with the Loomis family and sheltered you from any contact from them.

What they couldn’t shelter you from was Nancy Loomis’ surprise visit three months later. Thanks to Gale’s book — because she somehow managed to find out the reason for your visit to the hospital and because this heartbreaking twist would boost her sales — everyone knew you were pregnant. Including Mrs. Loomis.

You were still stuck deep in your depression. You went from mourning him to call everything into question — was it all a lie? Every touch, every kiss, every I-love-you, every time you made love and talked about the most intimate things — to mourning him again. You were a mess.

It was too much when Billy’s mother was suddenly standing on your doorstep. You had slammed the door right into her face when you saw who was interrupting your crying fest, but through the door she had convinced you to let her in so you could talk. Your hormones got the better of you and you opened the door. Her eyes flew instantly to your belly, but your baby bump wasn’t visible through the white tee and the blue flannel.

“You have his clothes?”

“I have all his stuff. His clothes, his posters, his movies.”

You had talked to Hank and begged him to have some of his things. He had stopped you mid-rant and said you could have everything you wanted; he didn’t want it in his house. So you grabbed everything you could. When you saw the pictures displayed in his room — of you and of you and him — you turned into a crying mess and collapsed on his bed. His pillow still had smelled like him.

You must have fallen asleep because the next thing you remember was Mr. Loomis shaking you awake, looking into your bloodshot eyes and asking you if you were okay.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to-“

“(Y/N), I asked you if you’re okay.”

You had pressed your wobbly lips together and shook your head. He had engulfed you in his arms and tried his best to comfort you. After all, you were still you and despite every negative thought and feeling he held for his son and his deeds, you were not at fault. You were still the little girl from next door he had hoped to be his future daughter-in-law. You left that day with most of his stuff carefully packed up in the trunk of your car. You knew this wasn’t healthy, morbid even — the girl who grabbed the belongings of her dead killer-boyfriend to put everything in her room to have at least a hint of his presence, a imaginary possibility of him still being here with her. Now there were even more pictures of your smiling faces on your shelf, your desk, the table next to your bed and on your walls. Your closet was fuller with the addition of his t-shirts and his jackets. His movie collection was proudly placed next to yours on your shelf.

There was also a box under your bed. When you went through Billy’s tiny walk-in closet you found a cavity hidden behind the wallpaper. Inside of it was a black costume, a Ghostface mask and a knife.

A bloody knife.

Whose blood was that?!

Before you could muster another thought you scrambled to the garbage can and emptied your stomach. When you were done you felt a wave of guilt wash over you.

What were you doing? How did you not notice any suspicious change?

Well, there was this one time after his mom left. He had been so distant, strange, and there had been a dark glint in his eyes when you had cornered him after a week of radio silence. The look he fixed you with gave you the heebie-jeebies. He came around a few days later and acted like nothing had happened between the two of you.

Going back to Mrs. Loomis’ visit, you took your time warming up to her. Seeing her cry and listening to her begging you for forgiveness in Billy’s stead. Under the influence of, again, your stupid pregnancy hormones you gave in and made her a cup of tea. You two talked for hours, mostly about her son and how much she regretted leaving him behind, then Mrs. Loomis wanted you to tell her everything about what happened after leaving and what happened that night in Stu Macher’s house. When you ended your story with your pregnancy, she smiled.

“Even though he’s gone there is still a part of him with us. There is still something important I have to do, but after that I will take care of you and the little one and support the both of you in any way possible. I promise, sweetie.”

As it turned out, the important thing she had to do was to kill Sidney. The target on your back you thought had disappeared returned with Gale Weather’s second book. Again, you were harassed and threatened until you couldn’t take it anymore and you moved away. It got harder each time since you were in the last stages of pregnancy. It hurt thinking about it, but you would never put your baby into a life like this. So you did what you thought was right.

Your sister was more than happy to take her in. Christina would inherit their family’s home and would be able to raise your daughter — now your niece — safely.

Snapping out of your thoughts you continued, “Back then I was at the lowest point in my life and out of all people Sidney was the one who got me back on track. My mom and dad, your grandparents, must have asked her to come over to talk to me. I actually thought she would just turn around and walk away when she saw my room, considering it was crammed with Billy's stuff. He was in every corner of it, the man who killed her mother and almost killed her. She should be the one staying in bed, crying until she passed out. After all she’s the one who survived all that traumatic shit. ”

“Sidney visited you?”

You huffed. “Of course she did. I was her best friend. Randy and I were the only survivors out of our friend group. He and Sidney were the only ones who still treated me like a normal human being.�� You shrugged. “Anyways. Sidney was there for me. At first I wasn't sure if I even wanted to see her. Inside, I knew she had no choice but to kill Billy, but I still held a grudge against her. I was afraid I would take all my anger and sadness out on her. But the second she put her arms around me, all negative thoughts disappeared and I realized how much I needed my best friend at that moment. She got me out of bed, made me go to see a therapist and kept reminding me of you, Sam.” You looked at your daughter. “I couldn’t allow myself to be selfish. I had to think of your well-being, too.”

Sam nodded in understanding and then looked around the room. “I… I'll go check on Tara.” It looked like she wanted to add something, but she apparently she couldn't find the right words.

You gave her a sanguinely smile. “You do that. When this is all over, I promise you that we can talk about everything in peace and I will answer any question you might have. Only if you want, of course.”

“I’d like that.” Sam said before turning around to go looking for her sister.

You watched her until she disappeared from your sight and turned back to Billy's costume. It didn’t even look that scary from your point of view — which might have been due to the lack of a mask — but almost 30 years ago you had thought of it differently. You looked to the Ghostface costume on the right, your eyes slowly dragging down the black fabric until they reached the name tag.

Stu.

You looked up again, scrutinizing the whole look.

You remember the first and only time you were face to face with it. Your parents were on a once-in-a-blue-moon date in a nice restaurant, leaving you alone for a few hours. They only had been out of the house for 30 minutes when you got the infamous call. You skipped to the living room, letting you dinner heat up in the microwave, and picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hello.”

“Yes?”

“Am I talking to (Y/N)?”

“Yeah. Who is this?”

“You could say a secret admirer.”

“Oh yeah? Well I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I have boyfriend whom I love very much.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.” You giggled, lazily playing with the phone cord.

“That’s a shame, really. In that little dress you look like a girl a guy would kill for.”

The smile completely disappeared from your face as you turned to every window the living room possessed.

“What?”

It felt like someone had punched you in the gut, knocking all the air out of your lungs. You abruptly remember the things Sidney had told you about what happened that night when she was attacked — the smooth male voice, the things he said that gave her the chills, him in a black robe and a white ghost mask, trying to kill her.

Before you could think twice you slammed the telephone handle on the hook.

“Okay, okay. Just relax. Just some weirdo trying to scare you. It doesn't necessarily have to be-”

You shrieked when the doorbell rang.

“Jesus.” With a hand pressed against your chest, you walked to the door. “Who’s there?”

No answer.

“Billy, is that you?”

There was no other possibility than him, considering you casually mentioned to him that your parents weren’t home with a mischievous smirk on your lips. This time he wouldn’t have to sneak through your window. You were just opening the door, pondering whether you should tell him about the weird call or not, when you were met with a white ghost mask.

Screaming, you slammed the door shut and locked it. You could hear his body colliding with the door, kicking against it, trying to open it. You didn’t even think about waiting for him to successfully gain access and ran up to your room. You locked the door of your room too before grabbing your cell phone and dialing Billy’s number.

“Billy, please. Billy, please. Pick up, please.”

You ran to the window that was facing Billy’s. His room was completely dark.

You let out a whimper. “Come on, Billy, please. Please pick up.” Tears streamed down your face. When you heard the door slam against the wall downstairs, you clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle a scream.

“(Y/N)?”

Relief washed over you. You swirled around, seeing Billy standing at his window with his phone pressed against his ear.

“Billy…” You tried to control your breath. “T-There is someone in the house… the killer. He is wearing the mask Sidney told us about. He is… He is…”

You watched your boyfriend disappear, presumably running out of his room to get to you.

“It’s okay, baby. Is your door locked?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“Okay, good. Push your dresser in front of the door and hide in the closet. Stay there until I tell you it’s safe. I’m coming, baby, you hear me?”

You heard him skipping down the stairs, listened to his reassuring words.

“I-I’m scared, Billy. I don’t want t-to die.”

“You won’t, I promise you. Just do what I told you. Now!”

Nodding, you ran to your dresser and pushed against it with your whole body weight until it was in front of your door. Next you ran to your closet, pulled open the door, closed it and crouched in a corner far back against the wall.

“I’m in the closet.” You whispered and when you got no answer you added, “Billy? Bill-”

You were interrupted by a loud “Hey!” and something that sounded like fighting noises. Whimpering you fought with yourself — on the one hand you wanted to disobey Billy’s wishes and help him out of concern that the killer might hurt him; on the other hand you wanted to do what he told you and stay hidden.

Meanwhile, Billy was seething as he grabbed his best friend by his collar and forcefully pushed him against the wall in the narrow floor leading to your room. He pulled down the mask and revealed Stu’s jolly face.

“What the fuck did I tell you, huh? (Y/N) is off-limits!” Billy whisper-yelled, pulling Stu lightly to himself before slamming him hard against the wall, not releasing his grip.

Stu groaned. “I just wanted to scare her a little. I thought it would be funny.”

If he weren't Billy’s best friend and if they didn't have big plans ahead of themselves, Billy would have strangled him by now. He tried to channel his rage and took a deep breath before saying, “Listen, dipshit. She. Is. Off. Limits! Killing your ex? I’m in. Her new boy toy? No problem. But keep your fucking hands off of her or I’ll cut your fingers off one by one and push them down your throat, got it?”

Stu gulped and nodded, his big smile morphing into a smaller one. He wasn’t scared of Billy, but Stu had to admit that there were some moments when his aggressions got worrisome.

“Now get out!” Billy hissed and let go of Stu. He waited a moment before knocking on your door.

“(Y/N), it’s me. It’s okay, he’s gone.”

There was shuffling behind the door and a minute later you ripped it open and flung yourself into his arms. Billy was shushing you, caressing your back while listening to you crying. “It’s okay, I’m here.” He kept saying.

When your breathing calmed down, he pulled away from you and placed his hands on both of your cheeks while looking deep into your eyes.

“You’re stupid, you know that?” You mumbled, “Without thinking you ran into a house with a killer in it.”

“The only thing I could think in that moment was you.”

You slightly shook your head with a small smile. “You’re so cheesy.”

Billy huffed a laugh before turning serious again. “Are you hurt?”

“No. I was fast enough to close the door, ran upstairs, lock my door and hide in the closet just as you told me. There won’t even be bruise.”

“Good.” He nodded and kissed you forehead. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

You, of course, had no idea what happened that evening outside of your room. You didn’t know about the lengths he would go for you to keep you safe. You didn’t know he would have killed for you. You didn’t know that Billy’s feelings and his love for you were genuine, something you truly questioned after the things Sidney had told you about that night. You didn’t know that he felt scared when he realized that his plan was failing and he maybe wouldn't be able to see you again. You didn’t know that you were his last thought before he was shot in the head.

[bijouxcarys]

I seriously can’t stop thinking about Roman’s return at Summerslam, and it’s not just because I’m a huge Reigns fan and a huge fan of the Samoan dynasty.

This man grew up with a father whose job was a professional wrestler in the biggest wrestling federation in the world. Anyone who knows anything about that industry knows it’s one hell of a feat to be able to maintain a family in tandem with working for the WW(F).

This man was a talented football player. He worked hard to get somewhere in that field. He had a good woman by his side, a good career, a tight family. He was heading straight to the top. The NFL. And then found out about the leukaemia. Back to square one.

This man got released from two football contracts after his diagnosis, headed home and worked in a furniture installation warehouse with his cousins for 2 years.

This man’s father saw it in him. Just as it was in his older brother. One push, into the deep end, and he was training tirelessly to make it in the WWE. To garner the same respect his old man had, the same respect his cousins had, the same respect given to the Samoan wrestling dynasty.

This man smashes it in FCW, smashes it in NXT, smashes a Survivor Series debut at the age of 27.

This man has a long-time girlfriend, a 6/7 year old daughter, his cousins are working in the same company, he’s getting there, he’s working it. And then the beloved faction—The Shield—implodes.

This man is then shoved down everyone’s throats. This is the guy. The new face. The new Cena.

This man loses autonomy as a wrestler. Loses his creative freedom.

This man wins the 2015 Royal Rumble, only to be booed to no end, despite him supposedly being a baby face. A good guy. No guys, this is who you should be cheering for! See how we are pushing him? This should have been the biggest night of his life, but it was marred by a crowd so hateful towards his character, that he’d rather not remember it!

This man is now married. Is the official face of WWE, whose fan base doesn’t want him. They want him gone. They chant their disdain. Every. Single. Time.

This man continues to be given poor promos, poorly written scripts, is made to say lines that make him into a mockery. But he does it. He plays the game. He knows how this goes. It doesn’t take away the fact he is still one of the most gifted wrestlers of the modern era. But the fans don’t see that. They don’t want to.

This man has his championship opportunity taken from him at Wrestlemania. Fuck.

This man, for the next few years, continues to be pushed and pushed and pushed. Fights with his whole soul. He needs that respect. He deserves that respect. His nose is shattered, his face is split open by a former UFC champion.

This man, still billed as the face of WWE, is now to do what nobody expects of him. Defeat the phenom. The Undertaker. Potentially the most beloved character in the history of pro wrestling. More booing. Nobody believes he deserves it. Just more negativity.

And then, the same exact year, this man’s big brother passes away. But what does he do? He keeps it pushing. He will endure these challenges in order to earn that respect he so desperately needs.

This man continues to be booed and mocked and undermined, under appreciated. Until late 2018.

This man announces that his real name is Joe and he’s been living with leukaemia for 11 years. And it’s back.

For the first time, the WWE universe realise this is a real man. And the absence of said man highlights just how important he is.

This man, in February 2019, announces he’s in remission. Gets a taste of the humanity in the WWE universe. But now he’s floating about. He doesn’t know who he is. He’s pushed as a face, but knows he’s destined for something different, something that will command that respect.

In 2020, this man takes a break. Reinvents himself a bit. Taps into who he is, his culture, his family, his traditions.

And then at Summerslam 2020, The Big Dog returns. And there’s something different about him.

The Big Dog is now The Tribal Chief. The Head of the Table.

And you will Acknowledge Him.

For the next few years, this man raises the bar, lifts up his cousins, has the likes of John Cena, The Undertaker, Steve Austin, Hulk Hogan, and Triple H, praising him. The greats can see it. That respect is so close, he can almost taste it.

By April 2024, this man has had one of the longest title reigns in WWE history. Over 1,300 days as the Undisputed WWE Universal Champion. He’s been pinned less than a handful of times within 4 years. He carried the company through COVID. He’s become the real face of the company whilst being himself, controlling his destiny, his promos, his image.

Yet… he’s still overlooked by the crowd. An undeserving champion some would say.

So you know what? Let’s give this to the man everyone loves. Another prodigy of a legendary family. Cody Rhodes.

Roman’s absence between Wrestlemania 40 and Summerslam 2024 proved just how loved he is. The fans thought they wanted one thing, they thought they wanted Cody. But once Roman Reigns is taken out of the equation… damn, this shit is kinda boring.

The “we want Roman” chants start. The world starts to crave his presence. They need him to come back. To have that genius moment of cinema. The way he commands a room without saying a single word.

During this man’s absence, the wrestling world mourns the loss of Sika Anoa’i. Roman Reigns’ father.

Married, 5 kids, a wife of 10 years, a career like no other, living with leukaemia, constantly working on himself… and now, the man who pushed him, the man who saw something in him, has passed on to the other side.

When those drums rang out in Cleveland on August 3rd 2024, everybody knew how big of a moment this was. Historical. Monumental. And as the Original Tribal Chief turns that corner, showing himself to the WWE universe for the first time since April… he got it.

The respect.

This man is more than a wrestler. He’s a warrior. The pop, the reaction, for his return at Summerslam… it’s never been more deserving. 14 years of trial and error, pain, loss, lack of identity, all paid off.

Because now, we all know. Everyone knows.

They acknowledged him.

Finally.

I’m so proud of him.

[ofmdrecaps]

10/20-22/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Happy very Belated Birthday Rachel House! David Jenkins; Rhys Darby; Taika Waititi; Con O'Neill; Samba Schutte; Vico Ortiz; Kristian Nairn; Nathan Foad; Boris McGiver; Tiny Boats Raffle! Articles; Fan Spotlight; amuseoffyre; Love Notes!

== Happy Birthday Rachel House! ==

Oct 20 was our dear Mary Reed's Birthday! She's been a staple in so many Aotearoa films and TV, and we hope to keep getting to see all her fantastic work for many more years!

Img Src: Screengrab from TheylorSwift Gif

== David Jenkins ==

Chaos Dad has confirmed that the "summer teeth" was Alyssa Lane and Alex Sherman's doing!

Source: David's Twitter

And some love for this OFMD pumpkin!!!

Source: David Jenkins' Twitter

== Rhys Darby ==

Okay so this is really for Rhys AND Taika, and Jemaine-- but Guess what? It's been 10 years since WWDITS 2014 came out! In celebration there's a a limited edition bluray out! I'm still waiting to hear back whether or not it's region free.. because it's got some cool stuff!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Madman (@madmanfilms)

Source: Rhys' Instagram

I didn't see him in the trailer, but it's also been announced that Rhys will be joining Ke Huy Quan and Sean Astin in the new movie Love Hurts coming to theatres on Feb 7, 2025!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Love Hurts (@lovehurtsmovie)

Source: Ke Huy Quan's Instagram

== Taika Waititi ==

Taika was out in Tokyo with Rita for her concert! We got some silly behind the scenes shots of him and Bret from Flight of the Conchords!

Source: Roara Magazine Instagram

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Bret McKenzie (@bretrospective)

Source: BretRospective's Instagram

Also -- more news for Taika -- he helped to Executive Produce all 10 episodes, but also directed one of the episodes! It premieres on Nov 19 on Hulu!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Taika Waititi (@taikawaititi)

Source: Taika's Instagram And in case you haven't seen enough of Taika -- he's out taking selfies with fans!

Source: Instagram

== Con O'Neill ==

For those of you who still have access to Max-- Our Izzy Hands, Con O'Neill showed up episode 5 of The Penquin as Gotham's Chief of Police!

Source: Gotham Chief Twitter

== Samba Schutte ==

Samba's been so busy with interviews about Advanced Chemistry! First up is Beyond the Glam!

Source: Beyond the Glam

Next up is Watch or Pass with Samba and the writer Alec Moore!

Source: Youtube

Not an interview-- but Samba did a voting short that he shared on his Instagram as well!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Samba Schutte (@sambaschutte)

Source: Sambas Instagram

== Vico Ortiz ==

Did any of yall join Vico for Drag Your King this Saturday? I wasn't able to make it but looking forward to the video once it's available! You may already know this-- but Vico has been doing A LOT of voice work lately. They've narrated Metal From Heaven (August Clarke) which you can check out here! They are also the narrator for The Stars Too Fondly!

Are you in LA on October 25th? Hit up the LA Femme Int'l Film Festival where you can see Vico's film Lesbophilia! Get tickets here!

Source: Vico's Instagram Stories

== Kristian Nairn ==

Kristian was digging through some old stuff and found these awesome Wonder Woman Bracelets <3

Source: Kristian's Instagram

Reminder UK Crew! Kristian and Nathan will be at MCM Comic Con in London Oct 25 - 27!

Source: Nathan's Instagram

== Boris McGiver ==

Another trailer for Father Bonnet's new show Teacup! Warning-- it's creepy AND bloody! Just in time for Halloween!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Scott Speedman ✰FANSITE (@sscottyfan)

Source: Boris McGiver's Instagram

== Tiny Boats Raffle ==

Okay so I'm MANY days late on this one-- the Tiny Boats Charity Raffle is up! They've announced all their charities! Wanna learn more on how you can win one of Auntie's tiny boats? Visit their Linktr.ee! Or @ofmd-buys-boats on tumblr! It's super cool that all the charities were chosen by the cast! Here's the Entry Form: TinyCrewBigRaffle Entry Form and Entry Guide!

Source: TinyCrewBigRaffle

== Articles ==

== Fan Spotlight ==

= A Muse of Fyre =

Back again with a new muppet is @amuseoffyre! I can't tell you how damn impressive this Ned Low is! He's practically sinister!

Source: amuseoffyre's Twitter

== Love Notes ==

Hey there lovelies. It's been a long beginning of the week for me.. as you can see I'm several days late again.

I just wanted to send a quick reminder that I badly needed this week.. and that is that we are not defined by our low points.

Sometimes things are not gonna go our way, no matter how much we plan, or try to make them do it, and sometimes we just gotta let the tide take us in a direction until it calms the hell down. When it finally does, you're gonna still be the same kind, and wonderful person you've always been-- maybe with some new outlooks or experiences, or even some new lessons learned. We're never the same person we were the day before, but we can still hold onto the things that make us us. Your kindness, your love, your laughter, and your tears... and so much more. Hard times don't define us lovelies, we define us. I hope this week goes in an upward direction for you, and the tides calm down a bit. Please know, even when I'm not around I'm always thinking of you. Take care <3

Source: The Latest Kate's Tumblr

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

Hi😊 i hope you're having a nice day!

Could i request a Larissa/21-22 Student reader(young teacher if you're not comfortable writing it with a student)fic with prompts 1 and 50 please? (Smut)

R have a big crush on Larissa. One night, she was walking past Larissa's room when she heard moans, she couln'd believe what she was hearing, she stopped and decided to take a peace of paper and write #50 on it with a 💋 with her lipstic (yea she's dumb like that), not writing her name and slip it under Larissa's door and ran back to her dorm. Larissa had no idea who could've wrote that and she was very embarassed that someone heard her..yk... The next day when Larissa walked past R in the hallway, she thought she saw a weird look in R's face and then she saw the lipstic, that lipstic, and it just clicked in her head. She always thought R was a bit of a tease with her but she never thought anything about it, but now.. Larissa decided to go to R's dorm, not knowing what she would do when she'll reach it. And what she heard throught that door, she thought that maybe she could pay R back for what R has done to her.😉 She openned the door slowly so R won't hear her and closed the door behind her, then she wispered #1. And then it would end up full of smuth, you can add as many kink as you want, even toys if you like, please?😊 (was this request too specific? I hope not😕)

Thank you if you decide to write it, i really love your fics and i really wanted to ask one too! And thank you even if you don't, for reading this!💋

A way too shy anon😅

i took some liberties with your request, i hope you don't mind! i made reader a 27yo phd student and it's a non-magical au! also..... i know i was probably expected to write a short, smutty thing, but before i knew it had a plot and it was 4000+ words whoopsie please don't hesitate to leave a comment on ao3, it makes my heart sing! <3

without further ado, enjoy some larissa x reader smut :) tags: car sex, mommy kink and idk how to tag adkjfshgd

You walk through the dark, empty corridor that leads to Professor Weems’ office. Most people have retired for the evening — it’s late, way too late for an official meeting, but given that lately you’ve been getting rather friendly, you hope she will excuse the informality. You know you will probably find her there, as she often works long into the night — and you really need her help with this chapter. The deadline for your PhD is rapidly approaching and you are still nowhere near done. 

She truly is a great mentor — always happy to meet with you and answer any questions you have, ready to spend hours going through your work and analysing materials you brought her. You somehow always end up spending a lot of time together — more often than not ending up in deep and heated discussions about various subjects (that sometimes relate to your work, and sometimes don’t) after you’ve finished discussing your thesis. You feel like you could talk to her the entire day without getting tired — she is remarkably intelligent, knowledgable on many subjects — her taste in art exquisite, and her takes are often unique. She always leaves you with several book recommendations (“Read this, darling, I am very curious what you will think about it,” she usually says and writes down a title or two, “read it when you find the time for it, of course — you have a thesis to write,” she winks — you somehow always find the time, sometimes sacrificing those few precious hours of sleep). 

Larissa Weems is also very, very attractive. She is an unusual looking woman — very tall, imposing, with platinum blonde hair and a peculiar fashion sense — she dresses like a movie star from the 1940s — but she is ridiculously charismatic, expressive, charming. Her laugh is contagious, her eyes bright and sparkling — you can’t be blamed for being absolutely enamoured with her.

You thought about asking her out once you get your PhD— age difference be damned. You are a 27 year old woman — you are free to do as you please. It’s just that, well — she is your mentor,  at least for now, and even if she wasn’t, she is just way out of your league. You don’t even know if she likes women, (probably not, knowing your luck) — and if she does, there is no way she would like you (even if you did have a very interesting discussion about sapphic undertones in The Marriage of Figaro — that scene between Susanna, Countess Rosina and Cherubino is rather… sexually charged — she seemed to share your opinion).

Lately, you feel your relationship has reached a deeper level — your meetings would almost always end in a nearby bar, where you’d relax with a glass of wine and continue your conversation late into the evening. Last time, she got slightly tipsy and became rather touchy-feely (she seems to be one of those people who are get very affectionate when drunk)— putting a hand on your shoulder, brushing against your leg under the table (then immediately apologising and pulling away), and when you got back to campus, she hugged you before parting ways. You can still recall very vividly how warm and soft she was and how she smelled faintly of sweet perfume and red wine. Since then you can’t stop imagining her touch — in very inappropriate ways. You try your hardest not to get too invested, though — she is your mentor, first and foremost. 

For all those reasons, you conclude she won’t be terribly upset at you if you barge into her office at this late hour. Worst case scenario, she tells you she’s too busy right now. 

You are just about to knock on her office door when something stops you dead in your tracks — a sound.

A moan.

You stand in front of the door. You hear nothing for a couple of seconds and almost knock again, certain you’ve imagined it (because why would anyone be moaning here at this hour?), but then you hear it once more.

It’s coming from her office. Is she with someone (your heart sinks at the thought, and you immediately scoff at yourself — as if you ever had a chance)? 

You know the appropriate thing would be to leave immediately, but something keeps you there, standing in front of the door, listening. 

The moans continue, and there is no doubt about it — that is her moaning, and there is no one else with her. It’s very clear what she is doing.

You should leave, but you stand there, frozen, listening. You don’t really want to go. 

Her moans sound heavenly — they send delicious jolts straight to your core. You can’t help but wish you were the one making her moan. 

Later, when you get back to your room, you don’t know what possessed you to do what you did. Might have been sleep deprivation, caffeine overdose, or lack of proper meals from days of working on your thesis non-stop, might be that she is the most attractive woman you have ever had the pleasure of knowing and her moans were just too much for your tired brain to handle — but you take a piece of paper out of your notebook and write a very inappropriate thing on it.

I thought your laugh was the prettiest sound in the world. I was wrong — it's your moans.

You stare at the note for a couple of seconds. The moans coming from her office are getting louder — she must be getting close to… 

…your brain short-circuits at the thought.

Without thinking, you place a kiss on the piece of paper, leaving a coral-coloured lip-print on it. 

Inside her office, Professor Weems keens. 

You slip the paper underneath her door and run back to your room. 

You continue working through the night, falling asleep on your desk around 5am. You wake up at 8, and by then the whole episode feels like it might have been a fever dream.

You still need her help with the chapter, however, so you send her en email asking if she could squeeze you into her schedule today. You get an answer almost immediately.

I am terribly busy today, but I could see you during lunch break. We could eat out together and go over the chapter, if you’d like. Please send it to me beforehand so I can read through it and make notes! :-) 

Sent from my iPhone

(You find her boomer smileys very endearing.)

You try your best not to think about last night’s events. You are lucky she can’t recognise your handwriting, given that you always write everything on your laptop. 

You steal an hour of sleep, take a shower and put on some lipstick and mascara before leaving to meet her at cafeteria for lunch. If you’re lucky, you will succeed at pretending last night never happened.

You are not lucky.

You can’t stop staring at her mouth as she talks, as she chews her lunch, imagining all types of lewd sounds coming from it. It’s downright erotic, the way her lips move — no one should look that sexy chewing food.

“Darling? Are you with me?” she asks, making you snap out of your inappropriate daydream.

“Hm? Yeah, I’m sorry, I’m just a bit spacey today,” you answer, embarrassed, wondering if she caught onto your staring.

“How many hours of sleep have you gotten in the last couple of days, darling?”

“Uhm… in the last three days, I think I got about ten hours combined.”

“You really should take better care of yourself.”

“I know, but there’s just so much work to be done,” you sigh. “Is it supposed to be this hard to get your PhD?”

Professor Weems chuckles (the loveliest sound). “I’m sorry to inform you that it is — at least if you want to do it properly.”

“How was it for you? When you were getting your PhD, I mean? It’s hard for me to imagine you going around disheveled and sleep deprived. You always look so put together.”

“Ah, darling, it’s one of the perks of reaching a certain age — you can finally afford some of life’s little luxuries, such as sleeping six to eight hours a nigh. However, I absolutely did go around disheveled and sleep deprived. I was living off of caffeine and salted crackers — I was a rather pitiful sight. I’m glad I did it, but I’d never go back.”

“So you’re telling me life is easy in your forties?” you tease.

“I said easier, not easy. I do still get terribly stressed about things. I was rather stressed yesterday, as a matter of fact. I have so many things to do today, and I will be working late again.”

“And what do you do to relieve the stress?” you ask before you can stop yourself. You know very well what she did yesterday to relieve the stress.

“Oh, this and that. Usually I watch something that takes my mind off work.”

(“Porn?” you think.)

“I think we should get going though, darling — lunch break is almost over. Let me just fix my makeup,” she says and pulls her signature red lipstick and a compact mirror out of her bag. She fixes the edges of her lipstick expertly.

“Do you need to fix your lipstick, darling?” she asks, handling you the mirror.

“Oh, I might, actually. Thanks.”

Only when you’re done fixing your makeup and you hand the mirror back to her do you realise she has just watched you put on the same lipstick you used to leave a lip-print on that wildly inappropriate note you slipped under her door. 

You look at her, your stomach twisting with anxiety, searching for any sign of recognition on her face.

Her face is unreadable, but you wonder if she holds eye contact with you a little longer and a little more intensely than usual. You might just be imagining things, though — you are terribly sleep deprived.

“Thank you, darling,” she says, giving you a bright smile. “Shall we?”

The cafeteria door is a bit narrow, so you step back to let her pass first, but she puts a hand on your waist and gently pushes you past her. Your shoulder brushes against her as you do so. Being this close to her makes your heart beat faster and your limbs turn to jelly.

You look up at her (she is so tall). She’s smiling at you. It’s a bright, toothy smile that makes your insides melt and your brain become mush. 

“I will be working late tonight, so if you need any help you know where to find me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t wanna bother you.”

“I can spare an hour for my favourite PhD student.”

“Your only PhD student.”

“You should just accept the compliment, darling.” She squeezes your shoulder and winks. “Good luck with your research. Try to squeeze in an afternoon nap. Ta-ta!”

She turns around and walks in the direction of her office, leaving you standing in front of the cafeteria like an idiot. As she walks away, you stare at way her hips move in the tight skirt pencil skirt she’s wearing. After a couple of seconds, you realise your mouth is open, so you quickly close it before anyone notices you are behaving like a horny teenager. 

You slowly drag yourself to your room. As you sit down and start going through the notes she gave you during lunch, your thoughts keep drifting to her ass in that pencil skirt. You sigh.

This is going to be a long day.

By the time evening comes, you are nowhere near finished with the chapter that was giving you grief yesterday. You know what needs to be done and you have finally found the right source to support your argument, but you have a hard time concentrating, and that makes you work in an excruciatingly slow manner. Your thoughts are scattered and you keep thinking about the deadline that looms over your head. Stress and sleep deprivation are truly starting getting to you (it also doesn’t help that your thoughts keeps drifting to Professor Weems and her tight pencil skirt). You wonder if you should take a quick power nap, but you are so caffeinated and anxious you doubt you could sleep if you tried, despite being exhausted, so you continue to push through.

It’s around 9pm that you hear a knock on your door. Before you can react in any way, the door opens and Professor Weems is standing in your room.

“I hope I’m not bothering you, darling. I just wanted to check how you’re doing before I retire for the evening.”

“Not so well, I’m afraid. I am nowhere near done with this chapter. I know what I need to do, it’s just that it’s going so painfully slowly.” You bury your head into your hands and let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry I’m being so whiny about this. I am just so stressed.”

Professor Weems approaches your desk and sits on it. Her thigh is just next to your head. You look up at her.

“Darling, you are working yourself too hard. I would tell you if I thought you are terribly behind with your research, but I honestly think you’ll make it. Don’t forget, I have to sign my name on your work — I would never lie to you about your progress to make you feel better — so trust me when I say you should let this go for tonight and come back to it when you’re less sleep-deprived.”

“But—”

“No buts. Come on, I am taking you out for a glass of wine. You should relax. It’s painful to watch you like this.”

You would never decline a glass of wine with Professor Weems, so before you know it you are sitting in that bar near campus having a glass of red wine (that turns into two and then into three glasses). The alcohol is getting to you, since you haven’t eaten that much today — you feel warm and fuzzy and slightly drunk.

Professor Weems seems to be getting tipsy as well, because she is getting very touchy with you again. She laughs at your stupid jokes (her laughter is one of your favourite things about her — loud and unabashed and melodious) and touches your shoulder often, sometimes letting her hand linger way longer than necessary. At some point in the evening her leg touches your own underneath the table.

She doesn’t move it, nor does she apologise. 

“You were right, Professor Weems, I did need this,” you say. “I’ve been feeling really out of it for the last couple of days.”

“Oh, I told you already, call me Larissa, darling. Professor Weems is so formal.”

“Are you big on formalities, Larissa?” you ask. You decide to try and push your luck — your confidence is not that high, but you are not an idiot. You are pretty certain she is flirting with you, unless you are completely delusional because of sleep deprivation. 

“Usually yes, but as you’ve probably already concluded by my taste in literature, I do think life would be terribly boring without letting the irrational, passionate streak in us win sometimes. As is the case in many literary classics — the plot simply couldn’t move forward without one of the characters disregarding propriety and doing something reckless and passionate.”

“I agree. I often wish I had the courage to do something like that in real life — my life would be so much more interesting.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, darling. I do think you have what it takes.” She gives you a big, bright smile. “Oh, wait a second, darling, your lipstick is smudged. Here, let me.”

She leans forward and takes your chin in her hand, then brushes along the corner of your lip with her thumb. Her touch sends a shiver down your spine and makes your entire body hot with desire.

“That’s a lovely colour, darling. Coral suits you very well.”

She knows. She must know. 

She leans back into her seat. You decide to be bold.

“You know, I am still feeling a little bit tense. You said you like to watch something to relax — but I prefer more physical ways of relaxation. Do you have anything to recommend in that area?”

“Do give me an example, darling, what do you do to relax that’s physical?”

“Oh, I’m afraid what I do wouldn’t be appropriate to engage in at my workplace.”

There is a definite red tinge to Larissa’s cheeks.

“What’s life without a little excitement?”

“Very boring, I suppose.”

For a couple of seconds, there is silence. You are looking at each other, both of your cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol. The tension in the air is thick and heavy.

The next thing she says takes you by surprise. You didn’t expect her to be that forward.

“Tell me, darling, did it turn you on when you heard me yesterday?”

“I—” you open and close your mouth like a fish. You can’t believe the words that just came out of her mouth — to hear her say something like that is something straight out of a wet dream, something that would only happen in your wildest fantasies. 

“I usually do it to relax — it’s a purely physical thing, but lately I have found myself thinking about you,” she continues. “Tell me, do you think of mewhen you touch yourself?”

You look her straight in the eye. “Yes, I do.”

You look at each other for a moment. Desire lingers in the air. She is first to break the silence. 

“Before this escalates any further, I want you to know that the last thing I’d want is to put you in a difficult situation or make you feel like you are obligated to do something. If you don’t want this, just say the word and we shall never mention it again.” 

She pauses. She seems nervous — you’ve never seen her nervous before.

“And please know that whatever you decide, it will not affect your thesis in any way. I would hate for you to be under the impression that this is transactional. I am genuinely interested in pursuing something beyond friendship with you, but I am ready to put that aside and prioritise our professional relationship if that is what you want.”

Your heart breaks as you decide to do the right thing.

“Maybe we should wait until I finish my thesis, and then… continue with this,” you say. “As much as I’d like to, it really wouldn’t be professional of us.”

“Of course. That would probably be best.”

She moves her leg under the table so that it’s no longer touching yours —- you can’t help but feel disappointed. There is a moment of awkward silence. She clears her throat. “We should probably go then, not let this escalate any further.”

“Yes,” you agree. “Let’s go.”

The walk to campus is silent and awkward. 

“It’s rather late,” you say. “I do hope buses still drive. The night lines are scarce in this part of town.”

“Oh, I can drive you home, if you want,” she says quickly. “I didn’t offer because I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I mean, if you want to. We will have to spend time a lot of time together until I finish my thesis, we might as well practice not being awkward around each other. Not that I wasn’t awkward before,” you say, attempting to lighten the mood. “You always made me nervous.”

She chuckles and the air seems less heavy. “I didn’t know I was so scary.”

“You’re not,” you say, but you don’t elaborate further (what you want to say is you look like a movie star, you are intelligent and absolutely brilliant and I am nervous because I have a huge crush on you — but that would be inappropriate given the circumstances).

The drive to your apartment is silent. The tension that built in the bar didn’t dissipate into thin air when you decided not to act on it — instead it intensified — it lingers around, hot and heavy, clouding your judgement, making you sweat even though it’s a chilly night.

She parks in a free spot just in front of your apartment building.

“I’m sorry, I acted very unprofessionally,” she starts. “As your mentor, I should have ignored your advances, but instead I flirted with you and encouraged you.”

Her red lips move in the most delicious way as she speaks, and you find yourself staring again. You remember the sound of her moans. It’s difficult to think about anything else.

“I feel terribly ashamed. I promise I will maintain a strictly professional demeanour from now o—”

You pull her into a bruising kiss. She squeaks (you find that adorable).

Pushing you away, she tries to be reasonable. “We shouldn’t,” she says.

“What’s life without a little excitement? What a novel without the protagonist disregarding propriety and pushing the plot forward?”

“I—”

“Please, Larissa, I believe you when you say my thesis won’t be affected. We are both adults. We want this. Tell me, do you want me?”

She looks at you. Desire dances in her eyes.

“Yes.”

That is all you need. 

You kiss her again, then climb over to her seat, somehow managing to straddle her lap. She abruptly pushes the car seat backwards to give you more room — you gasp in surprise and she swallows your gasp with a hungry kiss.

The way she kisses you is passionate, ravenous, desperate. You grind against each other, your hands are everywhere, and her skirt is already bunched up around her hips (the sight of her soft, white thighs in garters drives you crazy). It’s hot, it’s dirty, and it’s not something you thought a put together woman like herself would ever be caught dead doing.

“I never imagined you’d enjoy a dirty car fuck, Larissa,” you whisper into her ear as she kisses your neck. She bites it and you gasp. 

“And I never imagined you’d be such a naughty slut, grinding your pussy against my thigh, but here we are.” 

She makes even something that cheap and filthy sound delicious. It shouldn’t turn you on so much, but it does.

“Say that again,” you breathe out, continuing to grind against her thigh.

“You like it when mommy calls you a dirty slut, hm?” 

She grabs your hair with one hand and slides the other one down into your trousers, feeling your drenched underwear. 

“Mmm, fuck,” is the only thing you can say.

“So wet and needy for me already, darling?” she coos at you. “Tell me, did you imagine me doing this to you as you touch yourself, hm? Fucking you with my fingers, fast and hard, like a common whore?”

She slides her hand inside your underwear and pushes a finger into you, then, when she feels how wet you are, two. You whimper. She curls them and you cry out. “Say I’m mommy’s little whore. I want to hear it.”

“I— I’m mommy’s little whore, fuck—”

She starts fucking you, fast and hard, and there are no coherent thoughts left in your mind. She is grunting and groaning with you — it make you delirious with desire. You want to make her moan like she did last night.

You somehow manage to pull yourself together enough to bury your own hand between her soft thighs and feel her wetness. She moans as you circle her clit and her fingers lose their rhythm for a second, which allows you to put together a coherent sentence.

“Like that, mommy?” you breathe out. “Did you imagine this when you touched yourself yesterday?”

“Yes,” she whines, “please, don’t stop.”

You have no intention of stopping. You continue to circle her clit even as she starts to fuck you harder. Her moans are obscene and loud and for a second you remember that any passerby could see you, and probably hear you, but you don’t care. If anything, that turns you on even more.

What sends you over the edge is her orgasm. Her body tenses up, her moans become hoarser and strangled, and a combination of swearwords and moans mixed with your name leave her lips as she tips over the edge of ecstasy. It’s the most erotic thing you have ever witnessed. She tries to fuck you through her own orgasm, but she doesn’t manage to keep the relentless, steady pace she had set before. It doesn’t matter — you grind on her hand and cry out as you ride out intense waves of pleasure that make your limbs tingle.

She gently pulls her fingers out of you. You stay still for a while, wrapped around each other, breathing heavily, your faces buried in each other’s necks. 

“Fuck, that was hot,” you say after a while.

She nods against your shoulder. “It was.”

“Wanna do that again sometime… mommy?” you pull away, looking at her with a shit-eating grin plastered on your face.

“If you call me that any time we aren’t fucking, I will end you.”

You laugh, and after a second she laughs as well. 

She is so pretty when she smiles — you love how those little lines around her eyes become more prominent.

“I should probably go, though. We are in the middle of the street and it’s like, 3am,” you say.

“Yes, you probably should.”

Before you go exit the car, you kiss goodnight. It’s the sweet and soft — it makes your heart flutter.

“Good night, darling,” she whispers as you get out of the car.

“Good night, Larissa,” you whisper as you watch her drive away.

As you brush your teeth, take a quick shower and get cozy in your bed, the only thing you can think about is Larissa. When you fall asleep, you dream of her sweet kisses. 

When you wake up in the morning, you feel well-rested for the first time in weeks.