#focusing less on the fact that she's using drugs and making out with a woman

[toddxhavez]

Love In The Dark

Pairing(s): Jenna Ortega x reader, mentions of Victoria Pedretti x reader

Summary: A nice night out at a movie premiere doesn’t go as planned for Jenna when she runs into her ex-girlfriend there.

Warning(s): Female reader, angst, mentions of drinking and past drug use, that’s all I think but feel free to correct me!

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: This takes place sometime in the future, reader is the same age as Jenna in this story which is 29. I’ll probably give more background on their relationship in part two but the song I had in mind for the reader in this story is Love In The Dark by Adele you’ll know what I mean after you read it. Sorry for disappearing but I was having trouble feeling confident and comfortable about my writing! Not proofread there might be some mistakes. (Gif is not mine, the credits belong to the user right below it!)

The biggest problem with working as an actress in Hollywood definitely had to do with the public, when they loved you they loved you sure but climbing the ladder of popularity came with consequences, all it takes is one interaction taken out of context to make them angry.

The interaction in question took place at a movie premiere. Jenna’s agent Owen received her formal invitation and asked her if she’d been interested in attending, she agreed since it was for a horror film.

If only she said no, she wishes she said no.

When Jenna arrived to walk on the red carpet, a staple feature that came with just about every movie premiere, she’d gotten there only minutes before you did. One of the many purposes of a movie premiere is to generate excitement and raise awareness about the film but right now one of the only things the media outlets are focusing on about last week was Jenna’s interaction with you, her ex-girlfriend of five years.

You’d think growing up as an actress your entire life would mean that it’s easy to walk the red carpet, Jenna wants to say that she’s used to it but she’s not.

Thankfully nobody would be able to tell the difference.

She takes a deep breathe and tries to push away that this walk in particular is turning into another stinging reminder that you’d always been here with her the times she’s felt truly at ease and comfortable, slowly but surely these resurfacing thoughts of you would fade away right?

Jenna continues walking past the numerous shouts and flashing lights, offering them a kind smile and occasionally stopping where one of the coordinators of the red carpet asks her to. There’s one photographer in particular that has a camera that could light up a whole town on his own that momentarily blinds her, while the coordinator reprimands the man she takes five steps forward and hopes for the best but ends up crashing into somebody anyways.

“Are you alright?” The person says and they grab her elbow lightly as a way to steady her from falling, but all she can do is blink rapidly as your face slowly comes into view.

“Yeah I’m fine.” Jenna says trying to grasp the fact that she ran into the one person she’d been dwelling on about less than five minutes ago.

What kinda’ve game did the universe plan on playing today?

“Are you sure? You still look a little dazed.” Victoria questions with a look of worry, you’d unintentionally shielded her from Jenna’s view and now she’s realized that you’d come to the movie premiere with her as your plus one after catching a glimpse of the other woman’s arm interlocked comfortably with your own.

A harsh game it seems. But why?

“Oh wait I know why,” you say and it spooks Jenna, how’d you know what she was thinking? If you could still read her as easily as you once did- would you really be diabolical enough to showcase her concerns in front of others? She wills herself to calm down with the reminder that you’ve never been the type and that’s really only worst case scenario.

“It was because of that photographer huh! I thought I died and saw god when he took some pictures of us.” You continue with a laugh unintentially dispensing out another grueling thought to replace the other because the only thing that stands out to Jenna in that statement is your use of the word “us”.

“I think I need glasses now.” Jenna says making Victoria and you laugh, she knows that it’s because of her joke but seeing you do it with Victoria rubs her the wrong way.

“It’s been so long, how are you?” Victoria asks excitedly reaching out to hug her, Jenna internally scolds herself for feeling this way about someone who’s without a doubt happy to have run into her.

“I’m doing really good… what about you guys?” Jenna lies copying Victoria’s movements and reaching out for a hug too.

Before either of you can answer and continue the conversation a coordinator steps forward to apologize for interrupting but mentions that you’re all required to move along because of the influx of people arriving on the red carpet.

“It’s alright I’m sorry about that sir,” you say before focusing on Jenna once more with a smile that’s warm and gentle enough to drown out the rest of the world around her, “we’re doing good too, it’s really nice seeing you again.”

And with that you’d left her.

The breakup happened about a year and a half ago, but whatever the both of you did apart from each other was still talked about widespread and analyzed through the lenses of “In separation, what and how are they doing now?” Or “Why’d it happen? And whose fault is it?”

The latter one being the worser of two evils because it overpowered fact with fiction of how it really ended.

Jenna broke up with you but a year ago the popular release of your hit song made the people think otherwise, the reality of this was that they actually painted you in a bad light because of it.

‘It happened because Y/N didn’t love Jenna anymore, so it’s her fault.’ But that was the furthest thing from the truth, and yet this belief diminished your reputation, Jenna felt guilty about it. She didn’t know what to expect when she’d heard you’d both been going viral after you released a song, but after listening to it she realized you wrote it from her perspective during the breakup, not yours.

The media crucified you because of these speculations, any mistakes that you’d made in the past were brought up and used to pick your image apart.

The worst one being that drug use played a part in the breakup.

You’d grown up as a child actress same as Jenna, but unlike her you were never given the choice to quit. You were forced into this life by greedy parents and discouraged from doing anything else. You were miserable and there’d been a time where you used drugs as a coping mechanism.

So of course, they accused you of falling off the wagon.

“Are you sure about this?” Owen says carefully pulling Jenna out of her thoughts.

“Have you seen the headlines? I’m sure.”

“And you’ve talked to her about it?” Owen questions offering her a sympathetic smile, but it only confuses her.

“Why would I talk to her about it? It’s the truth and it’ll help her with these assholes.” Jenna asks narrowing her eyes at Owen.

‘Help her but hurt you.��� Owen wants to say but he bites back the comment, he knows Jenna’s making this announcement to stop the public from condemning you but there’s a reason you’d never done it yourself.

“Nothing, I was just wondering.” Owen responds turning around and away from view to organize the mountain of papers on his desk, Jenna wants to press him for information but she already knows he won’t give her any.

“Did you like the film?” Owen asks walking towards the bar in his office to fix himself a drink, when Jenna doesn’t answer he takes a quick glance at her and sees that she’s back in her own little world again.

“Yeah it was… good.” Jenna trails off not wanting to admit that she missed about half of it because she’d been focused on you, well you and Victoria Pedretti.

The premiere didn’t have assigned seating but she’d gotten there a bit late- and not that long before Victoria and you did, that unfortunately meant you both were seated about three rows ahead of Jenna. At the beginning of the film you kept whispering things to one another and quietly laughing, the half that Jenna missed happened to be after Victoria rested her head on your shoulder. Jenna couldn’t stop thinking about close she was to you, the way your body softly shook with laughter whenever she said something to you, her bright smile merely inches away from your neck.

“For what’s it’s worth, I don’t think the rumors are true.” Owen comes back with two glasses of his expensive tequila, setting one of them right in front of Jenna and taking his own with him to his seat across from her.

“I know she’s sober.” Jenna thanks him with a nod, appreciative for the man who’s been akin to a protective father to her and you alike.

“Without a doubt, but I’m not talking about that.” Owen says with a pointed look, of course he’d know.

“That’s none of my business.” Jenna responds but the way she picks up the glass of tequila and downs it in one go says otherwise.

“You’re still in love with her.” Owen says and Jenna’s about to deny it but Owen’s one of the few people who knows her well enough to see through her lies.

“It’s not a crime to still feel some type of way about a person you share history with,” he continues getting up from the comfort of his chair to refill her glass once more “you never did actually tell me why you broke up.”

“Can you just have Emilia make the announcement already?” Jenna quips at him trying to change the subject, he merely hums immediately doing what’s been asked of him.

“It’s… complicated.” She finally admits when he hangs up his phone after calling her PR agent. Since she’d the one to break up with you, she felt as if she was in the wrong for being upset about the idea that you’ve already moved on and now here she was accidentally snapping at Owen for something that’s not his fault.

“We’ve got time.” He shrugs passively setting her freshly poured drink down in front her.

“You’ve got any limes?” Jenna asks downing the glass, Owen laughs going to cut up some limes and deciding it’d be better to just bring the bottle of tequila for the rest of this conversation.

[nanabrainrot]

Homemaker

Summary: Lalo loves guests.

she/her pronouns used. established (toxic) marriage. dubious consenting voyeurism (?)

warnings! misogyny and dubiously consenting voyeurism (nacho doesn’t realize he’s watching a sexual act until halfway through; he’s mostly scared lalo is testing him)

Ignacio was not sure what he expected when he walked through Lalo’s entryway but it was not the owner’s wife waiting in a chair by the door for her husband. Ignacio’s girlfriends were typically on a loose schedule, infrequently on a set routine and moreso operating on pure casual humane base desires for dopamine and oxytocin either from sex or drugs.

Lalo’s wife was pristine, her back pin straight and hair devoid of flyaways. The sleek skin of her face was smooth like butter and only accented with makeup covering minor blemishes like some discoloration from freckling in the hot sun. Her lashes were coated in mascara, eyes lined with kohl liner, and a pair of false lashes accentuating her deep set gaze. The nightgown was cottony and thin, contouring her body like it a boa constricting her skin. Immediately seeing the dolllike woman, Ignacio jumped visibly, jolting at the surprise it set in him.

“Hi, Lalito,” she greeted, eyes focused on him as if Nacho didn’t exist. In fact, her eyes didn’t flit toward him at all. Lalo grinned, setting his possessions from his pockets on the entry console to move toward her with hands outstretched toward her. His palms were facing up like he were approaching a puppy he was going to pet, thick fingers in and out like a beckoning motion: he was approaching her less like a wife and more like a pet, Nacho noted.

Lalo’s dark shoes clunked off him beside the door to maximize his comfort, nothing but his cottony clothes on him as he bent to put weight on his knee beside her chair like he was proposing again, to level himself with her. He seemed to take every technique to make himself comfortable with her, her deep eyes following him like a curious cat.

“I missed you!” he cooed, grabbing her face and peppering her scrunched expression with kisses. Her nose scrunched up and eyes closed tightly as she moved to turn her stiff body to lean toward him, manicured hands starting to grab his delts to stroke the muscle with her thumbs through his button-up. Nacho noted her very particular comfort with him, still stiff in her movements like a ball joint doll would be, the little ruffles of her socks pressed into the leg of the upholstered cushiony chair as her legs seemed as if they were glued together when her knees went to clunk against his for more contact.

She didn’t smile nor giggle at this interaction, but let out little grunts of surprise at the contact at every kiss. He finished his attack of kisses on her mousy face with a kiss on her lips, before drawing back, and placing his forehead on hers, his thick hand pressed on the back of her neck and the other resting in her upper arm. “¿Estas bien?” he breathed, she nodded with their foreheads still touching, then leaned her head forward to rub their noses together shyly before pulling back to look his rising and falling chest.

It seemed like she refused to look at Nacho.

“Ignacio, es mi esposa, (y/n),” he introduced her, rubbing her shoulder consolingly, “…esta timida.”

Nacho swallowed, a bit afraid to talk to her and upset Lalo. He sparingly mentioned his wife, but granted he seemed to be home at a certain time he assumed he either was a man who lived by routine or had someone to come home to. The latter was a correct assumption.

“Um, hello,” he started, “I’m Ignacio. Everyone calls me Nacho though.” Her eyes didn’t leave Lalo, whom she was now leaning her head on his shoulder and holding onto him, but she muttered, “I’m (y/n).”

There was no more utterance as she lazily leaned into her husband, prompting a cooing of cuteness over her, as he swept her into a bridal pose and srarted into the living room from the entry hallway. Nacho followed awkwardly, unsure if he should remove his shoes and walked carefully to the edge of the carpetted living room in case his assumption was right.

Nothing in the house was out of order. Blankets were neatly folded and not a speck of dust was on any shelf. It smelled of a lit oceanic candle that he saw in his peripheral sitting on the open floor kitchen island all the way to the right. The high windows and ceilings seemed meticulously cleaned but were glazed with a privacy sun-catching coating that looked like stained glass of a decadent flower. He set her on the sofa and threw the blanket that was folded over the back of the sofa on her. The sofa was enormous, a giant beige sectional with a chaise at the end that she curled into immediately, and the rest of it curved as if a soft crescent shape. The mounted television was enormous and black, reflecting the sofa and the couple on it. Only the sound of a low rurring air conditioner was in the impossibly quiet house. Lalo stood again after setting her down, turning back to him with a grin and looking him up and down.

“You’re a smart guy; leave your shoes by the door and come to the kitchen. She sleeps like a bear, don’t worry,” he shrugged moving to the kitchen only after moving around the impressive sofa.

Standing in the kitchen in their socks, Nacho felt the air thicken and his hairs stand with fear. He felt like he had witnessed something deeply intimate without consent, like a pervert peering through a window at the two. “She made us dinner, you can help yourself,” he laughed, leaning into the counter, “she’s pretty, no?”

Nacho froze, unsure to compliment the man’s wife. “Ah, uh yes. You are a lucky man, Lalo.” Lalo hummed in confirmation, going on to his elbows to look over on the sofa at the blanket rising and falling with her breaths. “Very lucky, I know.” Nacho awkwardly leaned his back against a corner counter, hesitant to make any movements in the man’s house with his wife sleeping soundly.

“Do you have a wife, Ignacio?” he asked, looking back at the stiff man over his shoulder. “No, just flings with girls,” he replied curtly, uncomfortable to admit he just wasn’t a man interested in commitment or monogamy. “Ohh, mi amigo, there is nothing more beautiful than choosing one person to spend your life with,” he started rambling with a grin, “I have a woman who lives for me and waits on me. It’s beautiful, no?”

No, Nacho internally wanted to admit. He was unnerved by the way his wife acted, fixated on Lalo with an unbreaking gaze that he’s sure even snakes would feel intimidated at. “Sure sounds like it is,” Nacho breathed like he was holding a breath. If Lalo noticed his anxiety to converse in his home, he did not acknowledge it.

“So flings with girls? Like you have a few girls you do the tango with? Not just one, sí?”

“A few. Usually two girls.”

Lalo shook his head, huffing with a sigh like he was exasperated as a joke. “Nachoo, what will I do with you? Are you so debauched that you need more than one woman or are your ladies so subpar in bed?” he chuckled, standing back up and settling his hands on his hips like an amused mentor to their student. Nacho’s brows furrowed at the concept; he just liked to have options open.

“What? No, they’re both fine but I just like to have options.”

Lalo rolled his eyes, starting to lean an palm onto the sink that was a little adjacent to Nacho to make eye contact. “My woman keeps me as satisfied as I keep her. I’d never need a second pussy. You just haven’t had good pussy yet,” Lalo scoffed.

“They’re fine. All pussy is good pussy,” Nacho retorted uncomfortably and feeling short with the conversation at hand. It couldn’t possibly be leading a good way given the topic at hand.

“Good pussy isn’t great pussy, pendejo,” Lalo cackled, throwing his head back as if he had heard the funniest joke in years. “Do your girls ever say no to sex? A headache? Not in the mood?”

“Yeah,” Nacho shrugged, “sometimes they’re not in the mood, why do you think I have two? When one’s busy, the other one should be down.”

Lalo blinked as if he had never heard somethingvso egregious. His palm left the counter and he stiffened with arms crossed, his face stiff and serious. “Nacho, how long do you think I’ve been married?”

“Um, maybe ten years?”

“Twenty-four. Do you think I’m happy in my marriage, Nacho?”

“You look very happy, Lalo.”

“That’s because I am. And why do you think that is?”

Quiet. Stillness, only the rurr of the air conditioner snd Nacho’s hot breath leaving him hurriedly in anxiety at saying the wrong thing about an unpredictable man’s wife. “I’m not sure. Because she loves you?”

“Because she doesn’t know the word ‘no,’ Nachito.” He swallowed thickly at the idea, seeing his wife’s deep gaze on him like she had tunnel vision popped back into his head. There was no way that Lalo had never argued with his wife in their lengthy relationship and no way she would be so fixated on the man without some brainwashing involved; did he beat her? Drug her? Manipulate her? Isolate her?

“You look confused, Ignacio,” Lalo chuckled, rising a hand to stroke his moustache in amusement.

“So you’ve never argued?”

“Silly, noo. I ask, she says yes. I tell her do this, she goes and does it. I tell her I need some womanly comforts, she doesn’t even blink,” he grinned. It was sinister. Seeing her unmoving devotion to the man made a feeling ripple through him that he couldn’t explain. “Come sit with me on the couch, I’ll show you,” he winked, striding back to the living room from the open kitchen. Lalo settled on the sofa next to her and began to pet her hair, an action that made Nacho freeze in his steps as he watched Lalo from behind. His arms stretched out behind him on the sofa’s back, his wife stirring and letting the blanket fall on the sofa.

Nacho couldn’t find it in him to move when he realized what was happening despite being prompted to sit with him.

Her bottom peered over the sofa when he realized she was next to him, arching like a cat with her rear in the air, and bobbing her head on his cock. The sloppy noise of her sucking at his member were lewd, her own debauched whining as she choked on him to get it farther down her throat. Lalo was grunting, breathing hard and bucking into her mouth as she sucked him off. He couldn’t move for how long, struck by the strange scene in front of him. Lalo let out a how hiss and grabbed her head, holding it down from what he could see from behind the sofa. He whispered something and his wife popped over the sofa, crawling into Lalo’s lap facing Nacho. He could see Lalo begin to squeeze her curves and she opened her mouth to Nacho.

Her mouth was full of his white cum and she closed it, swallowing hard, and opening it to show her empty tongue to the bewildered man. Her eyes suddenly went wide at the sound of a loud slap, in that Lalo slapped her ass so hard it would be a miracle if there was no hand print. He kissed her cheek sweetly, before ushering her back under the blanket to sleep again.

Lalo stood, buckling his pants again and adjusting his pants before walking to the entryway, waving his hand to beckon Nacho to follow, and chuckling, “Thanks for stopping by, Nacho. I love having guests.”

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

The Gym Membership - Part 23 (Crosshair)

Summary: Layla and Crosshair make a decision.

A/N: Hello Lovelies,

We all know this chapter was coming but it's still sad.

Please note: I am not a medical professional. Every medical discussion mentioned in this chapter was researched. If you have any questions or concerns, please discuss with a medical professional.

Love oo

Warnings: Medical discussions, life ending decisions, grief, pain, angst, comfort, annoyance, preparing to say goodbye, mention of playboy lifestyle, mentions of medical drugs, and what to expect when a person dies (breathing, skin colour changes, etc). If I miss any warnings, please let me know.

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Doctor Williams rested his hand on Layla’s shoulder, his thumb rubbing her arm, he let out a heavy sigh, knowing what he was about to tell Cross and Layla would change their lives forever. 

“As I’ve mentioned previously, with the increase of seizures and the subsequent escalation of the dosages for her medication, the damage to her brain would be irreversible.” 

He cleared his throat, as his hand squeezed her shoulder, while he focused on Crosshair’s face, “I believe, unfortunately, we’re there. The last seizure she suffered lasted just under five minutes, this has been the longest seizure she’s suffered, yet. Every time she has a seizure, they’re going to last longer and longer. I’m sorry to say, her next one could very well be her last.”

“What does length of seizure have to do with anything?” Crosshair asked, his voice grating as his irritation with the man seeped through. His eye kept going back to the hand that rested on Layla’s shoulder. 

He didn’t understand why, seeing this man standing close to Layla resting his hand on her shoulder was really getting to him. Maybe it had to do with the fact that this so-called Doctor was supposed to be delivering bad news and yet he had no problem flirting with her.

My eyes focused on Cross’. They were filled with annoyance and irritation, usually that look was directed to me, but now it was directed to Doctor Williams, which didn’t make sense. The man was being nothing but kind and considerate, comforting me during our hour of need, there was no need for hostility. Then again, maybe it had less to do with her and Doctor Williams and more to do with the fact we were losing Avery.

Doctor Williams slid his hand off Layla’s shoulder and walked closer to Avery, “Once her seizures last longer than five minutes, or have more than one seizure within a five minute period could lead to permanent brain damage or death. Her last seizure significantly affected her brain, at this point even if she does wake up, I’m afraid, she’ll be in a permanent vegetative state. The hope of her recovering was wiped out with the last seizure.” 

He looked down at the woman who appeared so different from the first time she was administered to his care, “I recommend removing her from the ventilator, although she’s in a coma, the pain she feels is still real.”

“Pain?” My blood ran cold at the thought she was in and unable to tell us. Tears welled up in my eyes, I couldn’t believe she was in pain, she looked so peaceful lying there, yet all this time … maybe Crosshair was right when he first said we should let her go. 

“With each seizure the pain she feels increases.”

Crosshair’s hand clenched around Avery’s, he realized he had to let her go at some point but now that the moment had arrived, that it was staring him straight in the face, he was finding it difficult to agree to it. 

He looked at Avery, imagining all the things they didn’t get to do. 

Their wedding had been a whirlwind of emotion and passion, it was a quick affair after their second-to-last mission together. Their honeymoon consisted of spending three nights in the barracks before he was shipped out on another mission. They didn’t even truly get to enjoy married life, they’d been married for all of two months before she’d been injured. They really didn’t get to have anything. 

It was about half a year after she’d been admitted, when he went back to his playboy lifestyle; none of them meant anything to him, it was just something to push away the guilt, the pain, and the ache he felt in his chest since he first saw Avery’s injured body. 

I’m not sure at what point I started to cry, but once I saw Crosshair pressing a tender kiss to Avery’s forehead, I lost it. I felt a strong hand on my shoulder pressing me against their side; I grabbed the strong hand intertwining my fingers with theirs, holding on to them as though they were my life line. 

I wiped my tears, with my other hand, “Thanks …” I mumbled to the person who held my hand, doing my best to regain my composure, “Cross, what do you wanna do?” I looked up to the person who owned the hand holding my shoulder, only to see it was Doctor Williams, I cleared my throat, removing my fingers from his hand. 

“I think we should let her go,” Cross answered as he brushed his fingers through Avery’s hair, pressing a gentle kiss to her fingertips, “She’s suffered enough.”

My bottom lip began to quiver, I nodded in agreement, “Y-you …” I cleared my throat, “You’re right.” After all this time, as I look at Avery’s weakened body lying there, the pain she had suffered. I closed my eyes and nodded with resolve, “I agree, we should let her go.” Crosshair nodded. 

Doctor Williams squeezed Layla’s shoulder one more time before moving away, “I’ll get the order underway, I’ll be back in a couple minutes.” He left quietly, to not disturb either of them, now that a solemn and grief stricken atmosphere had filled the room.

It felt like an eternity before Doctor Williams and a nurse came back in. He stood beside Avery, the nurse ready beside him, as well.

Doctor Williams looked at both Crosshair and Layla, taking the time to explain what was about to happen. He took a deep breath and looked at Avery. It was always heartbreaking when a long time patient, one he looked after, checked in on, and cared for, ended up passing away. He took a minute to steady his nerves. 

“We’re going to begin by giving her some morphine, which will ease the pain. We’ll turn off the ventilator and alarms. Once the ventilator is off, her breathing could possibly change. It could come faster and deeper, it’s completely natural and we’ll aid her if there are any signs of discomfort. Her colour will become pale or grey and dusky as her blood circulation slows. It could take anywhere from minutes to hours. In the final moments, her heartbeat and breathing may stop for several seconds or minutes and then start again, it’s rare but not abnormal. Once we begin, Jill here” Doctor Williams motioned to the nurse on his right, “will come in and out to check if there is any discomfort. We’ll give you two plenty of space to say your goodbyes.”

Once the ventilator and alarms were turned off, Doctor Williams and the nurse left, neither Cross nor Layla said anything, an eerie silence filled the room full of pain, grief, and emotions too raw to acknowledge. 

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[beardedmrbean]

The Supreme Court just upheld full access to mifepristone, a widely used abortion drug. In a unanimous ruling issued on Thursday, the justices decided that the challengers who brought the case did not have standing, or a right to bring the lawsuit.

Justice Brett Kavanaugh, who was appointed by former President Donald Trump, wrote the opinion.

"Under Article III of the Constitution, a plaintiff's desire to make a drug less available for others does not establish standing to sue. Nor do the plaintiffs' other standing theories suffice," Kavanaugh wrote. He also added that "federal courts are the wrong forum for addressing the plaintiffs' concerns about FDA's actions."

🔎 What the ruling means

If the Supreme Court would have ruled against the Food and Drug Administration, restrictions on mifepristone would have reverted back to what they were when the drug was approved in 2000.

But since the court tossed the case, prescriptions will still be allowed during the first 10 weeks of pregnancy and the medication can still be prescribed over telehealth visits and be delivered by mail in states that allow it.

The ruling comes nearly two years after the Supreme Court overturned the federal right to an abortion established by Roe v. Wade. As a result of that historic decision, over a dozen states now have total abortion bans in place.

🗣️ Reactions to the ruling

While many abortion rights supporters were relieved by the SCOTUS decision, they aren't necessarily celebrating because of the absence of the federal right to an abortion.

"We are relieved by this outcome, but we are not celebrating," Destiny Lopez, acting co-CEO of the Guttmacher Institute, said in a statement. "In the face of relentless attacks, policymakers at all levels need to keep pushing forward expansive and protective policies that ensure everyone can access abortion care using the method that best suits their needs.”

President Biden said the ruling "does not change the fact that the fight for reproductive freedom continues – the right for a woman to get the care she needs is imperiled if not impossible in many states."

Meanwhile, anti-abortion groups condemned the ruling.

“It is a sad day for all who value women’s health and unborn children’s lives, but the fight to stop dangerous mail-order abortion drugs is not over,” said Kate Daniel, state policy director for SBA Pro-Life America.

Kristan Hawkins, president of Students for Life of America, called the decision “disappointing but not surprising” and also expressed concern for the “conscience rights of the pro-life doctors.”

💊 What is mifepristone?

The widely used abortion drug has been used by more than 6 million people since 2000, according to the Associated Press.

Mifepristone is one of two pills in a two-step drug regimen to induce an abortion during the early stages of a pregnancy.

"Mifepristone blocks the hormone progesterone and primes the uterus to respond to the contraction-causing effect of a second drug, misoprostol," the AP reports.

Mifepristone is also used to help with the treatment of miscarriages.

In 2020, more than half of abortions in the U.S. (51%) were induced using medication, according to data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

⬅️ How we got here

The Supreme Court heard two cases consolidated together back in March: FDA v. Alliance for Hippocratic Medicine and Danco Laboratories v. Alliance for Hippocratic Medicine.

The Alliance for Hippocratic Medicine is a group of anti-abortion-rights physicians and organizations who originally challenged the FDA's 2000 approval of mifepristone, claiming the FDA didn't study it enough and the drug isn't safe. The case ultimately worked its way through the courts, where their challenge is now focused on actions taken by the FDA in 2016 and 2021 to make the drug more accessible.

➡️ What's next?

The Supreme Court still has to decide on another abortion-related case, Moyle v. United States. The justices will have to decide whether a federal law that requires emergency rooms to provide stabilizing care, including abortions, in certain medical emergencies overrides state law in places that impose a near-total ban on abortion, like Idaho.

[unhingedselfships]

Kimi goes to a party without making sure anyone was available as a safety net, things go badly

(CW : sexual assault (off screen, referenced), spiked drinks/involuntary drug use)

Kenshi had called to tell her he'd be back in Tokyo in a couple days, that business was almost wrapped up, and she'd impulsively told him to stay.

She'd had to back track quickly to explain that she just meant that she'd come up to him, rather than that she didn't want to see him.

"I want you to show me around, that's all. I bet there's a lot to see. And I haven't gotten to explore Sapporo, much less the rest of Hokkaido, as much as I'd like. Is that ok?"

He'd agreed and she was meant to be flying up on Saturday.

She did know a few of her friends she rarely got to see were in the area, so instead she booked a flight for Friday afternoon. She'd hit a few clubs, crawl her way back to Kenshi's place, and they'd have all of Saturday until whenever she went back to Tokyo.

Unfortunately, somewhere along the way, things went wrong.

Her friends were great, until some other people they knew showed up. And things got… uncomfortable. They knew who she was, it wasn't exactly secret. And seemed a little too interested in the fact.

She'd texted Kenshi.

KW : Are you awake?

And a moment later

KW : Can you come get me?

But no answer.

One, two, three calls across the next hour. 

She hoped he was ok. 

Slipping back into her seat, she threw back the rest of her drink.

Surely it'd be fine. She'd be fine.

The wooziness, the way the world spun, told her she was wrong.

Everything after that was a blur, until it faded into nothing.

Later, she'd be kind of glad she couldn't remember.

…

"What do you mean you don't remember?"

She blinked at him, looking up from the release paperwork they had her filling out. She'd been thoroughly checked out and advised on what to do. Had a handful of scripts to pick up. 

tried very hard not to think about what that one specific one was for

"I mean, drugs tend to do that? Well. Some of them. Not that I knew I was going to be taking anything but-" she trailed off, before shooting a smile at him, forced and terribly fake, "Well shit happens right? My fault for being careless and stupid."

the good news is that the tearing is minimal

The examining doctor's words echoed in her head and she focused on breathing.

No one needed to know the details.

No one needed to know what happened.

She was going to be fine.

She was.

but we are still worried about the risk of infection and possibility of transmittable diseases

At least she was here, with Kenshi. He didn't want- Well. She wouldn't have to explain why she was saying "no" to him.

"What do you mean you didn't know? And what drugs? Kimberly-"

"I didn't plan on taking anything ok! It just happened," that made it sound like just a bad decision, right? "And I don't know. They'll tell me what it was when the bloodwork’s been ran I guess."

"You don't know? Are you stu-"

A half hysterical laugh cut him off, "Stupid? Yes. Very. You know this. Can we go? I'm done."

and of course there is the risk of potential conception 

She handed the papers to the woman at the desk with a forced smile, and the woman smiled back at her in sympathetic commiseration. 

Some things, well. You could just tell. Privacy laws be damned. Call it intuition if you must.

Kenshi kept side eyeing her, and the way she limped just so. She couldn't quite hide it entirely, despite her best efforts.

you should consider filing a report

"Just a little sprain, love," and she'd smiled at him, the lie falling a little too easily.

He hummed but seemed to accept that answer. 

"We'll swing by the pharmacy and get you home and off it then."

"Thanks, Kenshi. Really. I appreciate it."

He'd helped her into the car, and when they got to the pharmacy she knew he was irritated with her insistence on getting her prescriptions herself. 

"I'll be right back out, it's fine."

But well, pushing her was not the best thing right now and she knew he knew it, so with a bit of grumbling from him, she was in and back out on her own and they went home.

Picking her way slowly through the manor, the full brunt of exhaustion was starting to hit her. Tossing the bag of medications to the side, she made her way into a bathroom.

It hadn’t hurt this much to pee since she’d had Kichi. She tried not to cry, she’d done enough of that already. And she really didn’t want to let on how bad things actually were. 

With a shuddering breath she eased her way back out and into the room Kenshi insisted on settling her in, freezing as she spotted him.

He was so terribly still, a box she hadn't wanted to think about, about what it was for and what it meant, in his hands.

"Just a little sprain, was it, Kimberly?" his face was blank as he turned his head to look at her.

Swallowing hard, and lip trembling, she choked out a near silent "sorry" before her knees buckled and she dropped.

Everything she'd buried until that moment clawed its way up her chest and out her throat, great heaving sobs, as she broke.

She curled in on herself, trying to be as small as she could. Maybe if she curled tight enough she could disappear entirely. 

To go away and not hurt anymore.

"Alright alright, that's enough," as he tried to scoop her up off the floor, "let's at least make it to the couch, hmm sweetheart?"

It took effort but they got her moved and curled under the blankets in the pillow nest he'd built for her. 

"There. Now. Anything else I can get you?"

He seemed uncomfortable. He wasn't good at the nurturing thing like she was but well.

She needed him. He'd try his best.

Chewing her lip he saw when she withdrew, held herself back.

"None of that, tell me."

Sighing she finally met his eyes, "Would- um. Would you make me a grilled cheese? And 'mato soup?"

He blinked and sighed fondly. 

"Yeah sweetheart, I can do that. I'll keep my phone on me, call if you need anything alright?"

She hummed an affirmative and curled down into the bundle of throws and pillows. 

The thoughts, what vague sensation memory held, kept circling, and she needed a distraction. She couldn't focus enough to read. So she sang. Soft. No particular genre or mood. Just focusing on remembering words and tunes. 

She didn't know how long had passed, how many songs she went through. Couldn't be that many. Grilled cheese was pretty quick.

Still, it was long enough for her attempt to lose effectiveness.

Shifting slowly she grabbed the pharmacy bag and sorted through everything she'd been given. Most needed to be taken with food, so it was good that it was already on its way. 

Eventually she couldn't ignore the little box anymore. She tried not to think about the look the pharmacist had given her. Condemnation.

Like she'd chosen this.

Maybe it was her fault.

She shook, and wondered absently how such a tiny box could be so terrible.

Emergency contraceptive. Morning after pill. Plan B. 

Kenshi returned, unnoticed, and unheard over the keening, the soft whine she let out. 

His hands closed over hers and she jolted, looking up at him wide eyed, devastated.

"What if it doesn't work?"

"It will," his answer was firm.

"But if it doesn't?"

Pressing a soft kiss between her eyes, "We'll figure it out. Whatever you decide, sweetheart." 

He took the box from her hands and replaced it with a glass of cool water. Just under room temperature, the way she liked it.

Settling her up with a tray, and the comfort food she'd requested, "Eat, I'll get these sorted out."

Humming, she listened, slowly picking at the sandwich, cut into triangles the way she liked, soaking up the soup, slightly too peppered the way she loved, and when he handed her a handful of pills she obligingly took them. 

Setting the tray aside once she'd finished, he carefully caught her attention again.

"I have to pop up into my office for a bit. I won't be gone long, I'm just going to clear my schedule for the next week."

"You don't have t-"

"I'm going to. The weekend was mostly clear already, but I want to take a little longer than that anyway. I'm not going to leave you alone."

She sniffled, and let out a soft "ok" and he squeezed her hand as he rose.

"I'll be back soon."

She hummed and curled down into the nest, digging her phone out to find something mindless to do.

He slipped out of the room, and left her to her Pinterest or Reddit or whatever she was doing.

It had been maybe an hour, half of one perhaps, when the text came through.

DD : Don't go online, I'll do what I can to handle it

The text was odd, seemingly out of nowhere

DD : Phe is on her way

Why?

DD : Are you alright?

Did- Did they know?

She shot back a quick, I'm fine I love you, to her husband and promptly ignored his first text.

It didn't take her long to regret not heeding his warning.

…

As much as Kadokura Kenshi liked to present himself as a heartless bastard who didn't care about anyone but himself, that image would have been summarily destroyed by how quickly he moved when he heard her wail.

He'd heard her cry, she did it all the time. But this? What had happened? Was she dying? Was it one of the kids?

He found her not quite where he'd left her, but on the floor nearby.

Curled, rocking, and sobbing.

This was- he wasn't sure what to do. He found himself floundering.

He looked her over as he strode across the room, looking for new injuries but she seemed fine.

Well, no worse anyway.

Hesitating only a moment, he reached for her, and she quickly threw herself into his arms, trembling and so… broken.

Her phone lay nearby, carelessly discarded, but he didn't dare let her go to reach for it.

She gasped to catch her breath, and choked out a quiet, wavering, "they recorded it" and a chill shot down his spine.

Well.

First order of business was getting his Kimi sorted and settled again. 

Then.

He had calls to make.

[papirouge]

Nah, they replaced the actress with another dark skin black woman, thankfully or else that would have been the last straw for me.

But yeah, I agree I prefer the original actress choose the get out of this mess, I hope this doesn't affect her self-esteem though and she focuses on herself, and wish the best for the new one.

I believe just like you that they do these types of casting knowing they'll be controversial to get attention, it used to bother me that they'd use these actresses in such a gross way, but I think it'll be better in the future. Like now I feel like people are much more used to seeing black men in movies and shows, they generate much less controversy than black women characters for sure. Black men have a bigger and longer history in tv, videogames and cinema than black women, so I have faith that while now people are chimping out when they see black women with important roles in screen, the next generation will be more used to black women and won't cause such a fuse for being in a scifi, fantasy or romance in a main role.

In a related note, I also stumbled upon this video where a black woman was stating her dating preferences (just that, nothing offensive), and her comments were full of men of different races reminding her how black women were the least desirable women and how they'll never date her. And I used to be so mad the first time I read the comments, but now I'm calmer. I think it's funny seeing indian and east asian men dunking on this black woman when they're also the least picked race of men lol. Well, korean men have had a boost thanks to k-pop (japanese and chinese men are riding the coatails of this phenomenon too) though they act like this wasn't the case just a decade ago.

But that gives me hope. I think black women have been given a bad image by the media. If we corrected it I feel like we might start being desired* like it happened to korean men. But unfortunately we sometimes embrace the worse things about black culture. Like you mentioned the whole Drake Kendrick drama, just as it was happening dozens of posts with ten thousands of notes were being reblogged chastising white people for not listening to rap, implying they were racist for not being "open" to this genre. Lol as if that was the only genre created/championed by black people; like what happened to jazz, blues, r&b... I mean, there's also the fact that rock might or might not have been started/popularized by a black woman (Sister Rosetta Tharpe), it's a controversial statement but either way there's a lot of black musicians in different genres we could stan... But not, obviously we have to listen to the genre known for its violent and vulgar lyrics, degradation of women, gang violence, drug references, etc. And say whatever you want about "not every rap song it's about objectifying women and gang violence!!!1!" but that's literally what it's famous for.

*I do believe we're desired right now, perhaps not as much as other races due to the many stereotypes and racist ideas about us that makes certain men more "wary" to date us but I don't have a doomer attitude about it. I think it's not difficult for us women to find a date in general, and believe many attitudes we see from men on social media to be some type of mass negging trying to lower our standards and "put us in our place", in the same way they dunk on black women they're dunking on women over 30, women who don't shave, women who are overweight, and so on.

The reason those non Black men feel so comfortable mocking and humbling Black women is because they took a few pages from Black men themselves. Witnessing black men obsessively dunk on their female counterpart, those non Black men got 2 messages : 1/it's ok to mock black women 2/black men aren't protective of 'their' women so there won't be any consequences if they do. That's why black women are seen the lowest barrel in any field you could think of. The only type of Black men "protective" of black women are hotep that are themselves a whole can of worms that black women should avoid 🫠 (also hotep can be very colorist so they're no ally to darkskin Black women ultimately)

And I'm not saying other men treat their women better, but let's say they are much more race loyal when it comes to public image (they know what staying on code means). South asian/Muslim moids are known to honor kill their women and throw them acid on their face the moment they step away. White moids incepted revenge porn and guilt shame White women for not looking like dainty 12 yo little girl for all their life. Korean moids are uber misogynist pigs. Slavic moids are known wife beater and alcoholic. Etc etc. BUT they all have in common that they won't let men of another race look down on their women unchecked. But Black moids? They literally run website/socials dedicated to shit on black women. They are the lowest scums.

Anon, you absolutely need to deconstruct your female conditioning of seeking for male approval even on trench-like spaces like the comment section of that video. You have to train yourself to use your brain BEFORE your feelings. Ask yourself: why do you even care about the opinion of those moids about black women? No man worth of respect or value would make such comment. Why are you so desperate for such scum to romantically consider black women anyway ? For what? Mistreat them? You don't even know or saw them. 100% chances they're fat, mentally ill and ugly (because no attractive & SANE male dunks on women online unprovoked) - you wouldn't find them attractive yourself 🫠

We should gladly let those men for all other women. It's legit like the trash taking itself away. Unless you're in polyamory, you don't need every man to be into you (as a black woman) - only 1. So WHO CARES about what a flock of disgusting moids have to say about Black women, when it only takes ONE (1) good man for you to be happy? Think about that the next time you see a flock of moids making fun of black women : 1) they're most likely ugly & deranged 2) *you* don't want them neither 3) you don't need every man to find you attractive/the type of men you attract are a self reflection of your worth so don't be sad that ugly incels don't find women looking like you hot. Also, beside Black men that are generally fucked up, most men prefer women of their own race ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

And I feel that's desperate need for approval is also what drives some black people to be mad at rap not being accepted enough by white people... But they will also hate when a White persons (genuinely) gets interested in rap culture and will accuse them of being "cUltUre VuLture" (look at what they said about Justin Timberlake or Post Malone...)

And it's very interesting you're talking about Kpop being a leverage for this newfound interest in Asian men when 15 years ago they were alongside of Black women in the spectrum of desirability lol It shows that Corrective Promotion does work. That's why the whole Black Women in Luxury is lowkey subversive. And that's why so many black people got mad at it because bmackistan cannot cope with a movement centering soft, feminine, spoiled BLACK WOMEN. HOW DARE THEY?? Black women should only be manifesting, fighting, struggling, working, nurturing other people (the mammy stereotype).... but Black women..having a soft life?? Being feminine??? Illegal.

I would have so many things to say but it's past midnight and this answer is way too long lol

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

So, in (maybe NSFW-ish) news baffling even for Brazilian politics standards, yup, that was a thing.

A video has leaked of a mother-in-law of the mayor of Campina Grande, Paraíba, in the country's Northeast, snorting cocaine from a half-naked woman's backside, as well as kissing her on the lips.

It's been reported that Soraya Britto (the mayor's mother-in-law) might even be in an actual relationship with the woman in the video. Well, power to them, I hope they have a wholesome and happy relationship (but they really, really should ditch the cocaine, hope they get help for that).

But the ironic and comedic factor in this?

The mayor, Bruno Cunha Lima, is conservative and close with – and shares views with – the far-right, LGBT+phobic, war-on-drugs president Jair Bolsonaro and his family. Bruno claims his mother-in-law hasn't been in touch with his wife for over 10 years. Nonetheless, Soraya defines herself, in her own words, as "extremely Bolsonarist, evangelical, and conservative".

That Tom Phillips guy from the tweet? He's the journalist covering Brazil for The Guardian.

Yea, Brazil is definitely not for beginners.

(x, x)

Brought by @outofthegarden. Thanks!

[rowanaelinn]

Fire on Fire - Chapter Eight

Chapter seven // Chapter nine

Warnings: suicidal thoughts.

It’s kinda rushed but it kinda fits with today’s prompt for rowaelin month! next chapter is going to be way longer :)

————

Rowan took a piece of towel and used it to remove the foam from his client's leg, revealing a tattoo he had been working on for four long hours.

It was a large bouquet of flowers, each one a different color to represent a member of the client's family, with writing in the Old Language with their names.

“Here it is,” He told her, holding a mirror above her leg so she could see all the details. Her smile grew as she took in her tattoo. It was one of his favorite parts of his job, the emotion on their face. He loved to be able to bring such feelings to the people he worked on.

“I love it.” She said and Rowan only nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips. He put away his equipment, throwing away the little pots of ink that he hadn't quite finished while his client left, thanking him, before going to sign the last papers at the counter. When he finished, Rowan joined her and gave the invoice to Remelle, their assistant.

He left to clean up his workroom before entering the break room, heading straight to the fridge to take out his food. He had spent an hour yesterday cooking pasta, chicken and cutting up his favorite vegetables to make a salad. Cooking had always helped him to keep his mind busy and these last days it was more than necessary.

A few minutes after Rowan settled down at the round table in the middle of the room, fork in hand and his dominant hand busy holding an Apple Pencil while he multi-tasked eating and drawing for his appointments, Gavriel entered the room.

Rowan tried not to stare at him, exactly as he had done all week. But today it was more complicated as Gavriel sat down next to him, getting his full attention. He tried with all his might to concentrate on the drawing in front of him, but the temptation was too strong. "How's..." He cleared his throat, the words hard to come out. "How's Aelin?"

He avoided any eye contact, his eyes fixed on the tablet even if his drawing hadn’t progressed in the last ten minutes. He hated the feeling of worry in his chest. Rationally, he knew she was physically okay or Gavriel and Aedion would be by her side now. But she had been good at hiding her emotions, so good that her family didn’t see anything worrying. Apparently, he was the only one who saw anything, and it did nothing to help his worry about how she was right now.

After long seconds without a response, Rowan dared to look up at Gavriel. His head was turned toward Rowan, fork a few inches from his opened mouth. His entire face was frozen. Rowan just raised his eyebrows, waiting for anything to come out of his mouth. His boss shook his head, seeming to come back to reality. “Yeah. She is, why?” He could see the confusion on Gavriel’s face but Rowan wouldn’t answer that question so he just shrugged.

Rowan managed to stay quiet a few more minutes, even if he could feel the awkwardness in their air, but another question was burning his throat. “Have you ever met Arobynn Hamel?”

This time he looked up to see Gavriel look at him as if he was an alien, but thank the Gods, he didn’t comment on his interest. “Once or twice, but very briefly. Generally, that was just when he was picking Aelin up.” Rowan nodded, still trying to understand what Aelin had meant by The furthest they are from Arobynn, the safest they are. She hadn’t said anything else, leaving him more confused than anything.

“How did she met him?” He tried to appear casual as he asked that, taking another fork of food in his mouth. The food tasted sour as Gavriel kept watching him suspiciously. He couldn’t ask these questions to Aedion, knowing his friend he would be too defensive of his cousin, especially if Rowan was the one asking the questions. Gavriel knew about Aelin and Rowan’s disdain for each other but he knew less than Aedion, he hadn’t seen the two of them yell at each other or hadn’t witnessed them doing absolutely everything to ruin the other’s day.

He didn’t dare to ask Lysandra either, he was sure the woman would stab him with her hells if he even dared to pronounce Aelin’s name.

So Gavriel was the safest choice.

He seemed to think about who to tell him before opening his mouth. “At a party, when she was sixteen or fifteen, I think.” He took a bite of his food. “Arobynn’s an old friend of her father, both went together to college and were best of friends there, but they lost contact and met again at a gala. They talked about Aelin and found out she wanted to work in the same industry as Arobynn. He’s been her mentor ever since.”

Fifteen? Maybe Rowan’s mind was just fucked up to think it was weird, maybe he was just influenced by what Aelin said the other night. He might not have found it weird if she hadn’t said anything. He was just thinking too hard, trying too hard to find an explanation for what’s happening to her.

“You think he’s good to her?” Gavriel was a wise man, he was trying so hard to be part of his son’s life and it included taking care of Aedion’s cousin. Surely, he didn’t notice the little things Rowan did, but maybe he noticed something else. Rowan’s boss only shrugged.

“He found her a place at her university, made her TA, and gives her a job every summer. So, yeah. I guess so.” And he was paying for her education, a fact Aelin hid from her family. Why would she? It was what didn’t make sense, what was weird with all that. “I’m even sure he’s the first person she went to see when she left her parents in Terassen.”

What?

“What do you mean, ‘left’?” He asked, his brows furrowed. It wasn’t the only thing that didn’t make sense, he knew for a fact Aelin came to the house first. He hadn’t talked to her that day, he and the boys were sent to their room as if they were teenagers the moment a crying Aelin knocked at the door. He had lingered longer than necessary in the staircase, long enough to see her in a dress, shoes in hands, and cheeks filled with black makeup that had run down her cheeks.

Next thing he knew, Aedion spent a week at his father, trying to get Aelin better. Rowan had thought about this night for too long, Rowan always thought Aelin had partied too hard (because from her outfit, it was quite clear she had partied) and it was the straw that broke the camel's back for her parents. Even without wanting to, it had been impossible not to know about Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.

Pictures and videos of her in more than indecent dresses for her age were on page one of every magazine, when pictures of her sniffing coke had leaked it had even been made to National News. She had been sixteen at the time, and it had only been one of many times she had been caught doing what she shouldn’t have.

Before Gavriel could answer, the door opened to let Aelin appear in the doorway. She was holding flowers in her left hand, a smile on her face as she saw her uncle. Unfortunately, her face froze when she saw Rowan. Rowan’s entire body stilled, eyes roaming all over her body. She seemed okay, not skinnier than the last time he saw her, not hurt.

“Oh,” she said, opening and closing her mouth multiple times. She swallowed before clearing her throat. Only a blind person wouldn’t see her anxiety. “I didn’t think you ate there.”

He usually didn’t, having enough time to go back home. It was more comfortable to eat there, but he had been burying himself under work since he woke up in her empty bed. “You thought wrong.”

She was uncomfortable, and he both wanted to make her feel that way for hours and wanted to comfort her at the same time.

Sensing both of their unease, Gavriel stood up and went to leave the room. “I brought you those, your favorites,” Aelin said, giving her uncle the flowers. “I went to your favorite flower shop.”

Gavriel smiled and kissed Aelin’s cheek, earning a smile out of her. “Thanks.” He looked back at Rowan, he knew it was a warning glare but he didn’t care. He needed to speak with her. Gavriel left, pretending to have something else to do but it was all an excuse to let them speak.

“So, you’re alive.”

Aelin snorted. “I don’t know if you look relieved or sad.”

He fought his lips from rising. “Anything to say?”

Aelin looked at him, her bottom lip between her lips and her hands fidgeting. “Your shirt is ugly.”

It was his turn to snort. Of course, she wouldn’t go straight to the point. He arched a brow, waiting for a real answer. Even though he was the one sitting, he held more power than her now.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t want you to say anything,” he said as he closed his tablet, letting his fork down on the plate to have his hands free. “I just want you to act like the adult you are, and it doesn’t include running away in the middle of the night after telling someone you want to die.” His voice was hard, it made Aelin flinch.

“I never said I wanted to die.”

“You said you didn’t have the strength to live, Aelin.”

“Yeah, never said I wanted to die.”

“But do you?” He had to ask, because if she did… He would do what was necessary, he couldn’t let her die. She was already killing herself slowly, between the sex and the alcohol… She told everyone she was sober from drugs but she had been lying for so long to everyone he had a hard time believing it.

Rowan got his answer when she avoided his gaze, focusing on the floor. His heart broke, he needed to help her and he doubted sending her to a psychiatric hospital would help.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, voice heavy with emotions. With his head, he made her sign to sit next to him, and to his surprise, he complied. She turned her chair to face him, their knees brushing. He could see the dark circles around her eyes from that close, her lips dryer than usual and dotted with small wounds that he knew were due to her teeth.

“I’m coming back home.” He told him, finally looking at him. “I was around, I finished school yesterday and had to sign some things at Arobynn’s office. So I bought Gavriel’s favorite flowers to thank him, I didn’t know you would be here.”

“You hoped I wouldn’t.” He stated and she only nodded. She looked broken as if she knew she could let her guard down after what happened between them Monday. He was happy she knew he would be here for her.

“I was ready to call the cops when I woke up alone, Aelin,” Rowan confessed. He needed her to understand people suffered from her actions. “I was going to until I heard Aedion complain to Lysandra about you leaving him for his father.” He exhaled a loud breath, trying to forget everything he felt that morning. “Aelin, I thought you were dead somewhere.”

Her hand gripped his, he couldn’t hide the surprise from his face. She kept her hand in his, her small fingers enveloping his. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from it, they had never touched like that. “I’m sorry,” her weak voice said. “I panicked. I didn’t think…” He looked back at her, letting her time formulate her thoughts. It was hard enough, she didn’t need to be pressed. “I didn’t think you’d care, to be honest. Nobody ever did, you said it yourself. Aedion was annoyed I was at Gavriel’s, not that I was gone. It’s always been this way, I’ve always been… free.”

It wasn’t freedom, it was negligence. But she didn’t need to hear this now, so he kept his mouth shut, just nodding in understanding. He linked their fingers together, delighted to see the surprise on Aelin’s face, at least they were even now. He squeezed her hand, accepting her apology. Two weeks ago he would have thought Aelin did it on purpose to have attention, but he began to realize he was wrong about her.

“It’s your birthday tomorrow.” He said, changing the subject. He had to get back to work soon, and he didn’t have the time to unpack everything he wanted right now. Aelin still looked at their hands, feeling too hard to describe on her face. She nodded.

“Lysandra and Dorian spent the week throwing a huge party for you,” It wasn’t exactly a surprise, Aelin knew there would be a party but probably thought it would just be her and her close friends. Lysandra and Dorian had another idea in mind. “If it’s too much, we can ditch. We’ll find an excuse.”

Finally, her eyes looked back at his face. She had a small smile on her face, Rowan’s heartbeat eased at that. “No.” She shook her head. “A party is what I need right now.”

Rowan wanted to disagree on that, but she was an adult. She knew what was best for her. “Then let’s party.”

Her eyes widened. “You usually don’t come to my birthday.” She was right, he had avoided these parties full of teenagers as much as he could, but he wanted to stay with her.

“I thought were an English major,” he teased her, pulling at her arm slightly making her smile. “What part of ‘you don’t have to be alone anymore’ don’t you understand?”

At that, she smiled so brightly Rowan could have sworn it lighted up the entire room.

————

tag list: @sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @surielandiareendgame // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy // @hellasblessed // @danibutterr

[spices-and-cherries]

Rampage (Chapter 3)

JAMES BOND X READER

Chapter 3 is finally out! Is it rough? Yes. Is it months late? Yes. Do I care? No. Why? Because I’m having fun writing it! This chapter does feel a little rushed even though I tried to draw it out. I dunno. Is he too ooc?

I did not reference race, gender, sexuality, or physical appearance. If I missed something, please let me know so I can change it!

Warnings: violence, death, car chase, car accident, alcohol, angst

Masterlist:

Chapter 3: Parcel

James had been too preoccupied to bother following the movements of the remaining men, but he had heard whispers a year ago about a club being formed with some very similar faces affiliated with it. 

What if Keery's husband hadn't died afterall? And this was some sort of sick and twisted revenge plan? 

For the first time in a long while, James had genuinely no idea what to do.

"Hey." A hand waved in front of his face. "Hey!" He blinked as his eyes focused on the woman in front of him. "Are you okay?" He runs a hand through his hair. 

"That paper could be the key to save someone's life. Just... Let me look at it and I'll give it back. I promise."

After a long pause, she holds the paper out in front of her. Taking it, he quickly reads it. Like he thought, it was a receipt involving some sort of business deal with The End Club. Arms trading?

"How did this get into the hands of Slane?"

"That's what I want to figure out too." The woman snatches the paper back. 

"What's your connection to them?"

"...Why should I tell you?"

"Depending on what's going on here, I can help you."

"It's a secret." She turned and started for the door.

"Judging by the fact that you have a gun and sneaking about a place like this, you're out for blood, but the thing is, you don't really know how to shoot, do you?"

"...I don't see how it's any of your business!" She stopped, her back turned to him and her fists clenched. 

"Well, if we were to run into each other, which we undoubtedly will, I don't exactly want to be shot on accident in the crosshairs." He walked towards her. "You help me by telling me everything I need to know and I'll make sure your bullet hits the mark."

"How do I know you're not lying?"

"Because I have a strong feeling we're looking for the same people."

-----

"I know a place where we can get a booth." The girl - Violet - pulled out of her parking spot, apparently dead-set on getting a drink. He, for once, could very much do without. Drinking vodka martini's were just the distraction he very much did not need at the moment. But he needed information and was now working on someone else's time. Maybe the drinks will chase the worry away.

Had they hurt you? Did you get fed? Had they taken advantage of you? Were you injured? 

A finger snapped in front of his face. 

"Wake up! We're here!" When he got out of the car, the cold air hit him right in the face. It brought him out of his little spell - or at least enough to make him think coherently. 

"...Vodka martini. Don't care how."

"And a chocolate martini, please."

"A what, miss?"

"Make that two vodka martini's." He butt in, ordering for her. 

"What the hell?"

"I should be asking you that."

"What? Chocolate martinis are good."

"And for children."

"...So what will it be?" Asked the waiter, looking confused.

"Just get me a martini." Violet sighed, glaring at James before going back to the menu. "Could you please add mozzarella sticks to that?" The waiter nodded and rushed away. She clasped her hands and looked him straight in the eye. "So. What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"...My father used to work for a meat company." She leaned back in her seat and put her hands in her lap. "At one point, when I was really little, the company was taken over by a new owner and they renamed the place to End Club Meats & Co. My father - being one of the engineers or whatever - was one of the people they kept around. I guess his type are hard to come around. As the years went by, he seemed to be home less and less until one day, some men knocked on our door and informed us that he had died in a work accident." She paused when the drinks were set on the table. "A few years ago, I was contacted by one of his coworkers who claimed that there was more to it than that. Apparently, he'd been called to the head office and never came out. I've been trying to find out who did it and why ever since."

"And Slane?"

"I found his name somewhere and thought he was connected somehow. I was trying to find out how when you found me."

"What are you going to do now?

"Uh, trace the receipts back to who was involved and kill them. Of course, that's easier said than done considering I have no idea what I'm doing." James briefly wondered how she hadn't been killed in her sleep already.  

"Are you familiar with the name Stone? He's a henchman of sorts."

"...No? I don't believe so. Now, can you please tell me what any of this has to do with you? I'd like to know my protector a little more." There was an edge of sarcasm in her voice that he simply didn't feel like humoring. 

"I work for her Majesty as an agent, meaning-"

"You're a copper. Got it. Move on." He really didn't like her tone.

"Meaning, that I go after people in the underground who are like Slane and worse. A few years ago, I had to track down this man named Keery. His drug trafficking organization had a headquarters in France, disguised as a very large butcher warehouse." A look of realization dawned on Violet's face. "Keery died with many of his subordinates, but I seemed to have overlooked one."

"So the missing person you were talking about is the one you... forgot?"

"No, not exactly." He took a sip of his drink. The burn cleared his mind a little. "My life expectancy is, statistically speaking, low and..." James paused, realizing that he was talking more about himself than he normally would. It felt wrong.

"And...?"

"And it's the same for those close to me." It felt wrong, but he found it liberating at the same time. 

"So something happened?" Violet's voice became soft.

"Yes." James rubbed his face with his hands, suddenly feeling a wave of exhaustion. 

"So let me guess, the End Club is run by someone who wants to take revenge on you by taking this... person away? And now you need to find them?"

"Yes." 

"...Normally I wouldn't do this, I still can't tell if you're lying or not, but let me take you back to my place. We can come up with a plan and get some rest..." James looked up at her incredulously. "What? I got this far - you're not getting rid of me until all this is over. Besides, I have my own bone to pick..."

-----

"- And that's the couch where you'll be sleeping. I'll be right back - I need to get you something to sleep in..." She disappeared into her room. After several minutes of muffled cussing and the sounds of things falling over, she came out. "I hope this is okay. It's all I got." She tossed a bundle of clothes at him. It was a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt. 

"Thanks." 

"No prob-" She was interrupted by a beeping noise at the door. 

"Ms. Dunby, there's a parcel for you downstairs."

"Shit. Okay, I'll be back. I forgot that I had something coming." She hurried to put some shoes on and rushed out the door. At first, James thought nothing of it, but when he checked the time, realization dawned on him. It's almost two in the morning. Who would be getting a parcel at this time of the night?

Grabbing his gun, he ran out into the hallway and hopped three stairs at a time in the stairwell. Violet wasn't in the lobby. He hears a car door slam out on the street. He caught a glimpse of Violet's face pressed against the window of an expensive black car just as it drove away.

Without a second thought, he ran out into the street and, seeing Violet’s old camry, he punched the window to let himself in. After making quick work of hotwiring the vehicle, it came to life. 

Tires screeching, he chased the black car through tight alleyways and around sharp turns, when suddenly they were on a main road with surprisingly little traffic. 

He stepped on the gas. 

In seconds he was within feet of the vehicle. The driver tried to swerve in an effort to out maneuver him, but James didn't have the energy for playing the race game. 

In a burst of speed, he ran his car into the back of the black car - hard - and pushed it so it scrapped against the guardrails along the side of the road, sparks flying. They came to a bumpy stop when they plowed into a lamppost. 

He clambered out as soon as he could, stumbling over a scrap of junk, and made his way - gun out - to the wrecked car. The driver seemed to be dead, but he couldn't-

"RAGHH!" A big figure slammed open the car door and leapt on him. He flew to the ground with what felt like a ton right on top of him. His gun spun away, leaving him defenseless. A fist slammed into his face. Not having a lot of room to move, James jabbed the man's neck as hard as he could. It gave him a few moments to get the man off of him and identify his attacker.

It, with some stroke of luck, was Stone. The very man he was looking for.

Stone got up, spat, and then threw himself into his stomach - forcing him back down to the ground. The two of them rolled around on the asphalt. One second his face was being ground into the road and another he'd be holding Stone in a choke hold. 

"Where did you take them?" James growls, kneeing Stone in the gut. 

"Who the fuck are you talking about?" Stone's big hand slammed James's face into the ground. His ears were ringing.

"(Y/N)!"

"Huh. You must be James Bond." Stone smiled, but it was wiped away with James's elbow. James managed to roll away and get back up.

"In the flesh." 

"Well, I'm afraid to say that I won't tell you shit." Stone barreled into him again, but this time James was ready and managed to keep his feet grounded. He kneed Stone again and again - slowly letting his frustration loose. 

"Then I'm afraid I'll have to make you." Stone's grip on him tightened as he knocked James's feet out. 

"Not like this, you won't." After a couple hard punches, Stone gripped his neck. His hands scrambled, trying to get Stone off of him. He was beginning to see double. "I'm starting to feel sorry for ya." Stone laughed. "Don't worry - your partner is just fine. They're getting fed - but that was as of yesterday."

A shot rings out, the grip on his neck leaves, and Stone's shoulder is bleeding. But James doesn't notice.

All he can see is red.

What a big man. A scary looking man. He was the big scary looking man that took you. Where are you? Why won't Stone tell him where you are?

His fists are burning.

And then suddenly Stone is under him, saying something. He watches as his nose slowly crumples, as his teeth were turning red, as his eyes became glossy, as -

"James!" Hands are on his shoulder, nails digging in. He growls as his fist seamlessly gets ready to strike. A clammy hand wraps around his wrist. "JAMES!" Violet is looking at him with frantic eyes. "He's already dead, so stop it!" He looks back down. Stone's face was almost unrecognizable.

Had he done that?

-----

Whoops. Angsty Bond feels... Anyway, this is the first series I’ve written in a long while and the first I’ve ever written for Bond, so feel free to give me some feedback! Just be nice about it - I’m sensitive. Also! I'm in the middle of reading Layercake. When I’m done I’ll watch the movie - so look out for some headcanons on our nameless protagonist in the near future! If y’all have any ideas, feel free to send them my way!

- Simpy

[lazarettta]

I’m Not A Witch

Characters ( Cordelia Goode, Misty Day, and Reader)

Word Count 3k

Warnings (Minor drug use 💨)

You don’t have a bad background, in fact your life is pretty cushy but not without its problems namely...you being able to do things with your mind but you have no control. Thankfully, Cordelia and Misty scoop you up before you head down a path of self-destruction. Platonic af but there could be something if you squint I think 🤔

~~

New Orleans was a world different from New York. A world different. You were born and raised in New York—it was your whole life, and you never really thought about a life outside of the city that never slept. Why would you want to leave the city that everyone wanted to be apart of? Well that's what you thought for twenty-three years.

You lived a comfortable life your entire existence, you didn't have to struggle nor were you ever afraid of your future. Your parents always made sure that you were well taken care of, nothing but the best for you and you knew how fortunate you were especially being a foster kid. You were born to Mr and Mrs Hawthorne, a wealthy couple who couldn't have a baby of their own so they went with the next best thing that money could afford—surrogacy.

It had taken your parents months to find the perfect candidate as Mr. Hawthorne, your father, would use his own semen (yikes dad). But that was all that you knew, you had no idea the identity of the woman they hired to carry you for nine months other than she was the nicest young woman your mother has ever met.

It wasn't a topic that could've been avoided as you got older and noticed that your complexion was a few shades more than theirs. But thankfully your parents were always open and honest with you, even at a young age. Of course you had a nanny growing up, both of your parents were lawyers—their time was always stretched far too thin, but you weren't a neglected child nor were you ungrateful and they loved you so much for it.

Which was why you never told them about your newfound skill when you hit your sweet sixteen—everyone thought the candle that nearly melted your entire birthday cake was a fluke incident but you knew that it wasn't. You had felt the heat of the fire as you watched your father set the tip of the match against the wick of the candle. For a brief moment you wondered what would've happened to your cake if it was on fire, you thought it would look pretty badass. You hadn't exactly expected it to actually happen! But it did and thankfully no one was injured just thoroughly freaked out.

Your parents laughed it off, quite nervously, but you never said anything about it to them and they never really brought it up again anyway. Unbeknownst to them, of course they were always at work and the penthouse housekeeper wasn't required twenty-four seven, you were able to fool around with your newfound hobby with relative peace in your room. Well until you nearly set the place on fire twice in the same month, after that you just went to the roof and googled meditation practices on google.

You only ever couldn't control the fire unless you were an emotional wreck. For two years, you kept that secret to yourself and if you didn't have friends before you sure as shit didn't then. No one really liked you anyway, your parents were richer than most of everyone else's and your parents actually gave a damn about you and not just about how you were going to make them look in the future.

They tried to bully you about your height but you weren't a punk, so that was short lived. Students envied you but that was okay. They didn't have anything to offer you, that's what your mom always told you anyway. Besides there was nothing wrong with being short, it just meant you had more to offer. Of course.

When you turned eighteen, you discovered something else about yourself...and you weren't exactly sure what you wanted to call it but you could always tell if someone was lying to you if you listened hard enough.

You weren't sure how it worked but you never took any real notice to it until your ex girlfriend, and your only girlfriend, lied to you and you felt a bit of a...you wouldn't say it was a jolt but your insides felt the same type of tingle when your foot fell asleep or something.

That's how you figured out your first love (high school, right?) was cheating on you...you hadn't dated anyone after that. How could you when all people did was lie?

And the minute they learned that you were a Hawthorne...it was done. You saved yourself the heartache and just focused on the future. You managed to graduate college a year early and you didn't go to jail for arson, yet.

The older you got and the more you learned about how shitty people could be, meditation and yoga stopped working so well for you and you ended up joining a gym. No martial arts or anything like that, you didn't have the time for it, but you hired a trainer and five days a week that’s what kept you grounded.

Presently...

You weren't currently working, well not anymore. Less than a month ago you were a nurse at Mercy hospital as a CRNA. It was a late night already and an unruly patient was brought in for a gunshot wound. Somehow he managed to slip out of his bonds and before anyone could stop him, the bastard had his hands around your throat and you'd...you just fucking panicked and he ending up burning to death from the inside.

No one knew how it happened they couldn't even prove that you had even done anything, but you were fired on the spot anyway...and your parents had to shovel out a good amount of money and blackmail to keep your name from the papers.

You hadn't searched for a job after that, what was the point? Your name may not have been dragged through the papers but you sure as hell weren't gonna be working at any hospital anytime soon. At least...not in Manhattan.

But after what happened...what you did to that man, the cruelty of it? Why would you? You'd been high strung after that and you picked up a habit you ditched after you left college.

It just helped you regulate your emotions better and to think, plus you just liked the way it made you feel. It also helped with the nightmares that would plague you every night, and the scene was always the same. He was always on top of you screaming to a pain too gruesome for words.

Your parents tried therapy but you were stubborn besides your medicine was better than theirs anyway.

Your father didn't know about your newfound hobby but your mom did, and she wasn't going to tell him either. She was just thankful that it wasn't crack or cocaine—she could deal with her daughter turning into a weed connoisseur. But she would not support an unproductive one.

That was exactly why she was on her way back into the city to your penthouse with two guests in tow. Doing her best not to cry in front of these two women who have proven to her that they could not only help you but take care of you in a way that she couldn't.

But she knew when your birthday cake went up in flames...she had been watching you the entire time, and in that moment...every warning and tale that your birth mother told her came to light. But she made a promise to love you like you were her own, because you were, and she'd love every freaky little tic that came with you.

As a mother it was hard for your mom to accept that this wasn’t something that she could do for you. But she was woman enough not to stand in the way of her daughter's success...whatever it was that you chose to do.

~~

You were sitting out on your balcony wearing your black robe with nothing else on except a pair of panties and your Prince tank top that you should've gotten rid of years ago but it was still one of your favorite—holes and all. You'd been blissfully in your own little world for a few hours now with your iPad sitting in your lap with some Stevie Nicks playing in the background over the speakers coming from inside your penthouse.

It was just the right volume that it wasn't too loud but the city noises didn't drown it out either. You'd just polished off your fourth bowl, something grape...whatever, you were just enjoying your time. You went back to drawing, head bopping softly and you were so lost in your own little world you didn't realize that you were alone in your penthouse. There were three different sets of high heels that you missed though you just about jumped out of your skin when your mother came into view via your peripherals.

“Oh!” you smiled bright and wide, eyes a tad bit low, “Hey mom, what are you...um...who are they?” you sat up quickly, unaware that your robe fell open with the movement and your mom nearly facepalmed. You set your tablet aside, doing a double take at the blonde with the curly hair that was lowkey dancing to Fleetwood playing in the background. You looked at your mom, your smile morphing into a confused frown, “Mom?”

“Sweetheart,” your mom soothed back a long strand of dark hair and cleared her throat softly which worried you even more because your mom was never one to be nervous, ever, “This is Cordelia Goode and Misty Day.”

Subconsciously you reached into your robes pocket and pulled out a bright orange stress ball you got from the bodega for a whopping five bucks. (You had to have been high as fuck not to argue that price down but whatever.) You squeezed it softly, licking your dry lips, “Um...hi? Did I do something to you guys too? If I did I'm so sorry, I—”

“No, baby, no,” your mother sat next to you, quickly fixing your robe and your messy hair and Cordelia's brown eyes shot to Misty, who had immediately stopped dancing, “Just...are you hungry? Orange juice maybe?”

“Mrs. Hawthorne?” you looked up at the blonde woman came up behind your mother with a soft smile, “If I may, in my experience it is always better to just rip it off just like a band-aid.”

“Rip what off?” you pulled away from your mom, scooting away and hated seeing that hurt look on her face but there was something going on, you were not that paranoid.

“Honey, this is just a little intervention and—”

Laughing, you scooted away from your mom again, “What? Mom, it’s just pot—”

Your mom waved away your comment with a roll of her eyes, “Honey, I don’t care about the grass—”

“Then what…”

“Zip!”

You quickly shut your mouth when your mom said that and have you that look, it was one you knew quite well growing up. It baffled you how it was still working on you.

Your mom sighed, “It's just for a little while and I'll make sure that this place is well cared for.”

“Wait what?! You're sending me away??”

“(Y/n).” the blonde, Cordelia, pulled your attention from your mom who was crying, Cordelia sat on the edge of your coffee table carefully while Misty continued to hover in the background curiously, but prepared in case you got jumpy, “We just want to help you, okay? We're not here to kidnap you or harm you in any way.”

“I can't be helped,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes even as the tears spilled over, “I—I don't know what you think you know, Miss Goode but...”

“I know quite a bit, (Y/n),” Cordelia held out her hand and suddenly your stash box flew past your head making you flinch but Cordelia caught it just fine and you stared at her wide eyed, “You and I? We aren't so different and at Miss Robichaux's academy for exceptional young ladies...we teach young witches such as yourself how to survive in the modern world.”

“Witches? You think I'm a witch? No way, mom c'mon...the...the stash box trick was cool and all, but witches? Mom! Mom please, you're not buying this are you?” but even as you questioned it, you knew that they were telling the truth and that's what scared you the most. “How do you know they're not trying to use this for your money?”

“We're not, I promise! We don't need your family's money, (Y/n). All we want is to help you.”

“Listen to her, honey, this is for your benefit, okay? And...these women are very nice people, so don't give them trouble, not that you would, right?”

You looked over your mothers shoulder at Misty, the woman offering you a smile and a playful wink.

You exhaled heavily, your eyes sliding back to your mom, “...and you're not getting rid of me right? Because of...what I can do? Or what I've done?”

“No! Absolutely not, it was an accident! If anything it was the faulty bonds they put that monster in! Honestly,” your mother huffed, “your father and I still have half a mind about suing that hospital…”

“But not without having to drag my name through the mud.” You mumbled, sighing heavily.

“I love you, (Y/n), so damn much. Yes, we would’ve gotten millions but you’re worth much more to your father and I, don't you forget that,” Your mom reached over and grabbed your hand, squeezing gently before standing and quickly gathering her Prada bag, “and...don't worry about your father with all of this. I'll break this to him myself but baby...promise me that you will try?”

You bit your bottom lip, nodding slowly and holding her hand tighter almost painfully so before surging up and hugging your bother tight, and even though she was in high heels your slight frame made it easy for her to catch most of your weight. She hugged you back just as fiercely, kissing your forehead twice before letting you go.

“And here—for emergencies and whatever you might need, honey.” your mom pushed her black card into your trembling hands, the weight of it denser than you expected it to be and it made you laugh, of course your mom would shove money at you. It was her love language, you stopped questioning it a very long time ago but you never took advantage of it. “I love you so so much.”

Cordelia watched the entire exchange silently with an ever curious eye, even daring to risk raising an eyebrow when she saw your mom push that unmarked card into your hands before skirting off. Your mom reminded her a bit of her own mother...money was Fiona’s love language as well.

But your mom was much more pleasant, her love for you blossomed like a rose rather than a thorn bush.

You exhaled shakily, hands fidgeting in front of you, “I...what now?”

“Now we get down to business,” Misty smiled at you, stepping into the space your mom once occupied and took your hands in both of her own, “Your mama is resourceful, she tracked us down and everything, but it wasn't like it was all that hard since Delia and I were lookin' for you too.”

“You...you were?” you looked over your shoulder at Cordelia still sitting on your coffee table, “Why?”

“We heard about what happened to the man at the hospital and even though you weren't named, it wasn't that hard to track you down and we happened to cross paths with your mother.”

“Figures...” you nodded, sniffling again and you quickly pulled your hands from Misty when a breeze hit your skin—reminding you how indecent you were among two strangers.

You fixed your robe again and quickly sat down and Misty followed you down, bouncing slightly almost a little too close—your high was completely worn off at this point, “Earlier you said that you were helping wit...people like me live in the modern world? What?”

“Yes, we help witches such as yourself avoid situations like the one you currently experienced.”

You raised an eyebrow at her wording and she smiled at you when you met her eyes. You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest—appearing unbothered even if you were still sniffling, damn. Your mood swings were going to give you whiplash one of these days.

“You don’t really expect me to go around calling myself a witch do you?”

Cordelia’s eyes narrowed a fraction, “What I expect, (Y/n), is for you to actually make an attempt. There will be rules and the sooner you drop the attitude, the easier this will be for all of us—you especially.”

You opened your mouth to argue back but then you quickly shut your mouth, your mom's words bouncing around in your head to stop causing trouble. Along with the promise you made to her.

Misty was sitting still next to you, and though you couldn’t see it—her eyes were darting back and forth between you and Cordelia with a bit of a grin trying to break free.

“Right, and um where is this school of yours again? If I even agree to this at all?”

Cordelia gave you a look that you couldn't really decipher, “Miss Robichaux's academy is in California.”

Your eyes flew back to hers immediately, “I don't wanna go around calling you a liar Miss Goode, I only just met you...but you and I both know that's not true.”

“Ah, so it is true...you do have some form divination.”

She led you right into a trap and you couldn’t even be annoyed by that, Cordelia was proving to be a lot more than she appeared. “Divination? What is that? Is there anything my mom didn't tell you?”

“Well, she didn't tell us ya favorite food.” Misty supplied unhelpfully, attempting to break the building tension with poor humor. And you couldn't hold back your smile, deciding that you liked her a lot.

“You're a walking lie detector, dear. That's quite handy in today's world.”

Misty chuckled before one of her arms came around your shoulders, “Oh yes, and Madison is just gonna love you!”

“Don't worry, you’ll fit right in.” Cordelia chuckled, still sitting directly across from you and there was a bit of a twinkle in her brown eyes, she knew you were going to be trouble and that she would have to keep a close eye on you. But if there was one thing that Cordelia enjoyed, it was a challenge.

~~

I dunno what I’m doing for real lol it’s 1am and I’m in my garage on a tablet 😅😅I thought this was fun

[thesibfiles]

Courtney going on tour right after?

Theres a misconception that after Kurts death, Courtney went straight on tour right away. This is false. The album was already set to release a few days after and they couldnt change that on such a short notice. Promotion for the album was cancelled and she pushed back the tour 4 months.

“Live Through This was supposed to provide Love an opportunity to step out from her famous husband’s shadow. “It’s annoying now, and it’s been annoying for nine years, Love said in a 1999 Jane Magazine interview of always being connected to Cobain. Released four days after Cobain’s body was found, the album’s promotion was put on hold. Rather than retreat from the public eye, Love openly mourned and helped fans of Cobain and Nirvana make sense of the singer’s death. She sat with grieving teenagers gathered outside the couple’s Seattle home and recorded a reading of parts of his suicide note that was played at the singer’s memorial that gathered near the Space Needle. In the days following his death, Love showed a very raw and emotional side and admitted that, like many fans, she didn’t have all the answers. 

It was, and still is, impossible for people to discuss Live Through This without noting the irony of the album’s title. Love has said the name was not a prediction at all, but instead a reflection of all she had endured in the months leading up to its release, including a very public custody fight with the Los Angeles Department of Family Services over daughter Frances Bean. Rumors suggested that Cobain had written much of Live Through This (it’s Miss World, not Mister, just FYI). “I’d be proud as hell to say that he wrote something on it, but I wouldn’t let him. It was too Yoko for me. It’s like, ‘No fucking way, man! I’ve got a good band, I don’t fucking need your help,’” was Love’s response to critics in Spin’s oral history of Live Through This. Love and Cobain often shared notebooks and lyrics with each other, and while there is talk of Cobain’s influence on Love’s work, or the writing of all of it, less is mentioned in the press of her impact on his lyrics and music. Rather than sucking all the life out of Nirvana or threatening the success of the band, like many assumed she would do, she inspired Cobain. Fun fact: In Utero, Nirvana’s last album, was named after a line from one of Love’s poems.

Sadly, songwriting rumors would be replaced by other rumors. Women are often vilified and condemned for the deaths of their male partners. Love, like all women, was supposed to save her partner from death and addiction. Fans of Cobain projected all their anger and resentment over the loss of the Nirvana front man onto Love, and soon she was blamed for not only his addiction but also his death. There are even two movies devoted to the theory that Courtney killed Kurt: the awful Soaked in Bleach (2015) and the equally awful Kurt & Courtney (1998). If you think we’ve come a long way, baby, sadly we haven’t. 

One year after Anthony Bourdain’s death, Asia Argento is still being blamed, and in September 2018, Ariana Grande had to take a break from social media after fans blamed her for the death of her ex Mac Miller. A few months later, she would be blamed for new beau Pete Davidson’s mental health and addiction issues. It’s amazing she finds the time to write hit songs what with all the dude destruction she has going on. When women are not being blamed for the deaths of the men in their lives, they are being attacked for not grieving properly. “She wasn’t crying. She’s got $30 million coming to her. Do you blame her for being so cool?” a hospital staffer said of Yoko Ono following John Lennon’s murder in 1980. 

About four months after Cobain’s death, Love went on tour to promote her new album. Some questioned and judged why she would go on tour so soon, but Love has said it was a necessity. She had a young daughter to support. She needed to work. She also, sadly, still needed to prove herself. “I would like to think that I’m not getting the sympathy vote, and the only way to do that is to prove that what I’ve got is real,” Love told Rolling Stone in 1994.

Twenty-five years later, Cobain’s death still hangs over Live Through This. In the days leading up to the anniversary of Cobain’s death, former Hole bassist Melissa Auf der Maur wrote an open letter to music magazine Kerrang saying she “would not stand for Kurt’s death overshadowing the life and work of the women he left behind this year.”

“We were extremely well designed for each other,” Love has said of her relationship with Cobain. In a letter reprinted in Dirty Blonde: The Diaries of Courtney Love, she calls him “my everything. the top half on my fraction.” The two had similar upbringings, both came from broken homes and spent childhoods shuttling between relatives and friends. They both grew up longing for love and acceptance. When we tell the story of Kurt and Courtney we talk about drugs and destruction, but we don’t talk enough about love.

The two also shared an intense drive and ambition. “I didn’t want to marry a rock star, I wanted to be one,” Love said in a 1992 Sassy interview. Evidence of her drive can be found in the many notes and to-do lists she kept, some of which are collected in Dirty Blonde. There are reminders to send her acting résumé to agencies, to write three to four new songs a week, to “achieve L.A. visibility.” A scene in the documentary Kurt & Courtney features an ex of Love’s reading from one of her to-do lists, which has “become friends with Michael Stipe” as the number one task to complete (not only did Love do this, but he is her daughter’s godfather). This ambition is not surprising from a woman who, when she was younger, mailed a tape of herself singing to Neil Sedaka in hopes of getting signed. Love knew what she wanted at an early age, and what she wanted was fame.

She was certainly living by the “do not hurt yourself, destroy yourself, mangle yourself to get the football captain. Be the football captain!” motto she championed in the 1995 documentary Not Bad for a Girl. Ambition is often a dirty word when it is used to describe women and Love is no exception. She has been repeatedly described as calculating and controlling when she should be rewarded for her blond ambition and viewed as an inspiration. Critics and the press often call her a gold digger who only married Cobain for fame and money. They fail to mention that when the two met Pretty on the Inside was actually selling more copies than Bleach, Nirvana’s debut album. Even post-Kurt, Love’s intentions were always under scrutiny. On the Today Show to do press for The People vs. Larry Flynt, Love refused to talk about her past drug use, despite the host’s repeated questions, saying the topic was not an appropriate fit for the show’s demographic. She was right, but it didn’t stop a writer from describing the move as “calculating” in a 1998 Spin piece.

Cobain was ambitious too; he was just much slyer and more secretive about it. He was known to call his manager and complain when MTV didn’t play Nirvana’s videos enough, and he would correct journalists who misquoted the band’s sales figures in interviews. While success is typically celebrated and rewarded for men and it certainly was for Cobain, he also had to be mindful of the slacker generation that loved Nirvana and greeted success — and especially mainstream success —

While female celebrities like Love are criticized for their rebellion, male celebrities, like Cobain for example, are celebrated and mythologized for it. Cobain and Love both struggled with addiction, but it is Love who is repeatedly vilified for her drug use. “She was vilified for being a mess, for being a drug addict, for not being a great parent — in other words, all of the things we expect in a male rock star,” said Bust magazine in a piece in the magazine’s 20th anniversary issue, which featured Love on the cover.

We make jokes about the drug antics of male celebrities from Keith Richards to Charlie Sheen, idolizing their debauchery and depravity. The new Netflix/Lifetime movie by Jack Daniels, The Dirt, about Mötley Crüe, takes the band’s excesses to almost comic levels. Check out crazy tourmate Ozzy Osbourne snorting a line of ants by a hotel pool! Such zany antics! I would love to see Lindsay Lohan try to get away with that. We never allow women to live down their arrests and their addictions, but we repeatedly allow men to have a redemption arc. Robert Downey Jr. was in and out of jail and on and off drugs for much of the mid to late ’90s, but we rarely, if ever, talk about his past.

When Love isn’t being attacked for her addiction issues, she is being judged for her parenting. Love’s first unflattering press was “Strange Love,” the much publicized 1992 Vanity Fair profile by Lynn Hirschberg. While the piece talks at length about Love’s drug use and constantly questions her parenting ability, it doesn’t paint Cobain in the same light. “It is appalling to think that she would be taking drugs when she knew she was pregnant,” says one close friend in the piece. Hirschberg relies on many unnamed sources and focuses often on the tabloid-like aspects of Love’s life and addictions. “Courtney has a long history with drugs. She loves Percodans (‘They make me vacuum’), and has dabbled with heroin off and on since she was eighteen, once even snorting it in Room 101 of the Chelsea Hotel, where Nancy Spungen died,” she writes. “Reportedly, Kurt didn’t do much more than drink until he met Courtney.” (Even when it is reported by Kurt and Krist that Kurt tried heroin in 1989, way before Courtney, It was also known that he smoked weed and used caugh syrup to get high in 1989 and 1990.)

This double standard was common in coverage of the couple. In Kurt Cobain: Montage of Heck, the 2015 documentary by Brett Morgen, Love asks her husband, “Why does everyone think you’re the good one and I’m the bad one?” Later in the film we see a scene of Frances Bean’s first haircut. The child sits on Cobain’s lap while Love searches for a comb and scissors. The camera shows Cobain nodding off, and while he maintains that he is just tired, it’s clear he’s not. The scene is painful to watch, especially because those around Cobain carry on like nothing in wrong, giving the feeling this is just like any other day in the Love-Cobain household. The scene is a reminder of how the press treated Cobain’s addiction when he was alive. They just carried on like nothing was wrong, instead directing all their judgement at Love.

[zamoimagines]

There’s Your Trouble

Word Count: 3,529

Pairings: Billie Dean Howard x Reader, Sally McKenna x Reader 

Chapters: 1, 2

Summary: You and your girlfriend, Billie Dean Howard, are staying at the Cortez for the weekend but you meet a pretty ghost. 

A/N: Chapter two is finally here! Hope you guys enjoy :)

The rest of your night wasn’t what Billie had promised. You remember telling her how excited you were to spend time with her at a hotel because it meant you both could maybe have a little alone time. She was constantly working on her show, or traveling, or doing interviews, or signing autographs on the street. This was a chance for the two of you to actually spend some quality time together. 

How wrong that assumption was. The rest of the day was spent interviewing different residents who obviously didn’t want to be filmed, and some of them even looked as if they were the ghosts themselves. Billie was so focused on learning the history of the building and asking the owners about James Patrick March. She cared more about her crew than anything you had to say. Any time you would try to speak, someone would cut you off and Billie would completely ignore that you had said anything at all. You were an afterthought to say the least. It had been this way long before you’d arrived with her at the Hotel Cortez. This seemed to be a pattern that never ended. 

Night fell rather quickly. You didn’t realize that it was dark out until you glanced out one of the windows of your room. Billie was still going on about all that needed to be filmed before Devil’s Night to her worker bees. 

“Uh.. Billie?” you tried to interject. 

“I’m thinking we can get a couple shots of the front for dramatic effect? I talked to Liz as well, she said we could see the basement if we really wanted to.”

“Billie-”

“Oh! And what if we got a scene in front of that creepy empty pool?”

“Billie, can I please talk to you for a second?”

The blonde finally turned in your direction. She gave you a wild smile. 

“Yeah! Sorry, honey. What is it?”

“Are we gonna go to the bar and get some alone time? I figured tonight would be perfect since we just got here.”

“Of course!” she replied happily. The sound of that brightened your world. 

“I’ve just got to get a few shots first.” Your heart sank in your chest. 

“Oh… okay.”

“Honey, I promise we’ll go on a date when we get the footage we need.” Billie pressed a small kiss to your forehead. “Do you want to come with us? You could see all of the chilling content first hand!”

“I-I’m okay. I think I’m gonna wait here until you get back.” 

“Are you sure, baby?”

“Yeah, I gotta unpack anyway.”

“I’ll film as fast as I can. It won’t be too long, right guys?” Billie looked to her crew for reassurance, though all they did was glared coldly back at you. They barely knew you and couldn’t give less of a shit about your romantic endeavors. She stood up while grabbing her mic before leading everyone out of the room. 

“Why don’t we just go out tomorrow night?” you offered.

“It won’t be too late, Y/N, I promise-”

“I’m just tired. It’s no big deal, really.”

“Okay, then. I’ll try not to stay out too late. I’ll see you later, sweetheart!”

“Bye, Billie.”

Alone. Yet again. Your own girlfriend cared so much more about her damn TV show than about spending the evening with you. It stung quite a bit, though you wouldn’t dare to ever let her know. She worked hard to get where she was. You just wished she would care about more important things sometimes.  

Instead of wallowing, you figured you would change into something more comfortable. You changed out of your travel outfit and immediately ditched your bra before slipping on some shorts along with a big t-shirt over your head. A sigh of relief escaped you. Folding your old clothes, you began to unpack your bag and put your belongings into the drawers of the dresser. You switched on the tv just to have a little background noise as you finished putting everything away. The only thing left was your makeup bag and a small carrier full of hygienic products. Taking the last two bags, you sauntered into the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed.

As you started to brush your teeth, your mind wandered aimlessly about Billie. You only agreed to come because she told you that she had so many things planned for you. Every business trip turned out to be all about your girlfriend and she’d always happened to just forget about every promise she made to you. This one was only proving to be the exact same. How could a damn TV show be more important than your own relationship? You didn’t understand her thought process whatsoever. 

You finished up before making your way back to the bed. Though, there was something off about the room. Something felt incredibly eerie but you couldn’t quite place what it was. Perhaps it was just your mind playing tricks on you. After all, you were spending your week in a haunted hotel, so it was probably normal to feel a little creeped out by your surroundings. 

Just as you sat down on the bed, you heard a soft humming sound. Your head quickly turned in the direction of the bathroom door. Was someone in your room? 

“My, my… You’re even prettier than I remember, Princess.” a familiar voice spoke. You nearly jumped out of your spot as you let out a gasp. 

There standing in front of the doorway was the woman you’d met from earlier. The one in the elevator. You thought you’d locked the door but perhaps you actually had forgotten to and it slipped your mind. She was still as gorgeous as ever, only now she was just dressed in a simple black nightgown. Her fingers were laced around two glasses and a bottle of some brown liquor was in her other hand. You noticed large rips in her fishnets as she made her way closer to you. 

“H-How long have you been standing there?”

She shrugged as she inhaled the lit cigarette hanging out of her mouth, “Just a minute or two. The walls are paper thin here, though, so I heard your little conversation with the girlfriend.” She paused to take a longer drag. As she exhaled smoke, she raised a brow.

“Saw her leave too. She seems a little… Prissy.” Sally added in a disgusted tone. 

“Billie isn’t prissy. She’s just well-rounded!”

“Keep telling yourself that.” She plopped down next to you on the mattress with a sly grin on her face, her cigarette draping smoke all around your body as she nestled in closer.

“Just because she’s high maintenance doesn’t mean that she’s a bad person.”

Sally handed you one of the glasses before popping open the bottle. Pouring some alcohol into your cup, she chuckled in disbelief. 

“I’m not sure I believe that. The bitch is more infatuated with her camera than her own girl.” 

Those words definitely stung. You stared blankly down at your drink as you tried hard not to think about it too much as water pricked your eyes. Sally poured her own glass then glanced back up at you. 

“Look, I’m not trying to be a debbie downer or anything. I just think it’s fucked up that she’d just leave you here.” 

“She’s… She’s just very professional. She takes a lot of pride in her work.” You tried to explain, “Besides, she said we could go on a better date tomorrow.”

She raised a brow. “A bit too professional, don’t you think? How could she pass up a night with a gorgeous girl like you?”

There was a thick silence that hung in the room.Your vision grew fuzzy as more tears welled up in your eyes, though you were quick to wipe them away to appear like you had everything together. “Oh, my poor baby girl.” Sally cooed as her index finger lifted your chin. You could see that her own eyes were watering but you weren’t entirely sure what for. She offered you a soft grin that caused the skin on your cheeks to flush; it had been so long since you’d received this sort of affection from anyone. “Why don’t we have a drink, hm?”

You looked down at the glass skeptically. Was this a trap or something? 

“I’m not sure I should-”

“Oh come on, you were gonna go to the bar earlier anyway. What’s one little glass going to do?” 

She was right. It wasn’t like you had anything better to do with your night. Rather than waiting for her to pour you a glass, you simply took the bottle from her and screwed off the cap. Your lips pressed against the mouth as you quickly took a huge swig. 

“Straight to it.” Sally chuckled as she grabbed the liquor back from you, “What a good girl you are.” 

Your whole body felt warm. So warm that you couldn’t notice that damned blush on your face was becoming more apparent. It was probably just the effects of the alcohol and not the fact that her remark had been incredibly smooth. 

Nearly two hours had passed in which you both kept passing the bottle back and forth. Each swig from the bottle made you significantly more inebriated as you both talked about everything under the sun. You told Sally about your life, and in return she told you more about herself. You’d learned that she used to be a musician, that she had been dealing with a drug addiction for decades, and that she lived here at the hotel. She even made you crack a smile or two. 

There was so much alcohol in your system now that you were completely relaxed. It was as if Sally took every problem you ever had and melted it away with simple conversation. You had to admit, no one had ever made you feel this way before. Not even your own girlfriend. 

“Can I ask you a question?” You asked, your words slightly slurred. 

“Only if I can ask you one in return.” Sally replied with a sly grin. 

“That sounds like a fair trade.” “Then go right ahead, gorgeous.”

You took a deep breath as you tried to summon the right words. It might’ve been stupid, but you had a sneaking suspicion that there was something paranormal about this woman. You could’ve sworn you felt something deep in your gut telling you that it was true. The worst that could possibly happen was that she’d think you were crazy. “I’ve noticed that you’re rather unique.” You gulped, “This might sound stupid to ask, but uh, are… a-are you a-” Before you could finish your sentence, she cut you off completely. “Are you asking if I’m a ghost?” Your brows furrowed as your eyes widened slightly out of shock. It was as if she had taken the words right out of your mouth. The blonde chuckled to herself when she saw your reaction, then inhaled more smoke from her sixth cig of the night. “Yeah. I’m a ghost. Been dead for fucking years now.” She paused briefly, a fire in her eyes now. “Does that scare you?” So it was confirmed. Sally wasn’t alive… If you were honest, you weren’t sure how you felt about that. You’d seen enough of Billie’s work to know all of the signs but you didn’t figure you’d be the one that would have a run in with the dead. Shaking your head, you could feel yourself growing dizzy from this new information. You weren’t about to act like a wuss in front of her now. “Not at all.” You muttered maybe a little too quickly. Sally raised a brow at your response. “Do you believe me?” You shrugged. “I mean, you practically walked through the wall when I wasn’t looking. And you took me for a spin in the elevator earlier, which was a little eerie.” “So is that a yes?” “Yes… I believe you.” Sally looked rather pleased with you as she took back the bottle. “Good… You’re not a skeptic.” She took a swig and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I fucking hate skeptics.”

You simply just nodded along as you listened to her. If you were honest with yourself, you were still on the fence as if you actually believed her or if it was the alcohol getting to your head. You had been overthinking the matter so much that you had barely missed the other women speaking directly to you. “Shit- Sorry. What did you say?” You asked. 

“I said it’s my turn.”

“For what?”

“To ask you a question.” A mischievous grin appeared on her pretty pale lips. 

You gulped. It was just a question, and surely what she had to say wasn’t too terrible. 

“R-Right. Go right ahead, ask away.” 

Sally paused for a moment to fully pivot her body in your direction. She leaned forward a bit before asking, 

“Why do you stay with a woman who doesn’t give you the time or day?”

A much more loaded question than you were expecting. Instead of responding, you simply took the bottle from her lap and took a very long swig to avoid saying anything whatsoever. The blonde chuckled to herself as she watched you chug the liquor down. “We had a deal, Princess.” She sang out. There had definitely been a deal, and you needed to hold up your end of the bargain. 

“Billie does care about me. I promise… She’s just really busy.” You set the bottle back down before continuing, “She’s been waiting for months to get coverage on this place. There’s a reason she’s so preoccupied.” 

“I’m sure that’s what it is.” Sally scoffed. “I don’t mind, though. I’m just very happy that you like blondes.” She gave you a wink as she ashed her cigarette into the glass bottle. 

You were at a loss for words. No matter what you said, your new acquaintance never believed a word that you said despite explaining yourself over and over again. In a way, you felt completely defeated. You were defending a cause with not a lot of evidence to back you up. Sally could tell you were getting upset, for she got even closer and let out a whine of sympathy. 

“Awe, don’t pout. Here, I’ll make a bet with you.” She began, “If this Billie chick comes in here tonight and fucks you when she sees you in this number, then I’ll keep my distance and respect your relationship. But if she goes straight to bed?” She paused for a moment to discard her cigarette completely, “You have to come by my room and let me show you how pretty you are.”

The immediate flush upon your cheeks was enough for Sally to chuckle darkly to herself. You were sure you had never blushed this hard in your life. You couldn’t remember how long it had been since someone had flirted with you like this, let alone your own girlfriend. 

“U-Uh- I’m not so sure about that-” You stammered. 

“Let me put it this way; When will you ever get to tell someone that you got to make a bet with a ghost?” 

She had a fair point. Surely the drinks weren’t helping you to make any logical decisions. Your head felt like it was spinning as the words fell out of your mouth,

 “Fine. Sure, why not.” You were sure that the blonde was just bluffing, what harm was one little bet going to do? 

But oh how you would regret ever saying a damn words. 

“Good.” The next moment, Sally’s face was only an inch away from your own and those deep brown eyes were staring directly into yours. 

“How about you let me give you a sneak peek?” She whispered. 

Your breath caught in your throat. Her stare put you into a trance, though you did your best to stay grounded. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Mm, it’s only a kiss.” Her fingers reached out and danced upon your shoulder, “Maybe two.”

Before you knew it, you were paralyzed under her touch. Your eyes shut tight as if to try and wake yourself from some sort of dream, but as you did so, something hot pressed to the side of your neck. Her soft lips brushed against your skin, your heart beginning to beat rapidly in your chest. Her hand traveled up to caress your cheek and her forehead rested upon yours as you slowly opened your eyes. There was no denying there was a heated passion building inside you. 

“Come on, Princess. Let me taste those pretty lips of yours.” Her voice was so dark and inviting. You couldn’t help but swoon into her touch. 

“Sally…” You tried to protest, but you were finding it hard to resist. Your vision grew hazy the moment she captured your mouth into a tender kiss. 

You felt as if you should’ve been beating yourself up for not stopping her, but you craved the amount of affection she was offering you. After the first, she kissed you again with much more confidence. Her tongue slid against your bottom lip as if to beg for entrance. Your mouth opened with ease as she eagerly deepened the contact between you both, slowly but full of lust. A low groan escaped her which in turn caused you to whimper against her. You could tell how bad she wanted you, but more importantly, you were starting to realize how badly you wanted Sally.

You pulled away briefly to catch your breath though you managed to stay close. The other woman let out a soft laugh before practically moaning, “I could eat you up.” She bit her lower lip as her gaze studied your mouth and back up to your eyes. 

“I can’t imagine what your pussy tastes like.”

“Sally- jesus.” You hissed.

Thankfully, she rose from where she had been sitting before picking up the bottle of liquor and the two glasses she had originally come in with. Her hip was cocked out to the side as she watched your every move. 

“You just wait,” She said as she pointed toward you, “You’re gonna lose.” 

“I will not!” You rebutted. 

“We’ll see about that.” 

You moved to protest her words, but in the blink of an eye, she had completely vanished. The room had seemed to change as well for everything seemed much darker than a moment ago. The window revealed a black sky full of stars. How much time had passed? 

The faint sound of clicking heels echoed down the corridor outside your door. Billie. 

At least she was finished filming so you could forget this night had ever happened. You made sure to freshen up your hair and get into a position that looked inviting for your girlfriend to walk into, for you were sure you wouldn’t lose your end of the bet. Billie loved you, and that was a fact. She wouldn’t deny the chance to spend a sensual evening with you. 

The door swung open. In the doorway was Billie Dean, her posture slightly slouched as she flashed a winning, yet sleepy smile to you. 

“Hey, Honey. How was your night?” She asked, her voice groggy as ever. 

“It was fine.” You replied immediately. Your head was still woozy from all of the alcohol. “I missed you, though.”

Billie plopped down on the opposite end of the bed as she kicked off her heels. She shimmied out of her skirt, then worked at the buttons of her blouse to reveal her silk slip. You did your best to appear sexy but it was proving to be difficult when she wasn’t even paying attention to you. 

“I missed you too. I’m so exhausted, we spent hours wandering this place and didn’t find a damn thing.”

“That’s too bad.” 

“Yeah. We’ll try again in the morning.” Once she was situated for bedtime, Billie got under the covers next to you. She leaned over to press a soft peck to your cheek before turning around to turn off the lamp beside her. 

“Goodnight.”

“Wait, don’t you want to spend some time together?”

“I’m sorry baby, I’m so tired. Why don’t we grab breakfast in the morning? I promise I’ll make it up to you after I’ve had plenty of sleep.” 

“But-”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

She turned completely away from you and didn’t notice a damn thing. Not what you were wearing, or what you looked like, or how she had made you feel so lonely. Instead of fighting her on the matter, you sighed sadly to yourself. 

“Goodnight, Billie.” 

You turned off your own lamp before curling up under the blankets and faced where Billie’s back had turned. Tears stung your eyes once again, though you managed to stay completely silent to try and drift to sleep. You were nearly asleep when you felt a familiar sensation upon your neck; hot breathing and a soft pair of lips. A warm kiss was placed upon you as you heard Sally’s voice faintly whisper in your ear,

“I win.”

[starshipsofstarlord]

Bedroom Blues | Luke Hemmings

A/N; I hope you like it, and that it’s angsty enough. I’m not too great at writing smut, but I took more time with this imagine, and I felt quite inspired with it. Feedback would be appreciated for any improvements, thankyou for the request and please enjoy (Sorry if the smut’s bad!)  - M x

Warnings; includes smut, angst, mentions and complications of miscarriage, cheating, mentions of drug use, drinking, swearing, choking, toxic relationship, spit

Uttering a single word was unsettling, there was an edge driven between you and Luke, a bump in the road that you feared that the pair of you were unable to cross. He had distanced himself, pouring his emotions into his music rather than expressing them to you.

It hurt, that he pushed you away, telling you to focus on yourself when all that you could mull your mind over was his state of self and all that you had lost. You needed him, it would never be a cure for the pain in your chest, but even so much as a word would have dimmed the heartbreak.

But he was ‘busy’ as he put it. He remained at the studio as you sat on the bottom of the cold bed, the sheets made and pillows perfectly shaped. No one had slept in it in days, you’d opt for the sofa and he anywhere far enough away.

Sometimes, he’d even crash at Cal’s, leaving you in the company of Petunia, who always tried to make you feel better, bless her little heart. But there was another suspicion arising in your welded brain.

It was not a puzzle to put the pieces together, the clues were straightforward. He was slowly losing himself, and by doing so, also you.

Whenever you had the chance to see him, there was a cheap stench of perfume that waded around him, giving you hints about his altered aura. The scent was new to you, nothing you owned smelt like chemicalised fuchsias and indigos.

It could only belong to another woman, the one who left red marks upon the collars of his white shirts that he ignored, allowing you to wash them when you extracted them from the laundry basket.

He sat at his desk, phone in hand as he spoke frustratedly to his manager. Feldy was unimpressed by the things that the musician that he bought with his money, it wasn’t legal and if it were to escape to the public’s eye, he’d be cancelled.

Drugs was not the only consumption that he tolerated to ease his childless suffering, he endeavoured out to puns, with new friends that the boys hadn’t even met.

They seemed sleazy, and were accountably not a good influence upon him. As you leant against the doorframe, you tentatively listened to Luke cuss at the man of his label, him oblivious to your presence.

“It doesn’t fucking matter, I have a reasonable excuse. My child died, before he was even born, I have to cope somehow! So before you let your criticisms slip through your barking lips, consider how you would feel if you were in my position!”

Luke gave the man no time to reply, he hung up, sliding his phone across the table, it hitting the stapler that was sat on the hardwood surface.

He was hurting, he was trying to tolerate the pain, but he was not going about it the right way. As he attempted to get through this tough time, he was hurting everyone that he claimed to love, including you.

“You can’t keep using our son’s passing as an excuse.” It was his answer to everything, the penance that he guarded himself with.

At the sound of your voice, he sighed, rubbing his face with his hand, sick and tired of it all. There was never a moment to waste, he had realised that. Life was about living, something that his child never got to experience. He was making up for the future that he didn’t reach.

“Don’t hassle me woman, you don’t understand.” It was as though he was oblivious to how you felt, focusing on yourself wouldn’t have made his words burn any less.

However painful the strike of the match was, it also made you angry. The way he had the audacity to speak to you like it, as though he were blaming its body for the error that it had gone through.

“Fuck you!” It leapt from your mouth far more aggressively than you intended, but you didn’t regret the exclamation. It was a blessing, that your voice box had the courage to speak the pickings of your mind. “I understand more than you could ever know, you think you’re in pain. Perhaps you should take some time to think, sit and remember the life that we were going to have. Because whilst your out partying, fucking other women and being blind to the fact that you’re pushing everyone that cares away, it makes me think that it’s a good job that our baby wasn’t brought into the world. You’re not exactly father material.”

Luke threw himself from his spinning chair, clasping his hands around (Y/N)’s neck, holding your furious body against the wall. He sneered at the sight of her, for the first time in two months, looking into her eyes. She had insulted him, he wasn’t in the right headspace for that.

“Take it back.” He sternly ordered her, squeezing tighter around her throat. Her silence infuriated him further, and so the tall blond man pried again, leaning in closer to her face. “Take it fucking back you - you... Please take it back (Y/N).”

He broke, but (Y/N) wasn’t ready to cave for him so easily, even as he kept a hold around her. Instead she pursed her lips, forming a ball of saliva in her mouth and spitting it straight in his face.

It landed upon his left eyebrow, wallowing further down as he frowned at her crudeness. Finally, he realised his girlfriend, stepping back, shaking his curls at the sight of her. She disgusted him, she had no right to treat him that way when he was in so much pain. You weren’t helping him cope, you were only making it harder.

“I can’t lie to you like that Luke.” Your voice was softer, however your cheeks hollowed at the crumbled sight of him. He had sunk to the ground, he was on his knees, his head hung low.

“I’ve really fucked up, haven’t I?” He didn’t need an answer, not when he was already too aware of his own mistakes. There was no redemption, no do overs. No way to revive his son.

Although he had hurt you in ways in which you’d never forgive him for, it drummed an ache in your chest to see Luke like this. The worst part was that through all of his fuck ups and downs, you still loved him.

He was all you had left, you had lost everything else. It made you think that it hadn’t been the right time, or right at all for you and Luke to have a child together. The creation and its demise had split the two of you apart, there was no coming back from that.

But you were both here, on the floor of his studio, and so you got on your knees before him, cupping his downturned face and turning it up to look at your own. He appreciated the warmth that your hands provided, he had missed them, as well as the rest of you that accompanied them.

“That’s one way to put it.” Licking your lips at the dryness that had masked them, Luke watched the action. It was ordinary, as did your relationship to the media. But that things that they did not know was that the string between the pair of you was torn, it was getting old and would soon fall through.

There was still a single spark left, he felt it surpass the contact he had with your skin. Instinctively he rotated his head in your palm, pressing his lips against the smooth skin, placing delicate, harmless kisses upon the skin.

It surprised you, however you allowed him to continue his path, that trailed up the expanse of your arm, across your shoulder, up the hollow of your neck, until he arrived at your lips. They were so familiar, yet he was so estranged from them.

The appearance of them upheld that of an old friend, they had changed, grown away from their friendship and moved on. This was a chance to reconnect, even if it be for only a moment, and so Luke greeted them with the pressing of his own lips, feeling the remainder of passion left.

He would always love you, you’d been the mother of his child, his rock. And thinking of that had you reciprocating the action, opening your mouth and inclining him a taste inside.

His hands ran down the silhouette of your body, feeling every curve and inch for what felt like the last time. And it probably would be, and so he intended to make the most of it, leave with a regretless finale.

Your hands attacked his hair, tugging at the roots, making the man before you groan at the contact. “Bedroom.” You mumbled against his bittersweet lips.

The pair of you stood, and the tall guitarist hoisted you into his arms, walking through the halls that the pair of you shared.

There were so many ghosts wandering the house, it was eerie, nostalgic. He’d remembered when the pair of you had first scoped out this place through an estate agent. It had felt like home, but now it had the aura of a blue sea; polluted and slowly emptying of all life.

He took careful steps up to stairs, as insurance that he wouldn’t drop your body from his amorous grasp, or that he wouldn’t slip somewhere he couldn’t see.

The two of you were already emotionally fragile, it didn’t need to transfer to its physical cousin. And so he proceeded his route, pushing the bedroom door open with his shoulder, not bothering to close it in his wake.

Lightly he tossed you onto the neat and unused bed, causing a crease to form in the material, but it didn’t matter. Not as he stripped himself of his white silk shirt that had an opening at his chest, tossing it onto the floor.

His stomach was heaving as he got caught in the moment, watching you expectedly as he tugged on the end of your own shirt. It had been a maternity shirt, one that you had bought in consideration for later in the course of your pregnancy. At last, it was getting some use, but Luke would have preferred if it received less of that.

Removing the article washed away any link that your body showed of a prior pregnancy, momentarily it discarded the memories of the change your body had been due; stretchmarks, swollen feet, a craving for the strangest of digestible combinations.

One reminder remained though. It was Luke, who crawled upon the king sized bed, sliding atop of you and trailing his fingertips down the lines of your bra straps, carefully sliding them down your arms, so that the covering merely stayed on by the back portion.

“Is this okay? I don’t want you to regret it.” He had his own, he know how it ate away at his soul, piece by piece. There was no worse feeling, he didn’t want you to experience the same.

A loose lipped smile came across your face, he was being considerate. It was more than he had been since the miscarriage, then he had resembled a shadow whenever he chose to return home. He was hardly visible, and if you saw him, nothing was uttered, it was just a bleak darkness underneath the sun’s scoping rays that explored through the open blinds.

“I’m okay with it.” With your consent in hand, Luke shuffled atop of you, grinding his half hardness against the cotton shorts that protected the disabled birthing centre that you had been the entrance to this entire ordeal.

Shivering at the feeling, you released a small moan, which further spurred on the man. “Fuck, I can’t wait any longer.” He sat upon his knees, digging them into the mattress as he made easy work of his belt, sliding it through the loops and throwing it aside.

Next were his trousers, and as he removed them and his undergarments, you quickly mirrored his actions, leaving both of you naked, aside from the comfortable bra that you were cooped in.

It didn’t matter if a part of you was shielded, Luke was ready to get down to business and make the most of this last night. But before he could position his tip at your slit, one of your hands softly pushed him back, although he remained hovering above your ample body.

“Condom.” You told him, you not wanting to risk another pregnancy. At the word, Luke’s eyes widened, as though it was flashing him back to the night that the pair of you had forwent using one. It had ended in a miracle, that over time, transformed into the worse curse imaginable to mankind.

Luke reached over to the bedside draw, extracting a single packet and delicately ripping it open, taking out the form of protection. He held it in his hand, rolling it upon himself from tip to base. And then all was ready for him to proceed.

Hooking one of your legs around his waist, he pushed into you, which emitted a gasp from both the involved. It felt almost foreign, like a one night stand. It had been a while since such a natural presentation of affection had dawned in this room, or anywhere in this house.

The angle gave him a deeper point to hit you at, and he took full advantage of that. His pace had began slow, but it increased as your hands traced undecipherable shapes upon his nude back, knowing that in this minute, everything went away.

All the pain was gone. The distance was nowhere to be found, it had been crushed by the closeness that your bodies now emitted. It was all replaced by pleasure, the exotic feeling flowed in flushed lines through your skins, and out of the sinful sounds that emitted from your mouths.

Biting lightly into his shoulder, it made the singer groan, it sounded almost musical. It brought you back to the days when he would sing lightly whilst making breakfast together in the mornings, that was in the old apartment, before you had risked such a great commitment into buying somewhere as a couple.

He didn’t fault in his languid strokes, they weren’t fast or slow; they were the perfect in between. However he was going deep, reaching far into your cunt, which was clenching over and over again around his impressive girth.

“Do that again baby.” The name made the pair of you freeze, staring solely into each other’s eyes as the train stopped on the tracks once more. “Shit, fuck, sorry.”

It pained him too, but there was no other thing that didn’t mean stopping other than pushing through the sensitive clause. And so you dragged his face to your own, allowing him to entangle your lips, clenching around him with your inner walls as he had asked.

“Oh god.” You moaned as he had rammed further inside of your core, he sped up at the sound of your approval. He was driving you closer to the edge, and so were the noises of your bodies battling against each other. The entire ordeal was euphoric, you couldn’t help but let go.

Luke noticed that you had came, and from realising that alone, followed shortly after your bust. And then it was the prompt, the realisation that this was the end, there’d be no more love, no more sex, only ghosts trailing through your brain.

The fact was depressing, but it was healthier for everyone involved, Perhaps one day, you’d return for each other, but first you and Luke would both have to heal from the scarring, separately.

[noladyme]

La Cuervo - Chapter 4

She is used to the biker-life, having grown into a woman in the familiar embrace of SAMCRO. A bad decision and a gun-shot later, she gets whisked off to Santo Padre, and put under the protection of another club. What is supposed to be a short stint in the Mayan headquarters just north of the border to Mexico, turns into something more; when la quervo begins to develop feelings for el angel - and he seems to return them in kind...

TW: violence, blood, drug use, alcohol, smut, fluff, angst

In the spirit of "The Crown Princess of Charming", this is a story about O.C. Nina and Angel Reyes. It is obviously non-canon, as characters who have passed on on Mayans M.C. are present in it, and others have been excluded completely. Nina is written as a cis-female, but I have tried to keep her race and looks as ambigous as possible. Should you find any of this story offensive, please let me know.

Nina spent the next week doing her best to avoid Angel. He, in return, acted like they’d never had the encounter in the cage – or any encounter at all, for that matter. He spoke to her about as much as the next girl in the clubhouse; though, unlike with the other girls, he avoided all kinds of flirting or terms of endearment, other than the occasional mami, when he asked for another drink. Women crawled all over him, and he seemed perfectly content and used to the fact. Deciding she was better off for how everything had turned out, Nina threw herself in to helping Chucky in the office, and reading some of the books EZ had left in the trailer; when she wasn’t slinging beers behind the bar. The atmosphere was still awkward, though; and she was beginning to feel something like homesickness.

Not having heard anything from Charming since she’d arrived, Nina went over to Bishop with a pair of beers for him and Taza, who were deep in conversation one evening; after they’d just come back in from some meeting or other. They’d been sending her discrete looks throughout their discussion, and she thought now was as good a time as any, to check in with them. Setting down the beers on the table, she paused for a moment, before speaking. “Bishop? I don’t mean to intrude, but I was just wondering if you’d heard from Chibs? Or Tig, maybe?”. Bishop shook his head. “Sorry, sweetheart. No word from either of them”, he said earnestly. “We boring you here?”. “No, of course not… I didn’t mean… I really appreciate you taking me in. I guess I just don’t see the need for all the secrecy…”. Taza gave his president a hard look, and Bishop nodded. “Take a seat”, he said to Nina.

Sitting down, Nina felt her heart racing. She didn’t like the look on the faces of the men in front of her. “Do you know who El Palo is?”, Taza asked. Ninna nodded. “He’s president of Vatos Malditos…”, she said. “How do you know that? Have you heard about our relationship with them?”, Bishop asked. “Of course not”, Nina replied, knowing that would be the right answer. Bishop let a smile ghost his face. “So SAMCRO told you. Are they working with them?”. He was testing her. “I just serve the beers”, she said. “Good girl”, Bishop said. “If you know who he is, you probably also know that he’s a grade-A psycho”, Taza said. “I’ve heard things…”, Nina muttered. Palo’s reputation was terrifying; SAMCRO spoke of him almost like a ghost – one of the murderous kinds. “Palo used to have a cousin up in northern California. About a month back, he was shot and killed by who Palo thinks is a hooker, in a date turned mugging”, Taza said. “It turns out that the truth is a bit more complicated than that”, Bishop said. Nina was beginning to connect the dots, and felt her heartrate go up. “Palo’s cousin’s name was….”, Taza began. “Gael…”, Nina interrupted him in a whisper. “Yeah”, Bishop said. “You in serious shit, sweetheart”. Nina’s hands were shaking. “I didn’t know… I thought Chibs brought me here to keep me away from the police-investigation. I mean, it was self-defense, but…”, she croaked. “Why didn’t they tell me?”. “They probably didn’t want to scare you”, Taza replied.

She eyed Bishops smokes on the table, and he handed her a cigarette. The two men frowned at her, as she grabbed her inhaler from her pocket, and took a hit, before lighting the cigarette. “Don’t… I get enough shit from Tig about this”, she said. Another smile ghosted Bishop’s face. “Palo contacted El Padrino… Alvarez; as Gael died so close to our Oakland charter territory”. “San Joaquin county”, Nina said, and took a huff from her smoke. “He called in Mayan help to find you… Offered good money for any info”. “Why didn’t he hand me over, then?”, Nina asked. “Marcus’ loyalty to SAMCRO, and the promise he made to Jackson Teller, to stay on good terms with them, weighs more than money”. Nina closed her eyes and sighed. “I guess I owe you more than I know”, she said. “Well, reaper paid us a bit more on top of the loyalty we owe them”, Taza chuckled. “But, you’re safe with us. Palo won’t think to search in his own back-yard”. “What do you mean?”. “The Vatos’ territory borders our own. In more ways than one”, the VP said. “They’ve claimed the area just south of the wall”, Bishop said.

“Fuck… Fuck!”, Nina rasped, and ran a hand over her face. “So why are you telling me this? If Chibs didn’t think I should know”. “Keeping it a secret from you won’t keep you safe”, Bishop replied. “If we’re going to protect you, and keep our promise to SAMCRO, you need to know how serious this is”. Nina narrowed her eyes. “But you’re not letting the rest of the club know…”, she said. “The lady’s got a point, Bish”, Taza said. Bishop held up a hand, and hardened his expression. “We talked about this, Taz’. You know the shit we’ll get in to at the table, if they find out we’re double-crossing a business-partner like this”. “We haven’t dealt with VM in months. There’s no money between us anymore”, Taza said. “And there sure as shit won’t be in the future, if Palo finds out about this”, Bishop said, and gestured towards Nina. When he saw her expression, he sighed. “Look, I made a promise to our brothers in SOA, but I’m not going to risk future Mayan-business over it. For now, this stays between us, you got that?”. “Yeah… whatever you say”, Nina muttered. Bishop raised a brow at her, and she made a frustrated sigh. “I know how club business works; it’s not my place to mess with it”.

The door to the clubhouse opened, and Coco, Gilly and Angel – accompanied by the blonde he’d ignored the night Nina had arrived in Santo Padre – walked in. Nina was about to get on her feet, and walk back to the bar, when Bishop grabbed her hand. “This is also why I don’t want you starting things up with Angel. All due respect, I don’t need him losing his head over some croweater from Charming, if this blows up in our faces”, he said. “You have nothing to worry about. Nina said, an edge to her voice. Bishop tightened his hold on her hand. “I’m serious. I need my men focused on business; and if Angel starts thinking with his dick, instead of his head, there’s a good chance he won’t be able to make the right decisions, when push comes to shove”. “As in, you’re worried he won’t be able to hand me over to Palo, if necessary”, Nina almost hissed. “That’s not what I’m saying, Nina…”, Bishop said. “Then, what are you saying?”, she replied. The president let go of her hand, his expression turning almost guilty. They both looked over at Angel, who’d put his arm around the blonde. The girl tugged at his beard, and he leaned down, letting her kiss the corner of his lips. “Like I said, you have nothing to worry about”, Nina muttered, and walked away as quickly as she could.

---

Once behind the bar, she put on a mask of calm indifference. “Can I get you anything?”, she asked. “Sol. Thanks, niña”, Coco said, holding up two fingers to imply one for him and one for EZ. Nina served the beers without correcting Coco. He’d stuck to the nickname since the moment she’d climbed onto his bike, and she decided to take it as a compliment. EZ and he went over to rack up a game of pool. “You?”, she asked Angel. “Dos Equis”, he said, with an indifferent smile. Nina – knowing his regular order – had almost already grabbed a bottle with XX on the label, and put it on the counter; before he finished speaking. The blonde girl pressed against Angel, and ran her hand inside his cut. “It’s about to be tres equis, baby…”, she giggled. Angel cleared his throat, and stretched his neck. “Take it easy; yeah, mami?”, he said, keeping his eyes straight ahead. He gave her shoulder a standoffish clap, and walked over to the pool-table to join his friends.

The blonde gave Nina a saccharin smile, and tilted her head slightly. “Sorry about you and Angel…”, she said in a phony tone. “I’m sure you are”, Nina smiled as friendlily as she could. The girl looked at her for a moment, narrowing her eyes. “Do you know how to make a screwdriver?”, she asked. Nina was taken aback. “Do I know how to make a screwdriver…?”, she repeated back at the girl. The blonde scoffed, and laughed a little. “Yes, a screwdriver… I know you’re new here, but if you don’t know how to work a bar…”. “Yes, I know how to make a screwdriver”, Nina cut her off, and turned around to get some orange juice from the fridge. She began mixing vodka and juice in a glass, ignoring the daggers the blonde was staring at her. “You should really be less rude to me… Consider who you’re talking to”, the girl said. “I’ll keep that in mind”, Nina said, and set the drink down in front of her. “We’re out of ice”. “Just go get some from the freezer out back”, the blonde scoffed. “I don’t want to”, Nina replied, and walked out from behind the bar.

There was a gush of wind behind her, when suddenly Nina felt her hair being yanked, and she stumbled backwards. In the flash of an eye, her face and top were drenched in vodka and orange juice. “I told you, I want ice; bitch!”, the blonde snarled. Nina reacted promptly, lifting her arm over the girls, and then hooking it underneath. She lifted her bent arm upwards, making the girl squeal in pain, as she had her arm in a lock; and she let go of Nina’s hair. Bishop and Taza quickly got on their feet; and Angel, EZ and Coco ran towards them. Nina’s hand gripped the blonde’s throat, and looked coldly at her. “I’d call you a nasty skank, but I’m a lady; so, I’m just gonna ask you nicely to never do that again”, Nina hissed. The blonde was gasping for air. “Let go of the nasty skank, Nina”, Bishop said, his hands up in a calming gesture. Nina let go of the girl, and she stumbled backwards into the arms of EZ. She was about to step towards Nina, when Coco got between them. “Nah… Don’t be like that”, he said. EZ and he pulled the girl away to the other end of the room, and the prospect held her there, while Coco stood in front of her; his eyes on Nina, as if she’d explode at any moment, and attack. Nina locked eyes with Angel, who looked at her in disbelief. His eyes were deeper than ever, and his stance was tense. Nina’s shirt was cold and sticky, her breath was raspy, and her blood was pumping; making it tricky for her to keep her voice even. “I’m gonna… go. Now”, she said, and left the clubhouse, walking as calmly as she could towards the trailer.

---

Through the sound of her own blood pumping like waves of the ocean in her ears, she heard loud talking from outside the trailer door. “You saw what she did!”, the blonde woman was complaining. “You’re just gonna let her do that to me?”. “Go home, Daniella”, Angel replied. “Aren’t you going to give me a ride?”. “No”. “Puto…!”, the girl snarled. “Puta! Get the fuck out of here!”. There was a volley of curses flung through the air, mostly from the blonde; before Nina heard EZ come outside, and offer the girl a ride home. Soon after, a bike started up, and drove out of the lot.

Nina was standing stiff as a board, clenching her fists, and trying to calm her breathing. There was knock on the trailer door, and she shook herself out of it, to go open. Angel was standing outside, looking sheepishly at her; one hand leaning against the doorway. “You ok?”, he asked. “She ruined my last clean top”, Nina muttered, and stepped aside for him to enter. He went over to a cubby in the small bathroom-area, and pulled out a white t-shirt. “EZ’s”, he muttered, and handed it to her. “Thanks…”. Leaning against the counter, Angel looked her over. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or scared of you right now”, he said with a slight smile. “Maybe even a little flattered”. “Why?”, Nina asked, still standing in the middle of the trailer, unmoving. “You weren’t defending my honor back there?”, he asked. “I was trying to get a crazy woman to let go of my hair”, Nina replied coldly. “And, what honor?”. Angel scoffed, and shook his head. “Shit, woman. Talking to you is like a bullet to the head”.

She didn’t know it had happened, before she’d done it. Her palm was stinging, and Angel held his hand to his cheek; where she’d slapped him. “What the fuck was that for?”, he growled. “You… Don’t say that…”, Nina croaked. “Not that”. Angel clenched his jaw, and the furrow between his eyes grew deep. “I’m trying here, Nina”, he said. “I tell you I wanna spend time with you, you get pissed. I give you space, you beat up a chick…”. “It was self-defense!”, Nina exclaimed, unsure which situation she was referring to. She was still stuck on his words. Bullet to the head… “And now I’m trying to talk to you again, and you smack the shit out of me…”. He moved his jaw from side to side. “Shit, how much do you bench, querida?”.

They looked at each other for a long moment. Adrenaline was still surging through her, and pent-up energy was threatening to split her at the seams. Angel just stood there, looking like everything she wanted and needed just at that moment. “Look, I’m just…”, he managed, before she shut him up, by planting her lips on his. He pulled back, and looked at her confusedly; before his eyes darkened, and he grabbed her by the back of the head and kissed her back. Their kiss was frantic and wanton; one that made it clear that this was only headed in one direction. Tugging at her wet top, Nina managed to get it off, while Angel opened his pants. She quickly pulled down her shorts and panties, and used Angel’s shoulders as leverage to get her butt onto the counter. Angel took the time to – unnecessarily – spit into his hand, and make the head of his cock wet; before he sunk in to her. The hard edge of the counter was digging in to her butt, but all she could focus on, was the man between her legs. Holding on to his shoulders, and burying her face in the crook of his neck, Nina tilted her hips; to let Angel get as deep as possible inside her. With groaning whimpers, Angel thrusted possessively in to her. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, and struggled to keep her legs lifted to get the best angle. Angel grabbed one of her thighs, and held her leg around his waist. He hooked his free arm under her other leg, finally getting into a position that brought him as deep as it was possible for him to get.

They didn’t speak in words, only communicating through grunts and moans. Nina felt the coil in her lower belly tighten, and had to bite into Angel’s shoulder to keep from crying out. “I gotta… soon”, Angel croaked. “Uh huh”, Nina nodded fervently. Her walls began tightening, and the thin thread keeping her from falling over the edge finally snapped; making her spasm around him; and all the pent-up emotions wash away as if by a wave. Angel groaned when he felt her come, and it was barely a second later that his own climax came; and he spilled himself inside her.

The door swung open. “Yo, is she cool?”, Coco asked from the doorway. “Fuck, mano!”, Angel growled, and covered Nina’s mostly naked body with his own mostly clothed one. “My bad”, Coco said, and closed the door quickly. Angel looked down at Nina apologetically. “Sorry”, he muttered. Nina nodded, and gave him a slight smile.

Angel gently pulled out of her, and quickly grabbed a paper towel for her to clean up, so she wouldn’t have him dripping down her leg; before giving Nina a hand to get down from the counter. After tucking himself back into his pants, he grabbed the blanket from the cot, and handed it to her; and Nina wrapped it around her chest, to cover herself. “I’m gonna… take a shower”, Nina said quietly. “Yeah”, Angel said. “In there”, she reiterated, and gestured towards the bathroom area, which Angel’s tall frame was blocking. “Yeah, sorry”, he said, and moved for her to pass. Before she could make it all the way, he grabbed her arm. “Nina… I do want to…”. “I know”, she said. “But not now”. “When?”, Angel sighed exasperatedly. “It’s like you got all this shit going on you don’t wanna talk about, and I just want to… I want you to trust me”. Nina took his hand, and merged her fingers with his. “I hear you. I do. Just… Not tonight”, she said. “You should go”. Angel clenched his jaw, and shook his head in frustration. Nina tugged at his t-shirt under his cut. “Please”. Angel let out a defeated grunt. “Ok”, he said, and walked out the door, closing it behind him.

Nina locked up after him, and stood for a moment; leaning her forehead against the door. Then she dropped the blanket, took off her bra, and went to take a cold shower.

---

“Good morning, slugger”, Taza said, as she came out of the trailer the next morning. He and Bishop were having a smoke on the porch of the clubhouse. “I didn’t hit anyone”, Nina muttered. “No, you just almost broke the arm on one of our regular hangarounds”, Bishop said. “Sorry”, she said. Bishop shrugged. “She looked like she deserved it”, he grunted. “But let me know if you want a turn in the cage, with one of the boys, at some point. I’m sure we could make some cash on bets”. Nina chuckled embarrassedly.

EZ came out of the clubhouse, a mug of coffee in hand. He handed it to her with a smile. “From Chucky”, he said. “Thank god for that freaky-fingered, little man”, Nina said, and took a big gulp. “Is that my shirt?”, EZ asked. Nina looked down at herself. “Yeah… Daniella messed up my last clean top”, she said. “You said something about a laundromat?”. “Yeah, I can take you”, he replied.

Coco and Letty came out of the clubhouse at the same moment. Coco did his best to look anywhere but at Nina; who stifled a smile at his embarrassment. “Sorry. I need the prospect on the lot today. Laundry’s gonna have to wait”, Bishop said. “I’m fine with going on my own”, Nina said. Bishop frowned slightly at her, and she sighed. “I’ll keep my head down”. “I can take you”, Letty said. “We can use Coco’s car”. Coco nodded. “Yeah, uh huh. You… take my car. Anything”. His eyes met Nina’s for a fraction of a second, before he looked away again. Bishop grunted defeatedly, and went down the steps to talk to her. He nodded at EZ to take a hike, before looking at her meaningfully. “You carrying?”, he asked. “.38”, Nina replied shortly. Bishop nodded in recognition. “Straight to the laundromat. Straight back. Anyone asks, you’re a Mayan hangaround”. “I got it”, she said. “Hmm”, Bishop said. “I’ll send EZ by to check on you, if we can spare him”. He handed her an outdated smartphone. “Prepaid. It’s got mine and Taza’s number on it. Use it if anything comes up”. Nina nodded, and went to grab her laundry from the trailer. She wedged her gun down the waistband at the back of her shorts.

Letty was waiting behind the wheel of a black lowrider, when she came back outside. Nina got in the passenger-seat next to her. Coco came over to the driver’s window, and handed Letty a small wad of 20’s. “If you need to buy something… Like pants, or whatever”, he muttered. Letty frowned in confusion, and Nina once again had to chew her lips to keep from grinning.

---

The laundromat was luckily mostly empty from people when they got there. EZ had been right in his proclamation that it smelled like feet; but Nina was overjoyed at the prospect of having clean clothes again.

Letty was reading a magazine, seated on top of one of the washers. Her phone was buzzing constantly, and the first few times, she looked at it; before finally throwing it in a pile of towels someone had left behind. “You don’t wanna get that?”, Nina asked. “Nah… It’s just some guy”, Letty replied, looking at her from the corner of her eyes. “Should I be worried?”, Nina said. “What are you, my dad?”, Letty grunted. Nina raised her brows. “Sorry”, she said. Letty looked suddenly embarrassed. “No, it’s ok. It’s just… You know when you meet a guy, and hang out for a while; and then he won’t just let up calling you?”. “Yeah, I’ve met a few of those in my day”, Nina chuckled. Letty’s face lit up. “Yeah?”. “Oh yeah!”, Nina said. “You find out you’re not on the same page, and try to break it off. And then he’s calling you, like; but baby. We had something good…”. Letty nodded fervently. “Exactly like that! And then he tries to ask you out again, even if you said no thanks, so you gotta ghost him”. “Sometimes it’s like that”, Nina shrugged. Letty jumped off the washer, and went over to help her fold her clothes. “And then he shows up at your school in his truck, with a sixpack and a gas-station bouquet of roses. And you’re just like; dude, I sucked your dick onetime…!”. Nina narrowed her eyes at the teenager. “How old are you, Letty?”, she asked. “18…”, Letty replied. “Ok…”, Nina said, feeling calmer – though not by a lot.

“Is it like that with you and Angel?”, Letty asked, catching Nina off guard. “Like what?”, she asked. “Like, you fucked, and now he won’t give up?”. Nina thought for a moment, not sure how to answer. “No… That’s different. Angel is a good guy, I think. I’m just not sure that he can deal with my shit right now”. Letty smiled crookedly, and for a moment, her family resemblance with Coco was very obvious. “For what it’s worth, I think you’d make a cute couple”. Nina chuckled, and began putting the last of her now clean clothes in the bag.

Letty’s phone buzzed again. The teenager groaned, and finally picked up the call. “What…? No… Because I said so… Yeah… So? You, and everyone else… Yeah, he is…”. When she uttered the last words, Letty’s face suddenly looked anxious. “Well, he can be. I’ll just call him, and he’ll be right here… Yeah, you do that”. She hung up the phone. “We need to go”. “Everything ok?”, Nina asked. “I just wanna get back to the clubhouse”. “Let me just get the last of my clothes”. “I’ll go start the car”, Letty said, and hurried out of the laundromat, and down the side of the building to the alley where they’d parked.

Nina got her last things from the dryer, and quickly packed up. She left the laundromat, and went to go after Letty, when she heard commotion behind a dumpster. “Let me go!”, Letty was yelling. “You can’t do that to someone. You led me on, you little slut”, a darker voice said. Nina ran over to see what was happening, and found a broad-shouldered man holding Letty against the wall, by her wrists. She had a bruise on her jaw. Fear and anger bubbled in Nina’s chest, and she stormed over to the pair. “Let go of her!”, she snarled, and pushed the man away from the teenager. “You stay out of this, bitch!”, he growled, and went to take a swing at her. He was halted, when Letty slammed him in the back with a discarded shopping-basket. The man stumbled forwards, and Nina and Letty made to run, when the man grabbed Letty by the neck, and slammed her against the wall again.

It was like her body worked of its own accord. Nina slipped her arm behind her, and grabbed her gun, before holding it to the man’s head. “Let her go”, Nina said, her voice sounding like it came from somewhere deep within her. “You’re not gonna shoot”, the man laughed. She pulled the hammer. “I said, let her go”. The man slowly released his grip on Letty, and stepped backwards; all the while, Nina still aimed her gun at him. “Listen, lady. This girl, she’s…”. “Shut your mouth, you piece of shit”, Nina hissed. The man raised his hands in the air. “What are you gonna do? I let her go. You won’t shoot me now… Right?”. Nina felt physically sick. Letty was looking at her with scared eyes. “Nina, he let me go… You can put down the gun”, she said. “No”, Nina rasped.

There was the roar of engines, as what sounded like two motorcycles came up behind them. “EZ!”, Letty yelled. “We’re back here!”. Nina heard running, before EZ’s voice called out to her. “Nina…?”. She didn’t reply, it was like her arm cramped up, and she couldn’t lower the gun. “Shit. Angel! Get back here!”. Still frozen in place, her eyes were locked on the man in front of her. Another pair of feet came running up behind her. “Nina?”, Angel said. The man began stuttering. “Shit, man. You gotta do something. We were just having a conversation, and this chick pulls a gun on me…”. A small group of onlookers had gathered, and were staring at the situation with almost vulgar interest. Nina clenched her free hand, struggling to regain control of herself; as her audience awaited her next move.

“He was going to hurt her”, Nina said. “He was going to…”. Angel looked at Letty, who nodded slightly. The biker walked over to the man, and slammed his fist into his gut; making him fall to the ground. Nina moved her gun, continuingly aiming at his head. “Fuck…”, the man groaned. “Get that crazy bitch to put away the gun!”. Angel stormed forward again. “Shut the fuck up!”, he growled, and kicked him in the ribs; making him curl up even more. “Call Coco”, he said to EZ, who fished out his phone; while leading Letty over to the car.

Nina’s arm was beginning to hurt, but she couldn’t move. What if the man got up, and went after Letty again? Angel stepped in front of her, his arms raised calmingly. “You can put the gun down, Nina”. “I can’t…”, she whispered. Angel stepped slowly closer, and put his hand on hers, gently pressing it down. “Come on, querida. You’re ok. It’s ok”. He pried her fingers from the gun, and took it; putting it in his pocket. “See? Everything’s ok”. “Fuck that!”, the man on the ground rasped. “That bitch is crazy…”.

Before Angel had a chance to stop her, Nina had attacked. She was on top of the man, pounding her fists in to his face and chest; and when he tried to cover himself with his arms, she scratched at his skin. The man got a few shots in, before Angel wrapped his arms around Nina, and managed to pull her off him. “No, querida. Stop. He’s down”. “Get off me!”, Nina hissed like an angry cat, and pushed Angel away; looking at him with wild eyes. Moving her gaze to the bystanders, her chest tensed up, and she let out a choked gasp. Their eyes felt like literal fire pokes, prodding at her skin. Angel noticed her looking at the people around them, and broadened his frame; getting between her and the onlookers. “Get the fuck out of here!”, he roared. “You didn’t see anything. Go!”. The crowd quickly scattered, and they were alone in the alley.

---

[kinder-writes-surprises]

Vision Blab: Plot? Never!

Hi, writer’s block is a BITCH and I have a personal grudge against it, however I also value my terrible writing, so I’m here to dump some Vision x Reader porn :)

PS. this sucks don’t read it if you don’t want to :)

-Mod Pasta🍜🍝

Word Count: 4758

It felt like you were drugged: You were absolutely and completely addicted to a computer with legs. His skin was tough like a rhinovirus, yet smooth on the outside, small patterns of hexagons only a trained eye could detect, with little bumps all over it and the chilled, metallic feeling of the outside of a gun. Sinking your teeth into that skin felt like a distant dream until the lock down.

You were used to staying in the base, but not being trapped inside. A small misunderstanding with the US Government had Captain America on the run. Stark assured all of the Avengers, including yourself, that the situation would be resolved in a few days time, and to just hunker down and perform your daily routine as usual, save for the lack of one teacher and the ability to leave and get donuts.

"I just don't see why he's gotta be up in their faces," Rhodey was clearly voicing his concerns to Sam, who hadn't been in contact with Rogers since he accidentally blew a "place" up. You were in the kitchen chopping vegetables to make a simple stew, watching them with feigned amusement. They already had this conversation two hours ago, five hours ago, and right when the facility went on lock down. You clicked your tongue, garnering their attention.

"Let the situation play out, we already know he's innocent," You went back to chopping the vegetables, throwing what you had in the pot and setting aside the others for precooking. Sam sat down with a sigh.

"Maybe, but the military doesn't know that," He raised his eyebrows, seeming apprehensive. Rhodey shook his head, hands on his hips.

"We need to step in and resolve this," He snapped, and you locked eyes with him before giving a decisive chop.

"If we step in, we risk escalating it. Your name is War Machine," You reminded him with deadpan in your eyes. He looked away with a twinge of embarrassment.

"True. This just feels wrong," He sighed, scratching the back of his head and glancing at the big pot you were adding to, "Whatcha making?"

"Stew. I figured we all needed some comfort food," A voice from the hallway behind you caught everyone's attention: a feminine, thick accent.

"It smells divine," The magical girl offered you a small smile, which you returned in full as you set the heat for the oil in the other pain.

"Thank you Wanda," You gave her a nod, "It'll be ready in time for dinner."

"Dinner? Oh c'mon it's lunch time!" Rhodey whined, and Sam nodded, looking to you expectantly. You scoffed, eyes wide.

"I'm not your maid, nor your mother. Make a sandwich," You chuckled, shaking your head. Wanda giggled, walking behind you to get to the fridge.

"If you slice the meats, I will make the rest," The boys were up and ready immediately, enticed by the idea of immediate food. You had to explain that stewing took time, and unbeknownst to you, a watchful eye was taking the information in, fascinated by the family recipe. Where were the instructions, rules, parameters? How did you know this all? Most human customs could be found on the internet, but not everything.

-

The same pair of blue eyes graced your presence for dinner, when everyone got together at the table and enjoyed the stew. Natasha commented that it reminded her of Russia, but Stark reminded her that leeks were Asian. The individual who couldn't eat tried to stay out of the conversation, but was eventually brought in as a human calculate to give Stark some closure on a bet with Rhodey.

You watched on with amusement, eyes mostly lingering around the neck of the walking AI. The way it moved when he spoke, the slow nods he gave that reminded you of a therapist gathering information. Your eyes travelled in from his broad shoulders to his collarbone, admiring the structure and wondering yet again how it tasted. The texture under your tongue would definitely be admirable, but you wondered if the robot could even have such thoughts. Surely he didn't understand the complexity of pining, wanton need, and he probably didn't even have a libido, much less one that matched yours that raged whenever he was near.

Your stolen glance at the man didn't remain unnoticed, "So, did you make the food just to distract us from you eating him with your eyes, or am I missing something?" Natasha asked cockily, and you nearly choked, turning to her with cheeks insanely dark. You were eternally grateful that she had kept her voice down, but the smug expression on her face gave most of the situation away.

"Natasha..." You scowled, face still red. She nodded, shoving a piece of stew meat into her mouth. She leaned closer from her seat beside you.

"He's a robot, subtle isn't his thing," She chuckled, and you groaned softly, looking down at your plate with complete embarrassment. You hadn't expected to be called out so obviously.

"It's my thing," You gave her wide warning eyes, to which she clicked her tongue and turned back to the boys, continuing the conversation.

You were safe from her teasing for the rest of the dinner. Most people resided to their rooms to do whatever heroes do after a long day's work and not being able to go out. Your idea had involved eating a spicy snack while watching a horror movie, but upon remembering the small smile Vision gave you during dinner, your focuses turned elsewhere.

His blue eyes, so captivating, so curious. You wondered if he was curious about the human body, if he had ever studied sex, if he'd taken a liking to any parts of it. Your hands travelled downwards, removing your bottoms and underwear. Movie and snacks forgotten, you turned the volume up a bit to cover your inevitable moans. No other ima`ginary bedroom fantasies could make you like this, but Vision? The soft soul who wishes only good on others, who yearns for friendship from everyone in the compound, who memorizes the staff's coffee orders just in case of a rainy day... You were head over heels for this man.

The rooms were mostly sound proof, but you were still paranoid, so you bit into your pillow while you worked yourself up, imagining it was his patterned, smooth hands, perhaps he would like you to match a pair of lingerie to his ruby red... well, you assumed it was skin. It was vibranium, but still.

Pumping in and out of you, figuring out what drove you mad and not stopping until he had pushed you over the edge, both of you excited for the finale. Your toes sunk into the bed sheets, your other hand roaming your body before resting on your clit, massaging it and causing your back to arch while you soft cooed the name of who you wish was your torturer.

-

It was a dreadful habit of his: he forgot that others couldn't phase through walls, and he ended up seeing things others would rather him not see. Half naked, them watching something out of character, etc. Alas, he was working on it...

He had stayed with Sam for a bit after dinner. He reminisced catching a sneak peak of the woman who made it, mesmerized by her harmonious movements, the quick quips back at Rhodey and Sam for wanting food sooner, and her shy humbleness during dinner when Stark complimented the dish. She was gorgeous, brave, and most of all, according to the internet, she liked him back.

She turned pink at all the right times, stumbled over her words only when speaking with him, and either is trying to violently get away from him or spend all of her time with him. He had downloaded all the information necessary to flirt, although seeing as Stark called them useless, he was back to square one.

Sam and him talked about his wings and the difference between flying with them and just having the ability to fly. Once Sam became bored, they both turned in for the night. Vision picked up after himself and went back to make sure the table was cleaned. Once he was sure everything was in order for the night, he made his way to the hall. With his enhanced hearing, he noticed what each Avenger was doing in their rooms. Bathing, watching TV, training, and some making noises he had learned meant to stay out.

Except he hadn't ever heard those noises from this particular room. It was (F/N)'s room, and he attempted to ignore them, keeping his head high and pace steady until he faintly heard his own name. He paused, then turned around elegantly to go back, standing in front of her door.

There again was his name, moaned in a long, drawn out voice that ended with more panting. It almost sounded like she was working out, but he knew from limited experience that he shouldn't take his chances. It was covered by a thick layer of music, but why would she say his name in such a way?

So he looked back down the hall, mind working a mile a minute. She was calling for him... Perhaps she was thinking about punching him? That would set his admiration scale back to below zero, like when he first met her. But the sweet sound of her voice didn't sound like it held hatred...

In fact, it sounded like it held pain. It previously felt euphoric, but it had suddenly become more desperate and higher pitched. If she was being assassinated, he would never forgive himself for not checking immediately. Her TV was also on, the assailant could be using it as a cover. He stepped through her door, making himself known before he saw her, "Miss (F/N)-"

The scream that erupted from the girl on the bed set his nerves on fire, and a few shuffles from other rooms could be heard. He stood in surprise: Her hands had been between her legs, fingers inside of herself. Her body laid out like a delicate flower, chest pushed up and muscles contracted. Upon hearing his voice, her immediate reaction was to scream and bolt upright, eyes wide and panting. She grabbed her bed sheets and covered herself, all while shouting at the shocked man.

"Fuck - oh my gods - GET OUT! Get out Vision, what the fuck? Get out!" She screamed, face beet red and clearly furious. He was given a stark reminder as to why he needed to knock.

"My apologies, I heard you calling my name and-" She didn't let him finish, instead wrapping herself in her sheets and pushing off the bed, her eyes spelling murder.

"You didn't fucking knock? What the HELL. You've got some fucking nerve, android," She snapped, stomping furiously toward him, obviously still embarrassed by her flushed expression. He put his hands up, genuinely worried that she would attack him. Instead, she stopped in front of him, "Why aren't you out? Get out!"

"I'm sorry, so sorry (F/N)," He took a hesitant step back, beginning to understand was real embarrassment was like. She was practically fuming, and before he could leave, she grabbed his arm, teeth grinding together while she tried to string a sentence together.

"Do you even - understand - how wrong.... what you did... was?" Her grip was tightening, and he observed her starting to try and calm herself down with deeper breathes.

-

"What you were doing was a personal, human affair," He stated with a hesitant nod, and you were about to nod with him, but you thought of a better option. When he first scared the living shit of out you, your reaction was purely instinct. Now that you were thinking straighter, you realized that if you could push your dignity to the side, perhaps you could get what you've been wanting...

You were still riled up after all, and you knew that learning how to be human was something he adored, "If you're trying to exclude yourself from that group," You took another deep breath, using your grip on his arm to steady yourself, "Technically, I mean, you can probably..." You looked down to his navel region, nodding. When your eyes snapped back up, you were met with a confused set of robotic eyes.

"I'm not following your logic, Miss (F/N)," His velvety accent wasn't doing your aching core any good. If he didn't leave soon, you might not be able to stop yourself from jumping him, "Are you saying you don't wish for me to leave you?"

"I'm not - wait, I'm just -" As he tugged away from you, you tried to pull him back, and he got closer than before, his eyes scanning your face with curiosity, "Do you remember when you first came here?"

"Yes, I remember my birth quite vividly," He nodded slowly.

"And you remember how you made clothes for yourself, then a big ol' cape?"

"Yes," His voice was a whisper now, as if he was starting to follow your reasoning, "So what you are saying is... You think I can create a penis?"

"Always straightforward, eh?" You don't think your cheeks could get any darker at this point. He so obviously stated that, as if talking about the weather. You swallowed hard, struggling to maintain eye contact.

"I could try, but I need an example," He reminded you, and you finally let go of his arm, wrapping your own around your stomach in a protective, shy manner. The corners of his mouth raised up slightly, as if amused.

"Example..." You whispered to yourself, looking at the ground, "It's uh... I mean, you don't even have to do this..."

"But (F/N), you have peaked my curiosity, and you seem to have thought about this before," He stepped forward with the confidence of a pride of lions as always, placing a hand on your arm delicately. This must be a dream - never in a hundred years did you think this situation would happen. This was something out of a cheesy porno...

"Maybe I have," You whispered, then cleared your throat, looking behind you at the loud TV, "I... Vision, this is a lot more important than you realize," You looked back at him, and he looked as placid as always. You tried to get the message to sink in, "Sex, Vision. Sex means a lot. It bonds two people, it's not just... Casual, between friends, at least it's not usually..."

"We are both unusual people," His hand traced up to your neck as he took another step forward, almost closing the gap between you. Your hand shot up to cover his own, leaning your head into it.

"I don't want this to be between friends," You sighed, glancing between his arm and his eyes, "Please."

"You wish for this to be between lovers?" He sounded almost breathless. You'd never seem him this surprised before, not even when Stark had painted his entire room pink as a prank. You nodded with wide eyes, smiling.

"Yeah, that. I'd love to do this as lovers," You stayed put, waiting for his confirmation.

"That would be... New. But you seem like a lovely teacher," You closed the gap between you, reaching up behind his neck and pulling him down for a kiss.

Once your feelings were established, you brought him to the bed, sitting down on the edge with your laptop. You felt like Stark would tease you for your search history, but you typed in "Erect penis," and scrolled through a few photos before landing on one. You handed the laptop over to the robotic man, and he studied it shamelessly. As he did, he muttered, "Could you turn your TV down, I'm terribly sorry, but I must focus."

"Of course, yeah," You bolted up, rushing to the TV. You turned it off completely, and when you sat back down, you observed him nodding slowly to himself.

"The structure is fairly simple. How large is it, might you say?" The question caught you off guard, and you scrambled for an answer. It's not like you thought about penises every day.

"Uh, sizes vary, but uh, the average is about five and a half inches tall. Most guys want more, girls too I guess," You pressed your lips together, looking away from him as he closed the laptop, the silence suddenly much too loud for your liking. This was about to happen - This was about to happen. You were going to teach a robot to love the old fashion way, and your adrenaline was surging.

He looked at you with confusion, but nodded, "What would you want?"

"Oh my gosh," You whispered to yourself, covering your mouth with your hand. He recognized the expression and was quick to apologize for stepping out of line, but you shook your head, "No, it's just... This is all so lewd. Like, you're asking me to choose what size... okay, um, seven inches? Is that okay?" Your voice was rising in pitch.

"Yes. Are you alright, (F/N)? You seem almost scared of me," He leaned closer to you, and out of embarrassment, you leaned away groaning and chuckling.

"I'm horny Vision, read my vitals or something," You waved him off, embarrassed, and he nodded slowly. Turning back to him with a small smile, you studied his robotic face that held that same curious emotion as always.

"My research has said I, as the male, should control the situation. Is this correct to your standards?" Your eyes widened, and you cocked a sassy eyebrow before smirking and scooting closer to him.

"You'll have to fight for control, Vision," You traced down his leathery metallic arm, "I've wanted this, I've wanted you to ruin me, but if you construct the nerves right," You swung yourself around, dropping the blanket covering you and straddling his legs, "I can ruin you," You gave him a confident smile, and he tilted his head to the side.

You were going crazy with the feeling of your bare skin against his synthesized own. You leaned closer, but before you could kiss him, he shifted his body weight and you were suddenly under him, breathless, "That wasn't much of a fight, (F/N)."

"Oh fuck me," You muttered with a voracious grin, shifting him back over and pushing him against the bed by the shoulders, taking a mouthful of his neck and biting. He gawked, then lightly pushed your head away. You were attached like a leech, however, and he chuckled nervously.

"This would break my capillaries (F/N), are you trying to-? Oh, a hickey," For a robot, he was still pretty slow on the update, "I could allow such things," Grinding against him while you bit, enjoying the fleshy, metallic taste, you were surprised when he pushed himself to sit up, and you tried to push him back down.

However, you felt his skin disappear, and you fell against the bed. Before you could turn around, his hips were pressed against your ass, and his hands holding you in place, "Please behave, (F/N)."

As hot as he sounded, you wouldn't go down without a fight. You struggled, pushing against the male. He stayed in place like a brick wall, but when you felt his "breath" against your neck, you paused, your breath hitching.

"I do hope this doesn't hurt," You cried out lewdly when he sank his teeth into the back of your neck, pressing your legs together uncomfortably and grinding back against him. You moaned as he pulled at the skin, his lips rough but gentle against your skin. His arms were on either side of your head, and through your haze of lust, you saw an opening.

You hooked an arm around his own, shifting your weight and slamming his back against the bed. You twisted expertly, straddling him and grabbing his wrists. You pushed them down, and he stared at you with wide eyes, flickering down to your lips, then back up, "You seem to prefer the power, should I let you have it?"

"Don't give up now Vision," You were panting, "The play just adds to-" He tried to slip out of your grasp, and you pulled away when his hands were free, turning around to scramble off when he grabbed your waist, pulling you back onto his lap. You clawed his arms that were wrapped around you, then melted when one travelled up to your breast, the cold metal soothing you immediately.

"Relax (F/N), this is my first time, I don't want to have to hurt you," You felt your stomach twist around with anxious glee; he was starting to get the hang of this. You needed him inside of you though, so you ground back against him, wanton and needy.

"M-Make it Vision," You whispered, and he went silent. You thought you had done something wrong, but then you felt something poke against your ass, and you immediately knew that he had succeeded.

"Mission successful," He teased, and you laughed, shaking your head, "I hope you remember to hide it after this."

"I will," He then shifted against you, the metallic penis pressed across your labia, "Will you let me aid you, (F/N), or must I fight for dominance more?"

"N-No, I'll obey," You mentally slapped yourself. It wasn't like he was your master or anything, you just wanted to give him the full treatment, "Please yourself and me, don't..." You whimpered, grinding against him for more friction, "Don't leave yourself without any pleasure."

"I must say, the amount of nerve endings in the genitalia is astounding," You laughed breathily at his words, but reached down to grab his penis, "Let me," You paused upon grabbing it, the girth and length exactly as you had specified.

"Alright," He then released his grip on you.

"Lay down," You followed his command, "Please," You chuckled at him remembering his manners. Your heart quickened when he crawled on top of you. You placed one hand on his chest, and grabbed his shoulder with the other, "Shall I?"

"Please," You leaned up to kiss him, and he met you with gentle fervour. His cold tip pressed into you, and you shivered. He then sent some sort of signal to his pelvis region, and it heated up to body-temperature, "Thanks," You chuckled.

"I forgot how cold my skin is compared to your delicate own," He pressed on, and finally he was almost completely sheathed. You would need to stretch a little to take all of him, however.

"I'm not delic-cate..." You whispered, "I'm an assassin."

He pulled back, then snapped his hips forward, sending stars across your vision and a soft whimper from your lips, "I must disagree, you are metaphorically melting underneath me."

"Fuck," You whined, and he started a rhythm, making your head spin. When he finally was able to completely sheath within you, you rolled your hips against him, "Tell me h-how you feel, Vision."

"I assumed the nerve endings would cause me to feel pain, however," He paused, "I feel a nearly overwhelming sense of oxytocin."

"Human t-terms, Vision," He started to move, and you whimpered, rolling against him again. He got the idea and started to thrust slowly and cautiously, as if testing what level of his vast strength this would take.

"It feels very good," He chuckled shortly, his usual 'laugh' due to his nearly completely nonexistent sense of humour.

"Don't la-ah..." Before you could tell him not to laugh at you, he hit a particularly sweet spot inside of you, raising your voice an octave and causing your eyes to shoot open, staring into his perplexed, interested own.

"How peculiar," He whispered, and like a robot would, he adjusted to only thrusting into that particular part of you. He was also picking up the pace in a methodical way.

"It-Ah, oh my gods, oh wow..." You grabbed the sheets under you, then grabbed his shoulders, taking deep breaths to try and get a hold of yourself, "Fuck... oh my gods Vision..."

"Please calm yourself (F/N), you're becoming quite loud," He almost sounded proud of himself, that bastard. You, however, didn't have much control over your moans, and you grit yourself, pushing a shaky breath out.

"Shut me up then," You let out a particularly loud whine, and he quickly covered your mouth with his hand, the other going to grab your waist to continue his ministrations. You felt your orgasm getting closer, and you grabbed his shoulder blades, writhing around and arching against him.

When it happened, you screamed against his hand, and his eyes widened, his hips not stopping. Your chest was heaving, and your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him deeper into you. He didn't understand what you meant, however, and continued to thrust.

When you were just whining and whimpering, he finally lifted his hand and stopped, looking you over just like when he had first seen New York: absolutely mesmerized. You were flush red, panting, arched against his cool skin, and almost completely at his mercy. Maybe with a couple more rounds you would do anything for him, but you hoped it would take a while for him to learn that. You pulled him down for another kiss, and when he pulled back, a shaky, tasteless breath graced your lips, "You are objectively beautiful."

"That's just your oxyto-so-whatever talking," You giggled, and he shook his head as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

"I cannot lie unless I must, and why would I lie now? I could easily win against you-"

"If you say anything more," You had to take a couple deep breaths, still finding it hard to breathe, and envying his lack of needing to, "I'll tell Stark you know how to make a penis."

He nodded, and you had to laugh, shaking your head and sighing after. With him still inside of you, you sat comfortably for about a minute, then you asked him to pull out. He obliged, "You can talk now, just not about how pretty you think I am."

"You are, I must correct," You groaned, then whined, "Just lay next to me and cuddle, I think I only had one round in me."

"Cuddle..." He trailed on, his eyes narrowing in what you knew as 'searching the internet for every reference he can,' then he floated next to you and laid one arm across your stomach. You curled around him, wrapping a leg around his waist. You felt a distinct lack of penis now, noticing that he had dematerialized it. Not commenting on it, you cuddled closer. He seemed to heat up the part of his body you were cuddled into.

"You don't have to heat up that much... I kind of like how cold you are," You murmured, "It's you, distinctly you."

"Me," You felt him shift to look down at you, "I have a trait, that of a robot, that you view as special to me?"

"Some people are really warm, some are really cold. We call them human heaters or coolers. You're just a human cooler," You nuzzled into his chest, hugging him to you. He wrapped an arm under you, and you adjusted to get comfy. It wasn't like he would lose circulation overnight, assuming he would stay for a bit.

"Thank you," He spoke quietly, as if he didn't want to break whatever train of thought brought you to your conclusion. You swallowed hard, asking the inevitable question.

"What does this make us? Like, you know what dating is, right?"

"Of course," He rubbed your back softly, and you noted that it was right where it had been sore from earlier training. That bastard and his x-ray vision, "You may choose, for I have no experience to base this from."

"Let's call it dating, but not tell the others for a while, okay?" You smiled, starting to feel sleepy.

"Very well," He stayed in that position for a couple minutes until you realized something that brought the smile back to your now sleepy face.

"Did you make a heartbeat just for me?" You whispered, and he chuckled, the sound reverberating through his metallic chest.

"I thought it would sooth you. Would you like me to turn the lights down, (F/N)?"

"It does, and yes. Do you want to stay the night?" You felt your consciousness ebb and flow, and you fought to stay awake.

"Yes, I think I will."

[multifandomfanfiction]

Learning to Let Go

TITLE: Learning to Let Go CHAPTER: One-Shot PAIRING: Oberyn as Dionysus/OC RATING: T SUMMARY: Brigid hates clubs, but then she meets a man who changes her mind.

[A/N - This one-shot (and the next few coming) have been rewritten using Pedro characters. So if they look familiar to you, that's why.]

Brigid glanced around the room at the people around her. She hadn’t wanted to come to the club, but her friends refused to leave her at home so she went along anyway.

She’d had several men try to hit on her, but she brushed them off. She wasn’t interested in hooking up tonight. In fact, she was more likely to go home alone because her friends would find someone to hook up with.

But then he walked in.

The atmosphere in the club completely changed. It felt thicker, like a fog had taken over everyone in the room.

The man approached Brigid. He was sharply dressed in a mustard yellow suit jacket with a matching waistcoat. The tie (which he wore with a white dress shirt) and pants he wore were black.

Brigid thought it was odd attire for a night out, much less a club. Maybe he was a business man on his way home from work and he wanted a drink. But still, it was an odd color for a suit.

He had olive skin and dark brown hair, with the eyes to match. His mustache and beard were neatly trimmed, adding to the business man look. “Why are you sitting over here all alone?” he asked, taking a sip from a crystal glass of blood red wine that appeared in his hand.

“How did you get that wine?”

This bar didn’t serve red wine. Red wine was reserved for fancy restaurants.

“You’re very perceptive for a mortal.”

Brigid thought his phrasing was weird, but she didn’t question it.

The man wiggled his fingers and said, “Magic.”

Brigid sipped her drink.

“You haven’t answered my question. What’s a pretty girl doing sitting here all her lonesome. You should out on the dance-floor having fun.”

“I don’t like clubs,” she told him.

The man laughed. His smile would make any woman melt. “What’s wrong with clubs?”

“People just come here to get drunk and hook up.”

“You can still have fun.” He held a hand out to her as another song started. “May I have this dance?”

Brigid considered it for a moment before she placed her hand in his. She slid off the bar-stool and the man led them to the dance-floor.

They stopped in the middle and the man turned her away from him so her back was pressed his front.

Brigid blushed. She jumped when the man’s lips brushed her ear.

“Just let go. Let the music guide you. Focus on that.” He put his hands on her hips and pulled her flush against his body.

Brigid felt a fog enter her mind. She forgot about the people around her and focused solely on the man’s hands holding her hips.

It was like nothing else existed.

She let the music take her away and dictate how she moved. Her hands moved independently of her mind and grabbed the back of the man’s head.

The man chuckled darkly in her ear, sending a shiver down Brigid’s spine. Brigid’s whole body felt like it was on fire and it was hard to breathe. But she kept dancing.

The song ended too soon.

When the man’s hands left her body, it was like a cold bucket of water had been dumped on her. She was aware of the people around them and the sweat dripping down her back.

Had it really only been a couple minutes?

Brigid felt like she had been dancing for hours. Her limbs ached and she was parched. She wanted him to touch her again. Dancing with him felt like a drug and she needed another hit. Brigid turned to face him now, committing every curve and line of his face to memory.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Brigid.”

The man smiled and Brigid felt her heart skip a beat. “Like the ancient Celtic Goddess?”

Brigid shrugged. “I imagine my parents just like the name.”

“Then you and I are more alike than you think.” The man stepped back from her and kissed her cheek. “Farewell, fair Brigid. May we meet again.” He turned and disappeared into the sea of bodies, leaving Brigid alone on the dance-floor.

When her friends invited her out again, she’d go along. But only with the hope she’d meet her mystery man again. She needed to dance with him again.

To feel that complete freedom for just another second.

And if she didn’t, she’d remember him every time she heard that song or drank red wine.

Taglist: @pedrostories