#i’m not going to make my low income parents pay so i can party in france there’s enough to deal with at home

[vaaaaaiolet]

the honors credit policies at my uni are so aggravating i might jump

[icyg4l]

PAC: How Do I Choose the Right School for Me?

Decision Day is coming up for a lot of you and I’m sure that many are still deciding about what school they will go to. Whether you’re a first-time college student, a transfer student, or nontraditional, I hope to act as a guide for this period of time. Hopefully, you are inspired by this reading to choose the right school for you. I will use the True Heart Tarot Deck and the Moonology Oracle Deck for this reading and pull some oracle cards. So, without further ado, please pick your pile. 

Left-to-Right (1-3):

Pile 1: I feel like you already know what school to choose, Pile One. It seems to me that you’re pretty content with the decision that you would have to make. You will get into your top choice or you’ve already gotten into your top choice so there’s no pending status. I feel like you are pretty confident. But I think what’s holding you back is the inability to stop thinking about others. I feel like this requires long distance travel or maybe it’s not your mom’s alma mater so you are about to make a decision to commit there to appease other people. But this is your life, Pile One. Don’t make a choice that you will regret. Go with the choice that will make you happy, love. Take the risk because it will all be worth it in the end. I pulled some oracle cards from the Moonology deck and got the following cards:

“Nothing will come out of this situation” (Void-of-course-Moon)

“A new start is coming!” (New Moon)

“Emotions are running high!” (Supermoon)

Cards Used: Justice, The Star (RX), Four of Discs, Princess of Swords, King of Wands, 9 of Cups, The Magician. 

Pile Two: Pile Two, I get the feeling that you feel confused because you don’t know what to do. I think this is for my first generation college students who are the children of immigrants, children of single parent households, people who did not graduate high school/college or low-income parents. You may feel alone and scared of what could happen if you don’t decide by the specific deadline. I need you to take a deep breath because you are not the only one going through this. You need to talk to someone who will help you get through this time. Talk to a school counselor. Visit the campus. Ask current students/alumni about their personal experiences. Get in contact with the school’s admissions office. There’s so many ways to get connected. I also feel like you also have been stressing about the cost of school. But honestly, you just need to have a talk with your family about the game plan. If you feel like you will be paying too much, then you can always negotiate with the school to get more money to pay for school. There’s many ways to get to where you want to be. Think big, Pile Two. I pulled some cards from the Moonology deck and got the following cards: 

“Believe in the impossible” (Blue Moon)

“Meditate and contemplate” (New Moon in Pisces)

“Bring love into the situation” (New Moon in Aquarius)

Cards Used: Prince of Wands, Three of Cups (RX), Three of Pentacles (RX), King of Discs, The Tower, Queen of Discs, Five of Discs.

Pile Three: Pile Three, you’re so cute. I channeled the plot of High School Musical 3: Senior Year. I feel like you have a significant other and y’all have been getting cozy together. You don’t want to leave by this person’s side because that would mean not seeing them everyday. That’s understandable but you’re going to need to maintain your individuality, Pile Three. There is nothing wrong with long distance, love. But I feel like you’re also waiting on an acceptance from a school that you applied to. You will get in but you have to trust the process. I feel like it’s coming very soon. You definitely have to talk to your significant other about your choice to see how they can support you and vice versa. Talk about the what ifs and concerns about the future. I feel that you guys want to consider them so much in the process and it makes sense but the evil eye that you’re sending yourself is crazy. Have some faith that things will work out for yourself. The less you do, the better. I pulled some cards from the Moonology deck and got the following cards:

“It’s time to take action” (New Moon in Aries)

“Balance spirituality and practicality” (Full Moon in Pisces)

“What do you need to release?” (Waning Moon)

“Have faith in your dreams” (Waxing Crescent Moon)

“Hold your vision” (Fixed Moon)

“Surrender to the Divine” (Full Moon)

Cards Used: Ace of Wands, Justice, 8 of Wands, 7 of Wands, 2 of Cups, Temperance, 3 of Discs, The Tower.

[ukrfeminism]

Got children? Then chances are you pay – or have paid–for childcare. And you’re paying a lot. In Britain, we have the second most expensive childcare in the world: over 35% of the average family’s income. It’s little surprise that almost two-thirds of women who return to work after becoming mothers are forced to work fewer hours, change jobs or leave the workforce altogether due to the crippling costs.

The lack of accessible, affordable, well-funded childcare is perhaps the single biggest barrier to women’s career progress – and the Covid-19 pandemic, when women have had to shoulder the bulk of the extra care, has accelerated the problem into a mounting crisis. That’s why Grazia and our parenting platform, The Juggle, are launching a campaign with the charity Pregnant Then Screwed, calling on the Government to lead a full, independent review into the childcare sector.

‘The cost of childcare is catastrophic for women, who are being forced out of the workplace or to accept the stagnation of their careers,’ says Joeli Brearley, founder of Pregnant Then Screwed. ‘The system doesn’t work for providers, either; the majority of childcare workers are women, who are paid appallingly. We urgently need a change.’

At a time when many families are suffering the financial effects of the pandemic, costs are rising rapidly. This year’s annual report by the Coram Family and Childcare Trust found that 25 hours of nursery care for a child under two costs an average of £138 per week, or over £7,000 per year – that’s 4% more than a year ago. For a child aged two, it now costs 5% more.

Compare the UK to other countries and it’s clear the odds are stacked against British women. Here, most parents can access free childcare hours when their child turns three. But in Sweden, all children over the age of one can attend full-time preschool, with fees capped at 3% of parental income. Similarly, in Germany, children over the age of one are entitled to a place in a state- provided nursery at a low cost to parents, while in Korea, where the system is entirely state-subsidised, parents pay nothing at all.

‘In other countries, childcare is viewed as essential infrastructure,’ says Joeli. ‘We see from Scandinavian countries that having a properly subsidised system has enormous benefits for the economy.’ The Women’s Budget Group, which analyses how Government policies affect women, estimates that up to 95% of the cost of free universal preschool childcare could be recouped from the increase in employment and reduction in state benefits – yet ‘Governments think short-term,’ Joeli says.

In fact, last December, the Government actually announced a reduction in childcare funding, leading to the predicted closure of 30,000 nurseries and preschools by Christmas. This, when Pregnant Then Screwed’s research shows 15% of working mothers either have been, or expect to be, made redundant since the start of the pandemic – largely because they had to juggle their jobs with so much extra childcare – will be disastrous for women’s progress.

Katie, a marketing manager, is one of thousands of women quitting her job because she simply can’t afford to work. ‘I’m currently on maternity leave with my second child and have calculated that with both of them in part-time childcare, my contribution to the family finances will be £30 per month. It’s impossible to make it work on my salary,’ she says. ‘I’m devastated that I have to take a career break, which I know will set me back and make me far less appealing to employers when I eventually go back.’

Nalini Raman left her job in advertising after paying £2,800 per month for both her sons to attend nursery. ‘Within 24 hours of my salary hitting my account, it disappeared on childcare,’ says Nalini, who now runs a children’s party business, Party Genie. ‘I was left with about £200 per month for all my slog, and there were times when my husband had to pay for my train pass. It just wasn’t worth it.’

Many others have to snatch moments to finish work they can’t fit into the days they have childcare. Lucy Baker, a confidence coach, was deluged with responses when she posted recently on Twitter about paying £400 per month for her two-year-old son to attend nursery just two days a week. ‘So many women replied with their own stories of the extortionate sums they had to pay just so they could work,’ she says. ‘I’d love to work more, but I simply can’t afford to, so I do as much as I can in the two days I have, then end up working at night when the kids are in bed to catch up. It’s exhausting.’

Of course, for solo and single parents, working significantly reduced hours or taking a career break usually isn’t an option. Claire, a solo mother and primary schoolteacher, fell into debt after struggling to find £1,000 a month to pay for her daughter’s nursery. ‘I earned too much to qualify for Universal Credit, but had absolutely no money left for food or anything else after paying my mortgage, bills and the ridiculous nursery fees,’ she says. ‘My credit card debt was getting out of control, which was so stressful and, at one point, I had to borrow money from a kind friend. Eventually, I made the decision to sell my house and move somewhere a lot cheaper and smaller as it was the only way I could afford the last year of childcare before my daughter goes to school.’

A change is long overdue, so we’re asking our readers to sign Grazia and Pregnant Then Screwed’s petition demanding an in-depth review of the system. ‘We want it to look at how many mothers would work more if childcare was properly funded and the benefits that would have,’ says Joeli. ‘We want to know what a system that makes childcare affordable and pays its workers a decent wage would look like. We want childcare to be seen as an investment, not a cost.’

HELP US MAKE A CHANGE

Years of underfunding has left the childcare sector on the brink of collapse, yet the Government refuses to acknowledge the devastating impact on our children, economy and women’s equality.

We are calling on the Government to commission an independent review into the funding and affordability of childcare and to accept its recommendations.

—

Bolding for emphasis my own. UK citizens can sign the petition below:

[harrypotter-imaginess]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here!

A/N: maybe two more parts after this

Commission info for a Love Letter from your favorite HP character here - close 3/10/21!

You sigh as you lean your head back on the arm rest of Draco’s couch

You can see him extending a glass of wine towards you, and you take it gingerly into your hand

“I think I want to quit my job”

He doesn’t say anything, just raises an eyebrow and takes a seat in the arm chair next to the sofa you’re sprawled over like you’re at the therapists office

“Planning to coast along on your good looks?” He finally says, trying to keep his face as stern as possible.

Despite himself a smile arch’s onto the corner of his mouth

“I’m being serious!” You say, sitting up.

Draco openly laughs now, and he doesn’t stop until you throw a pillow at him.

“Well what do you expect when you say somethin’ like that out of nowhere.” He manages to say between bursts of laughter

You both have been dating for a while now, almost a year- you even brought him to a company holiday party

Life has been good

Having to hide his wizardry from you isn’t all that hard, he just had to completely reprogram the way he operates as a human being and now he’s fine

...

It’s been a little challenging

You sigh, a hand threading through your hair, eyebrows threaded together

Well now he’s a little worried, he figured you were just joking around but-

“Did something happen at work?”

Did someone say something to you- or maybe someone did something to you

Draco’s already running a list of curses in his mind by the time you sigh and shake your head

“Nothing that hasn’t been happening- not really.”

The cruciatus curse seems a little to far, maybe boils? No that’s too obvious

“It’s a nice place to work, I have it really good, it’s just-“ your eyes flicker from your glass of wine to Draco

“I always figured once I had a steady income life would be exciting yknow? And I would travel and be making memories but-“

You should be grateful, you have a good life. A comfortable job, a cozy house and-

Your eyes flicker to him, taking his impeccably handsome face, that ash blonde hair, and vibrant grey eyes

And you’ve got Draco

But even though you have all these things, you can’t help but feel like life is just passing you by, and before you know it you’ll be 80 on your death bed having done nothing at all

Draco’s quiet for a moment, picking up on the unspoken sentiment

Maybe you shouldn’t have unpacked on him like that- he’s got his own problems too after all

“Let’s go on Holiday”

Huh?

Draco picks up on your confusion and elaborates on his reasoning

“You’re just a little burned out, you need a break.”

It happened to his Dad all the time when he was a kid, he’d get caught up in all of his dark magic council meetings and his board positions and wonder if this is just life was- an endless power struggle

And that’s when his Mum would swoop in with an elegant family trip to some exotic location, and they would all come back like new people.

Right now you need someone to show you the joy in life. That it’s not just going to work for fifty years and dying

There’s a long stretch of silence between the two of you

And Draco starts to wonder if maybe his Mum had it all wrong

Maybe he should have just offered to make you his spouse, he makes enough money for the both of you- you don’t have to work if you don’t want to when you’re his

He’s internally rehearsing his proposal speech, picking out which moments he should highlight

Which is pretty hard because every moment with you feels like a highlight

“Where would we go?”

Your voice is soft, almost hesitant, but Draco doesn’t overlook the twinkle in your eye

He grins

“Anywhere you want”

You find out pretty fast that Draco is a meticulous planner- everything is carefully decided

“Alright we’ll get off the flight, and we’ll get one of those mu- I mean we’ll get a car from there so we don’t have to worry about transportation-“

Literally everything is reserved, the hotel you’re staying in the city at for the first few nights, the car you’ll be using while you’re in France, the bed and breakfast Draco found out about in a small village in the French country side, even all the restaurants you’ll be eating at

Which is totally fine, some structure isn’t a bad thing

It’s just Draco’s never struck you as someone who plans everything out

“Is everything alright darling? Is this a personality trait of yours I’m just going to have to grow to love?”

You wrap your arms around his torso from the back, your chin resting on his shoulder to glance at the travel documents he’s reviewing

“Oh I never do this when I’m traveling alone- I don’t even take a travel bag most of the time, I can just buy whatever I need when I land- one time I didn’t even take my wallet because your phone is a wallet these days.”

You raise an eyebrow, what a little rich boy

You can’t think of all the times your family packed everything they could possibly need when going on vacation so they wouldn’t have to pay for anything when they got there

“So what’s the difference this time?” You ask, has hitting the quarter of life struck him with a lightening bolt that’s transformed him into a dad now?

“Because I’m going with you”

So everything has to be perfect. You’re taking a whole two weeks off of work, he’s got to make sure you don’t regret it, and give you the best time possible

“Don’t tell me you’re planning on proposing”

You’re only joking, but the disgusted look that crosses Draco’s features makes you flinch

You know it’s probably a little early to mention marriage, it’s only been a year after all, but you would be lying if you said that didn’t hurt

“I would never propose in France (Y/N), I have taste”

That whole country is just overhyped, and Paris is way too dirty - like most cities.

But it’s where you want to go- you like art museums and fresh baked bread so here he is

Going to god damn France

But he’ll be hexed before he proposes to you in that god forsaken country

“Oh so there’s going to be a proposal?”

“Of course there is” he says off handedly, verifying that both of your passports are up to date

And then he realizes what he just admitted and feels a ruby red blush creep onto his face from his neck

“W-wait-“

He turns around to face you, face bright red, only to see you smiling like you’ve just won the lottery

And he should be hopelessly embarrassed,

he’s been trying to play it cool for the last year, to play at your pace in terms of relationship development

Only to let it slip through his fingers in a single moment

But you look so happy to know he see’s a future with you

“Alright, sounds good. Just give me a heads up a few weeks before so I can get a spa appointment to look pretty for all our pictures”

You’re joking.... kind of

You don’t put it past Draco to have a photographer follow you both around and take pictures of the whole engagement thing

Draco’s actually taking your joke quite seriously though, a dopey grin on his mouth

“I’ll give you a hint the weekend before”

That should be enough time to get all your affairs in order

It’ll also give him enough time on how to break to you that he’s a wizard and well- his parents probably hate you

You’re smiling, an embarrassed expression crossing your features as you change the topic to which places you’ll be visiting

But there’s a shadow on Draco’s face

He sighs when you leave, saying you have to go back to your house to pack-

It’s always so lonely when you’re gone

He collapses on his arm chair, twirling his wand so that there’s a glass of fire whisky in his hand

He’s going to have to tell you soon- not just about his wizardry, but also about his family

His Mum’s already got half a guess there’s something going on here - but he bets the worst she believes is that he’s dating someone beneath him, maybe a muggle born at worst

Certainly not an actual muggle

His father’s clueless as always - too busy with his council positions and appearances

His mother will be fine , she would be upset of course, but she would come around eventually

His Father would disown him

He’s fairly confident about that

The second he says he’s in love with a muggle- it’s over for him

His dad might actually curse him when he finds out he’s marrying a muggle- bringing dirty blood into their bloodline

And Draco might curse him back

Because they can say whatever they want about him, but not about you-

Nothing about you is dirty

You’re the purest, kindest, loveliest person he’s ever seen

And he still can’t believe you’re his

You shouldn’t be surprised when you find out Draco booked you both first class seats

Or when you get to the airport and see a Mercedes convertible waiting for you

Or even when you get to the hotel - which turns out to be The Ritz

The tipping point is when you find out the “room” Draco booked is actually the penthouse

“Well that was exhausting, should we take a nap before going to the Louvre?”

You’re sitting on the sofa in the living area, your head in your hands

Draco doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too busy pouring Perrier into two crystal glasses.

“Draco, love, do you remember before we went on this trip, that I insisted paying my portion- even though you said there was no need?”

Draco looks up from the Perrier. But you’re still staring at the ground

“And then when I asked why my portion was so low- you said you got a really great economy deal from a travel package.”

That was the excuse he used wasn’t it

“Well there was a discount travel package, I just didn’t book it.”

Honestly he’s not sure what his end game was here- honestly he was just hoping you would believe this was all included in the package

Your palms are pressed together, your head resting against them

Draco extends a glass of Perrier towards you

You look at it for several long seconds,

he probably got it out of the mini fridge that charges 10x mark up

“I’m paying for our next trip” you say, accepting the glass with a sigh

Draco only grins

“So there’s going to be a next trip?”

You almost snort laughing

“Are you seriously asking me that after you basically proposed to me last week?”

Ah, you’ve got him there

You smile as you tug his towards you, pressing a kiss to his mouth

“Of course there will be you dork”

He smiles as he holds you close, kissing you again

Being in Paris is really cool

You go on a tour of the catacombs

“Watch your step” Draco says, offering his arm for support

“Thanks” you hold his hand as you make your way through the dark space

And the Louvre

“Am I supposed to be feeling something right now?” He asks

You’re both looking at the Mona Lisa, and you’ve got tears in your eyes, feeling very small

You’re almost humbled being in her presence, the painting that has withstood centuries

“Yes” you sniffle, taking the handkerchief Draco’s extended towards you

“You’re a rich kid, aren’t you supposed to be super invested in art and stuff?”

He gives you a mischievous grin

“I look at you everyday don’t I”

You manage a laugh, lightly smacking him in the arm

Things are going really well, you’re both having a really good time, and then something happens-

It’s your last day in the city before you head out to the french countryside,

you and Draco decided you would spend the morning souvenir shopping before heading there in the afternoon

You’ve put in an order for some macrons for your friends and the people at work

“Do you think they’ll still be good by the time we get back home?”

It will be at least a week until you head back, and longer until you see any of your friends

“I think as long as we freeze them” Draco assures

He’ll put a charm on them for good measure

“Malfoy?”

The second Draco hears that voice he goes rigid

You see, being with you for a year has been utter bliss.

Draco’s had a good year, the best year of his entire life-

The thing is though, he got so caught up in who he was becoming-

that he completely forgot who he used to be-

Until this moment

“Weasley. Granger”

Weasley looks the same as ever, flaming red hair and a splatter of freckles across his nose and spilling onto his face

Still that tall, lean, but muscular build he had when he last saw him.

Granger looks great though, she’s got her curls framing her face, smooth dark skin glistening against a clean cut pant suit

“Lovely to see you both”

Draco seems composed

But on the inside he’s on the verge of having a panic attack

Maybe they’ll just give a wave and be on their way

Yes that’s entirely pos-

Nope. They’re walking over to you two

F*ck

“Are you going to introduce us?” You ask with a teasing smile

Oh crap, he forgot the social protocols a situation like this calls for in his panic

“R-right, (Y/N) this is Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger-“

“Actually we’re both Weasley now” Ron says with a proud grin

“- well she was Granger now she’s Weasley too, we um-“

Were sworn rivals. Mortal enemies. Fought on opposite sides of a great and tragic war.

“Went to school together”

He can honestly say that isn’t a lie.

They all did go to school together

A magic school in the mountains of Scotland, where they rode brooms and befriended magical creatures

Somehow he gets the feeling that’s not the type of experience you’re picturing though

To his surprise things are going pretty well, the conversation is mostly revolving around Paris, you and Granger seem to share a similar love for Mona Lisa

“And when you stand in front of her-“ Granger starts

“It’s like she’s judging you!” You finish

The two of you are only a moment away from embracing

Weasley looks like he couldn’t care less about Mona Lisa

And for once Draco thinks they’re in agreement

Maybe it’s because they’re from pureblood families

Because something surviving 500 years isn’t all that big of a deal to wizards

Not when the average wizard can live a few hundred years, his great grandfather even lived until the ripe old age of 652

“So are you two on Holiday?” You ask and Granger shakes her head

“No, we’re actually here for work on behalf of the Au-“

“On behalf of their museum I’m sure” Draco cuts in quickly

He was so comfortable in the fantasy  where his previously sworn enemies might become causal aquantinces that he completely forgot there were three wizards and one muggle in this conversation

“”They um-“ Draco clears his throat giving a meaningful look to Granger and Weasley before lowering his voice “they actually work for a rival museum. Managed to get an exhibit from right under me”

The lies just seem to stack on one another.

Draco’s not sure what’s worse- that he’s getting better with coming up with these lies-

“Is that why they aren’t invited to your hangouts with Blaise, Theo and Pansy”

Or that you trust him so much you wholeheartedly  believe each and every lie

“That is exactly why they’re not invited”

Some force in the universe must like him, because luckily enough that’s when your order number is called.

“Oh looks like it’s ready, I’ll see you in a bit darling” you press a kiss to his cheek before making your way towards the counter

And Draco’s so caught up in the subtle affection you’ve just shown him he’s completely forgotten all about the situation at hand until Granger clears her throat.

Ah yes, the mountain of lies he’s haphazardly built.

How could he forget

Granger looks like she’s got the gist of the situation,

Weasley on the other hand looks just as dumb as Draco remembers from school

His mouth agape

“Are they a muggle??”

Draco flinches at how loud Weasley says the word Muggle

“Yes, they are could you please keep your voice down”

He looks in your direction

Oh good it looks like you didn’t hear

He turns back to his old enemies

They both look like their mind is broken

“But your family they hate-“

“That’s my parents, that’s not me” Draco snaps quickly

But it was him, wasn’t it

All those times he tormented muggle borns at school, the dark magic artifacts he toyed with-

He looks at Granger

All the times he called her mud blood

He’s not as bad as his parents

-but he’s still not good

“Since I was there I got yours too-“

The second you’re back you can tell something is off

The tension hangs in the air like fog

Draco looks like he’s just seen a ghost, face pale and thin pink lips trembling

“What’s wrong?” You ask

Draco was a monster, that’s what’s wrong

“Nothing,” he puts on his most believable smile “we should get going or it will get dark before we get to the manse”

You nod, taking his hand in yours

It’s trembling

“It was lovely meeting you, maybe we’ll see each other again soon”

Granger who’s been awfully quiet for this whole ordeal smiles

“Yes, I hope we do”

The look Granger gives you is genuine and warm

- like she already considers you a friend

and it makes Draco feel twice as bad

It’s not like anything has really changed as you two drive through the countryside

You’re still joking like you always do,

Draco’s driving and he stops in several places on the way there so you can take polaroids in the French country scenery

But something feels...off

Like he’s just pretending to be happy

You really shouldn’t be surprised when you roll up to a large iron gate,

Draco types in the code into a keypad and they creak as they open revealing a rather impressive winding drive

At the end of which is an absolute unit of a mansion

“This isn’t a bed and breakfast is it?”

For one there’s not even a parking lot, Draco gives you a fleeting look before taking your bags out of the car.

“This is my family’s manse, we would come up here during the summer for vacation”

He was on the fence about bringing you here, but his Mum always had a rule that all dark magic artifacts would be kept away from their vacation home

His father could have free reign over the manse near London, but not here when they were on vacation

“You grew up here?” You say, taking in the fountain, the thirty windows you see in the front face alone, and the massive rose garden to the side

“Not really, we would just come here to vacation, it was really for my parents. I spent most of my time climbing up trees-“

And playing with the house elves, which his mother would later reprimand him for

It was always worse for them though

At least Father pays them a wage now, however meager it may be

“There’s no servants right now though, so it will be just us”

He says it as he leads you through the manse, passing the drawing room, a rather impressive parlor, up a long pair of winding steps into the east wing into a rather lavish room

“I hope you don’t mind staying in my old room, my parents used to use the master and that just seems... icky”

you laugh And he gives you another smile, and this time you know somethings wrong.

“We can go to the village nearby and grab dinner, or we can stay here but I doubt the pantry has-“

“Draco,” you stop him mid speech about getting dinner “What’s wrong?”

Draco does his best to smile for you

“Nothings wrong-“

“No, something is wrong” you cut him off quickly, taking his hand in both of yours

“You’ve been...sad”

that’s what it is, the emotion he’s been trying to cover up

He thought he was covering up his internal turmoil pretty well

Draco won’t lie, the fact that he’s more transparent then he thinks hurts

“Ever since we saw your old classmates at the bakery”

The way he flinches when you mention it tells you all you need to know

You feel a protective flare swell inside you

“Did something happen? Did they do something to you?“

you’re already thinking about how you need to protect you Draco from them, they work in the same industry so they’re bound to cross paths. Maybe-

“I’m the one who did something to them.”

Draco breaks you away from your thoughts

“What?”

“I-“

Draco looks into your puzzled face, and his heart squeezes

He didn’t want you to find out, not like this

Pretty soon you’ll be thrust into his history headfirst-

His hand is held in both of yours,

your eyes are so warm as they look up at him.

And all he can think is that he doesn’t deserve any of this

The truth is he didn’t want you to ever know

“I wasn’t a good person” he croaks

He knows he’s just as much a victim as the others, he’s got the scars and the death eater mark to prove it- both things he didn’t really want

It was coercion, they told him.

He grew up in an environment where he was punished for showing any original thought, his therapist had said

He’s a victim too

But that doesn’t mean it was okay for him to treat people like that- for him to call people that word-

“I was a bully, a monster, I was-”

Draco’s cut off when you pull him into a hug

Draco stumbles back when you throw yourself at him,  wrapping your arms around him

“Stop. Don’t talk about yourself like that.” You say

He doesn’t understand why until he see’s  the tears drop onto your hair

Oh, he’s crying

“Shh, it’s okay” you hum, holding him close as he sobs into your shoulder

And you two stay just like that for a long time

“I just don’t want you to think less of me” Draco murmurs, you’re both on his bed now, you’re both sitting cross legged across from each other

He looks so ashamed, it’s like he’s admitting he killed someone

In all honestly, you figured something like this might be the case.

Draco’s a rich boy, he doesn’t seem like someone who’s experienced financial struggle,

He’s  someone who experienced life with a sense of entitlement

You look at him, rim of his eyes tinged pink and swelling. The almost pitiful sniffle he lets out

But the Draco in front of you isn’t like that, not anymore at least.

His kindness is still a little rough...but it’s there

You know that, you see it every time he picks up on your mood, every time he comforts you when you have a bad day

You’ve seen it during this trip, where he catered everything so you would have a good time

You just have to make him see that now

“All of that, it’s in the past now Draco” you squeeze his hand, and he finally stops looking down and up at you

“You have a past, I do too” you give him a warm smile. “but that’s all behind us now, all that matter is where we’re going from here”

Your reassuring expression and tender words make him feel like he might cry again, but this time for a different reason

“We don’t have to talk about it, not until you’re ready” you tell him

he feels his eyes sting

“I don’t deserve your kindness”

And from another man you would think it’s a plot to earn your sympathy, but looking at Draco you know he means every word

He looks like a broken man

Like he’s haunted, worn down to the bone

So you do the only thing you can think to do, knees pressing into the mattress you hover over him. Your hands cup each side of his face, tilting it up so those brilliant grey eyes are looking at you

“You deserve every part of me my love” you murmur, peppering his face with kisses

Scattering them across his cheeks, his hairline, down his thin nose, and across his jaw

Before finally catching his lips, your mouth gently caressing his

“(Y/N)-“ your name leaves him in a breathless voice- half in want and half concerned

His hand caresses your face, stopping you as you kiss down his neck

He wants to tell you that You don’t have to do any of this just because he’s feeling emotional

But he doesn’t have to say anything, because you understand immediately, giving him a kind smile

“I’m doing it because I want you-“ you take his hand , pressing kisses to the end of his fingertips

“Do you trust me?”

And Draco, who doesn’t trust his voice, can only manage a nod

“I’m going to be good for you” you murmur against his hand, and you feel him shiver underneath you.

Draco’s made love to you countless times, felt your burning skin against his hands so many times he’s lost count.

But it’s never been like this

It’s so....

He looks at you underneath him, your eyes are warm as you look up at him, and full of so much love

It’s.....Comforting.

This time making love to you is comforting.

Your hand presses against his lower abdomen, right above the place you both are connected, and it earns an involuntary shiver from him

But you don’t stop there, your hand trails up his stomach, across his chest, fingers lightly brushing against the nape of his neck before resting on his face

The action, mixed with that warm look in your eyes, feels so tender

“You’re so pretty” You murmur, your thumb rubbing tenderly across his cheek.

Caressing his face.

“My pretty boy Draco”

And he feels emotion well up within him once more.

A tear slipping down his face as he leans down to kiss you

He doesn’t deserve this, he doesn’t deserve your love

But he’s so grateful that he has it

That he has you

“Being good for him” extends past the bedroom it seems, because the next morning he wakes up to an empty bed, his body littered with kiss marks, a hot bath drawn for him with flower petals scattered across the surface, and a note

‘Took the car to the village, will be back soon. P.S take a bath and relax until I get back, I have your favorite tea in the kettle for when you’re done.’

Draco can’t help the goofy grin that spreads across his face

“I really don’t deserve you”

You come back only fifteen minutes later, while he’s still soaking in the tub.

You walk over to him wordlessly, rubbing his shoulders as you lean against the rim of the tub.

“How are you feeling today darling?” You murmur, kissing his temple.

“Better now that you’re here.” And he means it, he loves what you’ve done for him, but it’s always so lonely when you’re gone

He takes your hand in his, looking up at you with shining grey eyes.

“Will you join me?”

You laugh, your other hand caressing his face

“I have to go get things ready for our picnic- I thought it might be nice, there’s a place the locals told me about- a hill a few kilometers away from here.”

“That can wait can’t it?” He asks, and when you make no move to undress he adds -

“please?”

He looks like a little boy, and you find yourself relenting, pulling off your sweater with a sigh

The tub is massive, probably half the size of your bedroom, so you give Draco some room, sitting on the other side of the tub

Last night was intense, for you and for him, you don’t want to overwhelm him with too much stimulation

But Draco doesn’t let you stay far away, beckoning you to him. Only satisfied when your back is pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around your chest and stomach

“I’m sorry-“ he starts, but you silence him with a simple squeeze of his hand

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for”

And it’s true. How many times has Draco comforted you- bringing you dinner when you pulled late nights at work, or kissed your tears away?

“It’s nice. Seeing another part of the person I love” you reassure

There’s a moment of silence before Draco opens his mouth again

“When I was in school, I-I -“

“ you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to” you reassure,

the two have the rest of your lives to talk about these things, there’s no rush

But Draco shake his head, and offers you a small smile

“I want to talk about it, I want you to know”

And so Draco tells you as much as he can without giving away his secret

He tells you his family comes from old money, and he internalized certain messages from that

“It’s not an excuse,” he clarifies, “but it’s part of the story too”

He tells you how he was a bully all through this childhood and into adolescence.

Even early adulthood.

How he basically tormented the people he bullied-

“Granger... I was terrible to her.” He admits, you’ve since moved away from the bath tub, and you’re sitting in the garden, drinking tea and eating scones. “I called her terrible things”

He means he called her a mudblood, the greatest insult a person can get

You’re thinking he probably called her a b*tch or a c*nt.

Honestly I’m not sure which version is worse

“Did you have a crush on her?” You ask, and Draco sputters. His cheeks blooming red

He remembers being jealous of Granger, she was always at the top of their class, and he always came in second to her.

He remembers getting lectures for it everytime he came home for the holidays

His Father always fuming how Draco  was so inept that even a ‘mudblood’ could surpass him.

And some of that did transfer to his dislike for the person

He does remember thinking she looked awfully beautiful at the Yule Ball though, in that pink dress

“She’d look better in green” he had thought and then realizing what he just thought blushed and looked towards his date.

“Maybe I did.” He admits to you, almost a decade later.

And you laugh

“I bet you were a cutie” Draco only blushes even more

What you wouldn’t give to see a teenage Draco, you wonder what it would have been like if you met him when you were younger

How different would things be?

You watch Draco flush bright red, trying to cover his embarrassment with a sip of his tea

Well, the way things turned out isn’t so bad either

You spend the rest of the trip at Draco’s family’s manor, in domestic bliss

You stand on your tip toes, trying to reach a pair of mugs on the top shelf

“Here let me get that” Draco says reaching them with ease while standing behind you

You drink tea in the garden

“Draco darling, will you pass me the preserves?”

You’re both dressed like something out a a historical drama, he’s in a suit and you’ve got on a tilted sun hat and white gloves

Playing like you’re nobility vacationing in the Parisian countryside

Which... Draco sort of actually is

.... let’s not think of that

And go on picnics on the nearby hill

“Oh no” you mumble

“What’s wrong?” Draco asks while setting down the picnic blanket

“I forgot to bring glasses for the wine” you sigh

Draco shrugs

“We’ll just drink from the bottle”

You make a face and he laughs

“What does the thought of an indirect kiss make you nervous?”

You lightly shove him with a laugh

And late nights spent in their family library

“Your family sure has a strange book collection” you say holding up a book titled ‘witchcraft in the mid-1800’s’

Draco scrambles towards you

“Y-yeah that’s probably my dad, he’s kind of interested in that occult stuff...for fun, not like, because he’s apart of a cult or anything”

Not anymore at least

“I wasn’t thinking that he was apart of a cult... but I am now” you joke

You’ve moved on, scanning the rest of  their collection, but Draco’s looking at you-

This last week has been like something out of a dream

He can’t imagine how happy he would be to have this everyday

He watches your hand brush against the spine of a book

He extends a hand over your own, stroking your ring finger

“Make sure this finger is empty for me, okay?”

[sntaeyi]

oop i think i'm late to the party but hi everyone! im eun and this is HWANG TAEYI (26, ‘the yaup’), newly licensed pharmacist and professional faker! aka fallen prince of a short-lived empire that left him bitter and obsessive over what used to be. you can find his stats here and his bio here! i’ll also leave some headcanons under the cut. you can give this post a like to plot and/or slip into my ims! i also have discord so just lmk if you’d prefer that option :’) 

HWANG TAEYI, 26, ONLINE STAR, REAL-LIFE LOSER. 

the hwangs used to be conglomerate giants in contemporary pharmaceuticals and medical research — until they weren’t. they were quote-unquote “saved” by ryong holding’s, which bought out the quickly dying business and made it a subsidiary. his parents are pretty much satisfied with their quiet lives. taeyi, on the other hand, is not. 

because the company went under when he was in the army, taeyi never got the closure that he needed to recover. the move down from the top 1% to upper working class felt catastrophic (esp since his two best friends are still loaded and honestly, it’s embarrassing that he can’t keep up). 

as such, here we are now, with taeyi literally faking it till he makes it! rented designer clothing, fake accessories, old cars that take up too much gas to drive, and crushing bills to pay, all for a couple hundred thousand followers on the gram. 

okay, in all seriousness, it’s not just about the likes. he’s a complete and total con, posing as the guy from his past. who he used to be. he’s twenty-six, grown up, and still not over an old reflection. mostly because no one ever taught him how to be someone else or how to fill that sudden emptiness.  

so it’s no surprise that he’s always a little (a lot) bitter, uninhibited, and selfish. taeyi has ambition that’s too much for his money to follow. he’s a sweet and often charismatic kid who has a wickedly persuasive tongue and is perceptive to a t who feels as if he’s been robbed of all the right resources. no wonder he’s always in a knot. 

doesn’t help that choi yong banned him, either! taeyi is going to do everything possible in his power to haul his ass to that event (whatever it is, whatever it takes) bc that’s the closest he’s ever going to get at a chance for retaking his old life and getting himself out of debt hellhole. 

for a guy who exudes confidence online, he has pretty low self-esteem hidden under layers of pretend. also has the opposite of commitment issues: gets way too attached. often why he doesn’t try to let anyone in in the first place bc he’s afraid of it all going to shit and being left to pick up the pieces. also doesn’t help that his coping mechanism is just more shopping and ends up exacerbating the whole ‘i’m a con!’ cycle. 

+ recently acquired his pharmacist license, which is how he tries to pay for everything! it all seems golden, with his parents having enough savings to let him have his own little shop, except the income barely covers half of what he spends. the other half? if you say the right things, know him well enough, taeyi will supply you, no questions asked. he keeps one hand in the black market and one out of it and he likes to keep it that way. 

sometimes he’ll take part-time modeling jobs, but doesn’t try to get too deep into it bc 1) too easy to get caught with all his fake shit and 2) doesn’t want to make the impression that he needs that kind of money. also bc friends of his ten-years-younger sister fawn over him and that’s just weird. 

some quick plot ideas!  (+ i’m more of a brainstorming/headcanon-ing person but just to get us started!)

broadly speaking, def some people from his past that knew him before all of this shit went down! could be friends, could be ex-friends, could be rivals, enemies. maybe you’re one of those people who look at him with fake sympathy. maybe you don’t care. maybe you’re secretly glad about the hwang’s demise. anything! 

and some specifics! i’d love to have maybe someone in his life that tries to help him out aka get over what happened to his family but he keeps pushing away bc 1) again, scared that it’ll all go to shit, and 2) also scared of showing vulnerability. but god knows he needs the help and he needs you

exes, one-sided crushes, give me all the angst! a few ideas: an ex that left him after his social demotion, which left him super scarred (+ most likely why he can get so mopey and clingy now); someone who used to like him a lot in hs or college and he totally rejected but is now interested in you and now he’s just like, well, fuck my life; his first same-sex romantic experience that finally made him think and admit wait, am i bi????; that one ex that has become an old habit and even though you have little to no feelings for him, he keeps coming back to you and you let him bc idk maybe you’re bored or you just like having him in the palm of your hand; the list goes on and on! 

he’s not really the type to do fwbs bc again, will get attached, but maybe he tried it out once and it backfired and he learned that lesson from you 

maybe one or two people suspicious of his activity?? maybe they see him doing something, maybe they’re neighbors and they realize shit, he’s never really home, maybe they blackmail him, maybe they like to buy him things, et cetera 

maybe you’re a fan of him and follow him on social media and everything and you’re keen on helping him getting into yong’s favor and onto that party list 

clients for his side job as a supplier! you see him regularly and at a high price, taeyi keeps his mouth shut about your... unhealthy habits bc boy got bills to pay 

[jalapeno-princess]

Dance For You

(This entire photoshoot wrecked my life and my soul actually left my body how can one human be this fucking sexy it isn’t fair)

Mark Tuan X Stripper Reader

Genre: This one has all the good shit (So much fluff, tiny bits of angst and SMUT SMUT SMUT)

Warning: Rated 18+

Oral (both male and female receiving), edging, choking, face riding, breast play, degradation, doggy style, cowgirl, daddy kink, dominant Mark (one can dream)

Word Count: 11.5K

Summary: Becoming a stripper was the last thing you would have ever saw yourself doing as a job, but because you had so many financial responsibilities, you were willing to do whatever it was to get a large amount of money in a small amount of time. There were many pros that came with being a stripper; not only were you paid excessive amounts of money that you weren’t able to wrap your mind around, but your job is what also led you to meeting the actual love of your life; your devastatingly handsome boyfriend of three years Mark Tuan.

A/N: I wrote this over a year ago (I don’t know what inspired me to write this but the idea of Mark dating a stripper got me all sorts of fucked up and one of my favorite youtubers is a stripper and I just grew curious about what it would be like to have a boyfriend while being an exotic dancer) so this came out. If I’m being honest, I had to tweak this story A LOT; I was actually cringing at how bad my writing used to be I’ve come a long way guys--happy reading!! 

Being a stripper was not an ideal job. They were always frowned upon by most people and ridiculed for selling their bodies in order to make money. But what most people didn’t understand, was that pole dancing and stripping was an art as much as it was sexual entertainment. When you first started stripping, it was to help pay for college, your apartment and your car. You told yourself you would quit stripping once you graduated from college and paid off all of your bills. However, you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t enjoy the money you would bring home almost every single night you worked. 

The club that you worked at was one of the most popular strip clubs in town. It was always packed to the point where people would have to go on a waiting list or could only get in if they had connections. Most dancers at your club were practically family to you and they made sure you knew that you were the reason everyone would come to that specific club. You were always quick to shut down their compliments because you didn’t think you were all that special. From the time you were a little girl, you’ve always loved to dance. 

Whether it be ballet, jazz or hip hop, you would dance any and everywhere there was music. As you got older, you got so busy with both work and school that you no longer had the time or energy to continue doing what you loved so much. When you graduated from high school, you decided to attend college thousands of miles away from your hometown to your parents dismay. They were very helpful when it came to paying for your college education. However, because it was your decision to move away and be an out of state student, they told you that you needed to help pay for your tuition. 

After months of working boring, low paying jobs, you overheard one of your classmates talking about how much money she gets paid from her job. When you asked her about it, it was then that she admitted to being a stripper and offered to get you an audition with her company in order to get a job there. At first, you were contemplating on doing so. You were raised to be very modest and anyone who sold their bodies to people for money whether it be prostitutes, hookers or strippers were frowned upon by your family. However, the income strippers received is what sold you. 

You didn’t care about the consequences that came with being an exotic dancer—you just wanted life to be easier. When you went for your audition, everyone was blown away by how graceful your movements were and you were immediately hired on the spot. For the first week after being hired, your managers had the other strippers teach you the basics. Even if you were a dancer, dancing in heels and lingerie was not something you were used to. Although you had a fit body from dancing for so many years, you didn’t think you had the breasts nor the butt to be a stripper. 

Seeing your fellow coworkers bodies made you very insecure from time to time, but you were very quick to learn that this was a cutthroat business. There was no room to have a low self esteem. Even if you were close with almost every stripper you worked with, things weren’t like that in the beginning. Strippers were some of the most competitive people there were and you couldn’t blame them. 

They all wanted to be the best in order to attract more customers. Sure, there were times where you would regret becoming a stripper—and the guilt would eat you alive every time your mom called you to ask how college was going. But there were more pros than cons that came with being a stripper. You loved your job; the management was very lenient with your schedule, you made more money in one night than you did in two weeks at any of your previous jobs and because it was stripping that introduced you to the actual love of your life—your boyfriend of three years, Mark Tuan. 

On the night you and Mark first met, he had just turned 21 years old. You were 19 at the time and you had already been dancing for a couple of months. For his birthday, his friends decided to take him to a strip club; telling him that he needed to experience such wild and fun things while he was still young. Mark wasn’t the type to go out to clubs, parties and bars. All he really cared about was school and video games; until he met you and that’s when everything changed. You were getting ready to perform when you were requested for a one on one session. It wasn’t uncommon. Men would request for a one on one performance with strippers all the time, but you had yet to do so yourself. 

You’d hear stories all the time from your coworkers about how scary it could be, even if it paid more. The club charged more for one on one performances only because they could be making more when the dancer performs for a crowd rather than just one person. You told your management that you didn’t feel comfortable performing for someone alone because of the countless horror stories you heard about men getting physical and even trying to rape the dancers. However, after the few incidents, the management made sure that whoever entered the club had a quick background check before they were able to enter.

“Y/n, your customer is waiting for you in room 7. Go easy on him. He’s really cute. Oh, and wear that cute red suit you bought the other day. Trust me.” 

You did as you were told and put on the very tiny, leaving no room to the imagination lingerie set while slipping on your Louboutins. After a taking in a few deep breaths and whispering words of encouragement to yourself just like you did almost every night, you made your way outside to his room. When you walked out on that stage and your eyes landed on your customer, you felt your heart rate increased. Your manager wasn’t lying when she said that he was cute. In fact, that was an understatement. He was gorgeous. Extremely handsome. Probably the most attractive man you’ve ever laid your eyes on. 

For a second, you felt flustered and you were worried you were going to mess up because you were obviously very much attracted to the man sitting just a few feet away from you. But once you took a quick look at yourself in the side mirror, you marched down that stage like you owned it. Seeing him gulp as you made your way towards him only increased your confidence and soon, you found yourself sitting on his lap. 

“Hi there. Forgive me if I’m wrong, but you don’t seem like the type to come to a place like this.” He nodded his head while you ran your hands up and down his chest. 

“I don’t. It’s my birthday and my friends forced me to come. But if I’m being honest with you, I’m very glad I came. You’re extremely beautiful.” 

You giggled at his words and you were very grateful for the fact that the club was dark or else he would see you blush. Nobody who came in here has ever called you beautiful before. It was always either derogatory terms; “sexy” or “hot”. Hearing him call you beautiful, only made you want to hear him say it to you again and again. 

“Thank you. Oh, and happy birthday. What’s your name?” He smiled politely at you while hesitantly bringing his hands to your hips. 

“I’m Mark.” You placed a soft kiss on his cheek before standing up and seductively making your way to the pole. 

“I’m y/n. Let me dance for you birthday boy.” 

His eyes never left you and your body the entire time. Even if it was dark, the very prominent and large bulge in Mark’s pants didn’t go unnoticed to you—it made you feel even more confident and sexy. Slowly, you walked over to him and found your way back on to his lap. You dragged your thumb against his bottom lip all the while slowly grinding yourself on top of him. Hearing his moans and seeing him bite his lip only made you go faster. 

“Fuck—you’re so—fucking sexy—please—don’t stop—“ 

The other dancers would always tell you about how they would do more than just give somebody a lap dance during these one on one sessions. A lot of them slept with their customers willingly in order to make more money. You were never one to want to do that—you were here to dance, not to have sex with people. However, with the way Mark was looking at you with so much lust in his big, brown eyes and holding you all but gently, you wanted nothing more than to please him in anyway possible. You brought your hand down to his very thick and long cock; stroking him through his pants, earning yourself multiple moans and whines from his pretty lips. 

“Can I give you a birthday gift? Would that be okay?” He quickly nodded in agreement and before you could even process the entire situation, you found yourself getting on your knees. Once you unzipped his zipper, his sigh of relief when you pulled him out of his pants sent warmth to your already soaking clit. 

“Fuck—I—holy shit—just like that baby. Oh god—mmmmm—so—so so good—“ 

Only seconds after relieving him from the constraints of his boxers, you dragged your tongue along his slit while circling his tip. His breathy whimpers and wanton moans only motivated you to go faster; you brought him completely in to your mouth and bobbed your head up and down his length, taking him down your throat as much as you possibly could all the while fondling his balls. He pulled your hair in to a makeshift ponytail and continued to thrust himself deep down in to your throat. 

“So warm and so tight. Fuck. You’re so beautiful. So fucking pretty. Look at you, taking this cock. Do you think I could fuck your face princess?” 

You nodded earning yourself a raspy groan. He started roughly pushing your head on to his dick but you were too busy trying to pleasure him to even think about the pain. His cock grazed the back of your throat in the most delicious way. You tried your best to go as rough and as hard as you possibly could; licking and sucking on him while pinching on his ass cheeks. Your eyes began to fill up with tears, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to stop—mainly because it was adamant that he was enjoying feeling your mouth wrapped around his cock. 

But you were genuinely having a good time yourself. Watching his eyes roll to the back of his head as he bit down on his bottom lip sent chills down your spine. He was so damn hot. After a few moments, you felt his white, creamy liquid fill your mouth and you swallowed it entirely. Seeing him throw his head back and the fact that he came in less than 5 minutes sent fire through your bones; it was an indescribable feeling. 

You weren’t one who really cared about giving head; most of the guys you’ve been with never cared whether or not you were comfortable and it unfortunately ruined your entire outlook on sex—but something about this boy made you want to perform oral on him every single day. He pulled you up off of the ground, back on to his lap and roughly connected his lips to yours. 

“Holy shit. You’re not real. You can’t be. Where did you come from? I can’t even describe how amazing that was. Shit wait, are we allowed to do this? Am I going to get in trouble for letting you blow me? Nobody can know I’m here right now my parents would probably have a fit-“ he sounded so cute getting flustered over the thought that he might get in trouble for having fun with you. You shook your head in attempts to keep his mind at ease and began leaving soft kisses along his jaw. 

“You’re totally fine. Don’t worry about it.” The vibration coming from his phone broke the two of you out of your little world and he hid his face in your chest after reading the messages from his friends. 

“They’re looking for me. Apparently we’ve been here for three hours. It doesn’t even feel like it’s been that long. They’re not kidding when they say time flies when you’re having fun. That was the best birthday present ever. I’m really glad I came. Literally. But I should get going. I um—can I—your number—“ 

As devastatingly handsome as Mark was and no matter how much you wanted to see him again, strippers didn’t get in to relationships nor did they have any sort of human interaction other than with the customers. You didn’t want to burden Mark with the fact that you were a stripper; you didn’t want him feeling embarrassed if he ever had to introduce you to people. After placing a long kiss on his lips and running your fingers throughout locks, you started making your way towards the curtains. 

“Come back again soon and we’ll see about that.” 

Mark stayed in your mind for the rest of that night. You couldn’t stop thinking about him—how gentle yet rough he was. How he held you as if you were such a fragile piece of glass. How he looked at you so softly, with so much adoration in his eyes. How thick and big his cock was and how you wanted nothing more than to feel him inside of you. But you couldn’t do that to him. You wanted to be selfish and give in to temptation by calling him and seeing where it goes between the two of you, but you didn’t want to end up hurt. You’ve heard one too many stories from your coworkers about how they’d get their hearts broken because the boys they were interested in weren’t accepting of their choice in occupation.

Just a few days after that erotic night together, fate brought you two together again; but not in the way you had hoped. You were late to class one morning because you overslept seeing as how you got home from work at almost 4 in the morning. You were so focused on your notes that you failed to see someone walking towards you until you collided with a body. 

“Oh my God I am so sorry I really should be looking where I am walking—Mark?” Your eyes widened in shock at the sight of him and the grin that rose on his face filled your stomach with butterflies. 

“Hey princess. I’ve missed you. I’ve been planning on going back to the club just to see you again but I haven’t had the time-“ You brought your hand up to cover his mouth and made sure no one was around to hear about what you did to make your income. 

“Please don’t say anything about that. Nobody here knows that I’m a stripper and I’d like to keep it that way. Now if you’ll excuse me.” You began walking away in the direction of your building when you were quickly pulled in to his chest. 

“Mark I’m late for class as it is please let me go.” He released a long, frustrating sigh and you were genuinely very embarrassed with how harsh you were acting towards him. Especially because he didn’t do anything to deserve such hostility. 

“Your number. Can I please have it? I regret not trying harder to ask you for it. I’m sorry if I’m coming off rude or creepy, but I would really like to take you on a date if you’d let me. If I’m bothering you, just say the word and I’ll never speak to you again. I just hope you know I can’t get you off my mind. And before you start assuming, no. It’s not because—well—yes—you gave me the best head of my life but there’s something about you that intrigues me; something about you captivates me. There’s something mysterious about you and I can’t stop trying to think about what it is. The way you move and make that dance floor yours. The way you touched me and ran your fingers through my hair awakened something animalistic in me and I knew that wasn’t going to be the last time I saw you. The way you have so much confidence allures me and I can’t stop touching my lips because of how much I miss the feeling of yours against them. It probably meant nothing to you, but it meant a lot to me. I promise I’m not some weirdo, I have pure intentions please believe me.” 

You gave him a small smile and then motioned for him to give you his phone so that you could enter your information. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t hung up on him. This is what you wanted. You were secretly hoping he’d come back to the club with the thought of continuing where you both left off from last time, but you knew why you were hesitant on taking things further between the two. 

“Are you free tonight?” You sadly shook your head—you wish you were; you wanted to see what he had in mind for the two of you. 

“I work from 9-3. But I’m off tomorrow. So I’m all yours.” 

He grinned in excitement at your words and the two of you soon said your goodbyes. Before you let him completely walk away, something inside of you—maybe the confidence he had mentioned earlier made you grab at his wrist and pull him in for a chaste kiss. 

“See you soon.” 

You went to work that night with the biggest grin on your face and couldn’t wait to see where things would go between the two of you. You and Mark started texting back and forth as you were preparing for work and during your break. He told you he had the entire date planned and to say you were excited was an understatement. When you first got in to stripping, you pushed away the idea of a relationship to the back of your mind because you knew most guys wouldn’t be quite happy with the fact that their girlfriend is a stripper. But Mark didn’t seem to care and although you shouldn’t be getting your hopes up, you couldn’t help but feel like he was going to be someone special in your life. 

If he didn’t want to be with you because of your occupation, he would have said so much earlier. The next day, the only information he gave you was that he wanted you to be ready by eleven and that he was taking you somewhere fun. You decided to wear a cute sundress and lightly curled your hair. You applied a small amount makeup in attempts of concealing the dark circles that developed under your eyes in the last week and decided to watch some tv while waiting for him. Mark texted you that he was on his way and you found yourself heating up at the mere thought of him. 

It’s been quite some time since you were involved with another guy, let alone one that you were genuinely interested in. You were hoping that things would work well between you and Mark because he seemed like a genuinely nice person who fit the standards you were searching for in a significant other. When your doorbell rang, you tried your best to stay calm and pretend he didn’t have such an effect on you. 

Truth was, you never felt this way about anyone before. You had yet to experience a real relationship and it wasn’t like you had feelings for your any of your customers or fellow classmates. Even if you hardly knew him, you found yourself wanting to learn more about him and you could only hope for things to go well for the both of you. Once you opened the door and your eyes landed on him, your heart rate increased. He had to be some sort of Greek God in his past life. There was no way someone could be this handsome. 

“Hey. You look very beautiful. Not that I’m surprised. Ready to go?” You nodded as he reached for your hand and led you to his car, but not before connecting your lips together. 

“Mmm, I think I’m addicted to these pretty pink lips of yours. I’m addicted to every little thing about you.” 

Heat rose to your cheeks once again and he chuckled at the sight. This boy was honestly going to be the death of you. He was quick to intertwine your hands together and led you to his car—like the gentleman he was, he opened your door for you and helped you get settled in to your seat, stealing a quick kiss from the corner of his mouth. 

Once he made his way to his side, he turned on the radio and absentmindedly placed his hand on your lap. The car ride was quiet in the beginning, both of you having so many things on your minds but neither of you had any idea what to say. Although you enjoyed the piece and quiet, there was so many things you wanted to learn about him—however, you didn’t want to be the first one to start the conversation. After a while, he finally spoke up. 

“What are you majoring in?” From that question on, the two of you were complete chatterboxes and the conversation continued until he reached the destination. Your smile rose tenfold when you realized where he brought you. 

“I hope you’re fine with the beach? I just love it here and I thought the weather was nice. If not, we can go somewhere else. I’m fine with whatever you want to do.” You shook your head and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. 

“I love the beach. I actually haven’t been to one since moving here for college.” 

He beamed up at you and gently squeezed your thigh. When you got out of the car, you quickly noticed the basket in Mark’s hands and smiled even wider than you already were, if it was even possible. 

“I packed us a picnic basket. I wasn’t too sure on what to get because I have yet to learn what you like, but I hope this is all okay.” 

Seeing him get all shy, completely different from just a few nights ago when he was shoving himself down your throat made butterflies swarm in your tummy. He reached for your hand and intertwined your fingers while leading you to a secluded area. He placed the blanket down and motioned for you to sit down. Before you could take a seat next to him, you were being pulled on to his lap. You were about to object until he placed his lips against yours in order to silence you. 

He ended up feeding you and the thought of him wanting to take care of you made your head spin. The two of you continued to talk about pretty much anything and everything your hearts desired and in the few hours you got to spend with him, you learned a lot about the shy and extremely kind hearted boy. For starters, he was a huge fan of the Los Angeles Lakers, yet he had not once stepped foot on a basketball court before. He also wanted to go in to architecture; he had a passion for drawing and he also loved anything that had to do with buildings and construction, but his mom talked him out of it in fear of something happening to him while he was at a construction site. 

His favorite food was Hawaiian pizza—a fact that you were quick to tease him about, but he was quick to defend himself and it made you fall even harder for him. Once the two of you were done at the beach, he took you to an arcade: somewhere you learned he spent most of his time at. Seeing him get all excited over playing race car games and skeeball brought warmth to your cheeks. You were quickly growing fond of Mark and you knew in that moment you were screwed. 

As soon as you both realized it was getting late, you made your way back to his car and he started heading back to your place. A part of you didn’t want to leave him just yet—his presence alone made you feel safe;comfortable. Even if you haven’t known him for too long, you loved the way he made you feel and you knew you could get used to having him around; that’s why you didn’t find it surprising when you invited him in for some coffee. Although, the both of you knew coffee was not going to be involved in the plans for the rest of the night. Mark wanted to be a gentleman and take things slow with you, but he knew he couldn’t—you had such an effect on him that he knew he would do anything you’d ask him to and the thought excited him more than it scared him. 

The two of you found yourselves tumbling in to bed together. It wasn’t a surprise, you knew sooner or later you had to have him. If he didn’t have to go so soon just a few nights ago, you were sure you would’ve let him take you against the stage or hell, even up against the pole. With the way he was leaving rough kisses all along your body, you knew he was quickly losing his sanity too. After bringing you to heaven twice with his head between your thighs in less than half  an hour, the two of you relished in your newfound relationship. 

He took you in your bed, against your kitchen counter, on your couch and finally in the shower. He couldn’t get enough of you and it was evident that you felt the same way about him. After finishing up in the shower, he helped you prepare for bed and even gave you his shirt to wear as he slept in only his underwear. He held you tightly to his body and whispered sweet nothings in to your ear before finally asleep. It had to be one of the best nights you had since moving to California. 

From that day on, the two of you were inseparable—like magnets. Wherever you’d go, he would follow and vice versa. The two of you could never go without one another. You found yourself falling in love with him in just a few months of dating and although the two of you weren’t together for too long; you were sure he was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. Mark wasn’t a jealous boyfriend—he knew you were his and his alone. At first, he was kind of insecure with dating you, especially because he was well aware that you’d continue being a stripper even if you were now in a relationship. 

It wasn’t that he asked you to quit; nor did he try to make you feel bad for continuing your profession. He was proud of you for working a full time job and attending school at the same time and your boyfriend knew you were your own person before you were his—plus he trusted you. Mark knew you loved him just as much as he loved you. It wasn’t you he was worried about, it was the men who would come to the club. Knowing that you were one of the main dancers only worried your boyfriend because he was afraid that people would try and take advantage of you when he wasn’t around to protect you. 

He’s been to the club countless times since the two of you started dating, and it took every bone in his body not to fight anyone who tried to lay their hands on you. You would reassure him that you were fine, and that he was the only one you would have one on one sessions with. You made sure to tell your manager you were in a relationship and did not feel comfortable performing for someone alone knowing your boyfriend was at home, waiting for you to finish work. 

One thing Mark did that made your heart flutter, no matter how many times you told him you were fine, was that he would pick you up every single night that you worked—no matter what time it was. He never failed to come get you and always told you it was because he wanted to make sure you got home safely. Just a few months after the two of you started dating, he had asked you to move in with him. 

At first, he was afraid of rushing things—he was afraid that he would scare you away if you weren’t ready to take that further step in your relationship, but he craved your presence and loved being around you. Plus, it was easier for him to pick you up and drop you off to both work and school. He accommodated you in any way you needed. Before you could bring over your things, you noticed he had purchased a lot of the things you needed including your shampoo and conditioner, a jewelry box to put all your jewelry in, some face masks and other skin care products and he even bought you a vanity for your makeup. 

Dating Mark was a dream. He was everything you could ask for in a boyfriend and more. He was patient, extremely funny, generous, always put your feelings first and had one of the kindest hearts. You only fell for him more and more each and every day. He scheduled his classes so that he could take you to school and finish around the same time you did; and not that it was the main focus of your relationship, but since you started dating Mark, the both of you had a sexual awakening. 

What he didn’t know, was that although you were a stripper, you’ve only had one sexual experience before him and you regret not making him your first. He took such amazing care of you when it came to sex and always put your needs before his own; he made sure you came before he did, only moved when you told him it was okay and tried out any position you wanted to. He would do anything you asked him to and made it known to you just how much he loved you both physically and verbally. 

Unfortunately, the two of you had your first fight just hours ago. Neither of you remembered how it started, but you couldn’t stop thinking about how it ended. Some mean words were thrown about and you both said things you knew neither of you meant, but it was too late and the damage was done. You took your things for work and decided to find your own way to get there. You knew your boyfriend was upset when he didn’t come after you. 

As soon as you walked out the door, tears came streaming down your face and you were about to call in sick for work, but you refused to let this argument get the best of you. Once you arrived to the club, you threw your earphones on and started to get ready. Your phone began to vibrate so you ultimately turned it off; it didn’t take a genius to know who was contacting you. 

Other than your parents, your boyfriend was the only person you ever really called and texted. You released a long, frustrated sigh and continued to apply your make up. When you were done with both your hair and makeup, you put on your outfit and prepared yourself to make your way outside. You were not in the mood for any sort of human interaction, but there was nothing you could do. it was going to be hard, but you had to separate your work life from your personal life and right now, you had to put on a fake smile to prevent anyone from realizing that something was bothering you. 

When you made your way in to the club, there were at least fifty men already crowding the stage. You tried your best to push all thoughts of your boyfriend to the back of your mind and started strutting your stuff down to the pole. Right as the music turned on, you swayed your hips to the rhythm and made sure that all the guys were dropping their jaws at the sight of you. Hearing the crowd roar at your raunchy movements and seeing all the money being thrown on stage only gave you more confidence to put more effort in to your dancing and soon the entire argument was forgotten in that moment. 

To your dismay, only two hours in to your shift, some men had a little too much to drink—meaning a few people were beginning to jump on stage and your anxiety was starting to build up. You could feel your chest fill up with worry and it was getting hard for you to breathe. The only thing you could really do was move back in attempts to get as far away as possible from the drunken customers. 

Before you could process the entire situation, you saw fists being thrown and when you realized one of the men involved was Mark, your heart both sank and fluttered at the sight. Your boyfriend wasn’t the most built guy out there, but you knew he could take on most of the guys in that club because of how drunk they all were. However, one guy grew angry with the way Mark was being aggressive towards him and started to fight back; seeing him sock your boyfriend in the face worried you. 

You quickly ran over to the two of them and started punching and slapping the guy in attempts to get him to release his hold on your boyfriend. This was not the way you would have expected the night to go. It felt like you were begging for help for the longest time—yet no one seemed to be coming to your rescue. Finally, after what felt like hours even if it was only a couple of minutes, the security guards pulled Mark away from the now bloody man and threatened to call the cops on him even if he was clearly trying to save you from being harassed. 

“He’s with me. It’s fine. I’ll take care of him.” 

You got off the stage and brought your boyfriend to the back, earning yourself a couple of boos from the crowd, but you didn’t care. Mark was all that mattered in that moment. Once you reached your dressing room, you sat him down on the couch and searched for a first aid kit. When you finally found one, you quickly walked over to where Mark was sitting and immediately started applying medicine to his cuts. 

“Stay here, I’ll go get ice.” Before you could walk away, he was pulling you on to his lap and wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“It’s fine babe. I’ve been through worse. I’m just glad you’re okay.” You frowned at him while gently grazing his cheek. Tears started forming at your eyelids and he was quick to kiss them away once he saw them. 

“Why are you here? And why would you put yourself through danger? The security guards would’ve handled it Mark. Now you’re all beat up and if those guys remember what happened in the morning they can press charges.” He shrugged indifferently while running his hands through your hair. It was obvious he was not worried one bit of the entire situation. 

“Let them. I honestly don’t give a fuck. It was worth it. Nobody messes with my girl. I’m sorry baby. I couldn’t help myself. Seeing them trying to reach out at you already got my blood boiling. But once I saw them jumping on stage, I had to get involved. I know how you can get anxiety sometimes and I didn’t want you having an attack. And I’m sorry for earlier. I was planning on talking to you on your break and I was going to wait till you were done to take you home. I don’t care if we fight, I’m not gonna let you go home on your own. I’m so fucking sorry y/n. You know I didn’t mean anything I said right? I was just mad, but that was no excuse. I’m not ashamed that my girlfriend is a stripper; if anything, I find it so fucking sexy. Nor would I force you to quit knowing how much you love it here. I hate fighting with you. I shouldn’t have let you leave while you were upset but my pride got in the way. I’m so fucking in love with you it’s not even funny. I couldn’t stop thinking about the pain on your face as you walked out the door. Please forgive me y/n. I don’t think I can handle you being mad at me. Scream at me, punch me, hit me, call me names even. But please, don’t be mad at me anymore.” 

Your heart broke when you heard his voice crack and you found yourself connecting your lips together. Mark was a very sensitive person; he would cry at the smallest of things and although his friends would tease him about being too much of a softie, it was a characteristic of his that you were extremely fond of. He was hesitant at first—he was still upset with himself for making you cry in the first place; but when he felt you relax in to him, he wrapped his arms around your waist. You cupped his cheek and depend the kiss; swirling your young all but gently around his, earning yourself a couple of deep grunts. All too soon, Mark pulled away to catch his breath and hid his face in the crook of your neck. 

“I’m not mad at you baby. I’ll admit, I was a little hurt by what you said. But I said some things I didn’t mean either so I’m just as in the wrong as you are. I’m sorry by the way. Everything that I said was in the heat of the moment. You’re not a bad boyfriend. You’re the best boyfriend a girl could ever ask for, you know that right? I’m very thankful to call you mine. Just the mere thought of you brings a smile to my face and when I’m not with you, I feel empty. That’s why I couldn’t stop crying when I left. I really don’t like fighting with you. I love you Mark.”

He placed multiple kisses along your face and quickly wiped away your tears. His fingers were featherlight against your face; he smiled at you while tracing your features with his index finger. Honestly, it didn’t matter that the two of you were sitting in the dressing room of a strip club; it honestly did not matter where you were, you wanted to spend as much time in the moment that time would allow you to. 

After a few moments, you heard a knock on the door and freaked out when you saw your manager. You were afraid of getting in trouble for what happened but released a sigh of relief when she told you to go home early. You quickly packed your things and walked over to help your boyfriend up. 

“Let’s go.” 

He intertwined your hands together and the two of you walked over to his car. Once he helped you get settled in and got himself buckled, you both drove home. For the first couple of minutes, everything was quiet, other than the playlist he had put on. However, about ten minutes in to the drive, his hand absentmindedly found your thigh. 

It’s not like you weren’t used to him touching you like that. On most drives, he would either hold your hand or place his on your lap—however, he began slowly tracing patterns against your skin causing goosebumps to rise. He brought his fingers closer to where you needed him the most; the coil in your stomach was twisting to the point where you had to cross your legs in attempts to form any kind of friction in between them. 

To your dismay yet his delight, your boyfriend ultimately pulled away before he could do anything to help soothe the fire that was overtaking your entire body. You saw him laughing to himself and mentally cursed him before grunting in irritation. 

“You’re gonna get it Tuan I swear to God.” He looked at you as if he had no idea what you were talking about and simply shrugged. 

“Just you wait baby. You’re going to regret teasing me.” He bit his lip seductively while finally pulling in to the parking lot. 

“I don’t know what it is, but I can’t wait.” Once he parked his car, you made a bee line to your apartment and didn’t even care whether or not he was following right behind you. You brought a chair from the kitchen in to your bedroom and took off your clothes, leaving you in the extremely tiny outfit you were wearing earlier. 

You knew it was Mark’s favorite and seeing you wear it tonight is what probably riled him up and got him to fight with other people. When you heard the door close, you sat there and waited patiently for your boyfriend to enter. When he did, his jaw dropped at the sight of you and his gulp did not go unnoticed—in fact, it only turned you on some more. 

“Holy fuck. Y/n—“ He reached out for you but you quickly backed away—earning yourself a breathy and extremely sexy whine. 

“I’m going to give you a lap dance. However, I have rules. My body is off limits. Absolutely no touching. The minute I feel you touching me, I’m going to make it stop. If I feel your hands on my body even just once, it’s over with.” 

Your boyfriend quickly nodded in agreement, willing to take whatever he could get at thus point and motioned for you to start. You turned on your speakers and soon your room was being filled with The Weeknd. Slowly, you sauntered over to your boyfriend, bringing your hands up to his face and caressing his cheek all the while grinding in to him. Seeing him bite his lip to the point where you knew there was a chance it would start bleeding, trying his best not to make a noise nor touch you made you laugh quietly to yourself. 

You brought your hands in to his hair and gently pulled on it, earning yourself an exhausted groan from your boyfriend. Leaving chaste kisses along his jaw and neck made Mark shiver and you could tell he was about to lose all his sanity pretty soon. You turned around, giving him a view of your round and plump ass—you purposely dropped one of your bracelets on to the floor so you had an excuse to bend down. 

Hearing him take in a breath from how much of an effect you were having on him only made you want to take your time; you wanted to break him. When you felt his hard on against your ass, heat went straight to your core. Slowly, but very roughly, you grinded yourself against his thigh and smirked when you saw him squeezing both sides of the chair in order to prevent himself from touching you. 

“Mmm, someone’s excited.” 

He glared at you and the growl that came from the back of his throat did not go unnoticed—you could feel yourself growing wetter and hornier by the minute. The sex was going to be mind-blowing; you just knew it. 

“I’ve been hard since I walked in to the club and saw you wearing this. Fuck baby. You don’t know what you do to me. Y/n. Please. Enough. I’m dying here. You’re actually lethal, do you know that? I’ve been a good boy long enough baby let me fuck your brains out, I’m begging you.” 

You bit your lip at the sound of his dirty words. Mark was a very soft spoken and gentle guy. Around his friends and anyone he was close with, he could talk up a storm. It always made you smile seeing him comfortable enough to talk with people without getting nervous or stumbling on his words. However, when it came to sex between the two of you, he was very dirty and rough—just how you liked it. 

His naughty words and raspy voice never failed to send shivers down your spine. You decided that your boyfriend had enough of your teasing and with the way he protected you tonight from all those drunk and rude assholes, he deserved a little treat. When he saw you get on your knees, he let out a content sigh. Although you were seconds away from fulfilling his carnal urges, you were extremely excited to finally have his dick down your throat. 

Giving Mark head was just as fun for you as it was for him. Slowly, you unzipped his pants and released him from his underwear; the sight of his hard and throbbing cock sent warmth to your core. First, you kitten licked his tip and ran your tongue all along his cock—licking back and forth, dragging your teeth along his veins before ultimately bringing him in to your mouth. The noises; his grunts, moans and cries of pleasure that were rapidly falling from his mouth only drove you crazier. You were bobbing your head at an exceedingly rapid pace; trying to bring him as far down your throat as you could without gagging all the while looking up at him with your soft, doe eyes. 

“Ba—baby—fuck—just—just like that. Ah fuck. You’re so good to me. You were made to suck my cock. Faster baby please. Your tongue—I can’t even—fuck.” 

Your hands found purchase on his hips as you forced him deeper in to your mouth. No matter how much it hurt and how tears were forming at your eyelids, you loved being about to pleasure your boyfriend and you knew he loved it when you blew him. He ran his fingers through your hair and bit his lip in attempts to prevent himself from moaning loudly. Whatever you couldn’t fit in to your mouth, you pumped with your hand. 

Every now and then, you brought his balls in to your mouth; sucking and grazing your teeth against both testicles. It was obvious with the way he would throw his head back that his balls were even more sensitive than his actual cock and you used that you your advantage. 

“Baby—I’m gonna come—fuck y/n—you always get me to come so fast you’re so fucking sexy baby. Just like that—ah fuck.” Once he came in to your mouth, you were quick to swallow it entirely; milking him of everything he had and before you could process what was going on, your mouth was yanked from off of his tip and you were being pulled in to his embrace. 

“You’re not real. I know I’ve said this many times but I have a hard time believing you’re real and that I’m the lucky man who was blessed with you as my girlfriend. You’re the most beautiful girl in the entire world baby. Fuck. Your mouth does wonders. You’re an ethereal being and I’ll do anything you ask me to. Whatever you want, it’s yours. I’m yours. Do whatever you want with me baby.” You turned around to face him and connected your lips together while bringing one of his hands to your core. 

“Fuck y/n, you’re soaking. You’re honestly going to be the death of me you know that right? You’re so fucking sexy. My beautiful baby girl.” He took you off guard by shoving two fingers in to your heat. As soon as he started pumping, you hid your face in to the crook of his neck and tried your best to silence your moans. However, your boyfriend quickly but gently pulled you away and lifted your chin so that you were making eye contact with him. 

“Don’t hide those beautiful sounds princess. Daddy deserves to hear how good he’s pleasuring you. All those men tonight can only dream of seeing you like this. Don’t get me wrong y/n, it’s so hot when you dominate me. But we all know at the end of the day, whose the real boss when it comes down to it huh? You thought you could tease me with this extremely sexy little dance while wearing my favorite lingerie of yours? You’re gonna get it I swear to God. I’m going to make sure everyone in this apartment structure knows how good I’m making you feel tonight.” 

He quickened the pace and watching his facial expressions while he was pumping his fingers inside of you sent you closer to your release. His fingers were warm and the callousness of his digits only did wonders against your pussy. It didn’t take long for him to find your g-spot; during many of your love making sessions, Mark made it a habit to learn a knew thing about you. Your likes, dislikes, preferences, positions you wanted to experiment in, where your clit and g-spot were located; he just really wanted to please you and loved knowing that he was the only one who had that kind of effect on you. 

“Mmm, we’ve already had multiple complaints Mark—maybe we should—FUCK.” He brought his fingers against your clit and flicked it; pinching your nub causing you to moan louder than expected. 

“That’s exactly what we’re going to be doing. All night baby. Get ready to call in sick because when I’m done with you, there won’t be any feeling in your legs.” 

He knew exactly how sensitive you were and always took advantage of the situation. You continued to grind yourself against his fingers in hopes of finally reaching your orgasm—but all too soon, he pulled away. When you whined at the loss, he simply giggled. 

“Mark what the fuck? I was so close!” He definitely was not going easy on you tonight. Your boyfriend was going to make it known that he owned you—that he was the only one who could bring you sheer ecstasy just by his fingers. He loved tormenting you when it came to the bedroom and after that fight earlier, he was excited for the kinky, hot sex he had planned for the two of you. He motioned for you to get off of him and brought you over to the bed. 

“You’re going to sit on my face with that pretty little pussy of yours and I’m going to eat you out until you’re numb. Got it?” You nodded in agreement; excited for what was going to happen in just a couple of seconds. As he lied down, he pulled you with him, having you hover over his face. 

“Sit.” 

Both you and your boyfriend weren’t strangers to face riding, but you were always afraid of crushing him. However, Mark was always vocal about how hot he thought it was eating you out while you were sitting on his face. He always tells you that his face is your throne and wants nothing more than for you to sit on it when you both have the time. His hands found their place on your ass and he grinded you against his tongue. As much as you loved giving head, you really enjoyed receiving it—especially because Mark was a professional at eating you out. He knew exactly what to do to make you scream, cry and beg him to hurry up and bring you to your orgasm. When you felt his fingers graze your clit, you know you were done for. 

“M—Mark—Mark—baby please.” 

Your hands found purchase in his hair, pulling and tugging on it as he continued eating you out like a man starved. His wet muscle felt amazing against your folds; his pace was relentless. He continuously licked stripes against your entrance; biting gently and sibling on your overly sensitive nub. Hearing him moan and hum against your cunt made you want to scream. When he pulled away, you let out a loud whine and you were embarrassed seeing as how needy you must’ve looked but you didn’t care. This was the second time he edged you tonight and you were sure it wasn’t going to be the last. 

“That’s not what you call me when I’m fucking you my pretty slut. If you want me to continue, you know what to say.” 

Hearing him call you such a derogatory name only brought you closer to your end. There were a few times where Mark would degrade you during sex—but it always turned you on. He brought his tongue back up to your entrance and continued his ministrations. 

“Da—daddy—fuck—so so good. You’re always so good to me—just like that daddy please—please let me come—” 

When you felt him nibble on your clit, the coil in your stomach released and you came all over his tongue. Your boyfriend lapped up all your juices, making sure to slurp up every last drop and hummed against your pussy. Feeling him sigh and him against your soaking core only made you wetter at the touch—as much as you were enjoying the way he gripped on your ass and smashed his face against your pussy, you needed more. When he felt you get off of him, he was confused and a little bit worried. 

“Baby I wasn’t done. Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Do you want me to slow down? Y/n I’m so sorry—“ 

You connected your lips with his and wrapped your arms around his neck before you began to leave soft kisses along his jaw. Although he could be rough and dominant when it came to sex with you, he always made sure you were having a good time. He hated the thought of hurting you in any way. 

“I’m fine babe. That was amazing as always. You’re always so good to me. And I love how dirty and kinky you get during sex. You become this animal—it’s so fucking hot and I just—need you inside me. Right now.” He nibbled on your ear and licked a trail down your neck. Your words made him hard again; honestly anything you did never failed to make your boyfriend hard as a rock. 

“Fuck y/n. I’ll do anything you ask me to. As much as I love eating you out and as much as I love how you taste, I want to fuck the living shit out of you. Fuck baby you taste so good I could eat you out for hours. But feeling how tight and wet your cunt is, I want to be buried inside it.” He yanked off his pants and threw them against the wall all the while bringing his hands up to your round mounds and squeezed the both of them. 

“These. These right here are my favorite body parts of yours. Well, other than your extremely pretty face—and thick thighs. Don’t even get me started on your ass babe. Everything about you is simply perfect, I can’t get over it. But your tits—fuck. So big and so pretty. I could spend an eternity sucking on these things.” 

He licked and nibbled on one of your nipples while squeezing the other breast with his free hand. He did this in attempts to distract you from when he finally enters you. Although the two of you had sex almost every single day, you would never get used to the stretch every time Mark would enter you. It always felt so good, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt. 

Your boyfriend was thick and long—you had a hard time believing someone could be that perfect. Even if you considered penises to be very ugly, something about Mark’s was addicting—it never failed to make your mouth water and you loved the feeling of it buried deep inside of your pussy, between your breasts and in your mouth. 

“Let me know if it hurts okay? And tell me when I can move my love.” He reconnected your lips together, melding his lips perfectly with you and finally entered you, eliciting breathless moans from the both of you. You gently tapped his shoulder, letting him know that it was okay for him to move. 

“You know, for someone who claims he’s going to make me immobile for the next week, you sure are very soft for me.” He chuckled and let out a content sigh. 

“I’d beg to differ. I’m hard as a fucking rock for you.” You playfully slapped his shoulder as he hid his face in your neck. 

“I just don’t wanna hurt you. I’m very protective over you y/n. Even from myself. You’re so delicate in my eyes. I’d do anything to keep you safe and make you happy.” You didn’t even realize a tear fell from your face until you felt his fingers gently brush them away. 

“You asshole. Professing your love to me is not the reason why I should be crying during sex. But I love you too. And I’m in love with you. Madly in love with—mmmm.” 

Hearing those words fall from your pretty lips only made Mark crave you in a way that he needed to have you now or else he was sure he would actually go insane and he couldn’t help himself—he needed to move. He started off slow, bringing himself in and out of you as gently as he could—but he was quick to pick up the pace once he felt how amazing your walled wrapped around him. His fingers roughly grabbed your waist and you were sure there were going to be bruises in the morning, but you didn’t care. 

You loved seeing his little marks that he left around your body; it would only remind you of the amazing night before and the fact that you were his. He lifted your legs up and placed them both behind his head so that he could be closer to you while ramming himself in to you. You absentmindedly clenched around him; the feeling of him stretching out your walls made you want to scream. The sensation obviously had an effect on your boyfriend because he stopped moving and roughly grabbed both your wrists, bringing it up along the sides of your face. 

“Stop that. You know exactly what that does to me. I’m going to come right now and I refuse to come before you do. Fuck baby. You’re so fucking tight and wet I can barely stay in. I would fuck you every single day if I could.” He brushed some of your hair behind your ear and placed a chaste kiss on your lips. 

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. I could never get enough of you. I want you for the rest of my life. I hope you’re well aware that you’re stuck with me. You’re mine y/n.” 

No matter how many times he would confess his love for you, you were never ready to hear it and your heart would always melt in to a puddle when he did so. You knew by the way he was groaning and roughly kissing you, that he was close to his release. Therefore, you gently squeezed his hand to get his attention. 

“Baby.” 

He looked at you in curiosity. You motioned for him to get off of you but before he could ask what was going on, you turned around and stuck your ass out in front of him. Out of all the positions, doggy was your favorite. There was something so erotic about how animalistic Mark would get in this position. He was rougher and his movements were so much faster in this position. It also turned you on even more when he would shove your face in to the bed sheets. When he realized what you were asking for, he moaned quietly to himself. 

“My dirty little slut wants me to fuck her from behind? Fuck baby. I’m going to fucking wreck you. Get over here.” 

He pulled your ass up against his pelvis and you moaned in sync at the feeling of his hard cock rubbing against your drenched folds. When he brought his hand up and spanked you, you could feel your orgasm building up again. Mark brought his lips up to your neck and started leaving multiple hickeys against it, you were his own personal canvas and he loved knowing people saw that you were spoken for. You pulled on the sheets and quietly screamed in to your pillow as he made his way back inside of you. 

This time, he didn’t give you a second to prepare before roughly thrusting himself in to your cunt. His pace only quickened now that he could reach further in to your soaking pussy. The sound of skin on skin slapping could be heard throughout your room and every so often, Mark would whisper dirty things in your ear. His hands wouldn’t stop lingering everywhere along your body. 

Your boyfriend always needed to be touching you. A lot of times, his touches weren’t even sexual; Mark had a hard time believing you were real and all his to love. Touching you was like a safety blanket to him. It only made him accept that you actually existed and that he was the proud owner of your heart. His hands were one of your favorite body parts—his fingers were long and skinny and you loved how they felt wrapped around your neck, your waist, against your lower back and buried inside your pussy. You also loved how they felt squeezing both your ass and your breasts. 

You brought his hand up to your neck, hinting to him that you wanted to be choked. Although choking was a huge kink of your boyfriend’s, Mark was always very nervous and hesitant because he didn’t want to hurt you. But God, did he love the effect it had on you. 

“Fuck! Did you just get tighter? You’re already soaking and tight as hell baby please tell me you’re close.” You nodded and he gently twisted your head so that he could kiss you. 

“I love you. I love you. I love you so much baby.” Soon, his warm, creamy liquid was filling you up to the hilt and he let out an exhausted whine. 

“Baby I’m so sorry—“ You shook your head and asked him to pull out. Mark had a tendency of reaching his orgasm before you did, but it was understanding. It also did wonders to your confidence knowing that you could have him reach his release in just a matter of minutes.

“Let me ride.” The look on his face sent shivers down your spine. He was quick to lie down against the pillows and pulled you on top of him. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this breathtaking view but I would do it again and again if I had to if it meant getting to love you in every single lifetime.” You smiled down at him; his heartfelt words sent warmth to your cheeks and you knew in that moment that you would do anything he asked of you—however, your smile was quickly replaced with furrowed brows as you bit down on your lip and moaned as you sank down on his dick. 

“Mmm—Daddy—please go faster. Aw fuck—just like that—harder—I’m so close baby.” 

He sat up so he had a better view of your face and took this time to suck on both of your breasts. The feeling of bouncing on him while he was licking and nipping on your breasts brought you closer to your end. You sank up and down on him at a relentless pace; the feeling of his cock gliding against your walls, his fingers gripping on your ass as he helped guide your body against his and the way your ass slapped against his pelvis was a sensation you would never be able to form in to words. His tip kissed the back of your cervix with each and every bounce—and it was beginning to become too much for you to handle. Before you knew it, you were coming all over his dick with him following just seconds after. 

“You’re not real—you can’t be. You’re so perfect y/n what did I do to deserve you?” You shook your head before bringing your hand up to his face and cupping his cheek with your palm. 

“It’s me who doesn’t deserve you. I’m sorry again for earlier. I know it’s inevitable that we’ll fight again, but promise me that most fights will end like this.” He chuckled while flopping back down on the bed and bringing you with him. 

“Trust me, I love making love to you at all times, but fucking you after fighting with you is a mind blowing experience. Should we fight again tomorrow?” You rolled your eyes and playfully pushed his shoulder. 

“I can’t feel my legs. You win. You’re calling in sick for me tomorrow.” His laughter engulfed the room and you gently ran your fingers through his hair. 

“Do you want to take a shower? I’ll carry you to the bathroom. Or I can even run you a bath if you’d like.” You shook your head—the thought of having to get up, even if he was going to carry you was exhausting. 

“I just wanna go to sleep. I know you babe—we’re only gonna have more sex in the shower. I’m too sensitive for more sex tonight.” He pouted in to your neck but knew you were right. Mark would never be able to get enough of you and he wanted you to be completely recharged when he decided to have his way with you again. 

“Hey, you said tonight. So tomorrow morning—“ You punched his shoulder as he giggled at the action. 

“You are the horniest human being I know.” He ran his fingers up and down your back while leaving lingering kisses along your cheeks. 

“I mean, have you seen yourself? And your body, God I hate the fact that you’re so insecure about it. Your body is perfect y/n. I love your thick thighs and your curves. And I don’t know why you think your breasts are small, I can barely fit one in my mouth. Oh and this ass, fuck. I cannot get enough of it. I could write a book about how much I love your body alone. Imagine if I were to talk about the love I have for you in general. A fucking novel. I never used to be this soft before. Your love made me all sappy. But it was worth it. You’re worth it. I’d do anything for you. Be anything you want me to. I’d do anything to make you happy. You’re my entire world y/n. I love you.” Tears fell from your eyes and he was quick to kiss them away. 

“Come on my crybaby, let’s go to bed. Since you’re calling out sick tomorrow, I’m planning on having a lazy day—for the most part. At some point I plan on making love to you against the kitchen counter and on the couch. Maybe both. We’ll see if you’re up for it. Goodnight princess. Sweet dreams.”

[blackmissfrizzle]

No One Has To Know- Part 2

Part 1

Pairing: Angel Reyes x black!reader

Summary: The reader gets a real graduation party.

Warnings: Smut

A/N: I finally got my Girls in the Hood inspired fic out! I hope yall enjoy!

Now this was a party. Your best friend, Bryce surprised you with a graduation party the pool party edition. The only thing missing was your boyfriend and his friends. They had club business to attend to that had them running late.

Aisha, a fellow graduate was complaining about how she didn’t know how to ride dick, so you gladly volunteered to show her. On que, Shake That Monkey came on and you laid Aisha on the lounge chair. Getting on top of her you began twerking on her.

Bounce that ass up and down to the floor

Shake that shit till you can't no more

Twerk that monkey, lemme see you get low

Freak that nigga till your shit get sore

Too busy twerking on your friend, you didn’t notice that Angel and his friends arrived. Angel couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Your ass on display, eating up your bikini bottoms, moving up and down to the beat. You were definitely riding him later on tonight.

“FUCK IT UP!” You heard Letty’s voice cheer you on.

Turning around you saw the young girl, surprised at how she got there. Her dad beat you to the punch to questioning her. “Leticia, what the fuck are you doing here?!”

You couldn’t pay too much attention to the argument because suddenly you were picked up from Aisha.

“Where’s the clothes at, mi dulce?” Angel asked, biting your ear. There were too many eyes on his girl. He’ll pull his gun if he had to, he just had to do it secretly to keep the mood right.

“This is a pool party, Angelito. Clothes are unnecessary. In fact, you got too many clothes on.” You turned to tug at the ends of his kutte.

“It’s because I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands to yourself.” Angel joked, sliding his hand to grab your ass.

Bryce walked past the two of you and forced drinks into both of y’alls hands. Apparently, you were too sober for her. Just as you were about to comment about how good the drinks were your song came on. You and Bryce ran towards each other, hyping the other up as you screamed the lyrics together.

Fuck bein' good, I'm a bad bitch (Ah)

I'm sick of motherfuckers tryna tell me how to live (Fuck y'all))

Angel stood behind and just watched. He loved just watching you be carefree. The pressure of being the perfect daughter not weighing on you.

Jumping in Angel’s face you began singing the lyrics towards him, dancing along to the song.

In the mall with him, I'ma have a ball with him (Yeah, yeah, woah)

Somebody call Rihanna, I'ma buy some drawers with him

He fuckin' with Thee Stallion 'cause he into wild women (He love wild women)

Put them legs on his head, now he love tall women (Yeah, yeah, ah)

You'll never catch me callin' these niggas daddy (Nope)

Angel smacked your ass as a warning to tell you to quit your shit. On multiple occasions you’ve called him daddy and he wasn’t about to let you act like you didn’t just because you were singing some lyrics.

The little smack you got, prompted you to twerk on Angel. You never really had this opportunity before and now that you can you’re loving it. You wanted to show off Angel as your man.

I'm a hot girl, I do hot shit (I do hot shit)

Spend his income on my outfit (On my outfit)

I don't text quick 'cause I ain't thirsty (I ain't thirsty)

These bitches mad, mad, they wanna hurt me (Ah, ah)

While sipping on your drink, you looked over your shoulder all innocently like you weren’t just making your ass clap against Angel’s erection.

Yeah, he call me Patty Cake 'cause the way that ass shake (Yeah, yeah, ass shake)

I'ma make him eat me out while I'm watchin' anime (Wow, wow, anime)

Pussy like a Wild Fox, lookin' for a Sasuke (Yeah, yeah, ayy, yeah)

The friction of his clothes and you twerking on him made Angel’s hard on unbearable for him. He had to get a little taste to hold him over for the rest of the party. Picking you up he led you into the house.

“Angel! Where are we going?” You wrapped your arms around his neck to secure yourself.

“Somewhere I can watch that ass shake on my dick.” Angel found the nearest bathroom and set you down on the counter.

Kneeling before you he ran his nose against your core, making you wetter than you already were.

Tugging on his hair, you tilted his head so he could look at you. “I thought you wanted to see my ass shake?”

Untying your bottoms, Angel stuck two ring adorned fingers inside of you. “Yeah, I do but first I wanna feel your legs wrapped around my head. Is that okay with you, baby?”

“Fuck yes,” you moaned, enjoying the feel of Angel’s fingers stretching you out.

There was no teasing. Angel dived in, eating your pussy like it was his last meal. He knew how to get you to a quick orgasm, and he was pulling out all the stops to get you there.

And sure, you love the head he was giving you, but right now you wanted to cum all on his dick. “Baby please I need you inside of me.” You tried to push away from him, but instead he wrapped his arm around your waist tightly and pulled you closer to him.

Angel’s tongue was expertly switching between flicking and sucking on your clit while fucking you with his fingers. Once he applied more pressure to your clit and angling his fingers, you reached your peak, beating on his back from how explosive the orgasm was.

Standing up to his full height, his beard and lips glistened from your juices. Crooking your finger, you beckoned Angel to bend down so you could get a tiny taste. The taste of your essence mix with Angel was heavenly like none other.

While kissing him, you unbuckled his jeans and pulled them down with his boxer briefs just far enough for his cock to spring out. You only got a couple of strokes in before Angel stopped you.

“Who am I?” He asked, his hand around your throat, lips ghosting over yours, and dick a half an inch away from sheathing itself inside of you.

“Daddy,” you whimpered, trying to scoot closer to his dick.

Angel lightly slapped your face. “Don’t forget it and don’t you say something stupid like that again. I don’t give a fuck even if it’s in a song.” Angel referenced to your sing along to Megan.

“Yes Daddy.” Normally you would be a bratty little shit, but Angel fucking you was the only thing you could focus on.

After slipping on a condom and turning you to face the mirror, Angel rammed into, making you cum on the spot. He rested his head on your shoulder and kissed it right before he bit it. “Make a fucking doctor’s appointment and get on that birth control, because after today you’re only gonna be coming on my cock with nothing between us. Understand?”

You nodded your head in agreement. Angel didn’t care that you didn’t give him a verbal answer, he was too caught up in how tight you felt around him.

“Shit, I don’t care if you don’t get on birth control. I could fill you up and you can have my babies. Do you wanna have my babies, mi alma?” Angel whispered against your ear, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Fuck yes, Daddy.” You looked back at him and he saw the fire in your eyes. He knew right now you would let him rip the condom off and shoot all up inside of you. The selfish bastard in him wanted to, but he remembered that you’re still young and that y’all had plenty of time to make babies later, so he kept the condom on.

Angel grabbed you around the neck and flushed your back against his chest. “Congratulations, graduate. I fuckin’ love you, you know that, right?” He asked, his lips peppering down your cheek.

Reaching behind you palmed his face. “I do, Angel. I love you too.” The sounds of your sex contradicted the softness of your proclamation of love, but soon the softness was replaced with roughness as Angel ordered you to cum with him.

Bishop was pissed and nervous. Him along with Taza and Hank came to the party to drop off a present for you. He didn’t expect to hear you and Angel having sex and now he wanted to rip Angel’s head from his shoulders.

“Calmese,” Hank advised his friend and president.

“I know in my head that she’s grown, and I can’t tell her anything, but hearing Angel fucking defiling my little girl is driving me crazy.” Bishop had to be careful holding the gift. He was so agitated he almost wrinkled the bag.

Taza slapped him on the back. “It’s ok. You’re going through 24 years worth of parenting in less than a month.”

“What if she doesn’t like it?” Bishop asked, now worried about the present instead of you and Angel. Both Hank and Taza assured to their friend that you would love your gift. It would no doubt become useful and it had a secret personal touch to it.

Seeing the older Mayans at the party, you drugged Angel along to say hi. “Hey, guys! Thank you for coming.” You hugged each man.

“We’re just dropping by. This is a little too young for us.” Bishop joked, fiddling with the bag in his hand. “Anyway, this is for you.”

Eagerly, you took the bag from him. You weren’t expecting a gift from him. Removing the tissue paper, you discovered your own helmet. Even though you were scared to ride Angel’s bike, you knew one day you would, and you would need a helmet of your own.

Jumping into Bishop’s arms you thanked him profusely.

To have his daughter in his arms warmed his heart even if she didn’t know the truth. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

Angel couldn’t hold back the tinge of jealousy. Of all the girlfriends the Mayans ever had, none of them ever gotten a gift from Bishop, especially a gift that’s meant to be given from a boyfriend.

“Angel, can I talk to you for a bit?” Bishop asked, not even waiting for Angel to agree before walking off.

Once they were ducked off in a corner away from everyone else Angel spoke up. “What’s up, prez?”

In full and president authoritarian mode, Bishop warned Angel. “Respect her, you understand me? Keep your dirty shit in private.”

What the fuck was this, Angel thought. The only time Bishop gave any of them shit about screwing around was when they were in the clubhouse bathroom and someone needed to use it. Other than that it was jokes all around. Did this have something to do with you being the mayor’s daughter?

Angel’s rebuttal died on his tongue when he saw Bishop’s face. There was no arguing with him about this at all. “Got it, prez.” Angel nodded his head in agreement and then left in search of you, secretly wondering if his president had a thing for his girl.

Tags: @angrythingstarlight​ @briannab1234​ @starrynite7114​ @marvelmaree​ @thickemadame​ @chaneajoyyy​ @woahitslucyylu​

[nim-lock]

Listen. It’s been a month, and my memory has probably run for the hills. For KidLit Pride at Home I was on a panel with Kaylani Juanita, Andrea Tsurumi, and Kyle Lukoff, moderated by Adib Khorram. 

Long rambling post about kidlit under the cut

Here’s a link to the actual vid, let’s all pretend my voice is 2 octaves deeper, and here’s the paraphrasing of whatever I can remember of it one month after the facts:

Kaylani’s an illustrator who’s worked with Kyle (author) on this book ‘When Aidan became a brother’ which was about a trans kid going :0!!!! over his parents having a new kid, and trying to prepare to be the best older sibling possible. Andrea’s an illustrator who draws a lot of animal books. 

So the nice thing about hiring illustrators who are part of the demographics the text is about is because they add in details that would be unnoticed by general audience, but anyone who KNOWS will be like “ah yes!”. Kyle was talking about things like how Kaylani added a detail of this kid wearing suspenders and going ‘that’s gay’. Also ways we integrate identity is in the food & games & other cultural elements in the story; like a kid who’s black & asian eating a dessert w/ ube in it. 

I’m currently on a story in which the kid is part Mexican, and I do not mention this in the panel but I paid my Mexican American friend $50 to sensitivity-reader rant to me about their life. Doing as much research as you can beforehand is good, but also it doesn’t beat just asking someone to double check. Go get yourself a sensitivity reader. 

Copy/pasting this message I once sent someone bc it is a decent summary of my experience in the publishing industry

In traditional publishing, a person tends to get an agent, who then pitches the book to a publisher, and if picked up, the publisher then finds an illustrator for the book. The illustrator has nothing to do with the author; they do not start out as a team before approaching the publisher. All parties working on the book are paid by the publisher based on how they think it'll sell. In contrast, with self-publishing, the author needs to foot the bills themselves for the illustrator, for design, marketing, printing, and shipping. There’s a lot more creative freedom, but the cost is more difficult to balance. 

Also Andrea’s drawn a lot of chickens lately, go check out their chickens.

Last question sitting in my inbox; disclaimer; all views are my own, all experience is my own; it is not universal and I am one single person etc

Is it hard to get diverse books published? tldr; it’s difficult to get ANY book published but diversity can give brownie points in your favor? Consciously, many publishing companies are more aware that they need to publish diverse books—for example, there’s the push for POC, queer characters, stories about non-Christian holidays, stories about the environment, stories about real people—BUT a lot of hiring decisions are and continue to be influenced by peoples’ racial/gender biases. The Diversity Baseline Survey by Lee & Low Books (this company started by two Chinese Americans for books about POC & diversity) show that an overwhelming proportion of people who work in publishing are cis, straight, white, non-disabled women.  So. The authors/illustrators (and the interns) could be diverse af but the people in the offices?? Those are the people making decisions. Like with many things, getting published does rely on your network & who you know—if you’re an author it’s exponentially more difficult if you do not have an agent or are not working full-time in an office within the publishing industry. Most companies don’t take unsolicited manuscripts and you can only get to them if you have an agent.  Having diverse characters may increase your chances and make it easier to pitch, but doing the legwork of trying to get to know people is needed either way ^^. Rn you can do this by signing up for events online (and maybe emailing people afterwards thanking them—don’t try to promo yourself too hard when just meeting folks) to begin building the connection. 

OH YEAH also re: publishing so white—publishing companies WILL pay you 3 months late. This is why many people don’t do it as their primary source of income—they assume you’re middle-class enough to not immediately need that money. And the biannual SCBWI events?? Incredible for connections, also assumes you’ve got at least $700 lying around. 

I’m really appreciative of the #WeNeedDiverseBooks & #OwnVoices movements, I’m glad that I as a trans Asian American person I can work on queer books. I feel pretty welcome in the space I’m at. I hope that some day the diversity of the people working in this industry will be saturated enough that i can work on stories that aren’t necessarily about being queer. The statements ‘the push in publishing for more diverse books is wonderful’ and ‘publishing companies need to reflect that sentiment in their own employees’ are both true at the same time. 

Aii bye :-0

[bettsfic]

hi, i was reading your years in review and i noticed that you quit a job of many years to go your own way. i was wondering if you would mind talking about this decision/if you struggled with it? idk i've always told myself that i wouldn't let the idea of a "career" get in the way of what i want (e.g. writing) and that one day (shortly after 30?) i would just quit whatever job i had and go my own way, but as that deadline comes up i find it harder to imagine how i could just uproot myself...

yes, i very much did struggle with the decision to quit (what i thought was) my very stable and lucrative career in finance to get an MFA in creative writing. it’s a bit of a long story so i’m putting it under a cut.

warning for suicidality and sexual assault.

i used to believe i grew up poor, but it was the 90s so poverty looked very different. my dad didn’t work for a long time, and so we only had one income, and we lived in an apartment that was kind of a lowkey hoarder home. as a kid, all i knew was that i didn’t get to have toys, or my own space, and i wasn’t allowed to have friends over. the concept of an allowance was totally alien to me. but it also wasn’t like i ever went hungry. the food we had wasn’t particularly healthy but it was always there.

i didn’t really realize how much that instability affected me until much later, when i noticed other people hadn’t lived their entire lives aware of and obsessed with money. i used to compulsively count the change in my piggy bank and beg my mom to take it so she could pay her taxes (i didn’t know what taxes meant, i just assumed they were the reason we couldn’t afford nice things). 

my safe haven was always my grandparents’ house, which was clean and had semi-healthy food and the door was always open. my grandpa was a high school chemistry teacher. my grandma worked at a bank. growing up, i had no idea what she did at the bank, just that it sponsored all the fun things we did, like going to amusement parks and baseball games. my parents never took my sister and i on vacation, but every year, my grandma would drive us to visit our family in missouri, which, even though it only cost the gas to get there, seemed like a wild indulgence to me.

i started working at 16 so i could have my own money. by 17 i was working illegally full-time and getting paid under the table. then i bought my own car, and shortly after i turned 18 i got my own apartment. even though i could pay my bills, i was still terrified about money. i thought about it all the time. i checked my bank account multiple times a day. i was a cashier at a restaurant and i would often open my drawer and just stare at the money or count it when i was bored.

but i hated working at the restaurant, and one day i thought to myself, how can i keep the money part of this job but lose the food part? then i remembered my grandma’s career at the bank (from which by then she’d retired), and that afternoon i sat down and applied to be a teller at the very same bank. obviously the bank was very large and it wasn’t like my grandma was in management. she worked in ATM operations. nobody on my hiring committee knew who she was, and honestly i have no idea how i got the job.

i stayed a teller through college, working 25ish hours a week. it didn’t pay very well and i was still nervous about money, so i picked up a job altering bridal gowns on evenings and weekends, and also an admin job at my university. so i was working 60ish hours a week, plus going to school full-time and trying to keep up my 4.0. in retrospect, i can’t remember how necessary all this was. i know i was living in an apartment whose rent was higher than i could afford, and i lived with my boyfriend who was struggling to find a job. anyway, it was definitely the lowest time of my life, and i was so exhausted that every day i hoped something horrible would happen to me so i could be hospitalized and rest. 

then something horrible did happen. my dad died. and even though everyone in my life was telling me to please dear god take a break, i did not. 

i got promoted to business finance, which paid what seemed at the time to be an ungodly amount of money. i was still part-time and finishing up my undergrad degree. once i graduated, i got promoted to full-time. for the first couple years, i really did try to be a banker. i was good at my job only insofar as someone who is left-handed can write with their right hand if forced for long enough. it felt very much like i was in the wrong place, but by that point i had so much unchecked trauma that i had convinced myself the highest human ideal was misery and deprivation. i wish i was kidding. i was the definition of ascetic and martyred myself. i didn’t believe happiness existed. work was all that mattered to me.

then i bought a house. so at this point, i had student loans, a car loan, a mortgage, and credit card debt. after my dad’s death, my mom had to file for bankruptcy because of all the medical bills. she abandoned her house. by this point i was 23, single, in six figures of debt with no familial support net, but i was making decent money at the bank, so it wasn’t like i was drowning. in fact i was doing pretty well. the bank was a rock in my very turbulent life. i got a lot of vacation time that allowed me to travel a bit. i had insurance and a matching 401(k). it was really a decent job.

but the bank was also in many ways an abusive relationship. i don’t mean that metaphorically. i had bosses who manipulated me, insulted me, humiliated me in front of other people. i had one boss who went so far as to look at my checking account and ridicule my purchases. i didn’t have any idea what it meant to stand up for myself or say no. in fact i wasn’t allowed to say no. my job at the bank involved solving other people’s problems. i could never say “i can’t solve that problem.” i could only say “i’ll figure it out.”

i had convinced myself working at the bank was a stable career because it was boring and i hated it. but actually it wasn’t stable at all. after 2008, there were mass layoffs and restructures every year while the bank tried to recover from the recession. i worked for a sales team, and so my job was dependent entirely on whether or not the salespeople did their jobs well. if they didn’t make goal, they’d get fired. if they got fired, i’d get fired. 

i started trying to date again and was sexually assaulted. after that i really struggled at work because i was dissociating a lot and couldn’t focus. my team, despite my having worked there for years, instead of being concerned for me decided to start complaining about me to my boss. finally i had to tell a coworker what happened and that i wasn’t doing very well. my team started being a little nicer to me but ultimately they didn’t care about me, they cared about how effective i was at my job. my boss didn’t want to fire me, so instead i was pushed onto another team.

that move came with a raise. then that team was dismantled and i was pushed onto another team. that was a demotion, but i got to keep my raise from the previous move. by then, i was working from home, and even though i was more comfortable i was also very isolated and miserable. my “fulfillment through deprivation” attitude was destroying me. i wasn’t eating well or taking care of myself. i was isolated and lonely. i still didn’t believe happiness was real and i constantly thought about killing myself. 

but i had started writing fanfiction, and even though i didn’t think i was any good at it, i was beginning to see a way out. i was beginning to learn how to dream, and want things, and give myself the things i wanted. i just couldn’t imagine leaving the bank, or selling my house, or moving out of my hometown. all of that seemed impossible to me.

then i had to go to a business conference where my team had a retirement party for one of my coworkers. she’d done what i was doing for 45 years. by that point i was at the 9 year mark. i’d spent my entire adult life at the bank. and i realized: the bank benefited from my fear and passivity, and nothing in my life was going to change unless i was willing to make sacrifices. 

but i still wasn’t entirely convinced. and then came the day i had to physically hold onto my desk to keep me from killing myself. i didn’t end up trying it, because i had another realization: this was a life or death situation now. if i kept working at the bank, i knew i would die. i knew eventually i would get low enough to do it. i didn’t actually want to die; i wanted an escape and didn’t know what else to do. suddenly i was off the hook. my options were not “financial stability or imminent poverty” but “live or die.” 

those were the big epiphanies i had, but the process of actually leaving the bank was a slow one. i wrote a bit about it here. i got into an MFA program basically by telling myself repeatedly i would figure out the money stuff later. when it came time to quit the bank, my boss convinced me to stay on working part-time, with the assumption i would move back to full-time once i’d graduated. i agreed to it, because just trying to quit was enough to convince me i could, and that better things were ahead of me. for a year and a half, i stayed on working two days a week while doing my MFA, which involved both coursework and teaching, and it felt a bit like it did during undergrad, having too many jobs and no time to breathe or think or feel anything.

between my first and second year, i had a looooong overdue mental breakdown. there were a lot of causes, but one of them was spreading myself too thin. shortly after, i quit for good. by then it didn’t feel like a big deal at all, i was so far removed from the work and my team and so focused on my degree. one day i turned on my work laptop and the next day i didn’t. i shipped it back to HQ and it was over.

then i graduated from the MFA and suddenly had to face the consequences of this life i’d chosen. my school kept me on as an adjunct, but it felt like being a ghost. i no longer had the community of my cohort. i had no health insurance. i was given my teaching schedule and a contract to sign, that’s it. there was no guarantee i would be getting classes the following semester, and after a year, that was what happened. i remember sitting in my favorite coffee shop trying not to cry when i got the email that said the department had nothing for me to teach the following semester.

i really wasn’t the same after the breakdown. i went from “i can do anything i put my mind to no matter how hard it is or how much it hurts” to “i have to step carefully, and treat myself gently.” i hadn’t fully realized that yet, though, so i tried to get a Real Job. i got the first and only job i applied to, because i am bad at nearly everything but somehow i’m exceptional in interviews. it wasn’t a bank but it offered the same sort of benefits package. it was a full-time salaried position at a non-profit. if i had found it earlier, i think it would have been my dream job. it was the kind of work you throw yourself into because you care so much about doing good. 

i lasted a month. during the first week something happened that triggered me in a way i’m very rarely triggered. i realized i needed disability accommodations, but i needed to go to a doctor to get an assessment and i had to be on the team 60 days in order to get insurance. i thought i could white-knuckle it, and i could, sort of, but every minute i was at work, it felt like i was forced away from the thing i should have been doing. i was constantly trying to write a few paragraphs here and there on my phone when no one was looking. i had to find excuses to take breaks and go to my car and breathe. at one point i told a volunteer i was an english instructor, and she looked at me very confused, and i realized i’d said it in present tense, like it was part of who i was and not a job i did for a while. then finally, my breaking point was an after-hours function. when i left i saw a field full of fireflies and thought about how, if i’d just stayed home, i could have sat outside and enjoyed them all evening, not just a glance at them on the way to my car. i liked the job but it was making me miss all the things i’d learned to love about being alive.

i quit the next day. i’d sold my house by then (which was its own feat) and moved in with my grandma, which hadn’t been a possibility until my grandpa passed away the previous spring. i paid off my car. i figured out finally that i would probably never be able to work full-time again unless it was teaching, and that the downside to this life would be accepting fear and instability, only being able to look ahead one semester at a time. staying open to the opportunities that arise. being a little selfish. 

i wrote a bit more about the financial realities of the writing life here. i can’t tell you what you should do, because the path i took definitely isn’t the path for everyone, but i do believe we all owe it to ourselves to pursue our best and happiest lives, because we only get one, and there’s no reason not to live it the way you want to. 

[viking-raider]

The Bat’s Sister *Fic Request*

Summary: You’re Bruce Wayne’s little sister, and after meeting at a Charity Gala, you and Clark Kent kept running into each other. So much so, that the pair of you fall in love, much to Bruce’s annoyance and attempts to stop it. But, both Clark and Bruce would do anything to keep you safe.

Pairing: Clark Kent/Reader

Word Count: 14,274

Rating: Superman/Batman AU, Fluff, Violence, overprotective superheros

Inspiration: Request by @jessevans​ (x)

Author’s Note: This is my first Clark Kent/DC story! I had a lot of fun writing it too!

Tag List: @jennylovelyheart, @peakygroupie, @jessevans​ @MITZWINCHESTER @rosie-loves-things​, @ohjules​, @mary-ann84​, @omgkatinka​, @hm-fck​, @the-freak-cassie-131​, @heelsamizayn​, @agniavateira, @cap-barnes, @romyr4​, @michelehansel, @katiebriggs004-blog​

Clark first met you at one of Bruce's Charity Galas. He was there to write an article on the event for the Daily Planet, when he noticed Bruce pull you aside into a corner as you entered the venue, handing you a glass of champagne. Clark let the rumble of the hundred plus people in the room around him fade away and honed in on the conversation between the two of you.

“You're late, y/n.” Bruce told you in a concerned voice, resting a hand on your shoulder. “I thought...”

“Bruce, just because someone is running late, doesn't always mean something happened to them.” You sighed, rolling your eyes at your older brother. “You know what the traffic from Metropolis is like at this hour trying to get into Gotham. Especially, when the great and mighty Bruce Wayne is throwing the gala of the century.”

“If you'd called me, I could have gotten you a helicopter in.”

“Dear God, Bruce.” You laughed, sipping your champagne.

“What's the point of being so rich, if you don't enjoy it?” Bruce teased you, grinning.

“Being rich is your thing, Ru.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “I am more than content on living in my flat in Central Metropolis, and doing my simple nine to five job.”

“A flat the our inheritance pays for, and a nine to five that's at Wayne Biotech.” Bruce rolled his eyes back.

“I pay my own bills,” You defended yourself. “Our inheritance only pays for the rent and whatnot. As for Biotech, I enjoy it, helping the world invent and discover new vaccines and medical treatments. You know as well as I do, I can't sit around a multi-million dollar mansion, while servants take care of literally every whim and fantasy I may or may not have. I'd lose my mind.” You sighed, setting your glass down on the table behind you. “It's not like I can run around the city in a rubber suit.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes at you, you'd been the first person he told about being Batman. “You're the only family I have left, y/n. I don't want to lose you, like we lost our parents.” He told you, taking your hand in his. “You know, that's the main reason I do, what I do at night.”

“I know it is, Bruce.” You told him, resting your hand on his cheek. “But, I can take care of myself as well, you know.”

“Mr. Wayne.” Clark beamed, stepping up to you and your brother. “Ma'am.” He smiled, sweetly at you.

“Mr. Kent.” Bruce replied, turning to the reporter. “How can I help you?”

You narrowed your eyes and tilted your head at your brother, seeing his shoulders tense as he looked up at Clark, giving you the odd feeling that the two knew each other.

“I'm well.” Clark replied, his smile smug, but familiar. “It's an amazing party you have going on here.” He said, gesturing around to the rest of the room, like he was reminding him that there was more than just the three of you in the room. “Can I get a statement about it?” He asked, pulling out a pen and small notepad.

Bruce opened his mouth to say something, but something else caught his attention and he patted Clark on the shoulder. “You know what, I forgot to check on something downstairs. But, I'm sure my sister, y/n, here would gladly give you a statement about it. It was her idea to throw this gala to raise money for a wonderful cause.” He grinned at you, chuckling seeing the utter look of horror in your face as he walked away.

“Oh, I hate him.” You sighed, picking your glass back up and downing it.

“Would you like that to be your official statement?” Clark asked, grinning amused.

“I wish.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “But, no. Of course not.”

“So, tell me, what it is that the gala is about?” He asked, poising himself to write down your answer.

“Um,” You glanced around the room, hugely uncomfortable about being in the spot light, you never liked being the center of attention.

Clark watched and listened to your heart beat become erratic with panic and tucked his pen back into his front pocket and his notebook in his back pocket. He turned around as a waiter walked behind him and picked up two glasses of wine, holding one out to you. “How about we go somewhere quieter, that way you're more comfortable answering any questions?” He suggested, your fingers brushing as you took the glass from him.

You took a deep breath and a gulp of the wine. “Sure.” You nodded, looking around and then motioned for him to follow you out of the main room of the event and down the hall to one of the empty offices. “Ask your questions, Mr. Kent.” You told him, sitting down across from him.

“Right.” He smiled at you, pulling out his pen and pad again, setting it on the desk next to him. “You're Bruce Wayne's sister?”

“Little sister, yes.” You nodded, turning your wine glass between your hands. “I was two, when our parents were killed.”

“How old was Bruce?” Clark asked, scribbling in his pad.

“Sixteen.” You replied, shifting in your seat, neither you or Bruce liked talking about the death of your parents.

“I'm guessing, he took care of you, after that?” He inquired, tilting his head at you and pushing his glasses back up his nose.

“Sorta.” You shrugged, taking another gulp of wine. “Between him, our butler, Alfred, and nannies. All rather lonely, really. But, you have to make the best out of what life gives you.”

“And being a Wayne, that's pretty much everything you want, since your family as huge chunk of the world's wealth.” Clark chuckled, smiling at you, but his smile faded see you didn't find it funny. “I'm sorry, that...what is this gala about?” he asked, shaking his head and changing the subject.

“The Gala is to raise awareness about the hunger crisis in third world countries.” You explained to him. “Wayne Industries started a food supply market in the 1910's, that helps feed low income families and homeless in Metropolis and Gotham.” You continued, crossing your ankles.

“What made you want to throw the Gala for it?” Clark asked, intrigued.

“I spent a year in Africa helping try and treat a disease outbreak, then helped develop a vaccine for it with my position in the Wayne Biotech labs. While I was there, I noticed how so many villages struggle to keep themselves fed, and figured that Wayne Industries had more than enough money to help, as would many of the other rich socialites over here. But, rich people don't generally like donating money, unless they get to dress up and mingle with other rich people.” You chuckled, finishing off the rest of your wine. “and yeah, you can put that down as my official statement.” You added, seeing Clark's eyebrow raise as he finished writing down what you said.

“That'll make for some scandal.” He giggled, setting his pen down. “A rich woman calling out other rich people.”

You rolled your eyes. “Just because you're rich, doesn't mean you get to think you're above everyone else in the world. Besides, I'm not into being rich. It doesn't really give me what I want out of life.”

“And what do you want out of life, Ms. Wayne?” He asked you, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair.

“Something quiet and simple.” You sighed, looking out the open windows to the bright and dark night of Gotham. “I've lived in the city for ninety percent of my life, and I've never felt more one with the world, than when I'm somewhere quiet, where I can look up and see the stars, and not the lights of a million buildings, airplanes and satellite dishes.”

“Why don't you move out somewhere in the country?” Clark asked, he could relate to how you felt, he'd been a small town boy, and coming to Metropolis the first time was overwhelming, especially with his Kryptonian powers.

You shrugged your shoulders. “Bruce got me a house out in the country for my birthday a couple years back, but I don't get to spend too much time there. I'm the head Biochemist at Biotech, so I work a lot and when I'm not working a lot, I'm traveling for other Wayne industry responsibilities.”

“You're quite the busy young lady.” He complimented, taking a sip of his forgotten wine.

“Indeed, I am.” You smiled at him. “Tell me, how do you and Bruce know each other?”

“What makes you think we know each other?” Clark asked, smoothly. “We've met at several events I was writing a article on for the Daily Planet.”

“I know my brother, Mr. Kent.” You told him, smirking and crossing your arms. “I know, when my brother is acquainted with a reporter, and when he knows someone.”

“Well, I guess when you run into someone as often as he and I do,” He told you, acting cool. “You just start becoming very familiar with each other.” He explained, dancing around the fact, he and your brother had met each other two years before, and ended up leveling most of Metropolis and Gotham, as Superman and Batman. “I end up attending nearly all of your brother's events for Wayne Industries.” He added, pressing his lips together.

“Hm.” You hummed, knowing he was hiding something. “Fair enough, I suppose.”

There was a knock on the office door and one of Bruce's assistants stuck her head into the room. “The silent auction is starting, Ms. Wayne.” She informed you, looking between you and Clark.

“Thank you, Felicia.” You told her, standing up and smoothing your dress down. “Mr. Kent, it was a pleasure to meet you, and thank you for the interview.” You said, extending your hand to him.

“The pleasure was all mine, Ms. Wayne.” He told you, standing up and shaking your hand, gently. He moved out of your way and held the door open for you, smiling sweetly as you nodded your head to him, and walked out.

Clark ran down the street, in a complete rush to get his latest article into Perry White before his deadline. All he needed was to have Perry chewing him out again for being late, and holding up the printer. But, he couldn't help the detour to rescue people from a major apartment fire. He turned the corner and collided straight into someone, knocking them over and his glasses off.

“Oh, gosh!” He exclaimed, shifting the strap of his shoulder bag. “I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention.”

“That's quite alright, Mr. Kent.” You told him, picking up your bag and grabbing his black framed glasses off the sidewalk.

Clark blinked several times, looking down at you. “Ms. Wayne.” He grinned, helping you up. “Are you all right?” He asked, looking you over.

“Other than feeling like, I ran into a bull made out of a brick wall?” You chuckled, holding out his glasses to him. “The only injury is to my pride.” You assured him, readjusting your jacket and backpack.

“Well,” He sighed, biting his lip. “Is there anything I can do, to ease that for you?” He asked, tilting his head at you.

“Not unless you can get me across town in,” You glanced down at your watch, and groaned. “an hour.” You sighed, your shoulders dropping. “I'm running late for my flight to Jordan.”

“I could get you to Jordan in less than an hour.” Clark commented, licking his lips.

Laughter bubbled out of you at his comment, your hand resting on his upper arm. “If only.” You giggled, looking up at him.

He raised his eyebrows at you, pressing his lips together to keep himself from making another comment. “I should let you get to your flight, I'm sorry about being a brick bull.” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

“No harm, no foul.” You assured him, going on tiptoe and giving him a hug, surprising him into hugging you back.

“Tell your brother, I said hello.” He called after you, as you rushed into awaiting car.

“I will!” You called, slipping into the car and your driver closed the door.

Clark watched your car pull away and disappear in the traffic, running his hand through his hair again and then turning on his heels and continued to rush down the street and into the Daily Planet. He managed to get his article in on time, but he ended up spending the rest of the day thinking about your body hugged around his. By the time he clocked out and started his walk back home, Clark had already settled it in his mind that he was going to try and get his hands on your phone number and ask you out to dinner, for an interview, of course. Perry had asked him to do a follow up on the Wayne Charity Gala he'd attend the month and a half before, so it was the perfect reason to ask you out. He just needed to find out when you'd be back from your trip.

“Yes, Hello,” Clark said, when someone from Wayne Industry Headquarters finally answered the phone. “I'm Clark Kent, a reporter for the Daily Planet in Metropolis. I did an interview with Ms. Y/n Wayne, and I need to schedule a follow up interview with her.”

“Ms. Wayne is out of the country, at the moment, Mr. Kent.” the Secretary informed him.

“I am aware of that.” He said, running his hand through his hair as he paced his small flat. “Can you tell me when she'll be back, and how to contact her when she returns?”

“Um...” The Secretary groaned, typing quickly on her computer and shaking her head. “Ms. Wayne is due back into Gotham in two weeks. If you'd like, Mr. Kent, I can pass on a message to her assistant, Felicia, and have her call you when Ms. Wayne returns.”

“I would appreciate that, thank you.” Clark replied, it wasn't exactly the answer he wanted, but it was better than her telling him to fuck off and hanging up on him. Clark wasn't off the phone with the woman when his phone rang again, with a private number. “Clark Kent?” He answered, pathetically hoping it was you.

“Why are you asking about my sister, Superboy?” Bruce asked, leaning back in his chair as he sat in his office.

“Bruce.” Clark smiled, tightly, dropping onto his couch.

“Answer the question, Clark.”

“I was asked to do a follow up interview with her, after the one I did with her at the Gala. Where you ditched her, to go play Batman.” Clark told him, giving into the older man's protective banter. “How did you know I called about her?”

“Clark, y/n is the only blood family I have left in this universe.” Bruce told him, rotating in his chair to look out over Gotham. “I know, if someone three countries away, breaths in her direction. I especially know if someone is inquiring after her in my own company, or any company.”

“Don't you worry about smothering her?” Clark asked, pulling his glasses off and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“She knows, I do it, for her own good.” Bruce growled, squeezing his phone a bit tighter.

“I'm not going to do anything to your sister, Bruce.” Clark sighed, picking up on the edge in his voice. “I just need a follow interview with her.”

“Then, why didn't you call me?”

“People don't usually call the owner of a company to ask for an interview with one of their employees. They usually call the front desk and ask for one to be scheduled.” Clark countered, dropping his head back.

“Y/n isn't one of my employees, she's my sister, and I'm her guardian.”

“She's a grown woman, Wayne.” Clark shook his head. “She doesn't need you acting like her father, or her personal Batman. She needs you to be her brother, and let her live her own life.”

“Coming from the alien, that's an only child.” Bruce snapped, hanging up on him.

Clark dropped his phone on the couch beside him and sighed, heavily, scrubbing his hands over his face and through his hair. He got up, stripping his clothes off as he made his way into the bathroom and cranking the hot water tap all the way on and stepped into the spray, groaning as the hot water soaked into his skin and muscles. He leaned on his arms against the shower wall, letting the water rain over his head, and watched as it swirled down the drain.

“Just an only alien child,” he groaned, tilting his head back to let the water hit his face. “That might be in love.”You were on the jet on the way back from Jordan, when Felicia sat down across from you. You cocked an eyebrow at her, knowing by the look on her face, she had news to tell you.

“We had a request come into headquarters for you.” She told you, scrolling through her phone.

“Oh?” You sighed, you really weren't in the mood for people requesting you. You just wanted to get home and sleep for a week. “What do they want?”

“An interview.”

“No.” You shook your head. “I don't do interviews, everyone knows that.”

“Well, it was an ask for a follow up, to one you've already done.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, then it dawned on you. “Clark Kent.” You nodded, it made sense now.

“Do you want me to contact him, and tell him, you'll be denying his request?” She asked, glancing up at you from her phone.

“No.” You sighed, rubbing your eyes. “I'll do the follow up, just make it a point to tell him, I'm not answering an personal questions.” You told her, getting up and going to the back of the jet, to lay down.

Felicia called Clark as soon as the jet landed back in Metropolis. “Mr. Kent, I'm Felicia Davis.” She introduced herself.

“How can I help you, Ms. Davis?” Clark replied, pressing his phone to his ear with his shoulder as he sat at his desk in the Daily Planet.

“I'm Ms. Wayne's assistant.” She explained, sliding into the car beside you. “I'm calling in answer to your request for a follow up interview with her, about the Charity Gala.”

“Oh, yes, right!” Clark grinned, ear to ear. “Is there a good time for Ms. Wayne to meet me? I was thinking over dinner, if that's alright with her.”

“Ms. Wayne just arrived home from two weeks in Jordan, and is rather exhausted.” Felicia told him, opening a personal planner she carried around for you. “So, she'll need a couple of days to recover from her work trip.”

“Of course.”

“How does Saturday night sound to you, Mr. Kent?” She asked, tapping the date with her finger and looking at you, to confirm you're all right with it as well. “Excellent. Ms. Wayne will meet you at 7 pm, Saturday night. Do you need us to make the arrangements?”

“No, no.” Clark shook his head, like she could see him as he rummaged around his desk for a sticky note to write on. “I can make a reservation at a restaurant in down town Metropolis, and then send you the details.” he told her, finding what he was looking for.

“Very well, you can contact me with this phone number.” Felicia told him, penning it into the planner.

“Thank you, Ms. Davis.” Clark said, leaning back in his chair, with relief.

“You're welcome, and have a good day, Mr. Kent.” She replied, hanging up with him. “He'll be making a reservation for dinner this Saturday at 7pm. He'll call me with the name of the restaurant.”

“Strange for a man to pick the restaurant, we usually do.” You chuckled, glancing out the window.

By the time Saturday rolled around, Bruce had caught wind of you going to dinner with Clark, and in his typical fashion as your overprotective brother, he completely blew it out of proportions. You both spent that Friday in his office at Wayne Industries arguing about it, and most of the morning and afternoon Saturday doing the same.

“Oh, for the love of Superman, Ru!” You snapped as you stood in your closet, trying to pick out a pair of shoes to go with your outfit.

“Don't say that name!” Bruce barked over the speaker of your phone.

“What name?” You quipped, picking up a pair of black flats. “Ru or Superman?”

“Superman.” Bruce sighed, he'd stopped trying to prevent you from calling him, Ru, decades ago.

“Good Lord, Bruce.” You rolled your eyes, slipping your shoes on. “You still feel threatened by Superman? Ye ol' Batman's jealous.” You teased him, knowing it get under his skin.

“I'm not threatened or jealous of him, y/n.” He told you, rolling his eyes. “Not like that anymore, at least.”

“Then, enlighten your dear sister, and tell me how you are threatened and jealous of him?” You kept teasing him, checking yourself out in the mirror.

“It's complicated.”

“Well, uncomplicate it.” You pressed, going to your jewelry box for a pair of earrings.

“There's not enough time to do that, your date is in twenty minutes.”

“It's not a date, Ru!” You snapped, turning to look at your phone. “It's business. Business, you got me stuck in, when you left me at the Gala with Clark, so you could go play rescuer.”

“Don't remind me.” He groaned, still feeling the deep bruise on his side.

“All right, I'm going.” You told him, picking your phone up off the bed.

“Call me, if anything happens.” Bruce told you, quickly. “Or if you need an alibi to call it short.”

“I will, bro.” You told him, going out the front door. “And, Bruce, don't fucking stalk me. You, Alfred or anyone else, for that matter.” You warned him, hanging up before he could protest. “Off we go, Hector.” You said, as your driver opened the car door for you.

Clark stood out front the restaurant waiting for you to arrive, and smiled brightly, seeing your car pull up and your driver open the door for you. He offered you his arm as you got out of the car. “How was your trip to Jordan?” He asked, leading you inside.

“It was very good, thanks.” You told him, smiling softly. “How's work going for you?” You asked as the waiter showed the pair of you to your table.

“It's never a dull moment for a reporter, especially in this world.” He teased, pulling your chair out for you, then moving to his. “Your assistant, Felicia, made it clear I wasn't supposed to ask you any personal questions.” He said, setting his pen and notepad on the table by his menu.

“Well, if you do, they're to be off the record.” You explained, picking up your menu and browsing the selection of food and wine.

“Of course.” Clark nodded, following your lead. “What was your business in Jordan about?” He asked, looking at you over his menu.

“It was a Biotechnology convention.” You explained, turning the menu page. “Biochemists and the like gather every few years to discuss their research, breakthroughs and such with each other. Swap what info we can to help each other out, typical boring Scientist mambo jumbo.” You chuckled, looking over your menu at him.

“What made you become a Scientist?” He asked, picking what he wanted and setting his menu aside, but didn't bother with his notebook.

You shrugged, setting your menu down. “I enjoy helping people. I'm no Superhero, so I help in the ways and places I can.”

“You don't need to have super powers, to be a Superhero.” Clark said, looking at you, softly.

“That's possibly true.” You nodded, agreeing with him.

The waiter came over and took your dinner and drink orders, and you and Clark chatted away through two glasses of wine and most of your food, before you really realized that Clark hadn't written a single line in his notepad.

“Isn't this an interview, Mr. Kent?” You asked him, as dessert was set in front of you.

“You can call me, Clark.” He smiled at you, picking up his spoon to dig into his ice cream.

“Clark,” You grinned, taking a bite of your chocolate lava cake. “aren't you supposed to be interviewing me?” You repeated your question, smirking at him, impishly.

“I am supposed to be interviewing you, Ms. Wayne.” He nodded.

“Y/n.” You told him, staring at him across the table. “You can call me, y/n.”

Clark blushed and took another bite of his ice cream. “Admittedly, y/n, this is an interview with a motive.”

“Typical reporters.” You teased him, rolling your eyes playfully.

“My Boss, Mr White, asked me to do a follow up interview on your Charity Gala, but I really just wanted to ask you out to dinner..”

“So, you used the interview as an excuse.” You chuckled, nodding your head and amused that Bruce was mostly right.

“I am sorry.” He told you, abashed.

“That's quite all right, Clark.” You assured him, you really didn't mind at all. “But, won't you get in trouble with your boss for not doing the interview?”

“Yes, probably.” Clark nodded, worried at that prospect, he'd been on thin ice with Perry for several months.

“Well, how about we finish our desserts, and we take the actual interview on a walk around the park?” You suggested, setting your attention back on your cake, hoping to hide your blush.

“I rather like that idea.” Clark said, seeing your blush, easily, and blushing a bit, himself.

Clark paid the bill and you both left the restaurant, stopping long enough for you to tell Hector the change in plans. You took Clark's offered arm, resting your hand in the nook of his elbow as you strolled through the gates of the local park. The sound of late night birds, other pedestrians and the gurgling of the various fountain filled the cool night air, making it feel like You and Clark were blanketed in another world altogether. Clark took out his notebook and pen, and started funneling out all the questions he had to ask you for the interview and you answered them with a calm ease. It took no time for you and Clark to knock out the interview, and get to spend the rest of the time making several rounds around the park, oblivious of time and space. You were laughing at a joke Clark had made about himself being a small town, country boy, when you suddenly felt the cords of his muscles under your hand turn into steel, cutting off your laugh and glancing up at him.

“Clark?” You frowned at him, as he pulled you both to a stop and he looked around the dimly lit darkness around you, his head tilting slight side to side as he scanned around. “What is it?” You whispered, looking around with him.

“Stay calm.” He told you, softly, taking your hand from his forearm and carefully pulling you behind him, as three guys came out of the dark treeline, beside the sidewalk. “Evening, gentlemen.” He greeted them, every muscle in his body tensing, making Clark come off even bigger than he already was.

“Jesus Christ.” You panted, pressing one hand to your stomach and resting the other one on Clark's hip as you peeked around his arm.

“Hand over the jewelry and cash, and you and your sweetheart over there,” one of the men said, winking at you. “have to get hurt.” He said, the unmistakable click of a knife opening muted out everything else around you.

You looked up at Clark as he slowly shook his head.

“Not going to happen.” He told them, licking his lips. “I'll give you this one warning, to walk away.”

“I don't think, you understand your situation.” Another of the three said, taking a step forward.

“Clark.” You whispered, squeezing his hip.

“It's alright, y/n.” He told you, his eyes still glued to the men. “They're not going to hurt us.” He assured you, grabbing the arm of the guy as he shot forward, twisting his arm behind his back and shoving him to the side.

The one with the knife came at Clark next, raising the knife high. But, Clark easily grabbed him by the wrist, wrenching the weapon out of his hand and punched him across the face, forcing him back into his friends.

“I suggest you leave.” He threatened them, tossing the knife aside and giving them an expression that sucked all the courage out of them. “Now.” He snapped, rolling his jaw as they scrambled to their feet and haul themselves out of the park. “Are you all right?” Clark asked, his body relaxing as he turned around to you, cupping your face in his hands.

“I'm fine.” You told him, looking in his eyes, utterly shocked. “You could've gotten hurt!”

A smile broke out over Clark's face, and his hands dropped from your face. “I'm all right.” He assured you. “I'm use to people trying to fight me, I was bullied as a kid.” He explained, looking back to where the would-be robbers disappeared. “I should get you back to your car,” he added, looking up. “It is getting rather dark.” He offered you his arm again, and you slowly took it, still in shock.

“Of course.” You nodded, letting him lead you back the way you'd come.

“Good night, y/n.” Clark smiled as you stopped by your car.

“Good night, Clark.” You smiled back, still in a bit of a daze over what happened.

He blushed, slightly and started to walk away. “Do you think I could see you again?” He asked, turning back around, spurred by a bit of courage.

“Uh,” You blinked at him. “Sure.” You nodded, ducking into the back of the car and pulling out a card from your bag. “This is my private number.” You told him, holding it out to him. “Just so you don't have to go through headquarters or Felicia, to get a hold of me.”

Clark looked down at the card, then back up at you, spinning the little card around his fingers, nervously. “I'll give you a call, some time soon.” He promised, then wished you good night again, before turning himself towards home.

“Mr. Wayne called, while you were on your little walk.” Hector told you, as he pulled the car away from the curb.

“Of course, he did.” You rolled your eyes.

“He wants you to call him.”

“I'll call him in the morning.” You told Hector, rubbing your neck. “I just wanna go home and sleep, right now.”

Clark was staring at the card with your number on it as he sat at his desk at work, trying to work up the courage to call you, when one of the secretaries for the newspaper came over and told him, he had someone waiting for him in one of the conference rooms. Sighing and slipping the card into his pocket, Clark got up and found the conference room his visitor was waiting for him in.

“What are you doing here, Bruce?” He snapped, closing the door behind him.

“You took my sister on a date last night, disguised as an interview.” Bruce told him, clearly fuming already. “And you almost get fucking mugged in the process.” He snapped, slamming his hand down on the conference table.

“First of all, it wasn't a disguise.” Clark barked back, his anger flaring. “I do admit that when Perry told me to get a follow up interview with her, I also used it as an opportunity to take her out to dinner, I wouldn't call it a date though. Secondly, She was in no danger of those three punks, with me there with her, and you know that.”

“That doesn't fucking change the fact, she could have gotten hurt, Clark!” Bruce yelled, not even bothering to keep his voice low.

“I wouldn't have allowed it, Bruce!” Clark yelled back, moving closer to the table that thankfully separated them. “I would have protected her. I did protect her. They never got within two feet of her.”

“Oh, but they got within three feet of her.” Bruce snapped, mocking him. “Mighty Superman only have a detection range of two feet.”

“I knew they were there, I didn't fucking know they were going to try and mug us.” Clark countered, glancing behind his shoulder, to the door. “There were dozens of people in that park with us,” he told him, calming down. “Not every person that comes within range of her, is going to try and harm her. I certainly never would, and would never, allow anyone else to either. Y/n is as safe with me, if not safer, than she is with you.”

“Oh, you thinks so?”

“I know so.” Clark answered, a sharp tone in his voice. “You're just a mortal human. You get stabbed with a knife and you're fucked.”

“You think since you can take the hit of a bomb, you're better than me at protecting my baby sister.”

“She's not a baby anymore, Bruce.” Clark snapped, that upset him more than anything else in this conversation. “She's an adult, and you need to start treating her like one. You're not pissed off about what happened last night, you're afraid that she might fall in love me.”

“I'm not afraid she might fall in love with you.” He growled, raking a hand over his face and turning away from him.

“Then, what are you afraid of?” He demanded, leaning against the table.

“I'm afraid of her getting hurt.” Bruce said, quietly. “Especially, because I know she's already in love with you.”

“She is?” Clark asked, shocked and staring wide eyed at Bruce's back.

“Yes.” He sighed. “But, I can't allow that.”

“Why?” Clark groaned, rolling his eyes. “Cause I'm an alien.”

“Because, you're Superman.” He answered, spinning back around to look Clark in the face. “How many enemies do you have, that are looking for you to have a weak point? She would be that weak point, Clark.”

“She's your weak point as Batman.” Clark argued, sitting down at the table. “She's your weak point as normal Bruce Wayne, richest man in the world.”

Bruce huffed, sitting down at the table across from him. “I know she is, that's why I go so far out of my way, to protect her.”

“And you don't think, I can do the same?”

“I know you can,” Bruce sighed, feeling older than he really was. “I'm just not use to having to share her, is all.”

Clark laughed and shook his head at that. “We can protect her together, Bruce.” He told him, leaning over the table to him. “It doesn't have to be one or the other of us. It doesn't have to be Clark Kent vs Bruce Wayne, or Batman vs Superman, all the time. We found our common ground on protecting Earth in the Justice League, and we can find the common ground of protecting y/n.”

“I don't want you to tell her, you're Superman.”

“Does she know you're Batman?”

“She does.” Bruce nodded, checking his watch.

“But, you want me to lie to her about who I am?” Clark narrowed his eyes at him.

“She found out about me being Batman on accident.” Bruce told him, meeting his eye. “She found Alfred tending to one of the injuries I sustained after our battle with Steppenwolf. Wasn't like I could exactly lie to her after that.” He ran a hand through his hair, remembering the look on your face when you walked in on them. “But, you're Superman, you won't have that issue.”

“You do recall my dying?” Clark asked, cocking an eyebrow at Bruce.

“The kryptonite was destroyed when you killed that monster, Clark. There's no more of it on Earth, and probably the universe. It's nothing you have to concern yourself with anymore. What you do need to concern yourself with now, if you choice to pursue my sister, is her safety and keeping her in the dark about who you are. We both know the more she knows about who we are, and what we do, is more a danger to her life.”

You sat, cross legged, on Clark's couch with a bowl of cereal balanced in your lap as you watched the news, in one of Clark's plaid shirts. You spent more time in Clark's flat now-a-days then you did your own, and were content to do so. Clark appeared in the door way of his bedroom, watching you as you ate, momentarily oblivious to his presence. He grinned seeing you in his shirt, only three of the center buttons closed to keep the over-sized garment on your small frame, even then it slipped down one of your shoulders. He could still smell the lingering scent of sex from the night before and earlier in that morning.

“You sleep well?” He asked, stepping into the living room.

“I always manage to sleep like a baby, with you.” You told him, looking up at him as you took another bite of your coco puffs.

“That makes me feel good.” He chuckled, leaning down to kiss the top of your head, then padded into the kitchen to make himself some breakfast. “What's your day looking like?” He asked, glancing around the corner to look at the tv.

“I have to go into work at the lab in an hour or so, then two board meetings.” You answered, setting your bowl on the coffee table, and grabbing the remote to turn up the news. “I do have another conference in Jordan in two days, some issue going on with one of Wayne labs there. Bruce is sending me over to deal with it, since the rep that's there now, is doing fuck all.” You explained, frowning at the news.

“How long will you be gone?” Clark asked, his own eyes glued to the tv as he made his breakfast.

“Shouldn't be more than a week,” You replied, absentmindedly. “With any luck of them being competent.”

“Well, if they're not competent enough to listen to you, they're in real trouble.” Clark joked, reassuring himself that what was happening on the news, wasn't something he needed to rush out and present Superman too.

“I'll fire every last one of the idiots, if they fucking try me.” You said, rolling your eyes at the thought of them giving you issues, which you knew, with men of their caliber and brains, they most certainly would.

“Well, it gives us enough time.” Clark told you, coming to sit down beside you on the couch.

“Enough time for what?” You frowned, turning your head to look at him.

“I wanted to ask you something.” He told you, resting his plate on his thigh.

“Oh, god.” You moaned, seeing the seriousness in his eyes. “Perry didn't fire you, did he?”

Clark laughed, shaking his head. “No, I'm still a reporter at the Daily Planet.” He assured you, with a blush. “We've been dating for a year now...”

“Yeeah..”

“I was going to ask, if you wanted to move in with me...” He said it slowly and quietly, not quite meeting your eyes. “You practically live here anyway.” He added, with a nervous laugh and looking around his flat, he could identify more of your things than his own, in the living room alone.

“That's a serious commitment, Clark. “ You said, just as slowly.

“I know it is.” He told you, pushing the food on his plate around with his fork. “I thought, maybe, we were at that point...”

“Bruce would have a heart attack.” You chuckled, at the thought.

Bruce didn't like the thought of you dating Clark, he didn't like you spent so much time with him, especially in between the sheets. But, he'd stopped nagging you about being with him, almost a year ago. He still gave you disgruntled remarks when you spoke about Clark in his presence, and he always seemed a tiny bit on edge, when the three of you were in the same room together. You didn't care what Bruce thought or felt on the subject, you were happy and content with Clark, the relationship the two of you had together. You'd also never been in such a serious relationship with someone, that you moved in with them, either.

“Does his opinion, matter so much, that it would make an impact on our relationship?” Clark asked, concerned it would, Bruce had promised to ease up on his attitude towards him and his love for you, but, Clark also knew, that what Bruce thought and said mattered to you.

“No.” You shook your head, resting your hand on his arm. “No, Clark, it wouldn't.” You tried to sound as convincing as possible, but could tell by his expression, it wasn't enough. “Just...give me until I come back from my trip, to decide?” You asked, biting your lip.

“Take all the time you need.” He smiled, leaning in to kiss you.

You smiled at him and kissed him back, before getting up to get dressed and rush off to work. You left on your business trip two days later, and both you and Clark called it, when the people in charge of the Wayne Biotech lab in Jordan would give you trouble and annoy the hell out of you. Your temples throbbed as you fell back on your hotel room bed, staring up at the ceiling, the arguments you had with the board still bouncing around your brain, making the migraine you had worse.

“Bunch of brain dead morons.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

A loud crash from outside your room door startled you up out of bed, you stumbled away as the door flew open, your back hitting the wall behind you as a disguised man stepped through the opening. The only thing you could see on him, was his eyes, and you didn't like what you saw in them. He advanced towards you, putting you into instant fight or flight mode, and decided to do both. Picking up the closest thing to you, the lamp on your bedside table, and launched it at him, before scurrying over your bed and making for the door. You'd almost made it down to the lift, when he caught up with you, grabbing you by the back of your hair and painfully yanking you backwards against him.

“Hello, Ms. Wayne.” A woman called stepping into the hall from another room.

“Who the fuck are you?” You panted, struggling against your captor. “What do you want?”

“I'm Pamela Evans.” She grinned at you, giving you a once over. “And I want to know about the advanced gene development project you and your brother are working on.”

“We're not working on gene development.” You growled, bearing your teeth at her.

“My sources say otherwise.” Pamela said, grabbing you by the jaw.

“Your sources are fucking brain dead.” You snapped, jerking your head out of her hand.

“I don't believe you.” She growled, giving you a super dirty look.

“That's your issue.” You growled back. “Wayne labs and Industries have never, and will never, do research on the type gene development, you're apparently going on about. Whoever is doing it, is a mad scientist asking for trouble.”

“You see,” Pamela brought her face inches from yours. “I've seen the files on your and Bruce's computers. So, you're going to tell me all about it.”

“You're delusional.” You shook your head the little you could with the man's hand still tight in your hair. “Fuck.” You gasped suddenly, feeling a cold tingle in your thigh and glanced down to see her pull a small pocket knife out. “You don't understand we're no....”

“No, sweetheart, it's you that doesn't understand.” Pamela mocked you, pulling something out of her shoulder purse. “We're going to get that research out of you, one way or another.” She pressed something to your neck and you felt a sharp pain. “I'll give you long enough to sleep off your nap, to tell me.” She said, as the black fog around the edges of your eyes grew and your body went limp.

You woke up God knows how long later, shackled to a concrete wall in a dimly lit room. There were no windows in the square concrete room, a single light set deep into the center of the ceiling and a metal table and a single chair below that. There was a thick metal door opposite of you with a slot window set in it. You were drawn to the sound of that opening, a pair of eyes looking in on you, then slamming shut again. It was several minutes before the actual door itself opened, and in walked Pamela and a man, the man from the hotel. Even with him out of his disguised, you could identify those eyes from a mile away.

“Good morning, Ms. Wayne.” Pamela smiled, giving you a smile that would have made Mary Poppins sick. “Or is it night, Eli?” She asked, turning to the man, who just shrugged his shoulders. “Doesn't matter, have you decided to give me the information I've asked for?” She asked, turning back to you.

���I told you, it doesn't exist.” You told her, groggy and fearful, your thigh throbbed and you could feel a small steady stream of blood ooze from it, leaving a puddle around your foot. “Messing with human genes is dangerous, and ridiculous.” You tried to reason with her.

“Then, what's this?” Pamela asked, pulling a sheet of paper from the table and bring it closer for you to see. “That's an email, from you to your brother on the subject. Telling him, that it was possible for such advancement.”

“It's opinion, not research.” You panted, trying to keep your anxiety at bay. “Someone at one of my brother's many business ventures wanted to know if he thought it was possible to do so, and my brother asked me.” You explained to her. “While, I think it might be possible for such development and advancement, neither of us are conducting research to find out. It's purely academic.”

“Why do you think it's possible?” Pamela questioned, turning her back to you and setting the paper back down on the table.

“I believe anything is possible, with the right circumstances and factors.” You told her, focusing on her back.

“Do you think you could achieve it, if you were to try it?”

“I don't know, and I wouldn't try.” You told her, honestly and shook your head at the thought.

“Even if, your life depended on it?” Pamela asked, smirking at you as she leaned back against the table, to look at you.

“My life, for the lives of all the failed test subjects it would more than likely take to prefect it?” You summed up her thoughts, you knew the math on how many people would be needed to be experimented on, and the decades it would take to achieve on top of that. “Yes, then I'd die, to prevent you and anyone else from trying it.” You nodded, confident in that choice.

“Well, let's see if we could,” She shrugged her shoulders, glancing at Eli. “persuade you.”

Eli dropped a rolled up bag onto the table with a emphasized thump, and rolled it open, revealing several instruments, you didn't need to be a Scientist to know were about to be used to torture and, likely, kill you. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to calm your heart and make peace with your choice. Eli removed something from one of the pockets, it looked like an ice pick or something, and moved over to you, running the sharp tip down your chest, between your breasts and down your stomach.

“Change your mind now, or I'll let Eli have his fun.” Pamela tried to give you a chance.

“No.” You said in a small, but steady voice.

Pamela waved her hand at Eli, and he easily sank the object into your stomach next to your belly button. You howled in pain, yanking on your bonds as Eli slowly removed it, grinning at you like a little boy on Christmas morning. Eli, luckily, didn't get far in the quest to torture you to death, as serious commotion sounded from the other side of the closed steel door, catching the attention of all three of you. Pamela looked to Eli, then hesitated for a moment, but she moved to the door, she'd just rested her hand on it, when it blew off the hinges, launching her halfway across the room. Eli dropped his weapon and moved away from you, as a figure stepped through the dusty doorway.

“Superman!” He snapped, jaw falling open.

Superman looked from Pamela under the heavy steel door, Eli backing up into a corner and You chained to the wall, head lulling and struggling to keep your heavy eyelids open to stay conscious. He wasted no time dispatching Eli, throwing him across the room as another figure stepped through the doorway and made for you, cupping your head in their hands.

“Y/n?”

You blinked several times, shaking your head and trying to clear way the heaviness in your mind. “Bruce?” You panted, recognizing your brother's voice through the fog.

“It's alright, sis.” Bruce reassured you, taking something out of the utility belt of his Batman suit and cutting you free. “We've got you now. You're safe.” He supported your weight against his body and turned to Clark, standing above Eli's lifeless body, in all his Superman glory.

Clark looked at the pair of you and the pure anger on his face melted, seeing you. “She's hurt.” He said, crossing the room to you, cupping your face in his hands. “She's bleeding internally, whatever they stabbed her with, nicked her intestines. If we don't stop the blood now, she'll bleed to death.”

“I have something on the plane.” Bruce said, lifting your shirt and grimacing at the wound to your stomach.

“It'll take too long.” Clark said, shoving everything off the metal table. “Lay her down, I'll cauterize the wound.”

“I'm not letting you heat vision my sister.” Bruce snapped, shaking his head and shifting your weight against him, to support you as you grew limper against him.

“Bruce, she's going to die, if I don't!” Clark barked, impatiently, resting his hand on your shoulder. “I know what I'm doing, I've done it before.” He tried to reassure him.

“Trust me.” He added, quietly.

Bruce sighed, and let Clark lift you up and lay you down carefully on the table. Clark peeled up your bloody shirt, biting his lip as he saw the wound to your stomach and noticed the one to your thigh. He glanced up through the opening and pressed his lips together, hearing more people coming.

“We've got more guests on the way.” He told Bruce, over his shoulder, trying to keep his focus on you.

“I'll deal with them.” Bruce said, moving around the table and out of the room.

“Y/n.” Clark whispered, resting his hand on your cheek. “Y/n, look at me.”

You blinked hard and groaned as Clark put pressure to your wound, you looked up at the blurry double face hovering above you. “Clark?” You whined, blinking repeatedly trying to clear the strange look your boyfriend had. “Clark?” You repeated his name, stronger this time, but no less confused by what you saw.

“Yeah, sweetheart.” He forced a smile, brushing your hair out of your sweaty and grimy face. “I'm going to stop the bleeding, but it's going to hurt, a lot.” He warned you, with a pained expression. “But, you have to hold still and trust me.”

“I've always trusted you, Clark.” You groaned, wincing.

“Good.” He panted, sounding relieved. “Take my hand.” He told you, slipping his hand into yours. “And squeeze as hard as you have too, baby.” He instructed you, his eyes turning red.

You screamed at the top of your lungs at the excruciating burn to your already agonizing wound, squeezing Clark's hand so tight, it felt like the bones of your hand were going to shatter. You'd passed out from the pain and came to sometime later, finding yourself in bed on one of the family jets and Clark sitting on the edge of the bed beside you, holding your hand in his.

“Clark?” You whined, squeezing your eyes shut at the bright lights.

“You're all right, y/n.” He told you, letting your hand go to turn off the lights, and pull down the window covering. “You're safe now, love.” He promised, sitting back down next to you, and brushing his fingers through your hair.

“How?” You moaned, opening your eyes to look at him.

Clark blushed, looking away from you and biting into his lip.

“You're-” You blinked up at him, your mind finally connecting. “Superman.”

He nodded his head, taking your hand and rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.

“That's why Bruce was so set against us.” You nodded, regretting it. “He didn't want me dating you because you're Superman, and you two are practically enemies.”

“We're not enemies anymore, y/n.” Bruce said, appearing in the room. “Clark and I are in Justice League together.”

“Jesus.” You sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “The two most important people in my life, have lied to me, to such a degree.”

“We were trying to protect you.” Bruce tried to reason with you.

“Protect me?” You snapped, turning your head towards him. “That bitch kidnapped and tried torturing me, because she thought we were trying to do research on advanced gene development, Bruce. I can imagine what she'd have done if she knew by brother, is Batman, and my boyfriend, is Superman.” You looked at both of them, angrily.

“Advanced Gene Development?” Clark frowned at you. “Why would she think that?”

“Someone contacted Bruce about the possibility of it, and he and I discussed it.” You explained, no less angry. “She got a hold of the emails we exchanged on the subject, thinking we were actually doing it.”

“But, we're not.” Bruce frowned at you, as well. “I wonder how she got those emails as well, they're supposed to be secure.”

“Well, she's got people in a high enough place in the company to get a hand on them.” You snapped at him, annoyed. “Were you ever going to tell me, you're Superman?” You asked, turning your attention to Clark.

“I wanted too.” He whispered, dropping his eyes to your hand.

You rolled your eyes over to Bruce, narrowing them as he refused to look at you. “The fuck of men.” You growled, looking away from both of them.

“He's an alien.” Bruce mumbled, fidgeting with his watch.

“He's got a dick. I know, I've seen it.” You snapped at him, eye twitching. “He's a man. A man from another planet, but a man, nonetheless.”

“I didn't want to know that.” Bruce groaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

“And, it's not your business what Clark decides to tell me.” You told him, sharply. “Especially, in reference to my and his relationship, Bruce.” You winced, pushing yourself up more against the pillows piled behind your back.

“You are my wa...”

“I haven't been your god damn ward for over ten years, Bruce!” You shouted at him. “That ended the hour I became eighteen, and you know it! Stop trying to be dad, you're not dad and you never fucking will be! He'd have let me be a long time ago, he'd let me be my own woman, instead of trying to control what I do with my life and who I see, whether they're from this planet or not.”

“I'm your brother, it's my job to protect you.” He shouted back, turning to you.

“Protect me!” You yelled, your voice cracking. “Not keep me prisoner and suffocate me!”

“Let's calm down.” Clark said in a calm voice, squeezing your leg.

“NO!” Both you and Bruce yelled at him at the same time, and making his sensitive ears twitch with the volume.

“You're staying home with me.” Bruce seethed at you, but his tone was quieter.

“Fuck you!” You barked, your voice still loud.

“You're not safe on your own, y/n.” He tried to reason with you, again. “Whoever these people are, who think we're doing advanced gene development, are going to try and get their hands on you again.”

“And you're safe, cause you're fucking Batman.” You mocked him, rudely.

“That,” Bruce snapped back at you, snarky. “and I'm not the head Scientist at the biggest Biotech laboratory, and company, in the world. You, out of anyone on this planet, can make that advanced development happen, and these people know this.”

“As I told that bitch,” You told him, crossing your arms. “I'd rather die. The decades it would take to perfect the genes for testing. Then, the number of lives, the trials would claim to attune the genes for the subject, is astronomical. If, I was the person that could manage to pull this off, perfect the genes, and find the correct subject for them; there's between a five to ten percent chance, it would even work.”

“What would such an advancement even be used for?” Clark asked, leveling an eyebrow at you.

“Anything.” You shrugged, looking at him, brows creased. “You could edit a person's genes for anything, from preventing certain illnesses. Body characteristics, like if you wanted them to be tall and muscular. You could delete genes, so they felt no pain or be more aware of it. You could engineer super soldiers, or make it possible for people to have a long life span. There's so many options, and they're only limited by imagination and technology.” You rubbed the crease between your brows, feeling a stress and tension migraine forming.

“You could create the Earth equivalent of me.” Clark summed it up, a sick feeling in his stomach.

“Yes.” You nodded, that thought hadn't occurred to you. “Pretty much.”

“So, do you understand, why you're not safe?” Bruce sighed, feeling the tension knot up his shoulders. “You need to be somewhere safe, until we get this sorted out.”

“They'll look for her anywhere Wayne Industries is affiliated.” Clark said, softly, rubbing at his neck and looking at Bruce.

“I can have Alfred find us a safe house for her.” Bruce agreed, nodding his head.

“I'll take her home with me.” Clark said, smiling gently at you.

“Your flat isn't safe.” Bruce stated, looking between the two of you.

“I know, it's not.” He answered, still watching you. “I mean, I'll take her to my mom's, in Smallville. No one's going to look for her in Kansas, it's such a small and middle of nowhere town. I'll take time off from the Daily Planet, and stay there with her to make sure she's looked after. My mother could use my help on the farm, anyway.”

“Is this your way of introducing me to your mother?” You grinned, teasingly.

Clark laughed, blushing and nodded his head. “I guess, it is a way to think of it.”

“I like his idea.” You told Bruce, looking at your brother. “He's got a point.”

Bruce sighed, his shoulders slumping, he was begrudged to agree with both of you on the subject. “I'll have the pilot redirect us towards Smallville.”

“You shouldn't.” Clark said, stopping Bruce as he headed out. “If anyone notices a Wayne plane landing at the airport in Great Bend, it'll be a dead giveaway, that's something's going on.”

“Then, how do you propose on getting y/n to your mother's farm?” Bruce asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

A lopsided smirk pulled on one corner of Clark's mouth as he looked at you, eyes sparkling. A slow grin pulled across your lips as you caught on to what Clark was suggesting, and you were more than cool with Superman flying you to his parent's farm. Bruce groaned as he figured out the same thing, rolling his eyes and throwing up his arms, he couldn't fight you two being together and he couldn't fight doing what he had to do, so you were safe.

“Fine.” He sighed, deflated. “We'll land in G.I. Airport as scheduled, and you can take y/n to Smallville from there.”

Clark nodded, pressing your knuckles to his lips. “We'll stop by my place, so we can get a couple changes of clothes before we go.”

“You have clothes at his place?” Bruce asked, looking at you, surprised.

“I've been staying at Clark's a lot the last couple of months, so it's just easier to keep some clothing there.” You answered, blushing at Clark. “He also asked me to move in with him.” You added.

“You never did get the chance to answer me.” He reminded you, glancing up at you.

“I know.” You replied, nodding and biting your lip.

Bruce looked at the two of you, then quietly excused himself and gave the pair of you space and privacy.

“I think, I'd like to move in with you, Clark.” You told him, carefully leaning forward and brushing your fingers through his short curly hair. “I want to take us more seriously.” You admitted, smiling sweetly at him.

“I'd love nothing less, than the same.” He smiled back at you, leaning in and kissing you, tenderly, on the lips.

You rested back, wincing that the discomfort of your stomach. You peeled back your shirt and grimaced at it, even though Clark had cauterized the wound, it still hurt and was tender as hell. Clark gently traced the tips of his fingers around the wound, mindful of sensitive areas and looked up at you, sadness in his blue eyes. You reached out and cupped his cheek in your hand, caressing his skin with your thumb and gave him back a similar sad expression, but one tinged with love and trust.

“It's going to take a bit of time for you to heal.” He told you, his fingers moving down to your torn and stained jeans, where Pamela stabbed you in the thigh. “You'll have scars...”

“I'm use to having scars.” You told him, resting your hand on his shoulder. “Inside and outside.”

The jet landed in Gotham International Airport, Clark easily carried you off the plane and to the car Bruce had waiting for the three of you. You rested your head on Clark's shoulder, you'd tried to sleep on the plane, but you couldn't get comfortable enough. Clark wrapped his arm around your shoulders and rested his cheek on top of your head. The chauffeur dropped the both of you off at Clark's flat, you said good-bye to Bruce, who promised to keep in touch and visit, if he could. You managed for first stairwell and a half up to Clark's flat before the pain in your leg became too much, and Clark carried you the last of the way up. He set you down on the couch and went into the bedroom, dumping his gym bag on his bed, then shoved yours and his clothes into it.

“Okay, I think that should tide us over.” He said, slinging the bag over his shoulders. “If not, I still have clothing at my mother's...”

“And I can always buy some.” You chuckled, smiling up at him. “So, how do we do this, Superman?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Let's go up to the roof.” He told you, going around the coffee table and picking you up into his arms. “It's a good launching pad, since this is the tallest building in a decent radius.” He explained, taking you up the stairs to the roof.

“I'm guessing that was a factor in your renting the place.” You teased him, hugging your arms around his neck.

Clark blushed at you, smiling guiltily. “It was.” He admitted, standing in the middle of the roof. “Hold on really tight and take a deep breath, hold it and I'll let you know, when to let it out, okay?” He explained to you, shifting your weight comfortably.

You nodded, hugging your arms tighter around his neck and took a few breaths, then held it. Giving you a nod of warning, Clark flexed and both of you rocketed into the clouds with an insane speed. What would have taken almost four hours, nonstop, on a normal flight, took less than twenty minutes for Clark to achieve. You panted as he carefully set you down on the dirt driveway of his childhood home. You heard the screen door open and saw a beautiful, older woman step out onto the porch, shading her eyes from the mid afternoon sun.

“Clark?” She called, taking a step down off the porch.

“Hey, Mom.” Clark grinned at her, his hand slipping into yours. “Mom, this is y/n.” He introduced you as she came closer to you both.

“She's the one you've been telling me about?” She asked, grinning at you, brightly. “It's so nice to finally meet you.” She said, giving you a hug.

“It's nice to finally meet you as well, Mrs. Kent.” You smiled, hugging her back.

“Oh, please, call me Martha.” She told you, holding you at arm's length, making your heart skip a beat, finding out the Clark's mother's name was the same as your own mother. “What are you two doing here?”

“Um,” Clark blushed, looking down at Hank as he sniffed around his feet. “There was a bit of trouble, and I need somewhere safe to keep y/n, until her brother and I figure it out.” He told his mother, patting the dog on the head.

“What kind of trouble?” Martha asked, looking between the two of you, and noticed the blood on your jeans and shirt. “Good lord.” She gasped, pressing a hand to her chest.

“Mom, it'll be all right.” Clark said, resting his hand on her shoulder and pulling her into a hug. “I'm staying here with you guys, I'll help you around the farm. I know there's a few projects dad started and that I promised to finish.” He pulled back, smiling at her encouragingly.

She stood there, quietly looking up at her son, worried and concerned, but you could see that hint of relief on her face, as well. “Why don't we get you two inside.” She said finally, turning and motioning to the house.

Relieved himself, Clark picked you back up and carried you up onto the porch, stopping as he caught the look on your face. “What is it?”

“I feel like you're carrying me over the threshold, on our wedding night.” You chuckled, resting your hand on his cheek as he blushed.

“I'd be a lucky man, to have you as my wife.” He smiled, teasing you and kissing you softly on the lips as he walked into the house.

Clark carried you upstairs to his bedroom, flicking the light on and setting you down on the double bed. He dropped the bag on the floor and pushed open the window, letting in the cool late summer breeze into the room. with the sound of the wind ruffling the corn stalks, tree branches and tall grass. It felt surreal to you, even the few times you stayed at the country cottage Bruce bought you, there was a busy road not far from it, so you never completely lost the busy city feel. But, here in Smallville, there was none of that, you were literally miles from the busiest road, just endless farm fields, nature and the occasional bark from Hank down in the yard.

“It's so quiet.” You commented, laying back in his bed and grinning at the hanging planets above it.

“Is that going to bother you, city girl?” Clark teased, sitting next to you on the bed, looking up at the planets with you, and tenderly rubbing your good thigh.

“I find it disconcerting, that I can hear my own thoughts without them being interrupted by a car horn, siren or someone yelling a rude comment at someone else.” You teased back, with a giggle. “But, I love how peaceful it is.” You added, in a softer tone, eyes flicker back to his.

“That's one of the things I love about being raised here.” He told you, shifting to lay down on his back, beside you. “It took me a long time to hone my powers, so I didn't hear every huge and microscopic thing. I would sit in the corn field, and just zone everything out, except the sound the stalks made when the wind rustled them, or fixate on a bird, singing in its nearby nest.”

“Are they hard to deal with in a city like Metropolis?” You asked, turning your head to look at him, slipping your hand into his.

“At first it was, cause there's so much sound and its so quick, if that makes sense.” He answered, still looking at the planets. “But, over time, I fine tuned it, and I'm able to control it now, no matter where I am.” He explained, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

“That's good.” You smiled, shifting uncomfortably.

Clark turned his head towards you, sensing your pain. “Can I do anything?” He asked, brushing his fingertips over your cheek.

“Not unless one of your super powers, is relieving pain.” You quipped, weakly.

“Sadly, I don't have that super power.” He frowned, sympathetically. “How about a bath instead?” He offered. “Get you cleaned up and into clean clothes, the hot water might even help.”

You let your eyes drift shut at the thought of a nice hot bath, washing off all the grim, dry sweat and blood off your body. “Join me?” You asked, tilting your face towards him, hopeful.

A grin pulled across his lips, and he sat up on the edge of the bed. “Can you make it that far?” He asked, motion to the bathroom door on the other side of the room with a raise of an eyebrow.

“If I can't limp three hops to the bathroom.” You said, sitting up beside him. “You might as well put me down.” You chuckled, but the glint in Clark's eye told you, he didn't find it funny. “I can make it.” You told him, kissing his cheek and propelling yourself up and hopped into the bathroom. “Tah-dah!”

That did make Clark smile, getting up to join you. He helped you peel off your shirt, unbuttoned and unzipped your jeans, carefully tugging them down over your wound. He hadn't cauterized the wound there, Pamela had managed to miss any major or troublesome veins, so it had stopped bleeding sometime ago. It still cut through muscle and nerves, making it hard and largely uncomfortable to walk, or limp for that matter. Letting you lean back against the sink, Clark drew the bath and helped ease you into, before taking off his own clothing. You slid forward, letting him slip in behind you and then eased back, resting against his broad and strong chest, melting as his arms locked around you, his chin resting on top of your head. You both just rested in the hot bath, eyes closed and enjoying the safe and peaceful tranquility of the moment. You could hear Clark's mom bumping around downstairs, humming to herself.

“She's making dinner.” Clark suddenly said, as he read your mind.

“Hm.” You hummed, feeling your stomach growl as the mention of food. “It sounds, and smells, amazing.” You commented back, resting your hands on his as they rested on your waist.

“You want some help, cleaning up?” He asked, tilting his head to look at you.

“How can I say no, to a handsome man, offering to wash me?” You laughed, nodding your head.

“You can't.” Clark laughed, softly, into your ear, pressing his lips to your neck.

Clark let you sit up, between his legs, and picked up the soap and a wash cloth. It felt incredible to have his strong hands on your body, rubbing the soapy cloth into your skin and massaging the tight and stressed knots of muscle in your back. He was mindful of your wounds, rinsing away the soap, before letting your hair down, attentively pouring water over your head to wet your hair, then gently working the shampoo into your hair and scalp, making you moan at the amazing feel. Hair and body washed, Clark helped you out of the tub and dry off, you limped back into his bedroom, picking the bag up off the floor and digging through it for your clothes, while Clark took a shower. You limped downstairs, looking at all the family photos that lined the wall going down the steps, smiling at the younger Clark. You found Martha in the kitchen, stirring something that was in the pot on the stove.

“See you got cleaned up.” She said, smiling as she noticed you standing in the kitchen doorway. “Must feel nice after what you've been through.”

“Incredibly so.” You nodded, taking a seat at the kitchen island. “Dinner smells good.” You complimented her.

“Thank you.” She answered, giving you another smile. “So, tell me, how did you and Clark meet?” She asked, putting a lid on the pot and turning to you.

You blushed, brushing your wet hair behind your ear. “I met him, when he was doing an article on the Charity Gala my brother, Bruce and I, were hosting. He interviewed me at it, and we just kept running into each other, until we fell in love.” You told her, smiling.

“Your brother, Bruce?” Martha asked, brow slowly creasing. “Bruce Wayne? You're Bruce Wayne's sister?”

“I am.” You nodded, frowning back at her.

“He's the one that helped Clark and I get the house back.” She told you, her eyes a bit glassy at the memory.

“Get your house back, how did he do that?”

“Clark was...gone for a while, and while he was away I fell behind in the bank payments, and they foreclosed on the house.” She explained to you, turning back to the stove, needing a psychical distraction. “Your brother and Clark are friends, and he helped us get the house back from the bank.”

“The Smallville Union Bank?” You asked, lifting an eyebrow at her back.

“Yes, you know it?” Martha asked, looking at you over her shoulder.

“Yeah...” You nodded slowly, shocked. “My brother, he bought the bank, out right...” You told her, glancing around as it struck you why Bruce had bought the bank.

“He did it,” Clark's voice came suddenly. “as a gift to me.” he explained, sliding into the seat beside you.

“That's so incredibly sweet of him.” Martha beamed at the two of you, touched.

“It really is.” You agreed, dumbstruck, and looking at Clark, who offered you a small smile, his hand squeezing your knee.

You'd stayed on the Kent farm for nearly two months before Bruce finally did come to visit. He hadn't even so much as call, or send any other type of communication to you, while you were there. He feared that if he did, the people that hurt you would pick up where you were and come after you. So, when he showed up on the porch early one morning, you knew it was because he'd found something out about the people wanting to know about the Advanced Gene Development.

“Bruce?” You said, stepping out on to the porch with him, you'd healed well enough by now that you only had a minor limp. “Did you find out anything?” You asked, feeling your anxiety rise.

Clark had been asleep upstairs, and sensed the rise in your anxiety, he'd become quite attuned to you in the past two months, even more so than he had the year you two spent together back in Metropolis. He figured it was because you two spent every waking moment together, from sun up to sun down, you'd just become synced to him. You also found you really liked the small life of Smallville, quiet and not many people, helping Martha in her garden, and Clark on various of the farm projects; he'd even taught you how to fix the tractor in the barn. So, when he sensed your anxiety, even while dead asleep, he was up and at the screen door in a microsecond.

“Clark.” Bruce greeted him, lifting an eyebrow at the fact Clark was only in his boxers.

“Bruce.” He greeted him back, unbothered.

“I came with news.” Bruce said, turning his eyes back to you.

“Well?” You pressed, sitting down on the porch swing.

“Seems three of the CEOs in the company were working for Pamela Evans, she'd corrupted them.” he started to explain, pacing the length of the porch, which gave you an even more unsettled feeling. “They, ironically, call themselves, the Council,”

“How ominous.” You rolled your eyes, rocking back and forth on the swing.

“It was a rogue group, trying to reproduce and enhance humans,” He looked at Clark, and sighed. “to try and fight any more aliens that might try and take over the planet.”

“Such as Superman.” You understood, glancing at Clark yourself.

“Luckily, they're a small group and easily taken care of.” Bruce went on, leaning back against the porch railing. “I've tracked down most of them, and dispatched them. But, there's one person left, the leader of the group.”

“Pamela wasn't?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No.” Bruce shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Then, who is?” Clark asked, moving to sit on the swing with you.

“His name is Oliver Maddox.” He sighed, rubbing his scruffy face. “He has a very small and faint paper trail, a trail that leaves behind a lot of bodies.” He pressed his lips together, looking at you with a down turned face.

“So, where is Maddox?” Clark asked, on edge.

“I was hoping, you'd help me find him, Clark.” Bruce told him, lifting his head. “If we can eliminate him, then the group will fall apart, and y/n will be safe again.”

“Give me everything you have on him,” Clark told him, adamant. “And I'll take care of him.”

The tone of Clark's voice worried you, but you trusted him. Bruce gave Clark the file on Oliver Maddox, but declined to stay at the farm, even for breakfast, saying he had pressing matters to deal with inside Wayne Industries. You understood that with the corrupted CEOs he had to get rid of, there would be a lot of paperwork and damage control to take of. You sat on Clark's bed after breakfast, worried over the prospect of Clark going after Oliver Maddox, and potentially killing him.

“Y/n.” Clark whispered, leaning against the door jam, and frowned when you didn't answer him. He pushed off the door frame and moved to you, cupping your face in his hands. “Y/n.” He said your name, even softer this time.

You blinked up at him. “You're going to kill him, aren't you?” you asked, quietly.

Clark sank to his knees, moving his hands to hold both of your in his, pressing his lips to your fingers. “If I have to, then, I will.” He whispered, against your knuckles. “But, I will bring him to justice, and keep you safe, y/n.”

You leaned forward and kissed him, deeply, holding his head in your hands. Clark slipped his hands up your arms, gripping your shoulders for a moment, before his hands glided down your back and his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him, so your legs wrapped around him. He stood up, supporting you with one arm under your butt, turning long enough to close the bedroom door, and lay you back down on the bed. He pulled your sweats and panties off, shoving down his boxers enough to get himself free. You ran your fingers through his hair, fingertips caressing his neck and shoulders, nails racking, harshly, down his lean back and dug into his round ass, making him moan and growl into your neck as he sucked on it. His hands went behind your knees, pushing them farther up and rubbing himself against you, causing you to moan around your trapped lip as you bit into it, and you felt his cock grow and harden against your wet core.

“Clark.” You mewled, breathless, using the advantage of your hands grasping his plentiful ass to jerk his hips against you.

“Y/n.” He groaned back, his eyes squeezing shut at the feel of you.

Sex between the two of you had always been balanced and gentle, but this time it wasn't, it felt desperate and rough, like you needed to keep each other grounded by pure force. Clark rocked his hips into you, driving himself deeper into you each time, your hands moved up his back, hooked under his arms and around to his shoulders, nails breaking the skin at the top of his shoulders and making Clark hiss. The headboard knocked against the bedroom wall to the uneven and hard thrusts, catching Martha's attention as she walked into the house from picking vegetables from the garden, for that night's dinner. She looked up at the ceiling, hearing the faint noises the two of you were making, even above the banging headboard, blushed and shook her head.

“Let's go take a walk, Hank.” She called to the border collie, setting the vegetable basket on the counter. “Give the kids some space.” She chuckled, holding open the back door for the dog and following him out.

“I love you.” You moaned, pulling Clark into a kiss as you both came, needing the taste of him on your lips.

“I love you too, y/n.” Clark moaned into your mouth, brushing your hair out of your face.

It was the screen door slamming that woke you up an hour later, you found yourself alone and knew what was going on. You yanked on your sweats and ran down the stairs, your thigh throbbing from the excretion. Clark was standing a few feet away from the porch, long red cape blowing in the gentle breeze, he turned to you, the breath and words you were starting to form stuck in your throat, seeing him fully decked out in his Superman suit. It defined every muscle you worshiped and hugged the amazing curve of his ass. But, it made a huge swelling of pride burst from inside your chest, and a smile crossed your lips. You looked him in the eye, both of you smiling, both of you knowing what he was going to do, and why. Your feet didn't even touch the porch steps as your ran for him and found yourself wrapped up in his arms, his lips on yours.

“Go get them, Superman.” You whispered against his lips. “And don't be late for dinner, Clark.” You added, chuckling as you stepped back.

“I will, and I won't be.” He grinned, then shot up into the sky, a sonic boom punctuating his ascent, before he vanished into the clouds.

[ill-skillsgard]

Okay, I love a little angst, and I could see Faust visiting Faith at work and some prick keeps flirting with her and she’s very oblivious and doesn’t realize it. Or she has a tutor for college, and Faust walks in on him teaching her something, but the guys clearly flirting with her. Or lastly, her father setting her up with a family friends son who’s picture perfect and Stan making Faith go out with him for the night. But all these scenarios lead to a good banging lol.

Warning: 18+ anti-religious/anti-Christian themes/angst etc. **jealousy, angst and possessiveness in this part**

Faust x Faith Masterpost [x]

Faith awoke with a sharp intake of air. She glanced at the digital clock on Faust’s desk through misty eyes and paled when the late morning hour came into focus. She was due to meet her father in twenty-five minutes, and he expected her at the campus—not a half-hour bus ride from her dorm in an area of town known for its street crime. Even if Faust borrowed his roommate’s car to drive her, she wouldn’t have time to shower and dress before her father arrived.

A text from her dad warned of his impending arrival. She should have known better than to spend an entire Saturday evening humping her boyfriend, or at least set an alarm to wake up with ample time to get back to her dorm. In her panic, Faust woke up, looking ruefully unconcerned while she rushed to get dressed.

“What’s your deal?” Faust grumbled as Faith slipped on her black tights and lilac blouse, a worried expression on her face.

“We slept too late! My dad’s supposed to pick me up at school in like twenty minutes!”

Faust rolled onto his side, propping his head on his elbow as a dreamy smirk snagged his lips. Faith clicked her tongue. When it came to disappointing her father, Faust had nothing but encouragement to give, but his playful stare could not snuff her genuine panic.

“You won’t make it to school on time. Why don’t you just ask him to pick you up here?” Faust suggested.

“Hell no!” Faith exclaimed. “You don’t realize the amount of shit I’ll be in if he finds out I spent the night with you. Premarital sex is... No, I just can’t.”

Faust rolled his eyes. “It’s not like he’ll kill his own daughter.”

She rolled on one sock, then the other, grimacing when she noticed one was on inside-out. “You still don’t realize that he can and will pack up everything and move us away. Or he’ll make me go to a different school next semester. Trust me. You don’t get how strict my parents are. They’ve already made me read several pamphlets from church about the sin of fornication.”

“Well, clearly, you’ve learned nothing. We fornicated all night, babe. I fornicated all over that shirt, too,” he snickered.

“Faust! I’m serious. Now is not a time to joke. Wait... What?” Faith stopped in the middle of the room and stared down at her top, gasping. “Oh my god! There’s cum all over me! I’m so screwed.”

He got out of bed and went to the low-boy, pulling open the third drawer while Faith panicked.

“I am literally covered in your jizz! Why did you have to blow on my shirt?” Faith groaned.

Faust stifled a laugh as he pulled out a black t-shirt from the drawer. “Babe, you’re the one who wanted to suck my dick first thing after you got here. I can’t be responsible for where my unborn children go to die. Maybe you need to catch my loads a little better.”

She scoffed then scoffed again when he held up a faded t-shirt with a macabre design on the front and an illegible logo cresting the imagery. 

“Wear this,” Faust offered.

“I can’t wear that in front of my dad. What does that even say?” Faith asked.

“Obituary.”

Faith shook her head. Faust shrugged and stuffed the shirt back into the drawer before grabbing a different one. “How about this? No pictures on it or anything.”

She grimaced again. “It just says Death. I’m going to church, Faust.”

“All right, all right. Give me a minute,” Faust said, rifling through another drawer.

The phone buzzed in Faith’s hand, warning her that time was running out for her to make herself presentable and come up with an excuse as to why she was nowhere near campus grounds. Faust pulled out a plain black t-shirt, offering it to her with round, sympathetic eyes.

“Will this work?”

She took the shirt and gulped. “It will have to do. It’s still all black, and my parents won’t be happy.”

Faust nodded, seeming to understand her predicament. “Why don’t you say you’re sick?”

“The only time I ever got away with missing church was when I had Chicken Pox,” Faith said.

“Say you have too much work.”

She frowned. “There’s never an excuse large enough to appease them. I appreciate the suggestions, but I’d rather you just help me with a plan.”

The man towering over her nodded, turning to select his outfit for the day. “I’ll take you to the diner down the block. You can say I picked you up for breakfast.”

“I’d rather not tell them I was with you at all,” Faith said as she gathered her purse and stuffed her soiled blouse inside.

“Ouch,” Faust flinched.

“I’m sorry... That was rude,” Faith replied, covering her mouth for a moment, eyes wide. “You’re right. We should do that just to make it look like I didn’t spend the night.”

Faust ducked into a dark long-sleeve shirt, pulling his black hair out to fall over his shoulders. “Might want to wipe the dried cum off your chin then.”

When Faith slid her fingers through Faust’s as they walked down the street, his grip fell limp. He stared ahead and didn’t take any casual glances at her. In fact, Faust had been silent since they left. Worry piled on top of anxiety over what she would tell her dad, and she dropped her gaze to the sidewalk, counting the cracks as they walked. She doubled her steps to keep up with Faust’s until they reached the front doors of the quaint diner he and his buddies went to after nights of partying and hungover mornings. He let go of her hand and stepped away from her.

“See you later,” he said, spinning on the heel of his boot.

She reached out and grabbed his arm. “Wait! You’re not even going to kiss me goodbye?”

Faust shrugged, his leather jacket bemoaning the gesture. “Wouldn’t want your dad to catch you kissing your boyfriend.”

“Faust... Please. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

He snorted, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. “If that’s what you think.”

His pointed response stung, but Faith wouldn’t let him walk away without addressing the tension. “Seriously... I’m sorry. I wish you understood how hard it is for me to navigate this. You think I’m exaggerating when I say my father will stop paying my tuition and make me go to a different school, but I’m not.”

“No one can make you do anything you don’t want to do,” said Faust, inhaling a cloud of cigarette smoke. “You just let them run your life.”

Heat built up behind her eyes. She took in a deep breath and sighed hopelessly. “I don’t have the income to be independent. It’s not as easy as you think. Not for me.”

Stan’s car pulled up at the curb, and Faith’s heart dropped. Faust glanced at the vehicle, then back at Faith fidgeting with the hem of the black t-shirt he gave her. He nodded toward the street.

“I should go before your dad gets the wrong idea about us.”

“Faust—” she whimpered.

“We’ll talk later.”

Faith hurried to get into the backseat of her father’s car, staring out the window as they drove off and passed Faust on the street. Her mother sighed and shook her head.

“Smoking is a disgusting habit,” she muttered.

Faith’s sisters stared at her from their seats, then looked away when she met their eyes.

“What?” Faith asked.

“You’re in trouble,” one of them sang.

Stan glared at his oldest daughter in the rear-view mirror. He didn’t keep his indignation quiet for long. “Since when is it okay to wear all black in the house of Christ? We’re not attending a funeral, Faith. We’re going for worship.”

“I know,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It was the only clean outfit I had. I haven’t done laundry because I’ve had too much schoolwork.”

“Maybe if you didn’t spend so much time with that man, you’d have a proper outfit to wear on Sunday.”

“That man is my boyfriend. Am I not allowed to ever fall in love? It’s not like you and mom didn’t date before you got married.”

Reneta continued shaking her head. “Your father was a respectable man. He didn’t smoke and listen to evil music.”

Faith scoffed as her sisters listened with wide eyes and mischievous smirks. “What are you talking about, mom? You had nothing but nice things to say about him when he came over for dinner!”

“He was our guest, and a lady is always a kind host.”

“So, you don’t like him either?” Faith asked.

“Sweetheart, that’s not what I said. I just wish you would find yourself a nice boy. One who knows the importance of God—”

“If I smell smoke on you or catch you making a mockery of His word, I promise on His good name, I will make sure you never see that boy again,” Stan vowed.

Faith clammed up. Though she had plenty to say, she knew better than to push her luck. Her sisters whispered next to her, but Faith ignored them too. She fished her phone out of her purse and sent a text message to Faust.

You’re right. These people are fucked. I have to get away.

The service dragged for what seemed like hours, and when it ended, Faith was eager to leave. But instead of piling into the car to go home after the last prayer, Faith waited as her family mingled with others. As a revered minister of the church, Stan often welcomed conversation from those who sought his guidance and blessings. She sat in an empty pew, sighing with impatience as the churchgoers waited their turn for a private conversation with her father. 

Faith peeked at her phone to see if Faust had replied, but the message remained unopened.

Though he hadn’t said much that morning, she feared her err had caused Faust to reevaluate his interest in her. A troublesome mass weighed in her stomach. Texting him again might result in him dubbing her “clingy,” Faith decided, so she turned off her phone until it was time to leave. 

They piled into the family car and turned down the road in the opposite direction of the school campus. When Faith noticed, she perked up in her seat. 

“Where are we going?” She asked. 

“We’re having the Esders family over for dinner this evening,” said Stan. 

Faith tried not to voice her displeasure, but nothing prevented the furrowing of her brow. “Well, that’s very nice, but I have to go home to work on my paper.” 

Stan glanced back at his oldest daughter. “Your home is under our roof. And you can spare a few hours for your family.” 

“Dad, I can’t spend the entire day doing nothing. It’s due tomorrow!” Faith whined. 

“I won’t hear anymore, Faith. Bobby is your age, and you’ll be kind and cordial.” 

“Oh, so that’s what this is about? You want me to spend time with another boy?” 

“Faith, you’re helping host the Esders’, and you will be on your best behaviour.”

Faith kept to herself during dinner, helping set and clear the table, answering questions with curt replies, and after dessert, she stepped onto the veranda to call Faust. The line rang and rang until it cut off. Faust didn’t have voicemail, and he still hadn’t replied to her message from earlier. Dejected, Faith sighed as she looked out over the suburban street, the stained glass crosses hanging in bay windows and wind chimes tinkling in the cool breeze. The sound of footsteps rounded the corner, and she turned to find Bobby Esders approaching. 

“Hey, Faith. What’re you doing out here all by yourself?” The flaxen-haired boy asked. 

She forced a brief grin and leaned against the handrail. “Being by myself.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have interrupted. I was getting sick of all the church-talk in there.”

Faith nodded. “Same.”

Bobby tucked his hands into the pockets of his beige chinos. “I noticed you haven’t been to group in a while.” 

“I have a lot of schoolwork. It’s a little more important than making arts and crafts and babysitting kids while they cry over which Veggie Tales movie to watch.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Bobby snorted with amusement, stepping up to the handrail beside her. “So... What did you do all Summer?” 

The only voice Faith wanted to hear was Faust’s whispering in her ear, gently poking fun at her, calling her babe and stating interesting yet useless facts about his favourite bands and horror movies. Though she was polite, she turned to Bobby with a tight smile and sighed impatiently. 

“I don’t know... Stuff? What everyone else does during the Summer.”

The boy accepted her response with a solemn nod. Bobby Esders was not oblivious. He sensed her discomfort and unspoken need for solitude the moment dinner began. With a nod, he backed away. 

“Well, I hope you have a good night, and good luck with your schoolwork.”

Faith frowned. “I’m sorry, Bobby. I shouldn’t be so short with you. My parents have been treating me like a child lately, and it’s getting on my nerves. I should be studying, but instead, I’m here—” 

“Pretending like you give a shit about church?” Bobby said with a secretive smirk. 

“Um... Well, yeah,” she replied, blushing. 

Bobby chuckled, maintaining his distance but relaxing his shoulders. He was tall like Faust, with zero body fat, bony arms, and a mop of blond curls. Faith hadn’t spoken more than a few sentences to Bobby since joining the church, but she always smiled at him when they passed in the corridors. He was pleasant and had one of the best singing voices in the congregation. His parents were wealthy business owners who donated large sums to the church and took a liking to Stan the moment he commanded the podium for his first service. Since then, Faith’s parents cultivated a friendship with the Esders family. Faith even heard them discussing how perfect it was that the two respective families had a daughter and a son of the same age, as though it was some kind of miracle. She dreaded the day Stan might suggest she try spending time with Bobby. And perhaps if she had never met Faust, she might entertain the idea of Bobby courting her, but that chance was long gone. 

“Don’t worry, Faith. I might look like a goody-two-shoes, but it’s just the clothes my parents make me wear for church. I don’t really buy into any of this bullshit either.”

Stunned by his admission, Faith tilted her head as Bobby’s expression turned sly. 

He continued. "And I know what our parents are trying to do with us. They’re trying to play matchmaker like it’s the eighteenth century or something. Trust me; I wouldn’t be out here bothering you if your dad hadn’t encouraged me. I can tell you want to be somewhere else, and I don’t blame you."

Faith looked up at him with a growing appreciation for his honesty. His bluntness still took her back, but she smiled with relief. 

“Well, I appreciate your observation. My dad doesn’t seem to realize that I’m a person capable of making my own decisions.”

“I’m in the same boat. Do you think I want to spend all my free time doing church stuff? Right now, my friends are at home playing Call of Duty together, and I’m here, pretending like I give a shit about this stupid religion and all its oppressive rules.”

“Wow. I never pictured you as anything but...” Faith trailed off, flushing pink.

“But a Bible-toting nerd? Yeah, I get that a lot.”

Reneta called for Faith from the side door. She sighed, smiled at Bobby again, and smoothed her hands over the black T-shirt that still smelled like Faust’s bedroom. Bobby stepped aside, motioning for Faith to go first before he followed.

Faith turned on her phone after she collapsed in her bed in the corner of her dorm room. To her shock, Faust still hadn’t answered her message from earlier. She called him, but the line rang until the call dropped. Fighting back an onslaught of burning tears, she rolled over, stuffing her face under her pillow to absorb the sounds of her whimpers.

She worked an evening shift at the bookstore the next day. It was the last thing she wanted to do, but she decided that morning if Faust didn’t want to answer her, she wouldn’t press. If he couldn’t accept her apology and saw silence as an acceptable form of punishment, then she would return the favour. 

However, by the time Faith made it halfway through her shift, her heart had grown twice as heavy, and she longed to hear Faust’s gravelly voice more than ever. She ducked away for a minute here and there to stifle her tears, returning to the floor with watery eyes and a sagging expression. Even her boss noticed her sunny disposition trampled upon by something she refused to disclose.

The only relief she found was when Bobby Esders strolled into the bookstore, surprised to see her working behind the counter, sorting discarded books to return to their proper shelves.

“Faith! I didn’t know you worked here,” Bobby said with a broad smile.

“Yeah, I started here in the Summer,” she replied, returning the grin.

“This is my favourite bookstore. I’m surprised we haven’t run into each other before.”

Faith forgot her melancholy for a time. With twenty minutes until close, she focused her time on helping him locate a copy of a novel he’d had no luck in tracking down. He purchased the book and offered to wait until Faith punched out to walk her to the bus stop. Her first impulse was to decline, but Bobby was too kind to allow her refusal, claiming he was going to the same stop, and he might as well accompany her there.

The last thing Faith expected to see was Faust parked outside of the mall’s entrance, leaning against the side door of his friend’s car, waiting. She flashed a concerned look at Bobby, who stared at the leather-clad man with a touch of disdain.

“Oh, that’s um... That’s my boyfriend,” Faith pointed out as Faust glared ahead.

“That’s your boyfriend? That mean, scary-looking dude with the hair?” Bobby scoffed.

By the time Bobby took another breath, Faust had launched forth with long strides, clearing the cobblestones in a second. His glare burned hotter as he approached them.

“Who are you?” Faust asked Bobby with an air of mocking disinterest.

“Uh—”

“This is my friend from church,” Faith stepped in. “His name’s Bobby.”

Faust narrowed his eyes on the man who was only an inch shorter than himself. “Your friend, huh?” He asked.

“Faust, don’t start. He was just walking me to the bus stop.”

Bobby took a step back, relinquishing the closeness with Faith he had enjoyed for the last half an hour. He’d heard stories of Faust and his buddies, as they had beaten up and antagonized his friends throughout high school. Anyone associated with the church was subject to the circle’s cruelty, and despite Bobby’s size, he was no exception.

“I don’t want to see you sniffing around my girl ever again, you got it, bible-beater?”

Faith frowned as Bobby cowered from Faust’s smouldering contempt. She pushed on his leathered arm and stepped between the two men, glaring up at Faust with her own scorn lighting her features.

“Stop it, Faust! He didn’t do anything. We were going to the same stop, anyway. Stop being such an asshole!”

Faust pushed his jaw forward, swiping his tongue over his teeth as she challenged him. He’d never seen Faith look so angry, and though she was laughably small in comparison, her scowl was enough to make him take a step back.

“Let’s go, Faith,” he muttered.

“No. I’m not going with you. I’m going home,” Faith refused.

“Fine, I’ll drive you,” he insisted.

“No! I’m taking the bus. You can’t return my messages or answer your phone when I call? Then I don’t need your help getting home.”

The city bus pulled around the corner, rumbling to a stop at the depot to pick up the people leaving the mall. Bobby watched, frowning, then looked back at Faith.

“Sorry, Faith. I have to go,” Bobby said.

Faust sneered. “Yeah, get lost. She’s fine.”

“I’m leaving too,” Faith said, turning, shouldering the strap on her purse before stepping away.

Before she crossed the road, Faust stepped in front of her. His expression softened when he noticed hers hadn’t. Faith was angrier than he thought. When he showed up to intercept her, Faust assumed she would drop everything and run into his arms, happy to see him despite the tension he’d allowed to rise. But her disgust was potent. She wasn’t about to be pushed over by his feeble attempt at soothing the situation.

“Don’t,” Faust punctured his firm stance as Bobby crossed without her. “Please.”

“Why would I go with you? You’re not even nice to me. I tried texting and calling you, but I guess you were too busy doing your own thing to care.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you pissed me off!” Faust hammered. “That whole ‘I don’t want my dad to see us together’ was a real dick thing to say.”

Before Faith launched another complaint, she closed her mouth and looked to the ground, then back up, glaring harder. “I said I was sorry. It’s not like you haven’t said awful things before. The only difference is you never apologize for them. I’m just expected to accept your unsolicited opinions about my life and my family.”

Faust offered no rebuttal. The couple stood staring at each other until Faust relented, scooping his hand into her hair to kiss her firmly. He hated that she was right, and he refused to admit it out loud, but the kiss acted as his justification. 

It wasn’t good enough for Faith. She pushed him away.

“You can’t just act like a total asshole, then kiss me and expect it all to be okay.”

Faust rolled his eyes to the darkening sky. “What do you expect me to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know. An apology might be a good start.”

“Why would I apologize for you pissing me off?”

“Apologize for making a scene in front of my friend. Apologize for not answering me. Not accepting my apology when I had the maturity to realize I was wrong.”

“All right, well, I’m sorry. Happy? Now, let’s go.”

“No, Faust. I don’t think we should hang out tonight.”

Her refusal hit him hard. Faith always jumped at the chance to spend time together, so her steadfastness came as a shock. His shoulders slumped as he sighed.

“Please,” Faust said.

“Why? You seemed happy ignoring me yesterday.”

“I wasn’t happy. I was upset. What you said really fucked with me. Now, I’m over it, and I want you to spend the night.”

A flicker of sympathy sparked in Faith’s chest. She noticed his green eyes reflecting something she had never seen in him before: sadness. Faust reached out for her hand, and she stared at his outstretched palm, heart aching. Maybe what she said had hurt him more than she realized. She always figured Faust was above such emotions, that the only passion that lived inside of him was menacing anger that only came out when somebody threatened him or his territory. The regret tugging at his mouth proved her theory wrong. 

She took his hand and he pulled her close. Streetlights illuminated as the parking lot emptied. Stars poked through the violet sky in clusters. They stood wrapped in each other’s arms for a minute before he held her out before him, staring into her eyes beseechingly.

“If you really don’t want to come over, I’ll take you back to your dorm.”

Faith shivered. When Faust noticed the goosebumps on her arms, he let her go and shrugged out of his jacket. Underneath, he wore a black t-shirt with a severed head spewing forth a waterfall of blood and entrails. The carnage spelled out the name of a band whose logo was utterly unintelligible. She smiled as he swung the heavy leather jacket around her so she could push her arms through the sleeves. The hem ended at her thighs, and only the tips of her middle fingers poked out from the armholes, but it was comfortable despite being several sizes too large for her body.

“Fine. I’ll come over. But I wanna have sex, and I don’t want you to hold back.”

“Faith—”

“Those are my terms. I don’t want you to treat me like a little flower. I want to fuck... hard.”

Faust snorted, biting his bottom lip as he rolled his eyes again. He placed his hand on the leather at her back, guiding her toward the car. “You might regret that request, you know.”

Faith smirked. “We’ll worry about that in the morning.”

[crimsonbluemoon]

8, 6, 32 w minicat pleeeease! :D

Okay, last of the drabbles and this one is a doozy. >.> Like 10 pages long, ugh. But Grace deserves it cause she’s been my rock during these drabblez and really helped me commit to getting them done. Thank you so much for your support! Please enjoy this as my thanks. 

AU: College 

Trope: Fake dating

Prompt: “Shut up for a second, will you?”

Pairing: Minicat

Tyler wasn’t stupid; he knew he was one of the last choices people thought of when needing help with something on campus. In his defense, he was busy; his parents’ low income meant he had to have a full time job while also maintaining a high GPA for his scholarships for his overly priced college. His classes were tough, never wasting time on filler courses when he was paying thousands of dollars to attend. It meant hours of homework after long shifts, sometimes all nighters. He didn’t have the time of day to breathe, nevermind think about others. Brock, probably being too understanding of a roommate (Tyler didn’t give a shit what anyone thought of him, but Brock’s sad eyes always hit him far too hard to ignore), never pushed him to engage in extra socializing or unnecessary events. Brock’s dumbass boyfriend tried (seriously, how did Brian manage to swindle Brock into falling in love with him? Gross.) to provide Tyler with ‘the college life’, which was harder than getting water from a rock. 

But even Tyler wasn’t a big enough dick to miss Brock’s birthday party. 

At least the venue was nice; Tyler swirled the water in the fancy glass while he leaned on the country club’s bar, watching the large group of strangers mingle. Brian came from money that far exceeded Brock and Tyler’s wildest dreams. Brock almost never allowed Brian to spoil him, which had been a different experience for Brian. It still bothered Tyler how lost Brian first looked when they both turned down his money for ‘hanging out with him’. Tyler had seen his flustered roommate refuse to let the rich brat pay for a two dollar water bottle once. So when Brock had finally, finally caved enough to let Brian pay for his birthday party, Brian didn’t hesitate to go over the top. Every person who Brock had ever met seemed to be at the event, filling the room with hundreds of people. 

Tyler hadn’t bothered following his roommate when Brian pulled him somewhere twenty minutes ago. Honestly, knowing those two, he didn’t want to see what they were up to. Brock had morals, but Brian was a charmer. He used it for teachers, police, and anyone who had eyes and the smallest of hints of attraction toward men. Seriously, Tyler had seen Brian give far too many straight guys a gay panic for it not to be seen as a freaky mutant power. Brock was helplessly in love with Brian (seriously, why?), which meant he was even more likely to fall for any of Brian’s sneaky schemes. 

Especially when it resulted in sex. 

“Ugh.” Scrunching his nose at the thought, Tyler took another swig of his drink before scanning the crowd again. So far, the event had been pretty tame, which was saying something for Brian. His parties were always over the top for all the wrong reasons. If the police weren’t called, it was seen as a failure, according to Panda. But Brock had asked Brian to make the party alcohol free, and like the sucker for pretty brown eyes he was, Brian had agreed. 

Tyler glanced down at his phone again, wondering when Evan and Panda were going to show up. They were the only friends he bothered with when Brock hung a sock on their apartment door. Evan had texted saying they’d got stuck in a late lab and had told them he’d be coming late. So Tyler, lacking the only three (and a half; Brian was okay when he cooked breakfast) people he actually liked at the party, was alone. But what the fuck else was new? It was better that way. He knew that too many people would just distract him from was important. His grades, his future, and his goals in life. So what if he spent more Fridays alone than with people? That his phone could go three days without a text? That he hadn’t gotten laid in over a year? And so what if some nights, his stupid heart wondered what it’d be like to have a disgusting relationship like Brian and Brock, to be pointlessly cared for and overly adored-

“Really, you should go.” The voice that cut into Tyler’s self-loathing made him frown, refocusing his eyes to pinpoint where it’d come from. Two seats down from the bar he’d inhabited alone (because who would wanna hang out at a bar with no alcohol?), a guy that Tyler recognized looked stiff when staring at another leaning completely into his space. It took a second for Tyler to realize who it was; Craig was a high school friend of Brian’s, and had become one of Brock’s good friends when Brian and Brock started dating two years ago. Craig also went to their college, making a name for himself despite the thousands of students. He was always busy, invested in way too many clubs and groups between his classes. They were so different, that Tyler saw no reason to befriend him. 

Except Craig had tried to get to know Tyler. Despite being busy and having far too many social groups for Tyler’s liking, Craig had actually always made an effort to create small talk whenever they bumped into each other. They weren’t friends, really; maybe acquaintances if Tyler was being generous. Since Craig was Brian’s best friend, he was around more often than Tyler was comfortable with. 

Because Craig was good looking, flirted worse than Brian, and was just a damn distraction. He was someone that could yank Tyler’s attention from important homework or project’s due dates to argue about how ‘culturally important’ The Office was. Sometimes he got Tyler to explain what he was working on, which devolved into little conversations about their lives that had nothing to do with the original topic. Craig learned about Tyler’s complicated relationship with money, while Tyler heard stories about Craig’s struggles with depression. He knew about Craig’s promiscuous years when he was a teenager, which led into the conversation of how both discovered their bi-sexuality. One time, Craig’s eyes shined with excitement while he told Tyler all about his dream of becoming a marine biologist.

Tyler had barely finished his term paper that night.

In a little over two years, Craig snuck his way under Tyler’s skin like a weed. Each time Tyler swore he wouldn’t let Craig get his attention (because he had to stay focused), the busy body made it a point to prove him wrong. Brian had mentioned Craig to Tyler a few times when trying to get him to come out with their group, like he was some bargaining chip. Like Brian knew something that Tyler didn’t. 

It annoyed Tyler how often he ended up at those events.  

Normally the first to wear a grin far too big for his face, there was no sign of a smile now. Craig’s body language was telling Tyler all he needed to know about the predicament; these two were not friends. “Does Brian even know you’re here? Because I doubt Brock invited you.” 

“I’m a plus one of a friend. The new boy toy seemed to forget my invitation in the mail.” There was a cockiness in the stranger’s voice that instantly pissed Tyler off, his eyes narrowing as the conversation continued.

“Yeah, maybe because you’re Brian’s shitty ex-boyfriend, and he’d rather eat shards of glass than see your face again. And Brock’s not a boy toy; they’re actually in love. I know, new concept for you.” Craig’s snark was coated in a sweet tone that seemed to rub the ex the wrong way, though Tyler got a small chuckle out of it. Craig was always presented as cheerful and energetic, but one on one talks proved there was more sarcasm than sweetness. He was Brian’s friend after all.

“You think Brian’s going to actually manage to keep an innocent guy like that? We both know he’s far too self-destructive for that kind of happily ever after. Why do you think he always comes back to me each time?” Okay, Tyler could conceed he wasn’t always the nicest to Brian, but he also knew the guy wasn’t trash. Brian was good for Brock, as annoying as that was. And this punk was really starting to push Tyler’s buttons. 

“Brian’s happy, actually happy. Brock wants him, not his wallet, and you’re not ruining that. So you need to leave, now.” Craig’s firm words didn’t have the effect that he wanted, and Tyler felt his teeth clench when the other man stepped into Craig’s personal space, posturing. 

“Don’t think you can really make me. Last time didn’t go so well for you, did it?” This guy had muscle, and was obviously taller than the man sitting on the bar stool. Craig’s lips looked tense when they pressed together tightly, but Tyler could pick up on the slight flinch of his shoulders. This guy didn’t just bother Craig; he scared him. He was trying not to show it, but Tyler was sure it was a well known fact by how cruel the smirk on the other man’s face was. “How’s your arm, by the way? Fractures can be a pain in the ass, so I’ve heard. Still got that pop in your shoulder?”

“It’s fine.” The tone was quieter than before, and Craig pressed closer to the stool’s back, Still, his eyes shone brightly with defiance, unwilling to lower. And after a moment of tense silence, Craig surprised Tyler when his lip rose in a half-cocked grin. “How’s your dad? Divorces can be a pain in the ass, so I’ve heard. He still got that freckle on the tip of his-”

“You fucking slut.” Tyler was out of his seat before the guy could raise his fist, catching the punch inches from Craig’s face. Craig let out a surprised squeak, but Tyler didn’t look back when he used the contact to shove the man back, stepping between him and Craig.

“Don’t even think about it.” He didn’t need to posture or present himself as intimidating; his broach shoulders and tall genetics already did the work for him. While this guy had looked impressive in front of Craig, he wasn’t nearly as intimidating when compared to Tyler’s glare and tense shoulders. 

“Who the fuck are you? His boyfriend?” The words were snapped off like an insult, as if the guy thought dating Craig was the worst punishment someone could have. From the corner of his eyes, he picked up on the wince behind Craig’s glasses, knowing he’d heard the same disgust Tyler had. Craig’s sexual history wasn’t hidden knowledge, though how much he’d changed since high school seemed less known. Sighing, Craig pushed out of his seat, shoulders dropped in shame. Like maybe he agreed with the scumbag.

“He’s-” 

“Yeah, I am.” In a move that was far more suited for Brian, Tyler reached out, snagging Craig’s hip and yanking him closer. It was impulsive and fucking stupid, but Tyler’s heart lost track of it’s beat when feeling Craig’s warm body meld against his. It felt like a perfect match, with Craig’s head bumping against his collar bone before settling into the crook of Tyler’s neck. He let his arm drop around the waist, keeping Craig plastered to him to support the act he still wasn’t sure he wanted to perform. “Is that a fucking problem, asshole?” 

“Tyler…” Craig’s lost tone didn’t sound right for the man who two nights ago gushed about the astrology compatibility on Tyler’s couch. He tried not to focus on how annoyed that made him, burning his glare into the man who now snorted.

“Oh, wow. You really want to claim this trainwreck? The kid’s had more people in him than the New York subway station.” The insult was tossed out without hesitation, like it was used far too often in correlation to Craig. The body against his tensed for a second before going limp, the words sucking whatever fight was left in Craig’s body out. And Tyler didn’t know anything about this situation, shouldn’t have cared about Craig’s happiness or the weird past these two had. This was Brian’s drama, Brock’s fight, Craig’s problem. It didn’t mean shit to Tyler, had no correlation to his future. Because it wasn’t his job to help people. 

But that excuse wasn’t good enough this time.

“You talk about my boyfriend like that again, and I’ll knock your fucking teeth out.” He added no growl or movement to his threat, making sure his words were clear and deadly in their presentation. His hand squeezed the hip under his palm, letting the line between pretend and reality blur for a moment. “He’s mine. I don’t care what people think of us; I don’t give a fuck what he did before me. And I ain’t worry about anyone else coming after me, cause I’ll make sure he doesn’t need to find someone else. If those idiots couldn’t keep him satisfied, that was their loss. I don’t have a problem in that department. My only problem at the moment is you.”

“I never fucked-” But Tyler didn’t want to hear what this asshole had to say.

“Out of respect for my roommate, I’m not beating the shit out of you for hurting Craig before. But I’m really losing my patience. If you ever come near Craig again, I’ll make sure they don’t find your body. And since my boyfriend likes that dumbass Brian, he tends to hang out with him alot. Enough that you might bump into Craig if you bug him. That would be a bad day for you. You understand, or do you need specific details?” 

Tyler didn’t interact with people often, but he sure as hell knew how to threaten someone.

“You-whatever. Brian’s not worth this shit. Enjoy your five minutes with Craig while it lasts.” Tyler could hear the fear in the guy’s voice when he turned tail, but he didn’t let his eyes move away from the glare he’d pinned on him since the threat. 

“Your dad’s dick is small!” Craig’s shout at the guy retreating made Tyler roll his eyes, sending a look that made Craig smile sheepishly. “Well, it is.” 

“I don’t need to know that,” he answered, feeling the chest against his ribs vibrate with Craig’s laugh.

“Aw, come on. You know what you were getting when you made me your boyfriend.” Craig’s smile was a nice change of pace, and Tyler’s arms pulled him closer without thought. A moment of surprise passed through both of them, Tyler unsure why he hadn’t dropped his hold on Craig’s waist. He knew the guy was long gone, and their act didn’t need to continue. Yet his brain and body didn’t seem to be on the same page. Craig looked pleased at the lack of distance, curling a hand on the back of Tyler’s neck. But the hesitant bite of his lower lip proved that the bravado wasn’t fully felt. “Rumors are gonna start, you know. If you’re looking to get yourself out of this alive, we shouldn’t be so close.”

“I already said I don’t care what people think of us.” 

“But that was when-”

“Shut up for a second, will ya?” Tyler sighed at the headache that was forming behind his eyes. This was why he didn’t deal with people. “If it’s going to bug you or whatever, then we can make sure Brian spreads it was a joke. But I don’t have a social life, and I really could give two fucks what anyone but my teachers think about me. And if having people think I’m your boyfriend keeps assholes like that from harassing you, then use it.”

“You don’t mind? You really don’t mind being labelled as my boyfriend?” There was a spark of excitement in Craig’s tone when his eyes looked up at Tyler with an awe that made him squirm in discomfort. He felt his face flush at the attention, his stomach twisting in a way he couldn’t explain. 

“How many times do I have to say that I don’t care-” 

And then Craig was kissing him. The suddenness of the lips on his made Tyler’s mouth part in surprise. Craig took the opportunity to deepen the kiss and hum in pleasure. The softness of the tongue against his was mind-numbing, Tyler unsure how to counter the skill that Craig used. But after a second, he decided he needed to try. The fingers trailing lightly along the back of his neck during their leisure kiss had goosebumps rising on his skin, Tyler’s hands yanking Craig closer to feel the smaller body flush against his. The slight wiggle of Craig’s waist against his own proved the movement was appreciated, and Tyler only broke the kiss when soft lips sucked his tongue in a way far too familiar to an act he didn’t want to think about in public. 

“That was nice.” Craig’s grin was pressed to Tyler’s slack lips, his breath even as he dropped a small peck between his next sentence. “We should definitely do that more to sell this whole boyfriend thing. Maybe in a bed and with less clothes on. A snapchat or two, you know, commit to our roles and such.”

“Jesus Christ.” He wanted it to sound exacerbated, not breathless, but it was obvious he missed his mark when Craig tossed his head back and laughed. Tyler stared down at the bright smile of his… something, arms tightening to keep Craig close. Unsure how he had gotten there, he only knew one thing for certain.

He was never helping someone out again.

[xfulldreamerx]

Why it's important for Peru's youth to have a Skam remake

Disclaimer: This is an informal essay. I'm not basing any of this on scientific studies, but in my own and other's personal experiences and general knowledge as Peruvian teenagers.

Being a Peruvian teenager is hard, as in every other country in the world. There's few to no representation of the LGBT+ Community, and the Feminism is so criticized and forced on screen that true attempts to make it work are drowned by TV companies who just want to achieve a social agenda that will get them more viewers. We have grown up in a society where, thought it's true that working women are everywhere, a lot of them still think that their children have to ask the father for permission. The political crisis is bigger than ever, with a now non-existent Congress because it was mostly conformed by the opposition political party and didn't want to approve a law that would assure gender approach and sexual education on public and private schools (and that's only the peak of the iceberg). Religion has a great deal to do with that: it's influence is so big here that people can’t get proper education on important matters, such as sexuality, gender equality, civilism and social science.

However, youth is rising. When the Congress tried to approve a law that meant superior institutes students would work for free for almost three years, the march that prevented it was huge and unstoppable. When the most shameful judicial scandal of our history was unveiled, we young people were on the streets, demanding a reorganization of the National Court. Marches and protests are an essential and constantly present event on our daily lives now, even if not all of us participate in them. Chile and Bolivia - not to mention Venezuela - have bigger and and more notorious issues, but that doesn’t make our country invisible. You will never hear a single Peruvian saying that they’re proud of their country because of its Government. We all talk about our delicious food (‘Best culinary destiny of the world!’) and our breathtaking touristic places (Peru: the world’s catalog!’). We always complain about politics and society, thought. Peru is a racist, misogynist, homophobic country who says is inclusive and loves its culture, but has so much centralization that most people don’t know and don’t care about what’s happening outside the capital, Lima. We scream that we’re one of the most biodiverse countries on earth, but not that we're also the least ranked country in Latin America regarding education. In fewer words, were hypocrites.

Now imagine you’ve grown up in this environment: nationalism and occidentalization is everywhere, you say you’re proud of your country because that’s what your family taught you, and, suddenly, you’re thrown into reality. Peru is beautiful, but so wasted that you notice it’s all an act. Mining and external private investments represent the highest economic income, but that money is not well used and the contamination is killing children of blood and lungs diseases. Education in public primary and secondary schools is a joke. There’s a lot of good public colleges, but they’re so inside politics that corruption has rotten their roots and young people do whatever they can to attend private colleges instead.   We all wish to get out of this hellhole of a country, and our parents want us to - it's the least we can do, because Peru has no remedy. We're a third world, underdeveloped country, and that's never going to change because people is ignorant and do nothing to invest themselves into politics or society issues. It's sad, and frustrating, so you just want to finish studying, get a job and then fly out of here.

Daily life is another matter. Middle class is the biggest population here, with poverty close at 20 percent or something like that. That means some of us can afford food and some vanities, but not in excess. Supermarkets exist, but markets more common, often visited by middle-low class house wifes who only go to Metro and Plaza Vea - famous supermarkets chains here - when they want to show off or have additional income. Teenagers are so surrounded by American culture and European expectations that save money to shop on the mall and drink Starbucks. Believe me when I say those things are expensive here, because they are. We all want the most cliché stuff you can imagine: Adidas clothes, Converse shoes, Ariana Grande songs and Corona beers. I know that's a lot of generalization, but that's our perception of American and European culture: you're advanced, sophisticated and beautiful. Indigenous people leave their customs and traditions because they wish to be accepted by us, wanna-be's. We teach them to speak Spanish and then English, to dress 'properly' with t-shirts and pants, to not paint their faces and vanish their accent as much as possible. Teenagers are the firsts to fall for all that bullshit, because we think it will make us fit into society seamlessly.

Now, don't get me wrong. We have also learned to respect, but all the unconscious racists and homophobic comments are said too many times as joke to state that we've changed. As I mentioned before, education does anything for this, and a lot of families are very closed-minded. We're raised to believe in heteronormativity and white supremacy as if they were natural laws. Many of us are short, dark-skinned and dark-eyed, so every time we see a tall, blond and blue-eyed person we are awed and have this desire to be like them - they are more accepted, you know, cooler. Our indigenous heritage is something shameful, so that's why we say we're 'half-bloods': yes, we descend from the Incas, but also from Spanish conquerors, so it's all fine. Teenagers dance to reggaeton and pop, but almost none of them to huayno or saya, typical and amazing Peruvian dances. We value our culture, but distance ourselves from it. This new and modern generation is meant to be global, so we don't have to pay attention to them. We drink and smoke, we party and talk about Netflix shows. See? We're like you!

I don't know if my goal of making every person who reads this understand Peruvian context was accomplished. Nowadays, all TV is filled with the same Mexican Telenovelas copies, long, dramatic and unrealistic series that exaggerate society, and trash reality shows that are meant to give us pointless and cheap entertainment. All our pop culture (like going to a minimarket called Tambo and going home on microbuses) is forgotten, avoided, because they'll show the neglected streets, dirty sidewalks and all the other stuff that would put in evidence that we're not as pretty or exotic as the rest of the world thinks. A gay couple who dares to walk and kiss in public is told to leave that place. Sexual assault is diminished and not punished. Islam is almost non-existent and very judged. We need Skam because young people need the representation that awesome show would give us. They could talk about politics because we're also starting to, about feminism because the young women here are not ashamed of it anymore (for the most part), about the LGBT+ Community because homophobic marches and and gender discrimination are allowed and normalized, about other religions besides christianity because the church has to stop it's influence on the Government. My hope for Skam here comes from the wish of a country who is inclusive, multi-colored and respectful of it's multiculturalism. The need of something that shows us as we truly are, flawed but with the possibility of change, is bigger than ever.

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

What is the “Greatest Country on Earth™?“

I mean this objectively.  Out of ~200 nations, one of them has to be undeniably better than the rest.  If we make a sortable list, one has to be on top, just as certainly as one has to be on bottom,  So, which country is the all around best?

I can tell you for absolutely certain it is NOT the United States; sure, we’re economically best, every other country relies on us for trade, but something like 99% of all the money is controlled by so few individuals that they could all fit in one of those crappy rental limos that high schoolers get their parents to splurge on for Prom Night.  Income inequality has never been worse, minimum wage been stagnant for almost 10 years, and nobody can afford a home.  “America” is rich, but “Americans” aren’t.  So that ain’t great.

The Democracy Index lists the top ten most politically stable and democratically active countries as Norway, Iceland, Sweden, New Zealand. Finland, Ireland, Denmark, Canada, Australia, and Switzerland,  I happen to know for a fact that Canada, Australia and New Zealand are super racist, just like their dear old dad the British Empire (and their cousin, America); Canadians hate the indigenous, New Zealand hates the Maori, Australia hates the aboriginals.  They’ve taken a page out of Andrew Jackson’s playbook to genocide the problem away then punish he stragglers to make their lives as hard as possible.  So that’s not great.  Scandinavia seems nice, but I’ve had my heart broke too many times to take them at face value.  If it seems too good to be true, it probably is.  Let’s go further.

Breaking down the Democracy Index, we get different leaders based on criteria:

Electoral Process and Pluralism: elections are free and fair, and there are multiple views being discussed.  Nine countries get a perfect score of 10.00; Ireland, Australia, New Zealand, Norway, Iceland, Finland, Luxembourg, Uruguay, and Denmark [for reference, the US got a 9.17]

Functioning of Government: can it collect taxes and spend them on stuff that’s useful?  No country gets a perfect score, but the three highest are Norway, Canada, and Sweden with 9.64 each. [for reference, the US got a 7.14]

Political Participation: can people vote, and do they?  Only Norway gets a perfect 10.00.  The next five are trailing behind; New Zealand, Iceland, Finland, Israel, and the United Kingdom each score 8.89. [for reference, the US got a 7.78]

Political Culture: how invested are the people and the government in the right to vote?  We get perfect 10.00s from Norway, Iceland, Sweden, and Ireland [for reference, the US got a 7.50]

Civil Liberties: how free are you?  How oppressive is your government?  Ireland, Australia, and New Zealand get perfect 10.00s [for reference, the US got an 8.24]

From this, we can glean that Ireland seems pretty great.  But they’re wrapped up in the aftermath of Brexit; there’s a non-zero chance that the Troubles could start back up again if they put a hard border between Ireland and Northern Ireland, which would be HORRIBLE.  That’s not on them necessarily, it’s just as much if not more on the UK government (British Tories see the Irish as subhuman; Boris Johnson wants to wipe them out, put them in his slave mines with the Syrian refugees and Jeremy Corbyn’s corpse).

The World Happiness Report lists the top 10 happiest countries as Finland, Denmark, Norway, Iceland, the Netherlands, Switzerland, Sweden, New Zealand, Canada, and Austria.  These too can be broken down into further criteria:

GDP Per Capita: a country’s total wealth divided by its population (this is not as indicative as it sounds; a higher GDP doesn’t mean you see a single extra cent from your job.  Countries with the highest GDPs have the largest wealth gaps, and are middle of the road when it comes to happiness.  The top 10 are Qatar, Luxembourg, Singapore, United Arab Emirates. Ireland, Norway, Switzerland, United Sates of America, and Saudi Arabia.

Social Support: how much does the country care for its citizens?  Top 10 are Iceland, Finland, Norway, Denmark, New Zealand, Ireland, Australia, the United Kingdom (normal so far), then Turkmenistan and Mongolia!  Turkmenistan is a military dictatorship run by a man who likes to watch horses fuck.  I think he may be over-reporting how much aid he’s giving out to the people.

Health Life Expectancy: the 10 most medically modernized countries are Singapore, Hong Kong, Japan, Spain, Switzerland, France, Northern Cyprus (which is under Turkish occupation), regular Cyprus, Canada, and Italy

Freedom to Make Life Choices: this sounds like something the US should excel at; Freedom and Liberty are our favorite catchphrases!  But no, in practice we’re not even close to the top of the barrel.  The top 10 are Uzbekistan (former Soviet Republic), Cambodia (one-party dictatorship), Norway, the United Arab Emirates, Finland, Denmark, Iceland, New Zealand, Canada, and Sweden.  Turns out maybe “freedom” means “no rules, all anarchy” in some countries, and hey, more power to them.  For reference, the United States is in the middle of the list, between Peru, Botswana, the UK, and Japan.

Generosity: do unto others, as the saying goes.  Turns out the richest countries are the least generous.  Whoodathunkit?  The 10 most generous countries are Myanmar, Indonesia, Haiti, Malta, Kenya, Bhutan, Kuwait, Thailand, Iceland, and the UK.

Perceptions of Corruption: does your government have it’s hand in the cookie jar?  The top 10 least corrupt are Singapore, Rwanda, Denmark, Finland, New Zealand, Sweden, Switzerland, Norway, Luxembourg, and Ireland.  For reference, the US is down low, between Saudi Arabia, Jordan, Nicaragua, and Iran.

The Human Development Index lists the top 10 developed nations as Norway, Switzerland, Ireland, Germany, Hong Kong, Iceland, Australia, Sweden, Singapore, and the Netherlands.  The US sits pretty at 15, though this index just shows that we have running water, electricity, and roads; while we are technologically developed on the country-wide scale, the closer you look, the less this technology helps those at the lower levels.  Poor people are still poor, still have lead in the water, still lack access to good food.  The US is considered a considered a developing nation in that regard.

Ireland, New Zealand, and Switzerland get passing scores on all four of the freedom indices (Freedom in the World, Index of Economic Freedom, Press Freedom Index, and Democracy Index); they’re both socially and economically free, their press is in a good situation, and they’re full democracies.  Good on them.  Australia is socially and economically free, a full democracy, but their press’s situation is only “satisfactory,” a step down from “good.”  Denmark, Finland, Germany, Netherlands, Norway, Sweden, Costa Rica, and Portugal are socially free, their press is good, they’re full democracies, but they are economically “mostly free.”  For the record, the United States is socially free, only mostly economically free, our press is satisfactory, and we are a flawed democracy (this puts us on par with Taiwan, Lithuania, Latvia, South Korea, the Czech Republic, and Cyprus)

And finally we have the Corruption Perceptions Index.  As of 2020, the lest corrupt countries are New Zealand, Denmark, Finland, Sweden, Switzerland, Singapore, Norway, Netherlands, Luxembourg, and Germany.

Taking into account the various indices, Norway tops almost every list followed by Iceland, Ireland, and New Zealand.  If we can get over he racism (that’s gonna be a major hurdle), I think it’s safe to say that we have our three finalists.  Norway and Iceland are tied or first, with Ireland a close second.  I’m more inclined to favor Ireland because they’ve been helping out the Choctaw Tribe back in the US during the coronavirus, in repayment for their help during the great potato famine; Good Guy Ireland, pays his debts, helps his friends, has a mutual fucking hatred for WASP bastards.

Ireland appears to be the greatest place to live.

Now burst my bubble, because I know it’s coming.  Tell me the bad news, rip off this band-aid nice and quick.

[qqueenofhades]

Hi there. I've been scrolling through your "school stuff" tag but thought I'd ask directly - how did you find the transition to actually moving outside of the U.S. for your PhD? I'm looking at something similar and I'm wondering about your experience with the logistics (finding somewhere to live, visa, etc!). Thanks in advance, and congrats on being a doctor!

Oh lord. Why would you do that to yourself? I feel like that tag is mostly just intense kvetching, bogglingly obscure nitpicking complaints, and existential despair, and/or yelling at various institutions and/or people who could not do their god damn jobs. If you have read that and still actually want my advice, I salute you. I’m presuming you’re asking in regard to the UK, since it’s the only experience I can speak on, so hopefully that’s applicable?

In my case, I studied in the UK for a year as an undergraduate, at Oxford, so I was already familiar with the process (at least somewhat) when it came time to do it again for the PhD. Upfront, we must acknowledge the ugly deformed rabid elephant in the room that is Brexit, and the idiotic reform of UK immigration policy currently ongoing. Long story short, they seem to think they can function without low-skilled migration, that the domestic UK workforce will just happily lark off to do the jobs that working-class EU migrants have been doing, that this won’t totally bomb-crater the NHS, that they can run a country by basically only allowing in PhDs in STEM making over £30,000 a year, etc… so yes, this is a complete joke of an immigration policy and it’s what happens when you elect floppy haired xenophobic douchewads and their nightmare party as prime minister! ANYWAY, they’re introducing a points-based system from 2021, which may not affect you for an application under Tier 4, but UK immigration policy is going to have a lot of very stupid reforms and you’ll want to keep on top of those. If you have an offer in hand from a UK university, it is made somewhat easier, but you’ll still need to budget for processing costs, an NHS subsidy paid in for every year you will be there (something like $300/year), and a trip to a UK visa office to have your fingerprints and biometric information taken. If you don’t live near one, that will be travel expenses and so forth. You then have a temporary visa issued for first entry into the country, and a Biometric Residence Permit which you pick up at your university.

That, at least, was the process the last time I applied for a student visa, and it may all have changed by the time you do it. As noted, there are a lot of upfront visa costs, so you’ll want to be aware of those. You need a number of supporting documents, including offer of study, proof of income or ability to financially support yourself (since most Tier 4 visas either don’t let you work or only work a limited number of hours), proof of English proficiency (as a native English speaker/person from an English-speaking country, you won’t need this), and so on. You can’t start the process before you have the offer, but you’ll want to start it as soon as possible afterward, because it can take several months, and obviously needs to be done before you can travel. You will also want to open a UK bank account as soon as you arrive, which can be done once you have your residential address and a certificate from the student services office at your university verifying that you are in fact a student there. It’s pretty difficult to pay out of non-UK accounts, at least for monthly/recurring transactions, and there are international fees. You will also want a UK phone. I still have my UK phone/phone number despite my current hiatus in America, since most carriers offer free or low-cost roaming in Europe (though subject to change with EU trade negotiations), which is nice. I pay only a little extra to have Global Roaming in North America, so I can still use my phone as if I’m in the UK. If you’re planning to be traveling, this is a nice perk to have.

As far as finding programs goes, I’m sure I don’t need to give you advice on what you’re interested in and where you’re looking. Obviously, universities in the UK are grouped as “Oxford and Cambridge” and “everyone else,” though there are also rankings within those. I have been at both of these; Oxford as an undergrad, and then I did my PhD at a large public university in the North that ranks within the top 10 in the UK. The North will be much lower, living-cost wise (actually, if you can swing it, just… don’t do it in London, the cost of living in London is out of control. Of course, if the program you really have your heart set on is in London, then go for it, but just be aware of what you’re getting into). It’s also a rule of thumb that you don’t go anywhere for a PhD unless they’re paying you. Don’t self-fund a PhD, it’s just too expensive, and any decent university will give you some kind of financial stipend. I had a scholarship that covered three years of full tuition at international rate, which was good, though I had to take out some living-cost loans. So if you’re trying to decide between two programs that have both accepted you, a situation I was also lucky enough to be in, it sounds crass, but: take the money. One university had already offered me the tuition/scholarship, while the other had accepted me but wasn’t sure about funding. So I took the one that paid the scholarship. You need every penny you can get. You will be comically, absurdly, unbelievably broke as a graduate student. I was looking back on it like “wow I really lived for four years on BUTTFUCK NOTHING.” It is not for the faint of heart; you will have financial stress along with academic pressure, and while I was lucky enough to have generous friends and family contributing to my living costs, I still barely scraped through. It is something you should be aware of.

I don’t know if you’ve studied in the UK system before (I’m assuming not), but the structure for a PhD is much less determined than in the American system. It will also vary from university to university, so it’s worth establishing contact with a potential faculty supervisor to ask questions and refine your project proposal. I made contact with my eventual supervisor at my PhD university before I actually applied there; I gave him my (much too broad and pretty unrefined) project proposal and what I was interested in, and he helped me tailor it into something that could be done in a feasible time frame and which would make use of his expertise and contribute to the field. Whatever you’re thinking about pitching as a thesis topic, you probably need to make it more specific. I don’t know what field you’re in; I’m a humanities/history person, obviously, so the rule always seems to be WRITE MORE, INFIDEL. But the point is, the UK system has much less structured time, and basically relies on you to have the self-motivation to go out and conduct the research and write it up, and if you’re someone more used to rigid requirements and classes and so forth, you might find it a little hands-off. If you’re like me and can just be set loose in your field of interest and do your own thing, you’ll like it. I feel like anyone who is serious enough about their subject to want to do a PhD has to be primarily self-motivating, but some people function better with clear guidelines, and those are not always forthcoming. I can’t count the number of times I wished my supervisors would just TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK TO DO, but they usually highlighted something and had me work to figure out how exactly to fix it. They weren’t negligent or uncaring or unsupportive, and the project became much better as a result, but yes, it’s on you to do, and it can again be frustrating.

As far as living, I didn’t try to rent a flat from afar, sight unseen, in my first year. I just registered for postgraduate campus housing, and lived with four predictably horribly messy roommates (why???!) before I managed to escape and rent a private flat for the next three years. You will need a guarantor with a UK address (i.e. not your parents in America) to sign on the lease agreement, especially if you fall below a certain income threshold, and go through the usual background checking and approval. If you want to have the place to yourself, it will be, as noted, much cheaper to find something you can afford in the North and not-London in general, though southern England and the London commuter belt will all be expensive. If you’re okay living with roommates, or you make friends during your program, it might work to room together and share costs, but I am a pathological introvert and don’t like people, so I lived by myself. 

Anyway. Right now, I am in the second round of applications for a Big Deal UK postdoctoral award, which would be for three years starting this fall if I got it, at another high-ranking large public university in the south of England. (So yes, everything that I just said about how much it costs to live in London/London suburbs is me playing myself). I would be applying for a Tier 2 visa (i.e. the permanent/settlement track/full-time work visa) if I got this, which would be another barrel of laughs and different requirements from a Tier 4. That is definitely unhatched chickens which we can’t count yet, as this is a highly competitive/prestigious award and there is absolutely no guarantee that I would get it, but it would mean that I would go through the international moving/visa application process for a third time, so I would once again become too unfortunately familiar with whatever bullshittery is happening now. Le sigh.

I don’t know if any of that is helpful; hopefully so. Let me know if you have more questions, and good luck.

[ecto-american]

White and Nerdy

Holiday Truce Gift for @idiot-cheesehead-archenemy based on their request for Vlad’s slice of life outside of the Fentons.

On FFN and AO3

Summary: Contrary to belief, Vlad does have hobbies other than spinning in a fancy chair with his cat thinking of evil plots. For example, every Tuesday he dedicates the day to hanging out with his best friend as they both indulged in their crippling, long term addictions: World of Warcraft, with a pinch of Dungeons and Dragons.

Rating: K+

Warnings: Some cursing

Other Notes: Everybody is gay or trans, and you can't stop me.

Running a multi billion dollar empire was stressful, to say the very least. And of course, when you own those businesses, it was easy to work as much or as little as you pleased. Not that Vlad ever found himself taking off too much from work. No, no. He loved running his empire, the meetings and decisions. Whenever he took too much time off, the halfa found himself restless. Vlad craved a full schedule, and he needed things to look forward to.

Though of course, he wasn't all work and no play. There was one day of the week Vlad always, with the exception of business trips, took off or would take easy: Tuesdays. Tuesday was raid day.

And on that Tuesday morning, Vlad paid no mind as he could faintly hear the front door being unlocked and closed. His best friend, his actual best friend (NOT that fool Jack), had keys and was permitted to come over whenever he pleased.

Vlad continued his morning routine lazily, carefully shaving and grooming his beard to his preferred style. Brushed and styled his hair in it's normal ponytail, and he dressed himself. Any other day of the week, Vlad would be putting on his Italian brand name custom suits, always freshly pressed and ironed by a maid. But today was raid day, and so he instead was wearing sweatpants and an oversized Packers sweatshirt. He slipped on his football slippers, and he went downstairs to his computer room.

Not his office, which was expensively decorated with only the most fine and formal, shelves lined with important titles. His computer room, which was expensively decorated for a whole other reason. As he opened the door, he smiled at the shelves full of figurines of his favorite characters, accessories adorning the walls. He knew that most would have a stroke, since he never kept anything in the original box, despite having the entire collection of figurines, statues, busts, everything that would make the most dedicated fan drooling. That was simply stupid in Vlad's eyes, it was made to be admired and displayed, not kept in a box. If any were to break, he could simply buy another, no issue.

They lined shelves that were all over the brightly lit room, with cabinets below that held their boxes. While he didn't keep them in boxes, he of course, still kept them. There were also some books, mostly related to the lore but also game guides and manuals.

He admired his collection for a moment before turning his attention to the middle aged man getting comfortable in one of the three computer setups Vlad had, the far left one. All the setups were, of course, only the best and most advanced, with each desktop having three monitors and leather chairs. Each desk was a large U shaped one, set pressed to each other and near the back wall for the outlets.

"Hey, morning!" Edward Lancer greeted him warmly. Both men were morning people, clear by their chosen professions and schedules. Ed was in his own lounge wear, sweatpants with crocs and an old college t-shirt. "I brought McDonald's." He gestured to the bag that was left on Vlad's desk, alongside a cup of coffee clearly from Vlad's own kitchen.

Had it been any person other than Ed, Vlad would have been mortified over McDonald's. But even billionaires couldn't resist their breakfast, and it was only on Tuesday that he was able to privately indulge. Ed never judged.

"Thank you!" Vlad replied brightly. Ed had his own meal in front of him, sitting facing away from the keyboard as he took his time eating. Vlad joined him, sitting at his desk and doing the same, allowing them to talk face to face as they ate.

"Are you ready to fight the dragon later?" Ed questioned as he cut up his pancakes. "Since we're resting, I've been trying to figure out what spells I should prepare for the day to fight it." Vlad snorted, shaking his head.

"Knowing Harriet, she'll likely make the dragon a red herring that goes down with ease and dick us over with the actual boss that'll be invincible to half our party because it's immune the attacks that destroy the damn dragon," Vlad replied before taking a big sip of coffee. Burning hot, but delicious. Ed chuckled in amusement.

"She's always made it fair though," Ed replied. "Her boss battles are never unbeatable."

"Yeah, but she makes every campaign some Water Temple level meets 90s point and click mystery game difficulty and outrageous puzzle solving," Vlad grumbled.

"I like it, it's good critical thinking practice," Ed replied. "I've used some of her puzzles in the games I DM for the students. Really makes them think rather than just attacking everything. I swear, one of my students, Nathan, he just loves rolling to attack every NPC I make."

"Sounds like a ninny," Vlad said as he took a bite of his greasy fast food. The best part about the summer was Ed not having to teach. They could dedicate the whole day to hanging out. Of course, Ed took up a summer job, but he was able to secure Tuesdays off.

"A bit, but a good kid," Ed always spoke fondly of his students. "You should come in sometime for a game, it'd be fun."

"I think I might," Vlad agreed thoughtfully.

Of course, going to Casper High was always hit or miss. Daniel was there, and it was always nice to be able to check in on the little badger. But as mayor and a billionaire that funded several scholarships, it would be nice publicity to go and have some face time with kids. Many of his high school interns had graduated and left for college, and he was in the market for some new ones. Might be able to find some promising new future employees too. Hm, he'd have to see where he could fit a Casper High visit into his schedule when school began. Vlad would worry about that another time.

"How's their gay club?" Vlad questioned. "You guys just formed one, right?"

"It's got a steady group of kids who come in, very good kids. Many have supportive parents now," Ed explained. The teacher had paused, giving a small sigh. "It's a double edge sword for me. On one hand, I'm so grateful that so many of them can be who they are. But...I don't know. I hate that we never got to have that."

Vlad nodded understandingly. He poked at his breakfast, feeling hunger temporarily leave him as those depressive memories came back.

"I'll forever be thankful that Mother wanted to apologize and make amends before she died," Vlad spoke. "But I'm sorry she missed out on so much because of what I had to do to become happy. At least she passed away recognizing me as her son."

The last memories of his mother was depressing. Elderly and sick with cancer, even with all the money Vlad began to throw at her once she reached out to him after nearly twenty years of refusing to speak to him. Whether his sister wore her down, or it was deathbed regrets. It was an emotional two years, being able to see his mom again.

"Mine's in better shape than me, and they're still calling me by my old name," Ed complained. "I don't think it'll ever change. I try to keep a relationship, cause of the kids, but I don't know if it's even worth it anymore."

Silence hung in the air as they separately mourned for what it all cost them. Of course, it was worth it. Absolutely worth it to be happy, to be comfortable and finally as they should be, but it didn't make the cost any less harsh of a price to pay.

"Their generation will be better," Vlad said firmly. Ed nodded in agreement. "Please let me know if any of them need binders or anything of the sorts."

"I will. I've been thinking about starting a clothing drive for them," Ed explained. "I can probably get the school on board with it if we market it as for the lower income students too. Dressing how you want makes a big difference."

"You get the details sorted out, and I will absolutely financially back you," Vlad promised. Ed smiled.

"Thank you. I may start working on that to propose for this school year," Ed mused.

For the bumbling oaf that Jack was, Vlad had to admit that he was a very loving and caring man. A bit too caring, honestly, it was a bit of a flaw. He had immediately accepted Vlad, and later on his own son. It always warmed him to remember that Daniel had two parents that had immediately gotten him everything a young trans man could ever need. No hesitation, no questioning.

Ed took a final bite of his breakfast before humming happily. He wiped his hands as he pushed to toss his empty containers into the trash can.

"Enough being sad, let's raid," he suggested. Vlad hurriedly took his last two bites before nodding in agreement.

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The raid was broken up with greasy Chinese takeout for lunch, brought to them by a staff. Another guilty pleasure Vlad rarely indulged in. Then, of course, it was a return to games before they changed into their normal attire, sitting down to a home cooked dinner by staff. By the time they were finishing up, their other guests had begun to arrive for the evening plans.

Vlad always hosted the game. It just always made the most sense. He had the most room in his house, nor the distractions of family. Not that he disliked Lance nor Ed's children, they were great, but there was nothing that ruined the immersion of dragon slaying quite like teenage dramatics. And he thought that playing with toddlers in the house was frustrating.

The four sat in yet another room in Vlad's mansion that he had dedicated fully to the hobby. A large round table with Harriet Chin sitting furthest from them. A DM folder that separated her papers from there, just low enough that the halfa could see her smirking to herself as she reviewed her plans. Ed sat to her left, with an empty seat in between them. Another empty seat in between him and Vlad, and yet another separated Vlad from Lance Thunder.

Vlad honestly didn't really know the man that well yet. He was one of Harriet's coworkers that she had dragged into the summer game, as Vlad and Ed needed a third person in the party for this campaign. Their normal fourth and fifth friends, Joe and Frank, were spending the summer with their daughter and their newborn granddaughter. He already missed the pair terribly, especially Frank. Frank would often join in on their World of Warcraft adventures. But Lance was gay, and that made him okay enough for Vlad to accept him into their little queer circle with little complaint.

"I wouldn't get her a car unless she had good grades," Vlad gave his two cents into the conversation. Something about Lance's daughter wanting a car. Lance nodded.

"That's what I've been saying, but Alan keeps saying that if Star had her own car, she could begin driving herself to the library and to school to study, but I just don't buy that," Lance agreed. Vlad knew by now who those people were. Alan was Lance's husband, Star was Lance's daughter from his first marriage. Vlad had seen pictures of Star before. She was a spitting image of Lance. "She's more interested in being with her friends."

"And what does Rene think?" Ed questioned about the ex-wife's opinion. Lance shrugged.

"She doesn't think Star needs a car," Lance replied. "Public transportation isn't bad here, she can always borrow one of our cars, and lots of colleges won't let you have cars as a freshman anyway. So it'd be sitting in the driveway in a year or so for a year anyway."

"Star's going to be a junior, right?" Vlad questioned. Lance nodded. Vlad mentally went over his garage of cars. "When she's able to have a car on her college campus, I'll happily give her a good deal on one of my cars if she has good grades. I'll probably be retiring one of my cars by then. Of course, it's not going to be some beat up piece of junk." Lance's eyes widened.

"I'll definitely keep that in mind," Lance smiled warmly at him.

"Vlad sold my oldest, Ophelia, a car about five years ago. Car still runs like it's new," Ed spoke up.

"Ophelia just began graduate school, didn't she?" Harriet questioned, finally speaking up. She had been nose deep in her campaign notes. Ed nodded.

"She got in at the University of Chicago, full ride," Ed beamed with pride, and Vlad was very proud too. Ophelia, his precious goddaughter, was like a niece to him. Very smart, quick-witted and the only one who could match Ed's passion for literature. Of course, Vlad provided her with that full ride scholarship, as he did with her younger siblings, and eventually he would do the same for Ed's remaining two when they got to that point. No niece or nephew of his was going to college with student debts. "George is set to graduate soon too, this is his last year. Before med school anyway."

Ahh, little Georgie. Vlad got to spend a lot of time with him. He was one of Vlad's interns at Axion Labs. A strong willed boy, good head on his shoulders. Sometimes a little too honest, but the world needed more people like that. Whenever the billionaire stopped by Axion Labs, he always paid a visit to his favorite intern. It was always those times he spent with Ed's children that Vlad regretted not having his own.

"So how's the cat, Vlad?" Harriet asked, giving a small smirk. She could always seem to sniff out his emotions. Damn journalists. They were a bit too observant. Vlad rolled his eyes.

"How's yours?" he asked back. She chuckled.

"Bandit's the happiest boy alive, I just got him a nice new cat tower," she replied. Vlad nodded.

"I just had a new cat house for Maggie built," Vlad told her. Of course, he was never going to admit to his friends, most of them knowing the ghost huntress, that he named his cat after a long term crush. "It's going to be installed in the next week or so. You should bring Bandit over then. Maggie loves him."

"Oh I might," Harriet hummed happily. "It's been a while since Bandit got to hang out with Maggie."

"Does anybody want a drink before we begin?" Vlad questioned.

"Can I have a glass of rosé wine?" Harriet questioned. The billionaire smirked.

"Of course," he replied. He glanced to Ed and Lance.

"Uh, just gimme a beer, you know what I like," Ed shrugged. Lance thought for a moment.

"I may just have some wine too," Lance spoke.

Vlad nodded, and he stood to go to the intercom on the wall. All of the rooms in his house had it for his staff. He pushed it, and he requested the drinks, alongside what he knew to be choice snacks.

Almost as soon as Vlad had sat down, a male staff member came with a tray. It was full of cheese and crackers, popcorn, chips and fondue. Another staff member came with drinks and glasses.

Vlad picked up a beer like Ed, cracking it open and taking a long drink. Of course, in any other company, he'd indulge in wine. Beer was not something one could normally drink at a formal business function, and so he always took advantage of the times he could freely have some.

They began. A small discussion, and as the billionaire expected, the dragon went down easy. Suspiciously easy. Harriet gave the group before her a mischievous grin just over her DM folder. Vlad didn't like this, or that look in her eye.

"So you guys defeated the dragon," the reporter replied slyly. "But there's no loot to collect on him. The dragon dissolves and melts away. Everybody roll for perception and add your stuff. Then tell me what you got."

Oh, he definitely did not like this a single bit. Vlad eyed her coldly as he picked up his dice. Ed and Lance did the same.

"Visual or hearing, I'm missing an eye so I'd have to roll disadvantage otherwise," Ed reminded her.

"Hearing!" Harriet chirped. He nodded.

"Uh, sixteen then," he replied.

"Ten," Lance said.

"Twenty-two," Vlad spoke.

"You hear nothing," Harriet told Lance, pointing to him. She moved her finger to Ed. "You hear a small noise, two voices. But they're a bit muffle, you can't quite make out the entire conversation. But you do hear some words. The general jist of the conversation you can make out is that these individuals have realized you killed the dragon and are here." Harriet pointed to Vlad. "You! However, you can hear everything. It's a rough voice of a masculine figure telling somebody to prepare for battle, somebody has killed their precious dragon. They're going to detect your thoughts to determine your next movements before making their next move."

"I cast detect magic," Vlad replied. Harriet's eyes sparkled.

"It failed," she announced gleefully. Vlad internally groaned, and he could see Ed looking confused. "So what will you guys do."

Lance scratched his temple as he stared at his character sheet. He was not just new to the group, but to the game itself. The weather man studied his sheet for a moment as he tried to think. He took a long sip of his wine before speaking.

"Well uh, I think my guy is just gonna look for the treasure, cause I didn't hear anything," Lance said slowly. "And I'm still really interested in the promised gold."

"I tell him to not, because we should be careful," Ed spoke up quickly. "Because of what I heard."

"You tell your party what you heard?" Harriet questioned. She had leaned back in her seat, a leg over the arm of the chair as she held her beverage. The lesbian lightly swirled her wine in her glass before taking a long drink.

"Yeah, I tell my party what I heard," Ed clarified.

"And I'll tell them what I heard," Vlad agreed. "Because I need these people alive to keep me alive. They're my meat shields." Harriet snickered.

"So the prince never mentioned anything but a dragon being in here," Ed said slowly. "It must be another adventuring party trying to get the treasure. Prince Yamum said he did send several people to collect the family amulet."

"I say we kill them," Vlad suggested. Ed looked at him in disapproval, and Vlad shrugged. "My character's selfish. He doesn't want to share the loot with this party, and he doesn't want to share the rewards for returning the amulet."

"I agree," Lance said slowly. "My guy doesn't want the competition."

"No, no!" Ed said sternly. "We are NOT killing him, he may have useful information for us or be able to help."

"There's two voices, so that's a five way split between treasure," Lance pointed out. Vlad glanced to see Harriet's reaction. She was grinning like a fool, with that distinctive sparkle in her eye. She was absolutely up to something, and she looked like a true super villain. Evil plots forming her mind. Vlad trusted her with nothing, and yet he admired this chaotic evil lesbian. Harriet was his villain goals.

"Harriet, I swear on your grave," Vlad began his threat, only to stop with a frown at Harriet's devilish giggle.

"The individual detects your negative and violent thoughts," she announced cheerfully. She finished off her glass, shifting to have both legs over the armrest, her back against the opposite one. "And they have deduced that you're a threat that needs to be taken care of. Congratulations, boys. You're encountering the real boss." Vlad scowled.

"I knew you were going to do this, you always pull some weird bait and switch thing!" Vlad complained. Harriet smirked. "Lemme guess. It's a, it's a, god what would be the worst thing to fight right now." Vlad racked his mind for a possible enemy. "A rakshasa? Probably with a shield guardian too."

Harriet's smirk only widened. And Vlad knew he was correct.

"Roll for initiative, bitch."