#it really makes me crave something healthy and happy for Rosie

[hereliesbitches--me]

Rosie doesnt like being a single parent.

Yes, she does everything in her power to make life seem as normal as possible( which their lives are anything but normal), but in the long run she feels it's unfair for her kids. They're stuck with a single unstable parent who has one of the riskiest jobs in the world, that requires a lot of her time and focus. She always Is the one that lives when good people die for her sake, when the best father in the world died protecting her even if she could find a way to come back. The better parent of the two of them. Her kids stuck in a world where they arent like other kids, they arent just human, and they dont have the stability of having both parents in the picture. To Rosie, she feels like she robbed them of something vital

Now, theres nothing wrong with healthy single parent homes who are happy, but it's a matter of how Rosie herself was raised. Her mother was a workaholic trying to support two kids, who was prone to abusive relationships because she wanted to fill that role of a father and husband in their lives, and they never lasted. Living with her father may have been alright, but all he did was work too. Showed up every now and again, showered her with riches to occupy her, but he was always working and left her with her butler. In the end, what she remembered of her parents are scarce bits and pieces of memories she shared with them. With her mother, plenty of bad but some good ones. And her father, many good ones, but the lonliness is prominent. She lived with single parents, and all her life she wanted anything but that. She didnt want to he alone, and if she had kids she didnt want them to live like she lived. She wanted everything she didnt have as a child, but life seems to like making s clown out of her and she feels the cycle repeating.

Shes sick like her mother, full of trauma and sorrow, but unlike her mother she never let the kids see it. Although even they notice Rosie never seems to smile unless its needed for interacting with them. They arent ignorant, they notice things exceptionally well, even Mia at her young age.

Now, you'd think it's an easy problem to solve, to just look for a lover. After all, the world has billions of people -- but it's not easy for Rosie. It's not that she doenst want to date again, but rather shes afraid to.

Shes afraid of fucking up, that theyll hurt her, or theyll be bad for her kids, or that theyll die because they're unfortunate enough to be looped in with her. But most potently of all, she just feels undesirable as a person. As a sick person covered with scars, with kids who all have very different needs and personalities. It's hard work being involved with her, and she doesnt feel like anyone would want that work.

Her kids mean the world to her.. they are everything she lives and fights for. She wants nothing more than their happiness but even that's hard to give when you're struggling to keep your own head above water and shield them from the world. Theres just so much to it, but all Rosie wants is to be loved. For someone to just want to be part of their family, despite all the trials it comes with.

She wants to experience her childhood dream of having a perfect little family, just an once of normality, even if it's only for a moment. She wishes she could do that for her kids, but all she can do is wish. She cant control everything, as much as she tries to. And she hates it.

[violetnotez]

Its Chirstmasssssssssssssssssssssssssss!!!! I finished this up all last night, so I hope this is at least coherent! 

This is for the BNHA Hangout Christmas Collab! Here is a link to future masterpost for the fics for the event!

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Shoto x reader | one shot

Word Count: 1.5k+

Warnings: cussing

Synposis: When Shoto realizes you’ve been particularly lonely without him during the holiday season, he decided to get you an extra special gift

the music collection | buy me a ko-fi! | requests open for haikyuu+jujutsu kaisen

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“Shoto-do you really have to go?”

You asked, a pout on your lips as you gazed at your boyfriend.

You were still cuddled up in your shared bed, the heat from Shoto’s skin already dissipating out of the sheets.

You pursed your lips, sitting up crossed leg as You watched him slide each button of his shirt sleeve into their slots, his washed, bi colored hair slightly wet from his shower.

“You know it’s not fair to look that good and then just leave,” you gave him a fake, stern look, earning a small smirk from the man.

He continued working up the shirt, looking sleek yet-well-delicious.

Shoto was just too handsomr for his own good-sharp jawline, perfect skin, piercing bi colored eyes, not to mention his amazing body….sometimes you had to wonder how you were able to get such a flawless man to end up with you.

He finished with his other sleeve, peeking a look at you as he slicked his hair back with his right hand, the strands mixing and framing his face perfectly,

why’d he have to look that good?

“It’s not as if I want to leave, dear-but I do have work,”

You cuddled deeper into the sweatshirt you were wearing, your hands dissappearing in the sleeves.

“But you’re always working-you cant take one day off?”

Shoto chuckled at your obvious neediness, making his way over to where you were sitting. He leaned across the bed to be in front of your sulking form, brushing a piece of your bed head from your face as he laid a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Evil doesn’t take a day off love,”

“Why do you always have to be so-so stoic all the time,” You giggled, playfully placing your hand on his chest and pushing him back.

Even though you and Shoto had been living together for over a year now, it never ceased to amaze you how much the man worked. After working at an agency after UA, Shoto had been incredibly busy-and being the #3 hero, you could see why. If it wasn’t a late night call, he was patrolling, interviewing sidekicks, training, teaching students on their hero studies, interviewing with magazines….he always had something to do.

You couldn’t get mad at him though-he had warned you in the beginning, but you were also accustomed to the hero life as well- well, somewhat.

You had gone to UA to be part of the hero suit course, and had become suit designer for the top heroes (hence how you met Shoto). You witnessed day in and day out how difficult it truly was to be a hero, even if you weren’t one yourself, so you didn’t mind when Todoroki was gone all the time. Yes, it got lonely at times, especially during the holiday season, but you made sure to keep a smile on for him.

“Don’t forget, I did take Christmas off,” Shoto gave you a small grin, his bicolored eyed searching to please you.

You smiled back, your heart thumping out of your chest as you poked him gently in the chest.

“After I asked you too,” you corrected, a teasing tone in your voice.

-And thank god too, I would have so lonely by myself,” you tried to chuckle at your remark, making the situation light.

Shoto knew you too well though-something about your voice didnt sound as happy and light as before. When you joked with him, your laughs were more cheerful and your smile was brighter-but something about you right now felt strange...as if you were holding something back from him.

Shoto’s grin turned into concern, his digits cupping your cheeks gently and guiding your eyes to look at his.

“Have you been feeling lonely lately?” He asked bluntly, your eyes growing wide.

Man-you couldn't hide anything from him.

You chuckled nervously, looking to the side, guilt beginning to fill your chest.

“I-I, no, it’s fine, really, I was only kidding,” you chuckled, your voice taking on a higher pitch.

“You don’t seem to be kidding,” Shoto bite the side of his lip, trying his best to make eye contact with you, “if you want to tell me something, you don’t have to be afraid.”

“Be afraid of the number three hero-“ You rolled your eyes playfully, a soft smirk on your lips, “-never.”

Shoto gave a small grin, worry still in his eyes. He knew something was strange about you lately, the way you seemed to be always craving for him. He hated to admit it, it boosted his ego somewhat to have you were so desperate for his touch- but he knew it wasnt healthy for you to be always missing him.

With him being a pro hero, he had quite alot more duties than most could imagine- which sadly left little for him to indulge in his own personal life. Shoto felt deeply lucky to have someone like you who understood his busy schedule, never batting an eye when he had to cancel yet another date or leave you by yourself on countless nights...but it still left a gnawing sensation of guilt sitting in his stomach.

“Im fine Shoto,” your voice broke into his thoughts, your tone gentle and sweet like a sun kissed cloud, “really.”

Shoto sighed, his thick lashes fanning his cheek. You were stubborn at times, especially when you wanted to reassure him-which only affirmed that you really werent feeling all that great as you said you were. But Shoto didnt want to push it any further- maybe you were really okay, and he was overthinking it….and he was going to be late if he didnt leave soon-

“Go kick some ass for me, kay?”

you gave him a wide smile, placing another quick kiss on his lips.

Shoto blinked a few times, a rush of adrenaline filling his body as he felt your skin against his. His lips tingled from the agonizingly quick touch-he took it upon him to give you a deeply intense kiss, the rush making you breathless.

Shoto pulled away, his eyes having the rarest glint of mischief as he stared back into yours

“Of course love,”

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“Ya ready Shoto?” You grinned, your body snuggled into your comfiest pair of pajamas and your fingers warmed by a hot cup of cocoa.

Christmas Day has finally came, and thankfully, Shoto kept his promise-he would be staying the whole day with you with no interruptions.

You were just so excited to finally have one day to selfishly love your boyfriend, and on a holiday too!

The room almost felt surreal-it was early morning, the Christmas tree you two decorated light up like a Star, class Christmas music playing in the background, homemade cookies littering the apartment in a sweet aroma and the room in a romantic warm haze of lights.

It just felt so unbelievable perfect and comfortable, Shoto looking sheepishly excited and nervous.

“I think you should go first,” you smiled up at him as he sat down next to you, black coffee snuggled into his hand (in a DynaMIGHT mug, of course gifted to him by the hero himself).

Shoto bit his lip, seemingly trying to hide a smile as he set his mug down on the coffee table.

“Not to be rude love,” he grinned, his hands gently grabbing a large box from under the tree. The paper was a shiny golden hue, snowflakes on the paper reflecting like glitter from the lights on the tree. He slide the box against the wooden floor, being strangely gentle with the contents.

“But my gift cant wait.”

Your eyebrows were knitted together, a confused grin on your lips.

The box was pretty big-what did he get you now?

Shoto never seemed to give you endlessly expensive gifts, having no concept of what was considered fancy or exorbitant- trips to places you could only dream of, hefty amounts of clothes and jewelry, merchandise from your favorite shows...hell you had to talk him out of buying you a car one time-this guy would drop anything to get you whatever you wanted.

And that made you guilty as hell whenever he did-so what did he give you this time around?

Your mind was racing as you looked at the box, trying to read whatever he was thinking about on his face.

“I swear to god Shoto if you bought me that expensive gaming system-“

He chuckled at your obviously guilty face, shaking his head as he smiled.

“No, no it’s nothing like that-“ he said, giving you a mischievous grin, “I think you’ll like it much better than that.”

You blinked a few times, your mind going completely blank.

What could be better than a PS5, Xbox, or Switch?

You looked down at the box, feeling strangely nervous as you obeyed Shoto’s wishes, slowly opening the top lid….until it rustles.

The box.

Moved on its own.

You squeaked out in surprise, your hands slamming the barely opened lid back down and looking at Shoto for help.

He had never seen you look so adorably confused in his life, a rosy hue on his cheeks as he looked at you with a loving expression.

“It’s okay,” he whispered reassuringly as he wrapped his hands nervously around yours.

You felt him guide your hands up, you both now lifting the lid off the large box.

Shoto took it and placed it gently on the ground, sitting back to watch you look into the box.

The box rustled again, your mind so utterly confused….what could make a box do that?

“Shoto I-“ you tried to ask, but all he did was nod to the box, signaling for you to just look.

You did as you were told, getting on your knees to peer inside…

A gasp left your lips, your heart beating out of your chest as you looked inside at the sweet little baby kitten playing with their bowl of yarn in the box.

“Hi baby,” you cooed in awe at the little baby, your hands scooping them out and snuggling them to your chest.

They were so soft and warm, their fur as white as a snowball with rosy pink paws.

“Oh my god-Shoto-you really didn’t- are they really-?” You were in such a state of shock, you couldn’t seem to form any coherent words as you looked at your sheepish boyfriend.

“I-I didn’t know exactly what to get you...but after seeing how much you missed me throughout the day, I thought it was fitting to get you a companion for when I’m gone,” he smiled, his digits nervously fidgeting in his lap as he waited for your approval.

You petted the little creature on your chest, it’s big doe eyes staring at you with such confusion you couldn’t help but giggle.

“Shoto…it’s perfect,” you smiled at your boyfriend, leaning in to plant him a kiss on his lips.

You giggled at his expression, clearly not expecting your show of affection as his cheeks turned a fiery red.

“I-I’m glad to here that,”

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© Violetnote 2020

None of these characters or shows are my own, only the storylines and narratives I create are mine. Copying, stealing, plagiarizing, rewording, or using my storylines in other media, claiming to be your own, or reposting without my consent is not allowed.

[wenwenbittercake]

✨AIZAWA X READER✨

(Thank you so much for reading my fan fiction. There's not much fluff. A little bit of smut so you know. Also swearing. If you can't take teacher x reader plsss don't read this.)

You just started UA and the first thing you realize was you're tall handsome teacher with long wavy black hair. You seated at the corner of the class giving you a perfect view of your teacher.

" Good morning everyone my name is Shouta Aizawa you can call me mr. Aizawa. From now on I'll be your homeroom teacher so no funny business around me." he said as he gave a smirk to the class making everyone giggle but it's a smirk you will remember for the rest of your life.

You watched him carefully as he teach but your mind is not on the subject but on him. To be honest he's the most handsome guy you have ever seen in your life. His facial features and his body is perfect. Like an angel that fall from Heaven, his voice is like music to your ears. No voice in this world can calm you down like this. He always wear baggy clothes but you wonder, how much muscles are he hiding behind those clothes. Huge rule at your teacher has veiny strong hands, you wish he didn't you down with then.

The Best Is Yet To Come, when you and your class practice on the field, I saw our would roll his sleeves up to his elbow, showing his car covered on once he wore a sleeveless shirt causing you to have a nose bleed. It was embarrassing but it's worth it.

Because of this, you start to lack on his subject making aizawa move you to sit in front of his desk. This gave you a chance to admire him close. His scar Place perfectly under his right eye, and his eyes, those pitch dark eyes that you got hypnotized even though he's not using his quirk.

"RingggRingggRinggg!" The bell rang and everyone in the class run for their lives to the cafeteria, except you, he got out last so you could admire your teacher till the last minute.

"Y/N can you meet me in my office after school, we need to talk about your grace." He said with disappointment that makes you feel guilty for a moment.

You nodded and left. It's 3 p.m. and students are running towards they're busses or walking back home. Except you, you are now standing in front of mr. Aizawa's office. Your fingertips are cold. You realize that you're great start to descend but it stops at Bs or Cs. You're really nervous about this. Before you knock on the door you heard...

"Come in."

You walk in, closing the door behind you quietly, and set on the seat in front of his desk. He sign and passed you a pile of paper. These are your current test scores and they are filled with Fs. You feel like the blood from your body has been drained.

"Y/N, do you know if you keep on going like this you will fail on the finals."

"I-i know." You look down on the table not being able to look him in the eyes.

All of a sudden, he walk up to your seat, placing his right hand on the table and his left on the back of your chair. His face so dangerously close to yours. Look you straight in the eyes and said..

"So tell me, what's distracting you so much?" Does he know? No way.

"Umm-i"

"Tell me what's more interesting then my lesson?hmm?" You look away. Your face is as red as a tomato.

"Tell me!" He raised his voice a little making you jolts and panic. You can't think straight anymore. How would you reply? And then... It happened.

Your soft Rosy lips touches his. When you realize what's going on you jolted back. You look him in the eyes. He looked shocked. Out of words and look at you like WTF happened? What have you done? You just read your relationship with your teacher. What do you expect him to do, kiss you back? Tears start to fall, due to the embarrassment and sadness.

"I-i'm so sorry." You said as you run out of the office.

The next morning was awkward you can't even look him in the eyes.

"RinggRinggggRingg!"

"Y/N can we talk for a moment?" You weren't expecting that from him, after what happened. You walk towards his chair what's up your eyes fixed on the marble floor and your hands behind your back.

"So about yesterday.."

"Right, he'll be having extra classes with me, I will help you with the failing grades. " you look surprised and happy in the same time. You got to see him more.

"Really?"

" yep, is your homeroom teacher, it's my responsibility to teach you, isn't it?" He gave you a slide smirk. You blush that it an attempt to hide it.

"A-about yesterday."

"Oh don't worry about it." You look shocked. Really? He really don't mind? Of course, and his eyes you're just a naive little child, nothing much.

"However..." he said as he pull you towards him, making you fall on his chest, positioning you to sit on his lap, facing him.

"...we need to work on that kiss of yours."

"B-but this is wrong."

"I know, but it feels so good, doesn't it?" He whispered into your ears in a deep voice making you want to melt in his hands.

You've been in this little Affair for 2 years. However, you feel like time flies faster when you're beside him. You want to be with him till the end. You know this relationship won't last but you still hope it did. You gave all of you to aizawa. Every inch of your body and soul. You love him a lot. Your grades got higher even though you didn't do much work. Every day, you come to school just to meet Mr aizawa. You were loved, you are appreciated, feelings that you never felt before. He told you you were his everything, but sometimes he gave you looks as if. .. he regrets it. No way, why should he regretted it feels so good doesn't it?

Your graduation got nearer and Shouta has been ignoring you for these past couple of days. You didn't get the wink when he passes you or private lessons that you crave to have. He wouldn't call you or text you anymore. Even if you sent him photos and text messages. You felt hurt a little. Maybe it's because then final exams are getting close. Or maybe because he's just busy. He felt neglected. Is he bored of me? Does he not like me anymore? But he said I'm his everything. Is it because I'm not pretty enough but he said I'm perfect. The thoughts filled in your head as you walked toward his office. As you are about to knock the door, you heard. ..

"I'm coming home early today."

"Hmm, I promise I won't be late this time."

"Hahah I know I know."

"Yea love you bie." Aizawa said as he ends the call.

You feel the similar cold feeling. Is he meeting other people? Is it his wife? Wait he's married? Who is this person he's talking to? Maybe his family member? Am I not good enough did I do something wrong?

"Y/N" you snap out of your thoughts but I saw was voice. He look like he's ready to go back home.

" ..you're supposed to be home 30 minutes ago. What are you doing here?"

" I thought we were supposed to have our tutor session today?"

"Oh-um no need for that, your grades not bad these days, I don't think you need them anymore."

Is he fucking serious? Why is he playing dump now? You didn't even let anything in tutor sessions, are you both do is fuck. Tears start to fall from your eyes. You know this wouldn't last, why are you crying now?

"Y/N are you alright?" He asked does he pull you into the office. He locked the door behind him and knocks you what's going on but you wouldn't listen. You start to strip in front of him.

"W-wait, not today I gotta go somewhere."

" I thought anything can wait if it's me?" You said as he drop on your knees and start to take off his belt.

"W-wait but this is important!"

" I thought I'm the most important thing in the world?" You said as you slip his cock into your mouth.

"W-wait auhhh."

The graduation music plays outside the school. Every student is happy, taking photos with their friends and families. Not you though.

"W-what are you say?"

" it hurts to say this but we need to stop this relationship. It's not healthy anyways." You can't believe what you just heard. Said by a men who promise to never leave you behind.

"Wait did I do something wrong? I promise I can fix it, please just don't leave me." Uhealth on mr. Aizawa has arm like your life depends on it. The last thing he wants to do is to make you cry but he knows he has to end this fast. He hugs you tightly.

" no no, it's not your fault it's mine. I'm so sorry." He hugs you tightly. You cried into his shoulder. It hurts a lot.

"Just forget about everything, just pretend nothing ever happened. Could you do that for me?" How could you forget all of it and live on a normal life. These are the things you can never forget even if you try to. But you just want to make him proud, so your nodded hesitantly.

"Good girl." He said as he kiss your tears away.

"O-only if we do it one last time.. Please?" He's not expecting that from a shy girl like you. He expect him to say no but...

"How can I say no when you asked me so nicely. " he said I should look around and pull you into the nearest classroom.

It's been weeks since you've seen Aizawa. He stops replying your text and stop picking up your calls. You missed him so much. You want to see him again even though you promised not to. The tightening feeling on your chest wouldn't come off unless you see him. Your friends realize this so they call you to meet them at a mall. You've been ignoring your friends for a really long time so you decided to go with them this time. He stood in front of a cupcake shop. Waiting for your friends who are always late. You look around to find them and then you saw it, that wavy dark hair you used to play with, that pitch dark eyes you adore.

"Shouta!" Can't think straight anymore, you only know you want to touch him you miss him you need him. You hug him tightly.

"I missed you!"

"Y/N!" He didn't hug you back like he used to.

"Sho who's this?" A woman voice appeared behind him.

"Oh-um this is my student that recently graduated." He said as he looked at you like a stranger. A person he never met before.

"Oh how sweet. Hi my name is wife/name. I'm your teacher's wife."

"Umm nice to meet you."

"Um-oh I forgot. We have to go to the doctor's office soon." He said as he pulled his wife hand and walk away. Didn't even bother to say goodbye. From a distant you heard...

"Sho why u being so rude. She seems close to you."

"Oh it's nothing, she's just a student from my class, nothing special."

Nothing special? He dropped to the ground. The world around you crashes. Nothing special? Is this what he sees you all the time. All the love, all the kisses, all the sex. They are all fake. When he said you're his world, his everything, his only one. They're all lies. How stupid of you to not notice that he used you all this time? You are nothing to him. You are nothing more than a play thing for him. You're nothing more than a pet. A teacher's pet.

(Dammm this fan fiction hit hard. I'm sorry that I didn't put explicit smut. I just don't like writing them. I write this fan fiction to explain that teacher x student stuff can end in bad ways. Sorry that this is not the spicy stuff you all use to read. I hope you all can for give and thank you for read. 😓😓🙏🙏🙏💗💕💕💗✨✨✨)

(Ik this man would never do something like that😭😭)

[gayoperatorgunclub]

ULTIMATE SHIP MEME: MontaDoc Edition? Pretty please? Or any MontaDoc content. I crave it. Much 💕

of course!!!!!!! sorry this has taken so long, but i sincerely hope you enjoy it!!! 💝💝💝

General:

Rate the Ship -   Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? - for fucking EVER!!!!!! 

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - two words: mutual. pining. this period, often referred to as the “Beginning of Operation: T.E.A.M. D.A.D.S. (Temporary Employment As Masters of Dad And Dad Sweethearts)” however, unbeknownst to anybody else in rainbow, by the time Operation: T.E.A.M. D.A.D.S. had begun, gustave and gilles had already been together for a couple of years. how did they actually get together? about six months after the GIGN joined rainbow, gustave was in the middle of a mountain of paperwork when he heard someone clear their throat. he spun around to scold whoever it was for coming to medbay when they were sick (despite the fact that he was coming down with a nasty cold), only to be greeted with gilles leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe. “gustave. you look as though you’re about to meet death for dinner. how can you expect to take care of others when you’re not taking care of yourself?” gustave just sighed and shook his head, muttering something about leaving him be for another couple hours so he could finish his paperwork, but gilles has other ideas. in mere moments, gustave goes from standing over his desk, organizing some files, to being held in gilles’ big strong arms. “wh- gilles! i-” he was cut off by his own yawn, and gilles smiled at him fondly. gustave felt himself blush, and he squirmed a little, but let gilles carry him to the GIGN quarters. as soon as it seemed like gilles was going to leave, gustave pulled him down for a kiss, then pushed their foreheads together and whispered “you’re going to carry me all this way and not even stay to make sure i don’t go back to my office?” gilles just grinned at him, climbing into bed beside him and wrapping his arms around him. 

How was their first kiss? - ROMANTIQUE! and smelling of sickness but what can you do

Wedding:

Who proposed? - monty!! he decided to cook a romantic candlelit dinner at their apartment, and when he sees gustave come home from work, all ragged and exhausted, yet still with a glimmer of determination and subtle joy, he says the first thing that comes to mind: “will you marry me?” gustave froze, his cheeks still rosy and his hair sprinkled with snowflakes. “will i what?” gilles realized his mistake and flushed, stammering a response before gustave was standing in front of him, staring at him scrutinizingly. “gilles.” he started, reaching to intertwine their hands, bring them between their chests, “what did you say?” gilles gulped, then steeled himself and got down on one knee. “gustave kateb. love of my life, light of my days. the man i want to wake up next to every day for the rest of my life. the man who i adore with every fiber of my being. would you do me the honor of being my husband?” 

Who is the best man/men? - for monty: bandit! for doc: lion (everyone but them thought it was a joke until the day of the wedding). dominic and olivier’s dual best man speech is the stuff of legends. there were tears, there was laughter, and there was an almost excessive amount of thinly-veiled sexual innuendos at various people in attendance (including both grooms; the best men were both drunk of their asses) 

Who is the bride’s maid(s)? - they actually fight over who gets to pick twitch! meanwhile rook is in the background like D: (don’t worry, it’s decided that he and twitch will be ring bearer and flower girl respectively) for monty: dokkaebi. for doc: finka 

Who did the most planning? - they both did! though gustave focused on food and flowers, and gilles focused on the guest list and the venue (but they ran things by each other before any final decisions were made)

Who stressed the most? - gilles! he was so worried about their families not getting along that he actually prepared a “leave my husband and his family alone or so help me i will never speak to you again” speech

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - gilles’ racist, homophobic, french nationalist uncle (no one in the family likes him, so it wasn’t a big loss) (this uncle also made a surprise appearance at the family dinner where gilles introduced gustave to the rest of his family, and started yelling about “godamn immigrants” and other such bigotted statements, before gilles’ sister physically dragged him out of the house and threw him out the door. afterwards, up in the guest bedroom, gilles quietly tells gustave that it’s okay if he wants to leave, or break up, or anything, and gustave just laughs and tells him that if he wasn’t prepared for family members to express their distaste, he wouldn’t be dating a white man. he pressed a kiss to gilles’ temple, before whispering “although, he was right about my being an immigrant; it’s just that i was born in Paris and immigrated with my family to algeria, not the other way around. A for effort, though”)

Sex:

Who is on top? - gilles!!!! although gustave will occassionally ride him 👀👀👀

Who is the one to instigate things? - gustave is lowkey horny 24/7, but if gilles walks in on him bending over to get something from a cabinet, or tilting his head all the way back while drinking from his water bottle, thereby showcasing the way his throat moves as he swallows, he will lose his shit 

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - okay i’m gonna change this one to an explanation of some things from below. i personally think doc lowkey a freak, and gilles is happy to oblige him if that’s what his lapin wants (although he’s not entirely sure how he feels about this “overstimulation” and “post-orgasm torture” and “cock & ball torture” stuff. specifically, he’s not sure he likes hurting gustave, but, while he probably won’t admit it out loud, he secretly adores making gustave cry. when he’s so helpless and powerless and mindless, and he’s begging for something, but for what he doesn’t really know. maybe it’s the knowledge that gilles is in complete control, that gustave trusts him to do this, to make him hurt and cry and just melt, the knowlege that gustave is completely reliant on him for his pleasure, his pain, and everything in between. it’s a heady thing, and gilles isn’t sure how he feels about it, but he’s pretty sure the warmth in his chest and the warmth in his gut are good signs 

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - unless they’re doing some of the things mentioned above, or mayhaps some denial 👀👀👀 then yeah, everyone gets the same. they’re very considerate when they’re just doing vanilla 

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children: btw, the rest of this is kinda set in a post-retirement au (idrk i just want them to have a farm and be peaceful). give it whatever context u want tho, i was just havin fun

How many children will they have? - they will have four cats and a dog, as well as 2 horses, a donkey, 5 cows, an alpaca, a rabbit, some ducks, a flock of sheep and goats, and the occasional visit from a herd of deer from the forest surrounding their little farm

How many children will they adopt? - since humans CANNOT, i repeat, CANNOT, give birth to the animals listed above, they’re all adopted

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - no one. the animals potty train themselves

Who is the stricter parent? - gilles sneaks them treats while gustave lectures them about dietary habits, so take your pick 

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - whenever gilles leaves to run errands, one of the goats goes into a depression so deep and miserable that they’re utterly inconsolable until he comes back. once they hear the sound of the car in the driveway, this lil goat, lovingly named “Bastard” by gustave, will climb onto the roof of the house and scream his joy over gilles’ return to the heavens 

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - they tag team on things like feeding the animals and cleaning out the barn, but gustave is much more organized about it

Who is the more loved parent? - the cats, dog, one of the horses, donkey, alpaca, rabbit, goats (except for Bastard), and deer all prefer gustave, though gilles is adequate in the event that gustave is busy with something else (although the alpaca and donkey hate his guts, and will escape their pastures to break into the house and be near gustave. gilles maintains that they’re both devil-spawn, but gustave says he’s just being dramatic and that Thamin (alpaca) and Albalatin (donkey) are complete angels who could do no wrong)

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? - animals have NOT unionized. yet. 

Who cried the most at graduation? - idk if this counts, but when Bastard finally figured out how to get himself down from the roof after getting himself onto it, gilles cried for an hour

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - gilles lowkey does whenever thamin and albalatin escape to go out into the world and commit crimes, but only to make sure his husband doesn’t get upset when he finds out his precious creatures are hell beasts. certainly not out of anything resembling tolerance or *shudder* like 

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - gustave, but gilles can make a mean bowl of cereal

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - gustave. gilles will eat something straight from the garden and gustave is like “DID YOU CHECK IF IT WAS RIPE?????? YOU COULD DIE FROM THAT YOU KNOW, THEN WHERE WOULD I BE???” 

Who does the grocery shopping? - gustave. gilles is something of a hermit in their town, and people often remark about the “sweet, kind doctor and his utter brick wall of a husband” 

How often do they bake desserts? - whenever Bastard goes a day without doing something Bastardous 

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - both lowkey prefer salad, since they care for many animals that would often get used for their meat, and they can’t bear to think about hurting any of their babies

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - gilles. the people in town helped him when he burst into the little grocery store all panicked like “I NEED TO MAKE MY HUSBAND A SURPRISE DINNER BUT I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO MAKE” 

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - gustave. gilles like being at home, but city-boy over here thinks that restaurants are a weekly luxury

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - neither. it was thamin and albalatin, attempting to frame gilles for yet another felony

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - gustave. everything is color coded. sex toys included 

Who is really against chores? - gilles. gustave films him whenever he actually does clean and yells things like “go white boy go!!” and sends them to twitch for her T.E.A.M. D.A.D.S. scrapbook 

Who cleans up after the pets? - they both do, but gilles gets stuck with shit duty more often than not

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - gilles, once. gustave walked in, sniffed the air, then glared at him until he actually swept whatever it was up and threw it away 

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - gustave “we can’t have guests over, the house is a mess” kateb

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - Bastard. he then proceeded to eat it

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - gustave and his hour-long skincare routine 

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - gustave, bc sadiqi the dog (not to be confused with sadiqi the kitten), or Big Sadiqi (kitten sadiqi is Little Sadiqi) is his, gilles, and he will not allow his precious boy to be influenced by such creatures as Bastard 

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - they get little sweaters for the animals. that is all

What are their goals for the relationship? - joke: gustave always says “the White Man’s money” despite the fact that his family is richer than gilles’. woke: mutual happiness, comfort, and healing 

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - gustave. after 11 am, thamin and albalatin decide they’ve had enough and break in to lay down on the bed next to him. gilles banishes himself to the couch for a week

Who plays the most pranks? - Bastard, thamin, and albalatin. although gustave did dye the sheep’s wool (while it was still attached to them) different colors and patterns and, for the ones who were perfectly content to sit still and be held, replicas of famous paintings (his favorite artist is monet, in case you forgot that he’s french)

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Together Again (2/3)

Summary: Woven Beauty. When Detective Weaver is shot in the line of duty, the hospital calls his estranged wife, Belle. As she waits for news, listening to the messages he left her that night, she reflects on what drove them apart and wonders if they can reconcile.

Part two written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling moodboard prompt: April showers, green, candyfloss/cotton candy

[Part One] [AO3]

Rated: T

Together Again: Part Two

There was a carnival atmosphere in Hyperion Heights despite the rain constantly threatening to pour from a turbulent sky. The fair was in town, and Belle had been seeing kids with balloon animals and sweet treats as big as their heads going past all day. Every time a family went past her window, she had thought of her own baby, and how soon, that picture of perfect domestic bliss would be her and John and their little one. 

Things hadn’t been plain sailing since she and John had got back together again, and she hadn’t expected them to be. They’d been separated for the best part of three months and it had been an acrimonious split; it wasn’t going to suddenly all be rosy just because they were finally on the same page about the baby. But they were both willing to put the work in, and Belle was sure that by the time their child arrived in the world, they would have put their troubles behind them once and for all. 

She glanced at the door that led through to the detectives’ offices. She’d always tried to be good about waiting in reception when she came to see John at the station, but he was taking an awfully long time about coming out and they were going to miss the appointment if they didn’t get a move on soon. The desk sergeant caught her sightline and smiled, waving her over and giving her a visitor’s badge before opening the door for her. 

To give credit where credit was due, it was obvious that John was in the process of leaving, or at least, trying to leave. He was wearing his jacket and he had his keys in his hand, but he was standing over Rogers’ desk and the two of them were so engrossed in whatever was on the computer screen that they didn’t notice Belle’s approach until she was right in front of them. 

“I’m sure that what you’re doing is very interesting and important, Rogers, but I’m going to need to borrow my husband for a couple of hours.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course. Sorry. CCTV footage is thrilling stuff. Really sucks you in.”

John rolled his eyes and came around the desk, slipping an arm around Belle’s middle and kissing her cheek as Rogers looked on fondly.

“I’m so glad that you two are getting back together,” he said. “He was absolutely insufferable when you were split.”

“Yes, thank you, Rogers.”

“Well, more insufferable than usual.”

“I said thank you, Rogers.”

“Anyway, good luck, and I hope that he, she or undetermined is behaving and you can find out what he, she, or undetermined is.”

“Rogers, you make it sound like we’ll get there and the scan will show that she’s expecting an alien.”

“Stranger things have happened in Hyperion Heights.” Rogers gave a knowing shrug, and John sighed. 

“They really haven’t.”

Belle pulled her husband away before he could get caught up in another argument, and they made their way out of the station and towards the hospital. They had to pass by the fairground on the way, and the baby gave an aptly timed kick as a crowd of kids rushed past them. 

“Soon.” She rubbed her belly, trying to get the little one to stop moving. “Very soon, my love.”

“She’s going to have a sweet tooth,” John remarked. “She kicks every time you so much as sniff sugar.”

“She might be a he,” Belle admonished. “Hopefully we’ll find out in twenty minutes. You’re right about the sweet tooth though. I’ve never craved sweets as much as I do now.”

“I’ll buy you candyfloss on the way back,” John promised. “The midwives probably wouldn’t approve of you eating it in the hospital.”

“Damn.”

Sitting in the waiting room, Belle thought back again to their reunion. Between them, they’d seen enough of hospitals to last them a lifetime, and it still wouldn’t be over for at least another month. Belle wished it could be sooner; not only was she eager to meet her child in person, the baby was getting heavy now and her back and ankles were constantly aching. At least she had John back now, to rub her feet at the end of the day. She shivered when she thought of how close she had come to losing him altogether, and she forced her mind away from that terrible night and towards the future instead. The nursery was almost finished, and all it needed now was an occupant. 

“Hey.” John’s hand closed over both of hers where she was fidgeting with her fingers. “It’ll be ok.”

“I know.” She looked across at him, meeting his concerned eyes and smiling. “I’m just excited. I’m sick of waiting for this baby to be born; I want them to be here now.”

Logically, she knew that she and John needed the coming month to get everything fully behind them, but patience had never really been one of her strong suits.

“Mrs Weaver?” The sonographer was beckoning them over and John squeezed her hand. 

“Here we go.”

The sonographer was chatting away quite happily as she tucked paper into Belle’s waistband and smeared cold green gel over her bump; but Belle and John just looked at each other and then at the screen. This moment was for them and their baby; they barely paid attention to what the sonographer was saying. 

“And as you can see, your baby is a happy, healthy and rather wriggly little girl.”

“Don’t say I told you so,” Belle muttered. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” John was, however, grinning like the cat that had got the cream. She wondered if there was a betting pool going on at the station. There’d been one at her own office, and everyone had been most put out that she hadn’t been able to give them any news before she’d gone on maternity leave. 

“I guess Gideon’s out as a name then.” Belle sighed. “That was the only one I had picked out.”

“Maybe you’ll get luckier next time.” The sonographer winked and John gave a squawk of alarm that he hastily turned into a cough. 

“Let’s just survive this one first, shall we?”

The sonographer laughed. “All right. Well, everything’s looking good, the only thing to be aware of is that her head is still at the top here. Normally by now we would have expected her to start turning head downwards, but like I said, she’s very active so she’ll probably get there in her own time soon enough. I’ll go and print a copy for you.”

She wiped the gel off Belle’s tummy and left her to put her top to rights.

“We’re going to have a girl!” Belle turned to John, who seemed to have come down from his momentary high of being right about the gender and was just staring at Belle’s bump. She took his hand, placing it on her belly above where their daughter was kicking. It wasn’t the first time he had seen their baby on sonogram, and it wasn’t the first time that he had felt her move, but there was something more real about her now; it felt like she was more of a person they had yet to meet instead of a mystery to be discovered. 

The sonographer came back with the printout, and Belle took it, gazing in wonder at her daughter, then peering over the top of the paper to look at her bump, then back at the paper. John was looking over her shoulder with just as much rapt attention, and finally, although a little reluctantly, she handed the picture to him. 

“Take it back to work,” she said. “I know that Rogers will be dying to see it. There have been times over the past eight months where I think he’s been more excited about being a godfather than we are about being parents.”

“Of course he is.” John took the photo and looked at it for a few more long moments before stowing it inside his jacket. “He’ll get to coddle and spoil her and then just hand her back to us when she starts crying. It’s the perfect gig. I think everyone would rather be a godparent than a parent.”

Belle just smacked his shoulder playfully, because she knew that for all his initial misgivings about his impending fatherhood, he was now definitely looking forward to it, just as much as she couldn’t wait to be a mum. 

They walked back towards the station hand in hand, and John didn’t protest when Belle dragged him into the fairground. 

“You promised me candyfloss,” she reminded him. 

“I’m not denying that at all. Although, I’m beginning to think that maybe that’s what we should call the baby.”

“What, candyfloss?”

“Well, Candy.”

Belle just looked at her husband with an expression that she hoped brokered no arguments.

“We are not calling our daughter Candy.”

“Why not? I think it’s fitting, considering the direction your cravings seem to be going in at the moment.”

“Would you call her Chicken Wings if they were what I was craving?”

“No, because unlike Chicken Wings, Candy is a perfectly acceptable name for a girl.”

The argument continued until they reached the candyfloss stand, and then Belle was too absorbed in her fluffy pink treat to bother continuing it. John just chuckled, slipping his arm back around her shoulders as they moved away, wandering through the fairground for a while as Belle ate. 

She wasn’t surprised when the heavens opened above them; the rain had been threatening all day, but she was still put out at the amount of her candyfloss that was being dissolved in the deluge. John took off his jacket, attempting to hold it over both of them as they hurried under cover as fast as Belle could make it with her extra weight. Hopefully it would only be a shower and they could get going again soon, but at the same time, it was kind of nice, stuck here with John and a good excuse not to move...

“Hey!” She tried to swat him away as he took a mouthful of her candyfloss, but she was too late, and had to settle instead of licking the pink wisps away from his lips, readily falling into his kiss. He tasted of sugar and synthetic food colouring, and Belle knew that she would as well, but she really didn’t care. This was the kiss that made her certain that they were going to be all right in the end. The culmination of all their weeks of reconciliation, and it had come down to one stolen candy-flavoured kiss in the middle of an april shower. 

They were truly together again. 

[jimlingss]

The Deli Diaries [10]

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 [Finale]

➜ Words: 2k

➜ Genres: Fluff & Cuteness, That good ol’ slow burn, Slice of Life

➜ Summary: Working at a grocery store deli is absolutely unbearable (and you’re also perfectly aware of how dramatic you are). But it seems like something, or rather, someone might make the job a bit more manageable.

➜ Warnings: Mundane-ness that might make you bored to death

➜ Notes: FINALLLLLLYYYY!!! and also the finale is next chapter, gonna make it a bit longer and worth the slow burn. enjoy!!!

Life is cooking you one of the worst recipes yet.   It is a terrible concoction to be both sick and working. Every time you speak too loudly, coughs are wheezing from your lungs. Your apron pockets are full of tissues since snot is literally dripping every other minute, but even then, you still have a stuffy nose that makes it hard to breathe. Your voice is thick and nasally, sounding as if you just woke up from a four-hour nap. You’re sneezing as well, covering your mouth and nose with a bent elbow and into your sleeve.   Needless to say, you’re one slimy and gross mess.   But you garner little sympathy from your coworkers and supervisors. They still make you work — the only way to excuse yourself from it was if you broke your damn leg, but even then you wouldn’t be surprised if they got you a chair in front of the sink and told you to wash dishes. But not wanting to taint the company’s clean image and god forbid, spread your cold to customers, they’re making you change your gloves as frequently as possible and you’re forbidden to serve customers.   So maybe it’s not such a bad thing to be ill and stuck working an eight-hour shift. Sure, you were trapped stocking the deli shelves of macaroni and washing whatever bowl that needed to be washed. Everyone also treated you like you had the black plague, staying away and repulsed at the sight of you, but at least you were spared from having to deal with irritating and demanding customers.   There’s always a bright side...right?   “Woah. What happened to you?”   “Thanks.” You push the boy aside, swiping your nametag on the side of the machine and clocking out for the night. “That really helps the situation.”   “Wow, someone’s Miss Grumpy Pants.” The produce boy clocks out as well and follows behind you, waving goodbye to the manager on duty as you both slip out the front door.   “Maybe because you made me sick.” To emphasize your condition, you sniffle and your airways don’t clear with the small effort. You’ve been feeling unwell ever since the Christmas party and he dragged you outside. The little coughs and sneezes have now morphed into your back throat being clogged with mucus and that same mucus dripping from your nostrils.   But now that your dirty apron was stuffed in your bag and you got to wash your hands, you were feeling better. The frigid temperature of the air was also doing wonders to cool down your cheeks, even if it made your eyes more watery.   “Sorry,” Jimin murmurs, peeking at your face, genuinely apologetic.   You sigh, not wanting to blame him or wrongfully redirect the irritation of your sickness onto the poor boy. “It’s okay,” you reassure, “really, it’s not that bad. I didn’t have to serve customers at all today, except for the very end, so that was pretty nice.”   The boy stops in his tracks, making you pause from walking too. “Here. Wait a second.”   He pulls his red plaid scarf from his neck and you put out a hand. “No, it’s okay, Jimin. You don’t have to.”   “Tch!” — Jimin clicks his tongue in annoyance. His eyes are playfully stern, telling you to stay where you are. “It’s cold outside. If you don’t take care of yourself, you’ll get even worse.” He takes the scarf and carefully wraps it around you three times, tying the end of it. The boy is gentle, eyes half lidded and brows furrowed in concentration, making you stare a bit too hard.   “Thanks.” You dig your nose into the soft fabric. It smells like him, slightly fruity and clinging onto the scent of fresh laundry. You end up mumbling, “I’ll wash it and give it back to you.”   “No. Just keep it. I didn’t get you a Christmas gift anyway.”   You steal a glance at him before looking straight ahead. It’s dark out and cold. Every breath you exhale makes a cloud of condensation. Yet, even with the temperature low, your hand slips out of the warm confines of your jacket pocket without thought. You’re still walking alongside Jimin and he matches your pace, steps synchronized together.   The back of your hand grazes against his. Your skin skims each other’s and with bated breath and calculated moves, Jimin slowly but surely touches your wrist before sliding down to your palm. He timidly snakes his way down before he’s holding your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.   Your cheeks heat up even more and this time, the cold air does nothing to help. “I’m contagious, you know,” you whisper quietly as to not disturb the peace surrounding you both.   “It’s okay.” The corner of his lip twitches, being pulled upwards.   “What if you can get sick too?”   Jimin squeezes your hand. By the second, he becomes more self-assured. “Then we can be sick together.”   All day people have been distancing themselves from you, from your supervisor to even Yuna and Amber. They practically only talked to you from a meter’s distance or poked you with a ten-foot long pole to get you to do something. Everyone was scared that your cold is infectious and you’ve been pushed away, fended off like a snot monster, having no sympathy from the healthy.   But Jimin doesn’t care.   And you realize that you’ve been craving physical contact. Not just from anyone either….   “Don’t I smell bad?” You’re certain that sanitizer and the scent of deli meat is still clinging onto your oily skin that pours of sweat from each of your pores. If you felt disgusting on a regular work day, now it was ten times worse.   “No,” he muses with pouty lips, cheeks puffed out and rounded. “Not really.”   You glance at him. “Really?”   “Really.” The boy smiles as if placating a baby and one word from him has your worries dispelling away. His fingers move slightly against the back of your hand and you find his natural movements comforting. His head tips to the side as he stares at you. “Was work hard today?”   “Not too bad. They didn’t want me to do any customer service or any production, so I basically cleaned, panned, and shelved things. How about you?”   “It was okay. There was a new shipment of apples and grapes and I cut watermelon before packaging them.”   “Does anyone even eat watermelon when it’s this cold out?”   His eyes crinkle into half-moons when he smiles, cute teeth peeking from the seams of his lips. “You’d be surprised.”   “How does it even taste?” You frown, considering that you’ve never tried watermelon during winter before since it’s more of a summer snack. “It’s not really watermelon season.”   “Well, I had some.” His brown irises twinkle of mischief and you know you’ve rubbed off on him in your slightly kleptomaniac ways. “And it was decent. A bit less juicy than normal.”   “I bet.” You lightly scoff and the conversation dies off. From where you are, you can see your house coming up at the end of the block. Your feet begin to slow down and you hope he doesn’t notice. “Hey, Jimin….”   “Hmm?”   Your hands are a bit cold, but you like it when he holds it like this. It makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside. “Are you working this Friday?”   “I am,” he says and immediately, you become dejected, shoulders hunching, eyes falling downwards. But then— “It’s an early shift, so I’m done at three. Why?”   Oh. “I-..uh...have you watched that movie we were talking about?” You smile, approaching it at a more casual angle to lessen the awkwardness that was threatening to barge between you two and just in case you get rejected, you can play this off. “When Spring Meets Autumn. It had pretty okay reviews.”   Jimin smiles. “You want to go?”   “If you want to.” You shrug nonchalantly, wondering if you’re too casual about it. “I mean...I can get us free tickets since I have this voucher from another time and I have no one else to go with and it’ll expire soon. You can invite your friends if you want—”   “No. Just the two of us is fine.” Jimin grins, mouth expanding and pulling into his rosy cheeks once more. “I’m happy to go with you.”   “Oh. Okay. Sounds good.” The pair of you stop in front of your house, lingering right in front of the driveway. Usually, you’d run up to your doorstep and fish out your keys, wave one last time and bolt to the shower so you can strip off your sticky clothes. But today, you still haven’t let go. “It’s a plan then.”   “It’s a date,” Jimin confirms out of the blue. Your mind reels, wondering what he means, but you don’t disagree or make any signs of disapproval. Instead, you’re too focused on the way the yellow glow of the streetlamp casts down its faint light and paints his skin in warm hues.   “Y-yeah, sure.” Your face feels like a literal furnace and it’s not from your cold. “Uh- thanks for the scarf.”   “No problem.” The produce boy smiles again and again, unable to repress it. But he’s made a bit more shy than before. There’s silence where he stares down to the ground, then at your held hands and then traveling up into your eyes, finding it a bit embarrassing that he can’t hide how giddy he’s feeling.   “I should...probably go now…” You hitch a thumb over your shoulder.   Jimin blinks, breaking his gaze away from your eyes. “Y-Yeah. See you tomorrow?”   “Yes. See you.” You finally let go of him, turning around right in time for your grin to spread into your cheeks. You’re struggling to hold down a squeal and you know for a fact that you’ll be kicking your blankets tonight in excitement, marking down Friday several times on your calendar and putting tens of alarms on your phone. Finally. A date with Jimin. Oh god. You’re already freaking out — none of your pillows were going to survive after being screamed into later.   In the meanwhile, Jimin stares at your backside that walks off all too slowly. His mind races. Before it’s too late, he inhales a sharp breath. He takes a step forward. There’s one thing he just has to do, one thing he’s been waiting so long for, one of the things he’s been dreaming about...   “He, deli girl! Wait!”   “What, produce boy?”   You twist around, unable to resist your smile.   And your gasp is smothered. A tiny squeak leaves your throat. You can’t breathe and this time it’s not because of your clogged nose.   Jimin’s leaning down, kissing you. His lips are soft and the scent of the scarf surrounds your entire frame, though it doesn’t come from the cotton fabric anymore. His lips barely graze against yours. It can hardly be defined as a peck with how chaste and delicate, fast and hesitant it is. You don’t even have time to close your eyes or savour how soft it feels to have his mouth on yours before he’s moved away.   Your fingers automatically lift to your lips, surprised and caught off guard. He is left breathless, chest hyperventilating, big eyes locked into yours. Then, the boy blinks and realizes what he’s done. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears and you don’t know what to say.   He’s the one who speaks — “Okay. Goodnight!”   Park Jimin runs away. Like his tail is caught between his legs, he stumbles and books it down the block, feet scrambling and eyes now refusing to look at yours. You watch him, giggles bubbling from you and spilling out into the night from sheer disbelief. More importantly, you catch him jumping up and cutely fist pumping the air, shouting an energetic ‘yes!’.   God. Not even one date and you’re already such a sucker for him.   You dig your nose into his scarf, warming up and surrounding yourself in Jimin again, replaying the little moment over and over again until it feels like his sweetness is rotting your teeth.   It dawns on you that your lips now taste like vanilla chapstick.

[awesomesuperherowanted]

Dilaurentis-Fields Baby edition

Someone asked me if I could write Ali giving birth. Here’s my rendition of what that would look like, and I believe that somehow, everyone would be involved in the process. 

"Em!"

Hanna's voice broke through her haze, she stopped, "Guess we will be heading to the shoe store after this."

"What?" Confusion written all over her face.

Hanna waved her hand, "It's to the door and then back, around the chair and then back. Keep this up and the hospital will be charging you for scuffing their floor."

Emily flashed her an annoyed look before plopping down beside her, her nose flaring in frustration, "It's been too long."

Hanna was dead certain that Aria and Spencer rigged it so that she could get the short straw. Aria got to take the kids, how? That would mean ice cream and a movie while sitting in her pjs, instead she was here babysitting Emily.

She would have stayed with Ali, but Spencer wasn't about to switch. You know it's bad when you're all fighting to stay with the laboring pregnant woman. They all loved Emily, but she was like a caged tiger, claws and all.

"They can't keep me out of the room. I need to be there, what if she needs me." Emily must have said that at least 50 times in the last 4 hours.

"She's fine. How about we go get something to eat?" Hanna, at this point, was hoping for any kind of distraction, and a donut sounded so good right now.

"Seriously? Food?"

Hanna shrugged, "What? I didn't eat and you know I can't deal on an empty stomach."

Emily growled at her, "We are not leaving this room." She resumed pacing while giving Hanna the evil eye for even suggesting they leave.

Hanna rolled her eyes, it had been four very long hours and she had lost track of how many times she had been stared down and growled at. She really was craving that donut.

She pulled out her phone, maybe someone would feel bad for her and bring her one, she knew that wouldn't happen. She texted Aria instead, "Switch?"

"Hell no." Aria was quick. She sighed, it was worth a shot, she thought. She continued to watch Emily prowl the room. Her phone buzzed, Aria was calling on FaceTime, what? She clicked accept.

"Called to rub it in did you? Oh hey... Mrs. Fields."

Emily's mom smiled, "Hello Hanna, can you please give the phone to my daughter?"

Hanna nodded, maybe it was just her, but she looked a little too happy. Judging from the rosy cheeks and the bubbly laughter, it would seem Emily's mom was celebrating the birth of her newest grandchild with alcohol. She stifled a giggle, "Em, your mom."

Emily ran over, "Mom, what's wrong? Are the kids okay?"

Pam smiled, "They are fine, that's not why I called."

Emily stared at her mom, something was off.

"First off, I love you and you know this..." she paused as she steadied herself, "so I say this with love, YOU, my darling daughter, are driving your friends crazy."

Emily blinked, "What?"

Her mom smiled and waved at someone Emily couldn't quite see, "Shhhh, honey, your friends love you, but you are a bit of a handful. Look at poor Hanna."

Hanna knew Emily couldn't see her so she pouted to get Mrs. Fields' sympathy.

"See? Your poor friends, you need to get out of the waiting room, get some fresss air," she slurred.

Emily's jaw dropped, "Mom are you drunk?"

Pam perked up and answered, "Of course not... maybe a little tipsy, but heavens no, not drunk. A proper lady doesn't do drunk..." She pointed the phone at Hanna's mom, "Right Ash?" Ashley and Ella were struggling with another bottle of wine, they both stopped, gave a huge smile with a thumbs up, and nodded their agreement. Ella answered, "Yesss, we are proper ladies." She emphasized the declaration by raising her glass and downing the contents. Both moms glanced at each other and then burst out giggling.

Oh goodness, Emily shook her head in disbelief. Mrs. Hastings appeared on screen, "Emily... honey, Ali is fine. Why don't you go for a walk or get something to eat?" She waved off whoever was trying to get the phone and continued, "Or better yet you can come join us at your house..." she turned over to Aria, and whispered, "Does she know we are at her house?"

Aria tried to hide her smile, "Yes, Mrs. Hastings, I'm sure she knows we are at her house."

"Mrs. Hastings is so formal, you can call me by my first name," she straightened her shoulders before turning back to the phone, "Oh good, it would be rude if we were here and she didn't know. What was I saying? Oh yes, Ali is a strong woman, she will be fine."

Hanna was watching the whole exchange trying very hard not to laugh. Emily looked like she was going to have an aneurysm. "Mom?"

Pam reappeared, new glass in hand, "Yes dear?"

Emily was having a hard time processing how her mother and friends were having a party at a time like this, she sighed, "Nothing... may I please speak to Aria?" Pam nodded but before she handed the phone over she remembered what she wanted to say, "Ali delivered twins and she was just fine, this little boy is just being stubborn... like his mother, but she will be just fine."

Aria took the phone, tears in her eyes from laughing so hard, Emily deadpanned, stating the obvious, "My mom is drunk."

Aria shook her head, "Correction, ALL of our moms are drunk."

"Aria, do something."

Aria laughed, "I was going to before you stopped me."

Right then someone handed Aria a glass, "Oh apparently we are toasting, I have to toast the newest addition to our very dysfunctional, BUT loving family."

Emily growled, "Funny. You are so not helping."

Aria couldn't help it, Emily needed to stop thinking about Ali and the baby for a second, "Em, everyone is fine. You can relax a little and take a breath. Our moms, kids, and the guys are all here so we will be making a huge dinner in honor of your baby boy... TRY not to worry."

Hanna heard the word dinner and popped onto the screen, "Dinner? I am assuming you will be bringing us food?"

Emily flashed her an angry look, Hanna shrugged, "What? We need our strength, this could take hours."

Emily gave Hanna the phone as she headed back to the reception desk to ask for an update. Once she disappeared around the corner, they burst out laughing.

"I would give anything to switch, or can you crush some Benadryl into her food? A nap will do her some good, I know it would do me some good if she took one."

Aria laughed and nodded, "Will do captain."

Emily stalked back into the room, "She is still in labor."

Hanna looked at Emily as she placed her phone in her pocket, "Okay..." she was about to say something else, but Emily looked so distressed she decided against it.

"Em, Ali's been through this before, you know that it could take hours, she will be fine."

Emily continued to pace as she spoke, "Well I would feel better if I were in there knowing she was alright."

Hanna shook her head, "You were biting the nurses' heads off, they can't do their jobs with you snapping at them every 5 seconds."

Emily was about to defend her actions when a nurse walked into the room. Both of them stared expectantly at her, "Congratulations, you have a healthy," Emily sprinted past the nurse, "Baby boy, you can come in and see them." Hanna smiled apologetically at the nurse, "You'll have to excuse my friend, she has no manners."

The nurse smiled, "It's alright, they are all usually like that. Their mood changes once they see their baby. You can follow her in if you'd like."

Hanna nodded as she headed down the hallway.

Emily skidded to a halt, Spencer was standing by the bed, holding her son. Ali was propped up, and all Emily could think was how did she still manage to look flawless after all of that. She shook her head in disbelief, only Ali could make giving birth look easy.

Spencer looked up at Emily, she smiled and motioned for her to take the baby. Emily folded him into her arms and stared at him, awestruck. She was still amazed at how she could help make something so pure. She thought of her two girls and remembered having that same feeling when she held them for the first time.

He wriggled around in her arms before settling against her chest. Emily could feel her heart bursting with pride. Hanna came up behind her, "Hello, little one, come to Auntie Hanna." Emily glared at her, Hanna responded, "After four hours of watching you stomp around growling at me, I deserve to hold this child, so Emily, hand him over."

Ali and Spencer had to suppress their laughter. They knew Emily had given Hanna hell, and agreed she probably deserved anything she wanted right about now. Emily scowled and walked over to the bed.

She settled in beside Ali, brushing her golden locks across her forehead, "I don't know how you do it. You never cease to amaze me." She hugged her tight before giving her a kiss.

She glanced back at Spencer, "Did you know that there is a party at my house right now? And that all our moms are there?"

Spencer laughed, "Yah, I called Aria to tell her the news and I got a very loud cheer followed by a clinking of glasses. By the sound of it, I think we will have some very hungover people to take care of tomorrow."

Ali smiled, her voice a low whisper, "Our family is always looking for a reason to party, I'm glad I could give them one." She could feel her eyelids getting heavy, the hours of labor starting to take its toll.

She looked over at Spencer, "Can you do me a favor? Can you buy a bottle of wine for the nurses?"

Spencer nodded. Emily was about to ask what the wine was for, Ali answered before she could get the question out, "You need a peace offering. You almost tore their heads off." She smiled and placed her hand over Emily's, Emily glanced around sheepishly, "Was I that bad?"

Hanna snorted as the baby burrowed closer to her, she swayed back and forth, listening to him breathe. She responded jokingly, "If I had a choice between a tank full of sharks and being locked up with you, I think I would chance it with the sharks."

Spencer laughed, before adding in, "True. You make Jaws look like a cute, little guppy."

Emily shot them the best hurt look she could muster, before replying, "Don't hold back now, really... Thanks a lot guys."

Ali closed her eyes as she listened to Spencer and Hanna imitate Emily, she couldn't help but smile, some things will never change.

[anatomiseblog]

l e t s . t r y . t h i s . a g a i n

It’s quite apparent I’ve been lacking in the blogging department. Life got a bit all over the place recently which made it hard to sit down and focus on getting my thoughts out on a page. None of it bad, which I’m happy to say is a first when it comes to how life usually treats me. I’ve been busy with job applications, interviews and, finally getting employed by the NHS as a Mortuary and Bereavement Assistant! As you can probably guess, I’m extremely happy to finally be on the road to becoming a qualified APT. The past 5 months with the guys in Harlow have been amazing but bills need to be paid and volunteering, as rewarding as it is, just isn’t sustainable. 

I learned so much in my time in Harlow, all the basics of running a mortuary but also how to treat the people we work with on a day to day basis. Giving a helping had to funeral directors, having a laugh and a joke with the pathologists and most importantly, how to talk to bereaved families when they call up asking for an update. I’ve loved my time there, I couldn’t have asked for a better team to teach me and send me on my way to start my dream career. 

I joined the Lister team this past Tuesday. I spent my first morning where I’ve been craving to be since April, down on the PM room floor helping to weigh organs, washing the deceased and marking down any external injuries and distinguishing features on a body map. I came out of that PM room needing to change my scrubs and have a shower, yes, I got my hands (obviously gloved) dirty! We had some interesting cases and being able to be up close and not up on the observation gallery was amazing. To really see the pathology, the differences of healthy tissue on one case and then the diseased tissue on the other was so interesting, solidifying why I want to do what I want to do. 

The rest of the week was spent in the bereavement office, dealing mostly with hospital deaths and searching through patient notes to find out if they needed a referral to the coroner. If a death in the hospital has happened within 24hrs of them being admitted, if they had a surgery in the last 3 months or if the patient had a fall, they must be referred to the coroner. If the coroner is happy, no post-mortem is needed, but if not an inquest is started. It’s been really insightful to be able to see this process from start to finish, from bereavement to mortuary. Although, this does have its challenges. When in the mortuary, you try not to give the deceased a personality, a life, you still treat them with dignity and respect but to allow yourself not to get emotionally involved you have to remove the life that they had. Sometimes this is easy, sometimes it’s hard, but to protect your mental health you leave your emotions at the mortuary door. But now imagine, you’ve just finished meeting a family or just gotten off the phone to a relative or partner who is distraught about a death that’s just happened and but they’re telling you about the good times they’ve had with them, how much they’ll miss them. Then the next day you're assisting in the post-mortem room, and they’re loved one is laid out in front of you. Or even imagine it the other way round, the relative calls up for an update and yesterday you had their heart in your hands. 

Don’t get me wrong, I love my job and although I have somethings to get used to, I only think it’ll help to make me a stronger, more caring person. But, the PM room is where I belong!

Hopefully, I’ll be able to keep this up again, I’ll try for every Sunday. No guarantees though!

Rosie May x

[fenfyre]

Rosen auf mein weißes Kleid - Part I

This is something I’ve been wanting to write for ages and it’s gonna be really self-indulgent. But it also needs a damn clear warning so here it is: This fic will contain EreJeanMarco non con roleplay. Emphasis on the roleplay. We’ll start out with exhaustive negotiations during which the boys will make sure that when they play they’ll do it in a way to keep everyone involved safe and happy, even if it may not look like it. Having rape fantasies is not about actually wanting to experience rape or any other form of sexual violence and it does not give anyone permission to act on those fantasies without the consent of everyone involved. More often than not those fantasies and scenes are about wanting to give up every bit of control to someone able and willing to take it. It’s completely fine and healthy to act out those fantasies in a setting that everyone is safe in and comfortable with. That being said, please proceed with caution if you are easily triggered.

now also on ao3

___________________________ “Okay, so let me get this straight.” Eren’s voice was low but strong, no confusion left on his face. Instead his expression was carefully neutral, lips pursed slightly as his fingers twirled the clear plastic straw in his drink. Ice cubes were clinking in the tall glass. When he looked up his eyes were clear and open, no trace of judgement or disgust and Jean let out a shaky breath, fingers relaxing around the cup of coffee in front of him. Eren’s gaze left him to shift over to Marco, tipping his head just a bit to the side as he continued talking, a kind of detached curiosity sneaking into his tone: “You want me to fuck your boyfriend while you watch. And he pretends he doesn’t want me to. Is that right?” Jean felt very much like spontaneously combusting, cheeks hot and lower lip throbbing from how hard he’d been biting it but Marco didn’t miss a beat, smile broad and warm on his face. “Yes. Well, he wants it, too. It was his idea, actually.” Eren hummed a low and thoughtful noise before turning his attention back to Jean. Eyes still wide and soft but a tiny smirk curling one corner of his lips. “Was it now?”, he asked and Jean’s hands cramped up around the cup again. He swallowed hard and counted it as an accomplishment when he didn’t have to look away before answering. “Yes.” His voice was quiet and just a bit brittle but it didn’t leave a bitter taste in his mouth when Marco gave his thigh an assuring squeeze, hand resting there broad and warm and grounding. It had been his idea. But it wasn’t like he’d come up with it yesterday night and this morning they’d decided to go with it. Just getting to this point, to inviting Eren to some obscure, lonely coffee shop and asking him the craziest of questions, had taken them months. They had started with some rather tame fantasies of bringing a third person into their bedroom, of someone helping Marco utterly debauch his boyfriend and use him in all the best ways. From there it went on and on, the both of them spinning scenarios in their safe bedroom, closed off from the world, ideas and pleas and needs whispered into hot skin and panted so close to climax. Until Jean had admitted one night, writhing on the sheets and babbling mindlessly, that he sometimes thought about Marco giving him away against his will. That he dreamed of some stranger ravishing him, rough and merciless, and that when Jean would look over at his boyfriend, crying out for his help, Marco didn’t lift a finger to stop it. To say it had taken Marco a while to get used to the idea was an understatement. They had talked about it countless times, in the bedroom and out of it, until Marco had completely grasped the concept, why Jean wanted something like this and that a fantasy like this, while a bit extreme, didn’t mean he was sick or broken in any way. That what he craved wasn’t to be truly violated but to have all responsibility and choice taken away from him in a way that felt real and thrilling to him. And while Marco was the person to give him anything else, he couldn’t give him this. Not because he wasn’t willing but because it wouldn’t feel real to Jean. Marco would never ignore his needs and boundaries like this. But, at least in his fantasies, there was someone who would. Someone forceful and headstrong and painfully beautiful. That was how Eren’s name had been introduced to their fantasies. But even from that point on it had taken them a long time to even start thinking about turning the fantasies into reality. A process that had involved countless long conversations and negotiations, new boundaries and rules and limits that had been hypothetical until with time they became real and then Marco had made a phone call. Now they were here and Jean was looking at Eren who they’d just asked to pretend-rape him and the bastard was thankfully, infuriatingly calm about the whole thing. Then Eren huffed a dry laugh, tongue peeking out for a second to wet his lower lip. “I knew you guys were fucking kinky but wow, this…” Marco laughed, a melodic noise over the chatter from downstairs. They had their reasons for hiding away on the empty second floor, choosing a small table hidden behind a row of tall potted plants as far away from the stairs as possible. “You can say no any time and we’ll never bring it up again”, Marco reminded him of the premise under which they’d started the conversation. Then he continued, smoother and with his voice dropping lower: “But I don’t think you want to…” Eren took a long, slow sip from his iced coffee, lips wrapped almost teasingly around the straw as he kept his eyes locked with Marco’s. There was something there, a kind of tension that made Jean want to squirm in anticipation. When Eren finally finished it was with an almost obscene smack of his lips and a grin that said he knew exactly what he was doing. He looked at Jean with eyes that were much more intense now, gaze gliding up and down his body, one eyebrow arched elegantly. It made tingling heat pool in Jean’s stomach. “I have questions”, Eren clarified and his tone meant business. “A lot of questions. And if at any point we find out you want something I don’t want to give, you will know. But until then…” Pearly teeth bit into a plush, rosy lower lip and with the way he suddenly grinned Jean wasn’t sure if he wanted to punch or ride him. “…I’m interested.” Part II

[If you enjoy this story, please consider buying me a coffee <3]

[hereliesbitches--me]

(Part 1)

Firstly, I would like to thank you for coming to check my cat girl out.

While her background varies per verse she’s played in, the roots below are the background she has in the original world which she comes from. Its my own work i’ve spent years developing, with its own lore, and which I will go on to explain in later posts. My cat is very adaptable to all worlds, and i’m more than happy to chat and explore a little, so please don’t be too overwhelmed. Feel free to ask me anything, and Thank you very much for reading!

Basic Info- Muse Edition:

Full name: Rosie Valentine

Pronunciation: Ro-zee Val-en-tine (Like the day. Hates Valen-TEEN pronunciation)

Nickname(s) or Alias:

- Lady Moon

- Little Moon

- Rose

- Sweetheart

- Juliet

- Cat/ Katz

- Kitten

Gender: Female

Species: Celestial guardian deity( Former- counts as her “Soul” in a physical body ) ~> Human (Former, gained body) ~> Angel (Current. Not a biblical angel)  

Note: Becoming these things was a process. It did not happen all at once.

Age: ( varies by what stage she’s played in) Usually between 28- 32. As an ‘Angel’ , the process of aging is incredibly slowed.

Birthday: March 3, 1990 (physical body)

Sexuality: Bisexual

Nationality:  American

Religion: Christian ( although knows of other deities, and she herself is not always  devote with her life style)  

City or town of birth: Miami, Florida

Currently lives: Rural area in the Hudson Valley, New York

Languages spoken:   As a person, She only speaks English fluently. Has some vague understanding of simple spanish, and decent understanding in American sign language.

Relationship Status: Multiship- Varies by verse. Main partners you’ll see often are, whom I love dearly-

- Eddie Brock/ Venom ( Marvel- @osteum )

- Guts ( Berserk- @lupus-solitarius)

- Casca ( Berserk- @bladeofthehawk )

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Normal:

As a Moon:

Height: 5’3

Weight: 160lb.

Figure/build:

Apple/ faint hourglass shape. Chubby, thick thighs. Slim in the arms and fit calves.

Hair colour: Chocolate brown.

Eye colour: Rusette brown

Skin/fur/etc colour: Medium Beige skin, fur is a creme color. Her body feathers are a light blue.

Tattoos: A swirling red mark on the palm of her left hand.

Scars/distinguishing marks: Covered in array of different scars from battle on nearly all parts of her body- from teeth marks, to burns, to gunshots, to slashes. Significant scars are

- Cross burned into her right hand

- 3 large puncture scars on her abdomen

- Scar down the left corner of her lip

- Scars across both her wrists

- A perfect ring around her upper left arm

Preferred style of clothing:   Usually tries to cover as much skin as possible. Likes Button ups or shirts with long sleeves, or she rolls them up to her elbows. Prefers leggings for comfort, but often caught in dress pants. Anything that covers the skin of her legs and shirts that cover her arms. Rocks the casual professional look. Color choices are always neutral colors or cool shades. A splash of color is usually touches of red.

Frequently worn jewellery/accessories:  Silver cross always around her neck.

Health/ Habits / Personality

Addictions:

Sex

Alcoholic

It’s rather complicated with her. Used as an outlet and a distraction for her sorrows, she suffers from PTSD which at times can make her shift from sex-repulsed (Because of her own shame), or hyper-sexual for the sake of Validation and comfort. More often than not, she’s well aware when she is being used, but she’s been conditioned to play the game  and a darker part of herself likes it. The artificial intimacy is soothing for the moment until her senses can return to her., and she sets herself straight again to keep going. At the same time, that momentary input often makes her crave for more, but her fear of the vulnerability of a relationship keeps her from seeking and staying in a healthy one. It is something she is trying to overcome into her adult life. Alcohol is used to Dull the pain. Its better to be hazy than aware of your misery.

Personality:

While her personality varies by her surroundings and by the people she’s approached by, you’ll see Rosie best as someone charismatic and friendly to most, not easily swayed or intimidated given her own life experiences- even to someone who probably could wipe the ground with her physical body or kill her in some way. She’s quicker to try to befriend a possible enemy than act out aggressively simply because, despite the power and destruction she is very well capable of, she does not like to fight. Its tiring and, more often than not, unnecessary. She is trying to improve herself as a person and avoid stresses that cause her bad habits to resurface.  She likes to make light of hard situations, especially when its her life on the line. She’ll joke about her own misery, she’ll try to set herself up with good association. It helps to put her image as one that’s happy and reliable, and it eases her own inner turmoil by pretending to be something else.

She lives by her secrets, and rather not let anyone know about her filthy past lest she really trust them. Childhood experience has left her with a certain abrasiveness to female authority figures, to which that too she is trying to control.  Despite her appearance of being incredibly outgoing , she’s guarded and does not get easily attached. The only exception might be to someone whom she has the responsibility over to care for. Children are a near instant soft spot in her heart, and a weakness to her guard.

Behind closed doors, the woman still faces her own demons. Still trying to handle bipolar depression, overcome her conditioned fears and addiction, and her own soldier complex to try to seem normal to the people around her. Despite being a magnet for trouble, she really does enjoy the company of others. And once she is attached to you, ya truly have gained an ally for life.

Fears/phobias:

*Cat has the strange habit of pushing on her fears for the sake of thrills. Her reaction of them may not always be the same. Especially some that would be exploited in the bedroom*

- Lack of control

- Being pinned face down

- Being unable to move her body

- Smoke/Gas(anything that causes breathing difficulty)

- Unwanted bodily contact. Dislikes her skin being touched

- Tight places with no quick exits

- Slightest wariness Female authority figures

- Elastic Balloons/ When they pop(HARD FEAR)

Hobbies:

- Collecting old records for her record player and old tapes.

- Creating and Collecting music boxes

- Cleaning her house, truck, weapons, and armor

- Spending time with her kids to ground her and remind her of her purpose.

- Befriending and nurturing some feared creature because she has faith she can see the good in anyone- which will probably bite her in the ass one of these days.

- Baking

- Murder

Taste in music:

- A Lover of the oldies from the 20s-80s.

- Classic and alternative Rock. Cat ears are sensitive to intense sounds.

- Classical music

Significant/special belongings:

- Silver Cross always around her neck

- Antique records and music player

CAREER

Level of education:

High school Graduate completed online, some college classes taken in criminology and psychology with duel enrollment. But never went to an official university. Upon the death of her father and a shift in her parental guardian, she is dragged into a military division of Calvary Academy to train, to  hunt, and kill all things supernatural.

Qualifications:

- 5 years military experience in hunting the demonic and the supernatural.

- 8+ years on the police force

Current job title and description:

- Officer in the NYPD

- Takes on detective work as her own personal side project

- ( Dependent on the time I play her) Organized and runs a program known as the ‘Angel Project’ - A ragtag team of super people, a species known as angels , to show the potential and good they are for the public. With her own agenda under wraps. She is the figurehead and speaker for the group, handling all the mission updates and policy works, and making sure missions run smoothly.

Family History:

Parents names/ Status:

- Roland Valentine(Father- Deceased, Murdered),

- Camellia Hidalgo( Mother- Deceased, died of cancer )

Sibling names/ Status:

- Alexander Hidalgo (Brother- Deceased)

Children:

- Malakaid (Adopted)

- Mia Blagrove

- Thursday Blagrove

[roseangelx]

Semi-Coherent Thoughts on “The Six Thatchers”

I won’t call this a review, because my thoughts are still a bit jumbled (not unlike the episode itself), but I thought I’d write something up while it’s still fresh in my mind. Under the cut to avoid spoilers (and also because it’s lengthy and I won’t bore anyone who isn’t interested). 

General Thoughts

Overall, I did like the episode. When I rewatched Series 1--3 this week, I noticed that there was a sort of dynamic-shift in Series 3. With the exception, perhaps, of HLV, it felt like Series 3 served a similar purpose to filler episodes in longer TV series - lots of character development, not a lot of plot, less of the case work that we became so familiar with in Series 1 and 2. Series 4 felt like we’d shifted back closer to the dynamic from the first two seasons, and I was glad for that. 

I do agree that the episode was a bit jumbled, like the writers had too many ideas that were squished into too short a period of time. The first 40 minutes or so, with the primary focus on the case that the episode is named after, ran smoothly, but once the AGRA flashdrive came into it, everything kind of fell apart. I still enjoyed it, don’t get me wrong, but I feel like there was so much in there that would have been better spread over a few episodes. 

I confess to being a little bit disappointed by the actual “six Thatchers” case, partially because I expected more from the apparently major case in the episode, and partially because “The Six Thatchers” is one of John Watson’s blog posts set during ASiB. What happened, did the writers run out of ideas and have to backtrack to use a version of a case that had already been solved on the official website? Perhaps that’s why John Watson’s blog is no longer being updated despite there being blog posts within the episode - the blog is no longer consistent with the series. 

Let’s Talk About Mary

The one big thing on the top of my Series 4 wishlist was for more backstory on Mary, and this episode did deliver, just not as much as I hoped. Her character is so complex and has so much potential, and there is undoubtedly so much more to her past that I wanted to explore. I find myself hoping (and in part expecting) to see more of her backstory in the coming episodes, even though her character is no longer in the picture. I still can’t shake the fact that the AGRA flashdrive thrown into the fire in HLV has a full stop after the R that is clearly not there on the flashdrive that was originally given to John, and if that turns out to be an editing mistake, I will be hugely disappointed. 

Mary’s death was, in a word, heartbreaking. I have seen criticisms of John Watson’s so-called “Chewbacca noises” during that scene, and I was surprised, because all I could think was that Martin Freeman was an extraordinary actor and it struck me as incredibly genuine. It hurt. I didn’t cry, but it was close enough, for me. I didn’t see it coming. I knew it was likely she would die in this series, because that much had been alluded to in interviews - we know that Mary Watson dies in the ACD stories - but I was sure it would be the big twist in episode 3. I didn’t expect it to happen so soon and I’m devastated that it happened in the same episode where we were finally getting to know her better. I can only hope that the decision to kill her in this episode was made because there are things that needed to happen after her death that they needed two episodes to deal with (things perhaps related to the “Miss Me?” video that I will talk about shortly), and not because they needed her out of the picture so that John and Sherlock could go back to being John and Sherlock. Anyone who knows me knows my hatred of female character deaths serving as no more than a plot device to further a man’s storyline (don’t get me started on Sleepy Hollow). 

Moving past Mary’s death, we have her “Miss Me?” video, of which I’m still not sure what to think. I won’t talk much about that little end-credit scene, because I have no idea what to make of that beyond the fact that it is reaffirming my suspicions that Mary was linked to Moriarty in some way. However, the rest of the video is still intriguing, particularly the wording. “Save John Watson”, she says. Not “protect him”. Not “look after him”. “Save him”. They’re words that you’d only expect her to use if she knew that there was something that he needed saving from. Is it because she knows that in the event of her death he’ll be heartbroken and need saving from himself, or because she has reason to believe that people from her past will hurt him? Or, am I just overthinking again?

Relationships

The interpersonal interactions between the characters are one of my favourite parts of this show, and in this episode relationships definitely deserve a mention. To my surprise, the most prominent relationship featured in this episode seemed to be that of Sherlock and Mary. I know he had seemed to forgive her for shooting him in HLV in the end of that very same episode, but I hadn’t realised how complete that forgiveness seemed to be. They were working together, and he made it clear that he really did care for her and wanted to protect her. Perhaps it’s a result of all the fanfiction I read, but previously I felt like the vow he made was primarily for John, that yes, of course he’d protect Mary, but he’d do that because of John. No, this episode seemed like he wanted to protect Mary as well as John, because he cared for them both. Makes her death a little more heartbreaking. I did enjoy their interactions, although I probably would have enjoyed them more if we’d had more time to trust her again. Sherlock might have forgiven her for shooting him, but I still didn’t trust her. I still don’t, even after her death. 

There was a sore lack of Sherlock and John interactions, which I know many people are disappointed about, though I imagine the next two episodes will make up for that. Whether you ship them romantically or not, I think we all know that their relationship is always going to be central to the show. We just have to push past the pain of John blaming Sherlock for Mary’s death first - which is heartbreaking, but when you consider the fact that John doesn’t know Mary sacrificed herself but instead believes that Sherlock failed to protect her, his reaction is exactly what I’d have expected. It doesn’t make it any less painful. You can only imagine how much pain Sherlock himself is in, blaming himself, grieving, and being unable to help the one person he cares about more than anything in this world. 

Then we have John and Mary’s relationship, which on the surface seemed surprisingly healthy given Mary’s background. It definitely seems like John forgave her for shooting Sherlock, too. It definitely seemed like John loved her. And then you have what appears to be an affair. 

This is the one thing I can’t get past, and the one thing that I’d be content to believe doesn’t exist. I can understand that John would want some sort of normality in his life - think of HLV, of “She wasn’t supposed to be like that”. Yet, the idea that the John Watson we know would have an affair, would cheat on his wife shortly after she had a baby - it seems out of character and wrong. It seems equally out of character that his wife, with her unique skill set, and his best friend, the most observant man in the world, wouldn’t know that he was having an affair. I don’t quite understand it, in truth. Why did the writers put that in there? Was it to serve the purpose of making him look like a less than perfect husband to match his imperfect wife? Was it to make her death more heartbreaking, knowing that she died believing that her husband was perfect and loyal when he was not? Was it to implant in our minds the suggestion that he didn’t actually love Mary that much, that he wasn’t actually that happy in his marriage with her? 

The affair itself was very glossed over, open to interpretation. For all we know, it wasn’t an affair at all - it could have been nothing more than a few texts and an innocent meeting or two. It’s the belief I want to hold onto, because I find cheating unforgiveable and I want to like John’s character, but I know it’s wishful thinking of me to try and pretend nothing happened there. He’s obviously feeling guilty over it, given he almost tells her, and undoubtedly would have had she not died. We know nothing of this woman, either, and I can’t shake the feeling that she’s going to be important, somehow. We haven’t seen the last of her yet. 

Final Thoughts

Overall, I enjoyed the episode. It’s certainly not one of my favourites, but it’s not my least favourite either. I adored the little interaction we saw between Sherlock and Rosie, and also the scene with the dog (someone please buy Sherlock a dog). The episode has left me craving more, wanting to see what happens next, especially when it comes to Mary’s video (and the end-credits bit), and to phone call Mycroft makes to “Sherrinford”. There’s a lot more coming in this season, and I’m excited for it, but at the same time, I’m terrified. This episode was painful enough, and I get the feeling it’s only going to get worse. We’ve all seen the trailer by now. There are demons waiting for us. 

[fashiontrendin-blog]

Your Two Personalities, According to Your Zodiac Sign

http://fashion-trendin.com/your-two-personalities-according-to-your-zodiac-sign/

Your Two Personalities, According to Your Zodiac Sign

W

alt Whitman famously wrote that he contained multitudes, and while Whitman was predictably a Gemini, I’ve found this to be true across the board. We may all crave labels and categories — hence our gravitation toward astrology in the first place, I think — but each and every sign offers fertile ground for contradiction. Below, you’ll find (what I believe to be) your sign’s most pressing and prevalent contradiction. Your upbringing, environment and personal experiences will greatly influence which side of the coin you tend to land on, but you probably exhibit aspects of both. We’re all just flesh and stardust, after all — never really created to make perfect sense.

Aries

Confidence

Many Aries natives boast a rare combination: natural leadership skills paired with a genuine desire to lead. Because of this innate ability, you have strong conviction and rarely hesitate to charge ahead with your own ideas. Aries is an ambitious sign that will gladly take initiative. This can sometimes spill over and become overconfidence, leading you to believe that you’re always right.

Insecurity

All fire signs share this duality to some extent, but because of Aries’ social cardinal quality, you can be extra sensitive to your own perceived shortcomings. You are constantly trying to view yourself from outside perspectives. As a natural leader, you want to be respected and admired, and you tend to put undue pressure on yourself to achieve your goals and meet the high bar you’ve set for yourself.

Taurus

Determination

As a Taurus, you have an extraordinary sense of purpose. You put a great deal of thought into your decisions and once they are made, you follow through. No questions asked. This persistence and stubbornness is especially admirable in professional circumstances, but you also make for a devoted friend and partner. You seek consistency and habitual action; you love to see things through and rarely, if ever, quit.

Lethargy

Taurus is also a sign greatly associated with comfort. You crave luxury, the security of materialism. This often means that you’re a hard worker, but it can also mean that you tend to take advantage of luxuries when you have them. You love to pamper yourself and may find it difficult to pull yourself out of an easy routine. If you chill too hard for too long, you fall into a slump.

Gemini

Sociability

Gemini is a highly communicative sign. Many are talkative, expressive and incredibly easy to engage in conversation. Intellectual conversation, in particular, is where a Gemini thrives. You need constant stimulation and you love to learn. For a Gemini, gathering information and learning about others is especially appealing because it helps you learn about yourself.

Solitude

Gemini is also an extremely introspective sign. You may find yourself desiring more personal space than the average person; you love to explore your own self, to think critically and unpack emotions. Many Geminis make great artists — particularly writers and poets — because their inner monologues whir constantly. It’s true that Geminis need constant stimulation, but many will find a good book, an interesting podcast, a provocative movie or any kind of private self-expression equally as fulfilling as a robust discussion.

Cancer

Sensitivity

The classic Cancer sensitivity is usually a little exaggerated in pop culture, but the stereotype is based in some reality. It’s likely that you get easily insulted and are quick to feel attacked, which leads to the perception that you need to be coddled. You have incredible healing and self-protective abilities, so your instinct is to guard your vulnerability; it may take you a long time to open up. When you do develop an intimate relationship, however, you want to be smothered with affection.

Maternal Instincts

While a Cancer will generally enjoy being taken care of, it is second nature for them to care for others. This makes sense, I think, because to be emotionally intelligent and strong for others, you typically need to be emotionally sensitive yourself. Cancers are famously empathetic. You are the best person to talk to and the best shoulder to cry on because you highly value loyalty and understanding.

Leo

Vanity

Leo vainglory is renowned for a reason. This sign is associated with entertainment, performance, expression and presentation; in short, you are probably obsessed with yourself. You go after what you want with ferocity and passion, and you will use any accrued power or influence to stay in power and wield that influence. You have no problem being the center of attention and usually enjoy having all eyes on you. You want to be well liked, but you value your own goals and wellness more than your reputation; you will put yourself first if you feel that someone is trying to water you down or hold you back.

Generosity

Leos gravitate towards the spotlight, but they will also gladly assume the role of caretaker. Leos are fiercely loyal to the people they love and self-sacrifice can become second nature to them. You’ll go out of your way to make life better for those around you, for example, and you love giving presents and showing people affection. Your generosity also extends to people you may not necessarily know, as Leo has an extremely protective nature. You are eager to speak out against injustice, give to those who are lacking and use your influence to better the lives of friends, family, the community or a specific cause.

Virgo

Judgement

Virgos are largely perfectionists, which makes you difficult to impress. You tend to be critical and often rather skeptical (but I’m sure you’d pause here to correct me that you’re actually just realistic). You set high standards for yourself, and you can be very particular about the world around you as well, often making snap judgements about others. You have no patience for those who you perceive as rude, disrespectful, careless or aggressively egotistical. Your need to analyze can sometimes come across as snobbishness and elitism.

Tolerance

Luckily, Virgos are typically mature beyond their years, which allows you to learn how to express your expectations more compassionately. You can easily learn to have a more open mind or to give others a chance after negative first impressions. Virgo is actually an unusually sympathetic sign, which often manifests in soft spots for animals and humble, underappreciated or shy individuals. Above all, you value kindness and humility.

Libra

Diplomacy

Libras are interested in harmony and balance, tending towards a calm and peaceful demeanor. Your communicative nature and ability to carefully weigh perspectives makes you an accomplished mediator. Your charisma and aversion to manipulation makes you a valuable, fair negotiator. You are reasonable, understanding and usually able to make others feel at ease. You crave respect and hate seeming biased.

Tension

Striving for harmony and balance does not necessarily mean that you will find it, especially when it comes to your own inner chaos. You can easily become anxious when confronted with unfairness or unpleasantness. The extremely high value that you place on equality can cause you to feel slighted easily and force you into engaging with tit-for-tat behavior. Your natural aversion to conflict leads you to avoid any sort of disagreement or outward ugliness, which can then lead to passive aggression and sugar-coated hostility. Everyone has opinions. Everyone gets angry sometimes. But you will often refuse to openly express these things.

Scorpio

Self-Sabotage

Scorpio is the sign of extremes and intensity. You are determined, which is admirable — but pushing forward relentlessly with a singular and self-interested goal can lead you to selfishness and insensitivity. You are passionate but also obsessive, which means you can easily spiral, follow destructive paths, become vengeful or engage in manipulative behavior. Toxic relationships and unhealthy habits can be difficult for you to break.

Reinvention

Scorpios have a strong dark side but are constantly seeking the light. Your impressive ability for self-destruction means that you can rise from the ashes unlike anybody else; you have unique potential for self-discovery and transformation. Your determination and passion can be channeled into self-improvement and positive, healthy ambition. You have the ability to move mountains for yourself and your loved ones.

Sagittarius

Lightheartedness

As a general rule, a Sagittarius doesn’t like to take herself too seriously. You’re usually the life of the party due to your easy charisma and knack for humor. You reject dullness on principle and focus on making the most out of life; you love to travel and seek adventure. Sometimes you feel indestructible and free of regular limitations. This infectious optimism makes you an extremely positive presence. You are jovial and talkative with a rosy outlook on most things.

Depth

Sagittarius is also the sign associated with philosophy, religion, ideas, morals, growth, discovery and wisdom. While you probably approach your day-to-day life with a carefree, happy-go-lucky attitude, you are also on a constant quest for deeper truth and knowledge. You hate seeming ignorant and have a genuinely curious nature; you want to get to the root of problems and events, understand life on a more existential scale and understand yourself in an honest way. You also believe in your ability to enact real change, especially by sharing information and raising awareness.

Capricorn

Action

Capricorns are famously independent, self-sufficient and highly capable people. Your sense of commitment is almost unparalleled. You hate giving up on something and do not let things go easily. This often translates into impressive ambition, motivation and resilience. You don’t like to get down on yourself or blame bad luck; instead, you power through unfortunate circumstances and probably draw plenty of admiration in doing so.

Observation

Capricorns do tend towards leadership, but not in a stereotypical way. In fact, you are usually the person pulling the levers behind the scenes. Capricorn is an analytical sign that prefers to be cautious; you find yourself stepping back and observing every angle, preparing for every outcome before committing to a plan of action. You tend to be very suspicious of people upon first meeting them and usually take a while to warm up — you do not expose your vulnerability easily and strive to understand the people around you as fully as possible.

Aquarius

Open-Mindedness

Aquarians are the true humanitarians of the zodiac. They are usually progressive, forward-thinking people who value all people individually and equally. There are notable exceptions, of course, but regardless of politics and beliefs, Aquarians are usually collaborative, curious and dynamic problem-solvers. You hate feeling stagnant, which makes you highly adaptable.

Strong-Willed

Aquarians also tend to be the most opinionated in the zodiac. Once you set your mind on something, once you formulate a comprehensive and informed opinion, it’s nearly impossible to get you to change your mind. You tend to have a strong — yet highly personal — moral compass, so though you strive to be accepting of everyone, you can become judgmental or disapproving. Your stubbornness saturates every aspect of your life. Once you become emotionally attached, you cling to people, places and things.

Pisces

Compassion

Pisces is sometimes viewed as the final stage of evolution in the zodiac (*coughs* Rihanna), which usually means that Pisceans are mature, spiritually developed and suffused with compassion. You are uniquely tuned to emotional cues; your hypersensitivity to feelings and auras makes it easier for you to empathize, and it’s instinctual for you to care deeply for others. You tend to be helpful and nurturing with a talent for reassuring and calming the people around you.

Remove

A Pisces’ emotional maturity does not automatically grant you with emotional availability. It’s easy for you to conceal your own emotions, and you may find it much more difficult to open up to people the way that others open up to you. You are imaginative, idealistic, observant and wary of being taken advantage of — so you can often feel isolated and disconnected, as if on the outside looking in.

Illustrations by Allison Filice. 

[anavoliselenu]

Hiched chapter 7

For now, I go into the bathroom and close the door behind me. I don’t lock it . . . just in case there’s a sliver of a chance Selena changes her mind. I undo my belt and tug down my dress pants just enough to free my aching cock. Then I squirt some of her scented lotion into my palm and begin to stroke myself.

Her light, feminine scent surrounds me, and the sensations tingling along my spine mean this won’t take long. For the second time this week, I work my big hand up and down my cock, wishing it were her small, delicate hand instead.

Memories of tonight in the restaurant restroom flash through my mind like an erotic dream. God, she was so ready after just a few minutes of banter and kissing. Her rosy nipples were tightened into little buds, and when I sucked and licked, they pebbled against my tongue. She tasted so sweet and made the best little grunting whimpers I’ve ever heard.

And then when I slipped my fingers into her panties—I half expected her to tell me to stop, only she didn’t. Instead, she stepped her heeled feet further apart. The tiniest possible movement, but I was so attuned to her, I noticed. She wanted me to touch her. Craved it just as badly as I did. She was warm and wet, sweet, silky perfection. And when I slipped two fingers inside, I almost came right then. Her cunt was so tight, it gripped my fingers and sucked at them, greedy for me to fuck her.

I shudder at the memory. So perfect. Beautiful. Intelligent. Sexual. She’s the total package.

A few more long pulls and I come hard with a grunt.

• • •

“Are you sure about this?” Selena asks.

Her gaze wanders over to the couple dozen partygoers scattered across Rosita’s lawn. People are laughing and chatting in small groups, and upbeat Mexican pop plays from a boom box on the patio. The chain-link fence separates her yard from an auto shop behind her house. A single tree stands tall in the center with a festive piñata hanging from a branch.

“Of course. This is going to be great. Come on.” I tug her toward Rosita and the birthday girl, Maria.

I drop down to one knee in front of her. “Wow. Thirty-six today, huh?”

She shakes her head, her braided pigtails bobbing wildly. “No. I’m seven!” she boasts.

“Ah, seven. Well, happy birthday.” I give her a wink and she wrinkles her nose. She’s definitely still at the age where boys are gross. “That’s a very pretty dress you have on today.”

She looks down at her hot-pink dress with decorative tangerine stitching. “Thank you. My mommy made it.” She smiles up at Rosita.

When I rise to my feet, I give Rosita a hug. “Everything looks great. Thank you for inviting us.”

“Of course, mi amor. Thank you for coming,” she says to both me and Selena. It was a one-hour drive to Jersey, but well worth it.

“Of course,” Selena echoes, her smile only a little guarded. She’s obviously out of her element here, but trying her best to cope.

“Please, enjoy yourselves. There’s plenty to eat, and drinks are inside.”

I survey the picnic table that’s so overloaded, not an inch of tabletop is showing. Empanadas, carne asada, arroz con pollo, a bunch of things I don’t recognize but am game to try, and a beautiful tres leches cake in the center of it all.

“You made enough to feed an army,” I say with a chuckle.

“My family has big appetites.” Rosita grins wryly at me.

I hand my gift bag to Rosita. It has a couple of Spanish chapter books for Maria. I know that keeping her family’s culture alive and ensuring her kids are bilingual is important to Rosita. It’s something she and I have talked about before, and I think it’s damn smart. Anyone who knows two languages will have a leg up in the business world when the time comes.

“Oh, you didn’t have to bring a gift. Your presence here is enough.”

I shake my head. “Of course I brought a gift. What birthday party is complete without a big pile of presents?”

Rosita’s smile falls slightly. “Things are a little tight right now. I made Maria’s gifts myself this year.”

Oh shit. I meant to make a playful idle comment, not call attention to the small gift pile.

“Is everything okay?”

Rosita nods. “With all the uncertainty at work right now, I’m trying to stretch our budget and put something away for savings. Just in case.”

Her gaze darts between Selena and me as if she’s looking for answers. With her having six kids, I know her budget didn’t have much wiggle room to begin with.

I take Rosita’s hands in mine and give them a squeeze. “Everything will be okay, I promise. I’m going to make sure of it.”

Selena shifts uncomfortably next to me. Even with all the sexual tension buzzing between us, we still have a job to do. And that’s never been more evident than now.

“Enough about all that,” Rosita says, strengthening her smile again. “You two go have fun.” She wanders away, heading toward her cousin, who I met at last year’s Christmas party.

“Are you hungry?” I ask Selena. The food smells incredible, and Rosita is an amazing cook. I plan on sampling every dish on the table. Maybe twice.

She nods. “Starving, actually, but I’m not sure.” Her brow creases as she looks over the colorful dishes of steaming food.

“What’s wrong?”

She glances around. “I’m just looking for a knife and fork.”

I realize that she’s wary of spilling food on her expensive blouse.

“Come on, I’ll help you out. The first time I came here, I bit into a burrito and launched its contents everywhere. It looked like a baby had taken a crap all over my Armani shirt. We couldn’t stop laughing.”

She looks at me skeptically.

“Rosita taught me the proper way to fold my burrito. There’s a trick to it. I’ll show you.”

She nods and follows me to the table.

We fill our plates with marinated meats, grilled onions, rice, beans, and tortillas. Then we go back for seconds of our favorite dishes. Selena impresses me with her healthy appetite and adventurous spirit.

After lunch, we mingle and talk with Rosita’s family and friends. Even though Selena says she’s enjoying the party—and I believe her—she stays locked by my side all afternoon, attempting polite conversation and smiling nervously. Of all the amazing things she is, “social butterfly” isn’t one of them.

I can tell she feels out of place in her six-hundred-dollar sandals, silk blouse, and diamond-encrusted wristwatch. I’m still not sure why she didn’t wear something less formal. Or is this the most casual outfit she has in her closet? Maybe she’s just incapable of dressing down; she’s always manicured from head to toe, the epitome of sophisticated beauty. I certainly won’t complain.

She and I didn’t grow up like this, with casual backyard parties and paper plates and cans of Sauza beer. The high life definitely has its perks, but given the choice between drinking the best Scotch alone and drinking cheap beer amid friendly laughter, I’ll choose this warm sense of family every time.

Later, when the dancing breaks out, I guide Selena toward the house.

“Now we need some Cuba libres.” I head inside, keeping one hand on her lower back to reassure her that I won’t leave her to fend for herself.

“Isn’t that just rum and Coke?” she asks, skeptical.

“Yes, but it’s Mexican Coke, made with real sugar, not that fake corn syrup shit, and the rum . . . Hell, wait until you taste this.”

I fill two cups with ice and then the rum-and-Coke mixture Rosita has premixed in a large pitcher.

“Mmm.” Selena moans as she swallows her first fizzy sip.

“Cheers.” I gaze down at her and touch the rim of my glass to hers.

“To?” she asks.

“Us,” I say, my eyes lingering on hers.

“Justin . . .” She chews on her lower lip. “You know this might not even work, right?” Her tone is somber.

“Like hell it won’t. In fact, we really need to get engaged soon.”

Maybe it’s because I’m feeling jovial and slightly buzzed, but I stand my ground, my eyes still lingering on hers. I’ve wondered what kind of proposal I’ll plan—just a matter-of-fact business meeting where we agree on the terms, or a romantic down-on-one-knee affair where I promise to make this the best I can for her.

Selena looks down at the floor. “I’m just not ready for that yet.”

“I sensed that . . . but you could try.” I lean even closer, letting her feel the heat from my body, my height towering over her.

“Try?”

“Yes, try.”

“And how would you propose I do that?” She’s trying her best to sound confident, but her tone has gone shaky.

Feeling bold, I grin at her. “You pulled away last night. You could kiss me, touch me, open up to me, make love to me.”

“What, right here?” Her voice rises and her brows pinch together.

“I’d settle for a kiss.”

“I’ve done that before, or have you forgotten?”

“Forgotten? Snowflake, I jack off regularly to the memory.”

Her cheeks go bright pink. “Be serious, would you?”

“I am being serious. Does it make you uncomfortable to know that at night, in the dark, I pump my hard cock to thoughts of your sassy attitude, smart mouth, and gorgeous tits?”

Her mouth falls open. Her cheeks are full-on flaming now.

I press on. “One kiss. Hell, you may even end up having fun today.” I’m teasing her because I can tell that even though she was tense and awkward when we arrived, she’s enjoyed herself today. She just needed a little time to feel at home.

Placing one hand on her waist, I pull her a fraction closer.

Her breathing grows shallow and her lips part, whether in surprise or because she’s readying herself for my kiss, I’m not sure.

I lower my mouth to hers, feeling the warmth of her breath ghost over my lips, my cock beginning to swell, when a loud shriek pierces the silence.

“Bee sting. Coming through,” Rosita calls, carrying a crying birthday girl through the kitchen.

Stepping away from Selena, I clear off a space on the counter. “Set her here.”

Tears leak from Maria’s eyes as quiet sobs rack her chest.

“Shh. I’ll make you good as new, princess,” I tell Maria.

Selena and Rosita gather first aid supplies while I distract Maria with a story of the time I wandered into a beehive. Selena watches me work with a quiet, contemplative gaze, and I can’t help but wonder if she would have let me kiss her.

Bringing her here today was no mistake. It goes without saying that people like Rosita and this little girl are one of the main reasons why Selena and I have to pull this off.

We have to.

Chapter Fourteen

Selena

Dear God, watching Justin with Rosita, and even more so, with little Maria? It was ovary-melting.

I need to keep my cool. Because otherwise? I could easily see myself losing my head over this man.

Chapter Fifteen

Justin

Selena is always so put together, well dressed in tailored skirts and blouses, manicured from head to toe. It only makes me want to muss her all up and get her dirty. I act like I don’t notice her in her business apparel, but of course it affects me. I’m only a man. A man who’s apparently taken a vow of celibacy since we began faux-dating, or whatever it is we’re doing.

God, what are we doing? Any normal Friday night, I’d be out with Sterling chasing tail. Instead I’m sitting at home in sweatpants with a beer and my tablet, doing things I never get to do—like looking up genealogy about my family ancestry and reading random articles on CNN. It’s pleasantly relaxing.

But having Selena here, in my personal space, in our shared space all the time is getting distractingly difficult. Like right now, she’s perched in a dining chair, legs folded underneath her, a pair of square black-framed glasses balanced on her delicate nose as she stares at her laptop.

It’s fucking adorable. She always wears her contacts, and I’ve rarely seen her like this. It feels good to know that she’s comfortable enough to let her guard down with me.

And the fitted Henley that hugs her curves, with its little buttons dotting her chest between her breasts? Don’t get me started on those little buttons. I want to undo every last one, bare her to me and nibble my way from one round, perky breast to the other.

“What should we do for dinner, Snowflake?” I call into the dining room where she’s busy typing away on her laptop.

“Hmm?” she asks, her gaze taking a moment to drift over to mine.

“It’s seven,” I tell her.

“Oh, well, don’t feel like you have to stay in and cater to me. You can go out or whatever.”

She chews on her lip as she says this, though, and something in me knows she’d be out of sorts if I went out without her. Hell, I’d feel the same way. There’s a certain peace that comes with working hard with her all week, and now relaxing together.

“I’m in my pajamas. I’m not going out.” I chuckle at her.

“Right.” She gives me a sly look. “So . . . pizza?”

She normally eats so healthy, and I do too, for that matter, but I like that she doesn’t mind cheating and enjoying something just because.

“Hmm, I don’t know.” I rub my chin. “I think that’s the true test of a marriage—can you both agree on the same pizza toppings.”

“Okay.” She motions for me to go ahead. “You first.”

I shake my head. “Same time.”

Our gazes lock and she opens her mouth. “Ar—” she starts.

“Artichoke,” I say.

She grins at me. “Exactly.”

“And maybe sausage?”

She chuckles. “Sure. Why not? Variety is the spice of life.”

Maybe that’s what marriage is all about—not being the same on every point, but learning to compromise.

I coax her away from her computer when the pizza arrives, waving the warm pie and two bottles of cold beer in front of her.

“Dear God, this is good,” she says moments later, moaning around a slice of New York-style pizza.

I nod in agreement. Who knew? Artichokes aren’t half bad.

“Here.” I hand her a napkin for the smear of sauce on her lower lip.

“Did I get it?” she asks.

“Sure did.”

We each enjoy a second slice and the comfortable silence that’s settled between us. When we’re through, I take the plates into the kitchen and return to the living room. Selena licks her thumb, leaning back against the couch.

I study her in the way an artist studies his muse. All this time, I keep looking for signs, keep wondering if this could actually work, and while I’m not any closer to an answer, something new has taken shape. I like being near her. I look forward to our time together.

Before I get all fucking mushy, I decide to change the topic to something lighter.

“So . . .” I lean in closer. “This trial period, making out with me, all of it. What are your thoughts so far?”

“Objectively speaking?” she asks, her mouth twitching.

“Of course. I’d like to gauge my performance so far as a fake boyfriend.”

“It hasn’t been as bad as I would have imagined.” Her voice is soft, and she’s looking down at her hands.

Camryn’s words about Selena always wanting more—to fall dramatically in love and be swept off her feet—ring loudly in my head. I might not be able to give her everything, but I know I can be a good co-CEO, a good friend, and a good lover. If she’ll let me.

Maybe that’s not enough, but it’s what I have to offer.

“Come here,” I murmur, drawing her over onto my lap.

Selena obeys, straddling my thighs, and places her center right in line with my very interested and semi-erect cock.

I wonder if she’s still processing my words from the birthday party—when I asked her to try.

“Closer.”

She scoots forward until our lips are inches apart and her warm center is flush with my groin.

I lean in and take her mouth, starting out softly at first so as to not scare my timid princess away. Her lips part for me and I take my time, exploring her mouth with my tongue, sucking on her lips and nibbling lightly.

Selena’s tiny moan of satisfaction makes my pride swell, as well as other things. Growing bold, she circles her hips, and I plant both hands on her waist, urging her to grind down on me. She does—harder this time—and I grunt as my now fully hard shaft is treated to her warm friction.

Tearing my mouth away from hers, I gaze down at her. Those little glasses perched on her nose, her chest flushed and heaving, and those tempting buttons straining over her breasts. She’s beautiful like this.

“What is it?” she asks, slightly breathless. “Why’d you stop?”

“I was just thinking. Maybe I can be of service.”

She squints her eyes. “Meaning?”

I grip her hips and settle her right over the firm ridge in my pants. “If you’d like to ride this, work out all that frustration from work as you lift and lower yourself on my cock, I’d be game.”

“Would you now?” Her tone is light, teasing.

I shrug. “I’d volunteer as tribute.”

She laughs, deep and throaty, and it’s wonderful.

“And have you win our bet? No way.” She shakes her head.

“Okay then, let’s call a spade a spade, because we already broke that first-base rule when I had my fingers in your—delicate flower—at the restaurant.”

“You think my flower is delicate?”

“I do, actually. I think despite that tough-girl act you put on that you’re actually sweet and tender and soft on the inside.”

Her cheeks grow pink and she looks down.

“You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, right?”

She nods without hesitation.

That’s good. It means she’s beginning to trust me.

Maybe it’s a start.

Chapter Sixteen

Selena

Our whole building buzzes with activity. Even with my office door closed, I can hear the constant low hum of conversation and quick footsteps and ringing phones. I like that white noise; it helps ease me into a productive groove, and it tells me just how many people are working hard alongside me.

Against all odds, we won a small contract from Parrish Footwear—more of a trial period than anything—and also managed to charm back an old client. But will it be enough? We don’t have time for any false steps.

And not everyone is making their best effort.

I refresh my in-box and frown. Damn it, Harrison still hasn’t sent me that expense summary. I asked him yesterday afternoon, and again when I came in at seven this morning. What the hell has he been doing all this time? That information is at his fingertips; it should have taken him maybe fifteen minutes to round it up.

I consider e-mailing him a third time, then decide against it. The time for nagging has passed. I want him to explain himself in person. Maybe Justin was right about him all along.

I speed-dial the accounting department and ask Harrison’s secretary to send him up. And while I wait for him to arrive, I have a very illuminating chat with her about his recent schedule.

He knocks at my door five minutes later. Harrison is in his twenties, and I’m sure many girls find attractive. But to me, he’s mostly just unremarkable. The kind of guy people pass on the street every day and don’t even remember. Good job. Modest good looks. Average intelligence. None of Justin’s wit or charm.

Wait, why am I thinking about Justin?

As Harrison enters, he closes my office door behind him. Can he tell that he’s about to get chewed out? Or does he just want privacy to make yet another pass at me?

“Hello, Selena,” he says. “You look beautiful as always.”

I should have known. “Is there some reason why you still haven’t completed the work I asked you for yesterday?” I ask him in my frostiest tone.

He blinks. “I . . . had other things on my docket.”

“Ahead of a top-priority request from your CEO?”

“Top priority? I didn’t know it was that urgent.”

I click on my Sent Mail folder, turn my computer screen around to show Harrison our recent e-mail chain, and point at my last sentence.

“Can you read that aloud to me?”

He leans over to squint at the screen. Reluctantly, he recites, “Please send ASAP. I need this report to finish drafting our new budget before the board progress meeting on Thursday.”

Then his gaze flicks back to me. “Look, I’m sorry, but I have to fulfill requests in the order they come in. First-come-first-served is the only fair way to—”

“If you can afford to come in late, take two-hour lunches, and leave early every day, you can afford fifteen minutes to send me a report that I’ve asked for twice.” I spin my screen back into position. “Given the company’s current crisis, most people at your level of management have been pulling overtime lately. I won’t ask you to do that, because I respect my employees’ private lives, but if you wish to continue drawing a full-time salary, you will put in full-time hours. Am I making myself clear, Mr. Ridgefield?”

His eyes wide, he licks his lips nervously. “Y-yes, ma’am.”

“And the next time you can’t finish something with the promptness I need, you should tell me so I can find someone who can. Don’t just let my messages sit unanswered in your in-box while I wonder what in the world is going on with your department.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he repeats. “I will. I’m sorry. You’ll get that report by the end of the day.”

I nod in acknowledgment. “Thank you. Before lunchtime, if you can.” And if you can’t, you’d better have a damn good excuse.

He turns and starts to walk away. But at the last second, with his hand on the doorknob, he pauses to look back.

I quash a flash of irritation. Just go do your job and let me do mine.

“Um, speaking of lunch . . .” He rubs his neck sheepishly, as if some transparent aw shucks act will pacify me. “I feel bad about this misunderstanding. Let me take you out today to make up for it.”

I level a withering blank stare at him. “This is the fifty-fourth time you’ve invited me out to eat with you since we met. I’ve kept count. My answer has always been and will always be no. So instead of trying to distract me from your failures by hitting on me, I suggest you divert some of that energy into your work.”

He draws himself up, his hairy nostrils flaring. “Excuse me? Hitting on you? You can’t just go around flinging accusations like that. Sexual harassment is a serious—”

“I can do whatever the hell I deem necessary,” I snap. “I’ve tolerated your excuses for long enough. This company is teetering on the edge, and if we want to have any chance of pulling it back, I need to see some serious hustle.”

I lock eyes with Harrison, daring him to challenge me. He needs to understand that I’m not just the boss’s daughter anymore—let alone some naive intern whose blouse he can peer down while he pretends to help her.

“But if you’re not interested in helping me save your job, then by all means, keep testing my patience.”

Our staring contest lasts for almost twenty seconds. Finally, his deep brown gaze falters. He looks confused and more than a little pissed, but I think I managed to put the fear of God into him. Then again, only time will tell if he really got the message.

I breathe a sigh of relief as soon as he’s gone. My first time bringing down the hammer on an employee went about as well as it could have. But the encounter has still left me irritable and thrown off-kilter.

With my blood pressure already up, I suppress a huff when I see a fresh message in my e-mail in-box. It’s Camryn, as the newly minted head of Tate & Cane’s newly minted social media team, offering her “top ten picks” for training consultants to hire.

I’ve never heard of this project. If I had, I would have wanted to be in charge of it. How are they already at the short-list stage? And why is this coming in ahead of the expense estimation that I actually asked for?

Does the universe just not want me to finish this budget today?

Wait a minute . . . maybe I do have an inkling of what this is about. Justin and I revisited the subject of social media training a couple days ago, but I didn’t think we actually made a firm decision about anything. That discussion was just brainstorming . . . right? Evidently he didn’t see it that way.

I call Justin’s secretary, only to be reminded that he’s out at some executive brunch trying to woo back some more old clients. Too impatient to wait, I call his personal cell instead.

It rings six times before Justin answers dryly, “Yes, dear?” I can hear car engines and rushing wind in the background; he must be on his way back already.

“Since when was Camryn’s team researching consultants?” I ask.

“Since we needed to hire some. And since her team is, last time I checked, in charge of social media concerns.”

“You know what I mean. Why did you give her the go-ahead on a project that we never finished talking about? Why was this prioritized over my other tasks? And why is she managing it instead of me?”

Justin makes an incredulous noise that sounds way too much like a chortle. “Are you serious? You wanted to be a talent scout?”

“Why not? It’s an important decision. Why are you laughing at me?”

He sighs into the phone with a rush of static. “Let me ask you something. Do you think Camryn is an idiot?”

“Of course not.” I gasp. “How could you even say that? She’s my best friend.”

“Because you don’t seem to have very much faith in her competence. For Christ’s sake, Selena, learn to delegate. Your time is so much more valuable than this. Either you or I have to sign off on the final decision anyway, so what’s the harm?”

“Dad always taught me that the best way to get something done right is to do it yourself.”

Another disbelieving noise, this one more like an outright scoff. “Amazing. You’re such a control freak.”

“I wouldn’t have to be if I could trust people to keep me in the loop!” Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know I’m being irrational, but I’ve temporarily lost my ability to care.

“Just calm d—” Someone blasts their horn and Justin swears under his breath. “Look, I can’t really talk now. I’ll be back in ten minutes and we can discuss this.”

He hangs up. I drop the phone back in its cradle and massage my forehead. Christ, I don’t know how much more disorganization I can take in one day. This clusterfuck is going to give me an ulcer.

After a few minutes of trying to settle down, I give up and push back my chair. Hopefully a little walk and a change of scenery will help.

I head for the cooler near the front desk and pour myself a cup of ice-cold water. A huge, silvery bubble rises through the tank with a loud bloop. Not for the first time, I wonder how dispensing such a small amount of liquid creates such a big bubble.

My time is almost up, and I’m still no closer to knowing for sure if Justin and I will actually work as a married couple. Sure, we’ve shared some sweet moments, and some smoking-hot ones too.

There were a few of both at Maria’s birthday party this weekend. At first, I’d felt like I was intruding on their private family gathering. I hadn’t exactly been invited, after all. I was just Justin’s girlfriend—and who brings a date to a kid’s party, anyway?

But Justin was so reassuring, and everyone welcomed me with open arms. Some of Justin’s charisma must have rubbed off on me. Although I could have done without Rosita’s little congratulatory winks.

Once again, I was reminded of a mother doting proudly on her son. Justin was definitely part of her family. He made a point of catching up with everyone at the party, not just the general “how’s work?” kind of icebreaker, but specific questions like “Is your cousin out of his leg cast yet?” or “Did you get that promotion you were planning to ask for?” He obviously tries hard to remember the details of their lives.

But maybe that isn’t so surprising. Even though Justin can be self-absorbed sometimes, he’s a real people person. That gift of gab sometimes makes me jealous . . . when it doesn’t sweep me off my feet like everyone else he interacts with. He’s always so comfortable in his own skin, so at home in any situation. He looked just as natural in shorts and a silly paper hat, roughhousing with kids in a muddy backyard, as he does in a three-piece bespoke suit at an executive luncheon.

Watching him laugh that day . . . it’s definitely persuaded me to let him get closer.

Okay, so Justin is a decent man. A pretty great one, even. But does that mean I have to let go of my dream of falling madly in love someday?

What I need is a sign.

I let my gaze drift across the reception area as I drink my water. The front door swings open, and for a second, I think Justin must have made it back in record time.

Then I recognize the man and I almost choke. Oh no. No, no, no . . .

My stomach clenches as every nerve lights up with a fight-or-flight impulse. I can’t even tell if I’m terrified or furious—this feeling is just raw, undifferentiated adrenaline.

It’s Bradford Daniels, my ex-boyfriend from hell, standing just a few yards away. What the fuck is he doing here? I thought I was done with him forever. I thought I’d escaped. But now he’s in my building, my sanctuary, and I had no warning at all and I’m not ready.

Stunned, my heart hammering in my chest, I watch him like a deer in the headlights as he checks in at the front desk. He leans close to the receptionist. I can’t hear what he says, but I can guess by his flirtatious smile and her answering giggle.

It’s not her fault. Brad’s handsome face and country-club manners once tricked me too. She can’t know any better. Can’t see the slimy soul hiding underneath.

I started dating Brad in college because he was hot, he came from a prestigious family, and he was the first guy I’ve ever met who shared my hard-driving ambition. But I discovered too late that his competitive spirit was untempered by any sense of fair play. All the privilege he was born into, as staggering as it was, still didn’t satisfy him. He felt entitled to more—by any means necessary.

His father was the only person he felt true loyalty to. Everyone else in the world existed to use for his own benefit. And what made him really dangerous was his ability to disguise his predatory selfishness. He blatantly used his inferiors because he knew he could get away with it, but he sucked up to his superiors and manipulated his peers so skillfully that nobody with any power to stop him ever caught on to his games.

I still hate to admit just how long I let Brad use me. He had me convinced that he was trying his best to love me and I was the one being “difficult.” I clung to the scraps of affection he rationed out when and only when he wanted something from me.

It took me over two years to realize that Brad—not my “difficult” personality, not the stress from my classes and internships and club duties—was the reason I was so miserable all the time. It took another six months for me to do something about that revelation. I broke up with him at our graduation ceremony so I’d never have to see him again.

Or so I thought.

Brad turns and spots me. Noticing my appalled stare, he gives me a sarcastic little wave.

Rage wins out over panic. My paralysis shatters. After spiking my paper cup into the trash can, I charge over to him like a mother wolf defending my den.

“Get out,” I growl.

The receptionist blinks, startled by my unbridled hatred.

Brad, of course, doesn’t look at all surprised. He knows exactly how I feel about him—and why. But he’ll never pass up an opportunity to make me look like a crazy bitch.

“What, not even a hello?” he asks, feigning hurt.

Too bad I don’t care how I look. Everyone in this building is loyal to my family; I can afford to deal with Brad first and explain myself later.

“You don’t deserve one. Leave now.”

He looks down his nose with a condescending smile. “Oversensitive as always . . . how unprofessional. I have a right to be here. My father’s in the market to acquire a new subsidiary, so I’m here to pay your board a visit.”

“This company still belongs to the Tate and Cane families. You can’t buy a single brick in our building yet, and until that day comes, you’re just snooping around. Wait your turn like everybody else.” It’s bad enough that WBB was allowed in . . . and I don’t have a gory personal history with them.

His sneer deepens into overt disdain. “You can’t treat me like this. I was invited here.”

“And I have the power to un-invite you. So you can slink right back to your corner office and crawl into Daddy’s lap like you always do.”

Brad’s eyes narrow to dangerous slits. He snarls, “You dried-up bitch—!”

I scoff audibly. If I ever was dried up, whose fault does Brad think that was? He should have looked up foreplay in a dictionary sometime.