#just a rich white girl who has grown up as such and has had normal relationship problems + issues with press/the public eye

[vaquerismo]

i think my issue w miss swift is that her music is treated like its the epitome of poignant truth and lyricism when in fact it has the emotional depth of a marvel movie ._. but if you like that more power to you

[lunasdreamytreats]

Best kept secrets

Baizhu x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW // !PSUDO STEPFATHER/STEPDAUGHTER RELATIONSHIP! don't like, don't read // modern au // legal age-gap (Baizhu's in his late 30's, reader's in their early 20's) // drinking wine // reader calls their mother 'mama' // petnames (darling, little girl / good girl) // daddy kink (u call him it a few times and he calls himself it too) // mentions of drugs and aphrodisiacs // begging // oral (m+f receiving) // fingering // dumbification // bad writing (was still finding my writing style as i began writing and its not fully proofread)

Word count: 3.5k... (jeez i went crazy)

A/N: HBD MY LOVE 🥰 I love Baizhu sm, been planning this bad boy forever. Please enjoy and make sure to read the warnings carefully and lmk if I missed something ❤️

'How did this happen again?' You ask yourself as you accept another kiss from the man you knew as your stepfather. It feels so wrong, until you remember how your own mother is a cheating gold digger herself. Virtually your whole life up until a year ago had been on the move. Your mother would marry rich men who owned whole companies or company branches and either bankrupt them and leave or cause a scandal so they go out of business and leave. Over 19 years you’ve had a total of 10 stepfathers and you've never been really close with any of them.

As far as you know, the most recent one is the only one out of your stepfathers that has more than one source of income. He owns the only pharmacy in town while also working as a doctor. It must be taking longer to burn through it than normal, you thought, since you're still there.

You feel as if you should be grateful that your mother hasn't ruined it yet, because you've grown fond of life in this family. Your little sister Qiqi absolutely adores you as her big sister. Although your not sure if your mother knows about this, but your stepdad, Baizhu, absolutely loves being able to spend his money on you. Whenever you get off work he'll wait outside for you in the car with your favourite music ready to play. He'd drive around town with you for half an hour before going to pick Qiqi up from school. If you saw anything you wanted while driving, he'd tell you to quickly jump out and buy it with his card.

“Sweetie I don't care how much it costs if you want it I'll gladly get it for you.” Is what he'd say if you tried to protest in any way, in the end, you’ve just accepted it as him wanting to spoil you. Baizhu was very different to any of your other stepfathers, for one, he's making an effort to bond with you..... Oh and he's young, well, young compared to the others. At only 35 when they got married, he was 2 years your mother’s junior and 17 years your senior.

The 4 of you lived a fairly drama-free life up until tonight, when Baizhu came back home after dropping sweet Qiqi off at her best friend Yaoyao's house for her very first sleepover. He came in and asked you to come downstairs and sit on the couch, saying he needed to ask you about something important. You promptly closed the game you were playing and put the controller back, coming down to see Baizhu in the kitchen with a bottle of white wine and 2 glasses.

“Oh? What's the special occasion, Dad?” You asked before sitting back down with him.

“It's about your mother, (Y/N).” You froze slightly, wanting to ask him if anything bad happened to her. However, before you could speak, he placed one of the full glasses of wine into your hand.

"Do you know if she cheated on any of your other stepfathers, like any one of them?"

“Well I don't know for certain, but I've got a feeling she cheated on all of them, including my father.” You lifted the glass of wine up to the light and swirled the liquid around before continuing.

“Right when she leaves them, I found that either their companies crumbled, or they declared bankruptcy. Some less than 6 months after their wedding. It's happened way too many times to be a total coincidence.” Looking over at him, you saw a small sigh leave his lips as his eyes met yours. The low light of the lamps on the wall adjacent to him made his golden irises glow. ‘Oh fuck that's really pretty.... h-hold on a god damn second, that's your stepdad your talking about, dumbass!’ You quickly shook the thought out of your head and took a sip of wine to distract yourself.

“Why'd ya ask?”

“I saw your mother with someone and they were talking about how long until they can run off together....” You always had a feeling she had an accomplice her little scheme, but a whole ass lover all these years? Baizhu leaned forward in order to put the wine glass back on the counter and shifted to face you.

“Thank you for telling me this, my darling.” Eh why the lovey dovey language? He seems to be awfully calm for someone who just found out what a horrible person his wife is.

“Dad.... now that you've caught mama, when do you want us out of here by?”

“Hm? Why would I kick you out, darling?” Again with the darling! Is this really how fathers express their affection towards their children?

“I-I just thought since she's cheating on you, you wouldn't want her or her child arou-!” He's laughing? How? You thought he'd be annoyed. And yet here he is, not only not giving a toss about the current situation, he's laughing at it.... Why?

“Do you think I'd leave my cute, sweet little girl all alone without someone that loves her like I do? No no no darling. Besides, this is the best time to show you something that I've been planning this last year.” What could that be? You wondered. Come to think of it, from his plans for Qiqi's birthday party to things he's overheard at work, he's never kept anything a secret from you. He stood up and retrieved a piece of paper from inside a safe in the wall that he hid behind his back so you couldn't see what was written on it. As he sat back down, you managed to catch a small glimpse of the contents of the paper, you saw your signature there and what you can only assume is Baizhu's, both written in black ink next to each other at the bottom of the page.

'Oh! He must be holding the adoption papers we signed after the wedding'. You had another quick glance at the paper again before he folded it up and set it down on the table.... What?? You must be hallucinating because your pretty sure the words 'certificate of marriage' were at the top of the page. Hang on, if that's a marriage certificate, then why did you clearly see your signature next to Baizhu's?

“Did you see it, my darling?” Baizhu's words brought you back into the moment at hand, oh, that and his hand resting on your waist. The small gesture causing a shiver to shoot up your spine. “You’re my real wife. And you have been all this time.”

“How?” The reality of this situation hitting you like a boulder made your voice go hoarse, coming out like a broken cry. How was he able to hide something so big for so long? “How did I not notice it?”

“I'll be honest, I only got close to your mother so I could be with you, my darling. I knew what your mother was when I saw her, now she's the only one in the dark about it.” Baizhu's voice broke through the stifling silence around us. This is so weird, you’ve always thought your stepdad was a nice man, in personality, heart and looks. And you’ve told your friends about how you'd like your future partner to be like him. So should you go along with it?

“B-But what about the wedding night? Didn't you and mama have sex?”

“Nope, she ran off after the ceremony, I spent the night in your room.”

“W-what!? How the fuck did I not feel you?”

“Not when you've taken the deep sleep elixir I put in your food. I’d put it in whenever I knew your mother was going out for the night.”

“Oh, so that's why I hardly remember those nights.”

“Fuck, you're so cute when you don't know what to make of a situation, darling. I wonder what your reaction is going to be when I do this?” With no warning, Baizhu pulled you closer, onto his lap, and kissed your neck. The bold action made you gasp in shock. While you were distracted, he took the opportunity to catch you off guard again and kiss your lips. The kiss was just as he was, gentle and full of passion, yet demanding. Letting you know that although he’s being gentle, he’s still the one in control. He’s holding you so soft and tenderly, it makes this kiss feel like a natural part of life. Like your forgetting you two had a completely different relationship before...

That's how it came to you and your stepd- no, your husband making out in the open space of the living room. :)

'This isn't wrong. He's my husband.' You told yourself as you kissed him back. The grip his hands have on the flesh of your hips was so soft, as if he couldn't bare the thought of hurting you. Which, in a way, was true. He couldn’t bare the thought of being the reason you were in pain. As the kiss deepened, he felt more comfortable in exploring your body. His hands gently glide up your body before setting on your chest. His hands circle your body to where the dress zipper and bra clasp were.

As his arms pulled you closer, his fingers grazed the bit of exposed skin, making you shiver at the contact. Pulling away from your lips, Baizhu looked at you with love filled eyes and ran his finger over the neckline of your dress before hooking a finger on it and tugging at the fabric.

“My darling, can I?” He asked, rather breathless from the deep kiss. You could only nod in response until you find your voice. That was another way that Baizhu shows he cares, he was patient when you couldn’t get your words out. It was a thing you had struggled with for most of your life. And although it was a small gesture, it was something that mama never bothered to get right.

“Y-Yes daddy~” You managed to whisper a response, your head already felt dizzy and the neck kisses didn't help. Hearing daddy leave your mouth must’ve awakened something primal in him. With a newfound spark of lust in his eyes and a tightened grasp on you, his teeth grazed the skin of your shoulders. You reached behind your back to start unzipping your dress, only for your wrists to be pulled away and held back in one of his hands, while the other pulled the zip down slowly.

“Shhh~ darling, let daddy take care of you now.” An uncomfortable thought came into your head; ‘what if mama came back without warning to see her daughter, clothes slipping off, on her ‘stepdad’s’ lap making out with him?’ But don’t worry, Baizhu has a plan to deal with her if she comes back early. There’s no chance he’d allow this perfect moment to slip through his fingers again. After he pulled the zipper went all the way down, Baizhu started to gently draw circles on your newly exposed skin. The heat building up between your legs was getting frustrating, so you started to rub your clit on Baizhu's thigh to relieve yourself. Until he noticed and gently held your hips in place.

“Darling, I thought you’d let me take over tonight.. you know what happens to bad little girls that don't obey their daddies, don't you, darling?” Baizhu whispered, gently kissing the shell of your ear before continuing, “They. get. punished.” Taping your shoulder blade with each word. Each tap of his finger sent electrifying waves of pleasure down your whole body. You can’t help but lean into his touch, drunk on how quickly you crumbled under his teasing. One thing was for certain, however, the pleasure you felt was unreplicable.

“M'sorry daddy.. don’t punish me, I-I’ll b’good, please..!” You plead, hoping he’d be merciful on you. Since nobody can blame you for being needy. After a few minutes of drawing circles on your back, your dress and bra went flying off you, yelping when the cool air collided with your breasts. Smirking, Baizhu gave your hips a squeeze as his lips left a trail of kisses from your jawline down your chest, before latching onto the hardening nipple. Swirling around it with his tongue, he copied the motion on the other with his fingers, tugging whenever he sucked. All night, Baizhu had been focusing on giving pleasure to your most sensitive spots, like he already had a mental map of where he should focus on.

While your attention was taken up by the stimulation to your breasts, Baizhu let his free hand snake down, across your tummy to settle between your legs. One touch of his slender fingers to your puffy folds sent you jolting forward into his neck with a moan. Thing is, that one touch was only light, nothing much to most people. But to you? Mind-numbing. Actually, you don’t think you’ve ever been this sensitive to anything before.... it’s like your sensitivity to touch became enhanced. Could Baizhu have given you something to do this?

“You like that, don't you, darling? Good girl. Tell me, who’s making you feel this good?”

“Y-You daddy, s’you makin me feel good”

“Good. Fucking. Girl.” With every word, he swiped the pad of his thumb against the nub of your clit. Your hips subconsciously bucked into his hand with newfound lust. Like your body was chasing after his touch after he retracted his thumb. Baizhu's fingers ghosted over the outline of your clit, prodding at your hole. Easing the tip of his index finger inside while holding you steady. When your body relaxed, letting him know you were comfortable with him inside, Baizhu pushed you to the couch so you were laying on your back with him on top. The hand that’d been holding you steady now moved from your lower back to hold your cheek softly, catching any tears that fell over your eyes.

“Fuuck, you're clamping on me so tight.. I’ve barely even started with you, never thought a little foreplay would be all it takes to get you begging for me so soon, darling.” Don’t mind him though, he’s just being all mean and teasing you! He began slowly moving his finger in and out, slightly curving it to graze your soft inner walls. He added a second finger gently, stretching them apart in a scissor motion and continuing to touch places you couldn't dream of being able to touch on your own.

“Fuuck~ ur fingers~ s'deep!” It almost felt uncomfortable, keyword almost. The tender kisses Baizhu left along your body made any kind of discomfort you felt fade away. That is until a strange feeling came creeping into the pit of your stomach. A twisting and churning sensation like a knot threatening to make your insides explode.

“Ha~~! A-Ahh! D-Daddy, feels weird..!”

“Oh? A weird feeling, you say? That's your orgasm building up, darling.” His thumb quickly swiped against the sensitive nub of your clit, “Now be a good little girl and cum for me...” Your eyes peeped open at his words, only for stars to invade your vision as the knot came undone over his fingers and the couch. Your fucked out expression caused Baizhu to smirk in satisfaction, taking pride in being the only person to ever make you orgasm; other than yourself, of course.

“Good girl... ” Baizhu glanced down to where you both connected, taking note of how his wrist was now slightly wet... Did you squirt over him? Or was it sweat? This encounter certainly left you catching your breath.. Your body twitched sporadically as your walls finally began to relax around his fingers, and you sighed in satisfaction. Feeling you come down from your high, Baizhu gently pulled his fingers out, awestruck at your essence which was now dripping down his digits.

“Daddy... love you” You reached your hands out and Baizhu took them in his own, helping your sit up and kissing your knuckles softly.

“Love you too, darling. Cuddles?” He asked, holding his arms out so you could come to him if you wanted. You practically jumped up and slid into his lap, burying your flushed face into his shoulder. ‘Oh, you’re the type to get all cute and cuddly after sexual encounters...’ Baizhu thought, but that’s fine, he’d give all the cuddles you could ever need if you asked. You feel him gently smile on the top of your head alongside wrapping his arms around your middle.

Of course, with all that Baizhu’s done for you tonight, you couldn’t just ignore how hard this encounter made him. His dick throbbed against the cloth holding it back, simply begging for him to do something to relieve it.

“Daddy, lemme help, wanna help it..” You attempted to slip off his lap to kneel between his legs, fully prepared to help him. But he tightens his hold on your body, preventing you from moving much.

“No darling, y’can help me from here.” Baizhu reassured, moving the fabric that concealed his cock out the way. It bounced back against his abdomen, splashing a little precum over his stomach. Your eyes widened, you’ve seen dicks before, (in sex-ed class), but nothing like this. His dick was much bigger than anything you ’ve seen, and certainly bigger than you think you can take. Noticing your unease, Baizhu gently took your wrist and brought your hand to touch it.

“Lemme do it with you, darling... help me feel good too, yeah?” With one arm still holding you tightly, Baizhu’s other hand joined yours, guiding you in jerking him off. Even under two people’s grips, his dick still twitched and pulsed against your hand. Biting your lip, you lean your head down to press small kisses and kitten licks to his swollen, red tip. You looked up at him, still with his tip nestled snuggly in your mouth, eyes trying to convey what you want; for him to use your mouth like a fleshlight.

At first, poor Baizhu didn’t know what to say; he didn’t want to lose his composure and ram into you so hard that it became more uncomfortable than pleasurable, but the look in your eyes conveyed that you were actually begging him to lose it. He let out a long, shaky breath before moving the hand that had been on his cock to hold your hair out of your face. He didn’t even realise he was holding his breath...

“Tap my thigh twice if it gets too much for you, ok darling?” You nodded and began easing more of him into your mouth. He almost couldn’t think straight with just his tip in your mouth, but seeing you slightly struggle to fit him in drove his size kink mad. Baizhu’s fingers raked through your soft hair before setting at the top of your neck, taking control back from you and moving your head along his shaft.

Muffled whimpers and gags mixed with Baizhu’s groans made it easy to lose oneself in ecstasy, so you never noticed the small commotion happening on the other side of the door; never noticed the amused smile on your lover’s face upon realising the trap he and the millelith set achieved it’s intended outcome. Not that you were meant to know about any of this anyway...

“Sh-! Shit, on your knees, darling” You nodded and slid his cock out of your mouth to get into position, obediently for your husband. Baizhu rose from the sofa, guiding his dick back into your mouth as soon as you settled down. This time, he allowed himself the chance to thrust his hips into your mouth, meeting the pace you originally set. His thrusts started slow and deep, becoming more desperate as the pleasure built up.

“god.. m’gonna cum darling” Baizhu’s hold on your hair tightened, pulling at the strands that were wrapped around his slender fingers. He had to lean against the nearest cabinet since his thighs were twitching so much, his legs might’ve given out on him. You have to say, Baizhu’s groans of raw pleasure were a melody you’d never get tired of hearing. Baizhu abruptly pulled out from your mouth, gently taking your hand off from his thigh to place it on his heavy, aching cock.

“Finish it off, darling.. y’did so well, wanna cum on your pretty face..” You nodded and dragged your hand across his dick, feeling the way the large bulging vein running along the underside of his shaft throbbed with need. You leaned a little further up, enough to press your lips against the sensitive skin just underneath his tip. Baizhu’s grip on your hair tightened as his free hand grasped his cock, giving it a few languid pumps.

“Keep still, sweet girl,” He could barely get the words out before the tight coil inside his slender body snapped. Creamy white cum painted your face in spurts and globs, a testament to the adoration that Baizhu had harboured for you for so long.

[bella-rose29]

Golden Boy

Nikolai Lantsov x f!reader

They meet at the University of Ketterdam and sparks fly, but he becomes Sturmhond and she stays behind.

Word count: 5.3k (there's a part two as well send help)

Warnings: swearing, angst, i cried when i wrote this and if it was on paper it would be covered in my tears

Tag list: @bubybubsters, @hauntedenthusiasttragedy, @karensirkobabes, @kentucky-criedfricken, @notoakay, @naushtheaspiringauthor, @el-de-phi, @simbaaas-stuff

Please let me know here if you want to be added or removed from my general Nikolai tag list my lovelies <3

(not my image although i think that's probably obvious)

Y/n was early for her class, which confused her. Normally she was running late, turning up a minimum of five minutes after whatever the event was had started, no matter what, so to be early for once was making her worried. She checked her timetable again, looking at the room number on her paper and the room number on the door, then at the time and date on the paper and the time and date on the huge clock in front of her, all the details matching, and decided she didn't like being early. She also didn't like being late, to be clear; there wasn't much that was more embarrassing than walking in to a room full of people mid-lesson, and having everyone stare at you as you walked to the only available seat that was as far away from the door as humanly possible (which totally wasn't an experience the girl had had before).

Sitting down on one of the chairs outside the classroom, she sighed, hoping the professor would turn up soon. Footsteps started echoing through the corridor immediately after she had the thought, and she was starting to get worried at how lucky she was today.

Maybe I'll go place a bet on something later, she thought. Looking up, however, she saw not the professor but another student, clothes neat and not crumpled at all (the ones she had on were the only clean items she could find on the floor of her room that morning), blond hair perfectly styled (her hair looked like a bird had recently finished nesting in it), and bag slung effortlessly over one shoulder (hers was dumped on the floor, the strap unable to bear more than the weight of a single book most days).

She immediately didn't like him.

When he smiled at her, teeth blindingly white, her dislike grew at this obviously rich posh kid who had never had to ask for a thing in his life, and tried not to physically move away from him when he sat in the seat next to her.

"Are you in 'Languages of the World' too?" he asked.

"No, I just thought I'd sit outside the classroom and wait for the professor of a class I don't attend." His smile faltered slightly, and she felt a little bad. She knew it was harsh, but she had no time for rich kids, and he was obviously one of them. Having grown up on the streets of Ketterdam, working three jobs to pay for her family to stay in a single hotel room, she knew how to suss a person out within five seconds. It wasn't bias, she'd learned how to read body language and facial expressions when she was 9, and it was extremely handy for knowing who to approach and who to avoid in the streets.

"That was sarcasm," she said, even though her voice had been dripping with it just now and there was no way that he had missed it.

"Right..." he trailed off, and thankfully at that moment some other students turned up, giving her an excuse to not talk to him. The professor turned up just as the bell sounded, and Y/n leapt up, desperate to be as far away from Golden Boy as physically possible.

Once inside the classroom, the professor announced a seating plan, and Y/n internally groaned.

Please let me be sat next to someone who has some sort of a grasp on languages, she thought.

In her first week at University while on the hunt for friends, she'd discovered that of all the people in this class, barely anyone spoke something of all the languages taught. Learning other languages had been another skill she'd picked up as a child, since a lot of tourists came to Kerch (although having grown up here, she had no idea why, it was a complete shit hole in her opinion). It had allowed her to get a third job as a translator for some offices, and it paid so well that after only six months working there she was able to drop one of her other jobs.

Finding her name on the sheet of paper the professor had pinned to the board, she went and sat in her seat, taking her books out of her bag. Just as she placed her bag on the floor, she felt someone sit down on her left, and mentally prepared herself for the greeting.

Nothing prepared her for the fact that Golden Boy was her table partner, however, and she choked on her spit. He frowned, concern flashing across his features. "Are you alright? Saints, here, have some water." She took the bottle that he presented, taking a large swig before handing the bottle back to him. Embarrassing that he'd seen that happen, but she had noticed his use of the word 'Saints'. So he was Ravkan. She wasn't sure how she'd missed the slight accent before, but now she knew where he was from, it was obvious.

"I'm alright now, sorry."

"Let me know if you need any more, yeah?" Ghezen's Hand, he even spoke like he'd been raised on caviar and silver platters, despite speaking Kerch.

"I'll be fine, thank you."

Not long after, the register was called, and the professor went round the tables individually. When he got to their table, checking they were there, Y/n almost choked on air again.

"Y/n L/n?"

"Here, sir."

"Nikolai Lantsov?"

What? The professor had made some kind of mistake, surely. There was no way that-

"Here, sir."

What?!

Why the fuck was the second heir to the Ravkan throne in her 'Languages of the World' class? And why was he sat next to her? Although, actually he didn't have much choice in sitting next to her, because of the seating plan, but she chose to ignore that piece of information for the time being. The whole class was tittering, whispers rising as they recognised the name.

"Settle down, students, settle down. Let's get started, shall we?" The professor called, moving to stand behind his desk.

"What. The. Fuck?" she muttered under her breath, although apparently not quietly enough.

"I didn't think he'd do it like that, to be fair. I was hoping I could be a little more incognito, but yes, 'what the fuck' perfectly sums this up I'd say," he whispered, leaning in slightly so that he didn't have to speak so loudly. Y/n refused to turn to look at him, keeping her gaze fixed on the professor at the front of the room and starting to make notes on what he was saying.

The rest of the class passed without too much stress, and luckily Y/n barely had to speak to the prince. No wonder he'd sounded so posh, though. And he probably had been raised on caviar and silver platters. By the time the lesson was over, two hours after it had begun, Y/n couldn't wait to leave. She'd enjoyed learning, but having to sit next to literal royalty wasn't doing wonders for her self-esteem, and her ass hurt from having to sit still on the chair for so long. Packing up her things, she turned to leave, but apparently His Royal Highness Prince Nikolai Lantsov had other ideas.

"I know I haven't made the best impression on you - don't look at me like that, I know I haven't - but did you want to do the homework together? My Fjerdan isn't brilliant, but you seem to be amazing at it, so I was just wondering if you would help?" He looked nervous, hands fidgeting at his sides, pulling at the bottom of his coat. She sighed deeply.

"Fine. Just... try not to be posh or anything. I can't stand it."

"How do I do that?"

"I don't know, do I? If I think you're getting too posh, I'll glare at you and start to leave, alright? Then you know what not to do." She walked off, hoping he'd follow. Sure enough, he did, footsteps echoing as they had earlier. Looking down at his feet she realised that it was because he had fancy shoes on, the kind that she could buy for the price of her house, and scoffed out loud.

"What now? Have I done something posh?"

"No, sorry. It's just that even your shoes are posh."

"Wait," he said, stopping abruptly. She stopped too, half turning back to face him, and frowning when he stuck his hand out. "Hello, I'm Nikolai, but just Nik is fine," he said with a smile, and Y/n's frown turned to an expression of incredulity.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, we got off on the wrong foot, and you don't like me too much, so I figured I should introduce myself the way I should have done before class."

"For the record, this," she waved her hands in his general direction, "is too posh. But fine. I'm Y/n, and don't shorten it, because we're not friends." She took his hand, annoyed when she felt a butterfly take flight in her stomach at how their hands seemed to fit together.

"Yet."

"What?" She pulled her hand back. Enough physical contact for today.

"We're not friends yet. I'm very persistent when I want to be. And I would like to be friends with you."

Y/n snorted. "What for? I've insulted you to your face multiple times the entire time we've known each other, despite the fact that's completely inappropriate."

"That's exactly why I want to be friends with you, because you're not pretending to like me. I could already see everyone else in that class eyeing me up, seeing how they could try and get close to me in a stupid attempt to be able to say that they're friends with royalty. You just ignored me, and to be honest? It felt great."

"Um... you do realise how weird you sound, right?"

"Yeah, I... as soon as I said that I realised. But I mean it, Y/n," he replied, following after her as she started walking again. "It's nice to have to try and make a friend. Wait, that was posh, wasn't it?" At her slow nod he winced, and she felt a pang of sympathy. She supposed that having no idea who your real friends were was something they had in common, and decided she could try being a little nicer to him.

"Look, I'm sorry for being rude and stuff, I just really don't like rich people. I grew up on the streets while I worked 20 hours a day to keep my family in a shitty hotel room and fed and warm and all the rest of it, and when rich people heard about my situation they'd just say 'stop being poor, that'll solve your problems'." He was staring at her, unreadable expression on his face, and it was making her slightly uncomfortable. She'd never not been able to read someone before. "But... I know what it's like to be alone, and honestly Ketterdam is one of the last places you wanna be alone, so if having a real friend is gonna help, then I guess I can let you tag along to my study sessions. This does not mean that we are friends, to be clear. You've still gotta work for that. But I'm giving you extra opportunities, alright?" He nodded, so fast she was worried his head would go flying off, and the smile on his face was so wide and genuine she couldn't help but let a small smile onto her own face.

"You have every right to not like me, especially with a life like that. I'm sorry that that happened, too. But I promise I'll try and convince you to be my friend, and then be the absolute best friend you could ever have asked for."

She rolled her eyes at his words, pushing open the door to the University library. "You are very full of yourself, you know that?"

"I have been told that, yes. Most often by Dominik, actually. But then he's always calling me names, so I feel the need to defend myself by making myself feel important and unstoppable."

Snorting at him she asked "Who's Dominik?", and finding a table in the back of the library and sitting down, she pulled out the homework.

"My best friend, lives in Ravka. He's in the army now, down in the front lines. We grew up together."

"Is he posh like you?"

"Nope. His family lives on a farm. They're better off than they were when we were growing up; I've managed to siphon funds from a noble I don't like to his family so that they don't have to worry too much. The harvest can be rough where they are, so I didn't want them to starve. They always managed to put food on the table when I came over, so this is my way of saying thank you, I guess."

Y/n couldn't help but stare in shock at the prince (who was blissfully unaware as he unpacked his own bag). "Wait. Your best friend is a commoner?"

"Yeah. You'd probably get on, actually. Bond over teasing the shit out of me or something."

"And you're helping his family?"

He paused in his movements, looking at her properly. Seeing the confusion on her face, his own expression softened. "You think it's impossible for a rich person to help someone."

It wasn't a question, but she still nodded. Having grown up expecting the least from everybody, she was used to people with money doing nothing, leaving the poor on the streets. Never, in her life, had she met a rich person that had actively done something useful to help someone else, so to hear Nikolai Lantsov, prince of the Ravkan throne, talk about how he was helping a poor family made her want to hug him.

"You know, usually when people say 'impossible' they actually mean 'improbable'," he said, and she smiled a little.

"That's stupid."

He shrugged. "It's true though. Think about it. You thought it was impossible for a rich person to help someone, but I've just proved to you that it's only improbable, because out of all the ones you've come across, I'm the only rich person you've met that has."

She couldn't deny his logic. "Still stupid. Come on, I heard your Fjerdan earlier, this is gonna take all week."

They spent hours in the library, occasionally getting up and walking around the table to stretch their legs or collect a book, and by the time they were kicked out by the librarian due to closing, Y/n had found herself having fun. He was funny, and actually quite nice, and yes, his Fjerdan was horrific, but he was a fast learner, and by the time they left for the night he had improved significantly.

"How long until I'm fluent, then?"

"Not sure. How long are you here for?"

"Three years, apparently. I might die of boredom before then, there doesn't appear to be much else to do, and my parents want me to do a politics course next year."

"You might die of boredom? What are you, a puppy in need of constant entertainment?"

"Ironically my nickname in court is 'Sobachka', so sort of." Y/n reached her door, pausing outside.

"This is me. This is also not an invitation to be outside my door every opportunity you get, alright?" He nodded. "Good. Night, Nik." She opened her door, stepping inside and closing it again before he had a chance to reply.

~~~

He took every opportunity to be outside her door.

It was infuriating at first, how persistent he was, but after a week of him trailing her heels she figured she should just get used to it.

They spent most evenings in either her or his room (his was significantly more neat and tidy than hers), studying, doing homework, or trying to get Nikolai better at speaking Fjerdan (it really was atrocious, which she couldn't understand since he'd pretty much mastered all the other languages). The rest of the time was spent in lessons, or for Y/n working shifts whenever she had some spare time. Nikolai had offered to help out financially, but Y/n, despite her constant pleadings that rich people would give away more of their money to the people that needed it, refused to take his. It felt too much like she was using him, and given how excited he'd been to have a real friend, she just felt bad thinking about it.

One night they were in her room, Nikolai sprawled on her bed and Y/n picking various things up off the floor and other surfaces in an attempt to tidy. He had an arm flung over his forehead, and a leg dangled off the side of the bed, making him look like one of those ladies in a painting that had fainted onto a fancy sofa.

"You could help me, you know."

"You wouldn't let me. As soon as I touched something you'd tell me not to break it, or that I'm putting it in the wrong place." She groaned at his words, knowing frustratingly that he was right. It was annoying how quickly he'd worked out how to understand her, but then he was a fast learner. That thought made her pause.

"If you're such a fast learner, how come you're shit at speaking Fjerdan?"

"What do you mean?" He removed his arm from his head, opening an eye to squint up at her. "I'm not that bad."

"Uh, yeah you are. I had to teach you the word for 'goodbye' yesterday because you'd forgotten it. Seriously, who is that bad at Fjerdan? I know it's not an easy language to learn, but you've mastered the others." He blushed a light pink, pushing himself up on his elbows.

"I uh, I haven't been entirely honest with you, and when I tell you I need you to not hate me" he started, looking like he was bracing himself for a physical attack.

"What." Her eyes narrowed.

"I'm actually fluent in Fjerdan, I just pretended I couldn't understand it so that we had a legitimate reason to spend time together," he replied, in perfect, unaccented Fjerdan. She froze where she stood, eyes wide, then chucked the decorative pillow she was holding at his head. "Ow!" he cried as it made contact, falling backwards against the covers.

"Well you deserve it, you bastard! You've been lying to me for a week because you were desperate for a friend?! I would have been your friend anyway, you dipshit!"

"You... you would?"

"Yes!" she shouted, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. Her breath came rapidly, chest heaving from shouting.

"Oh..." he paused, looking bashful. "I just... normally I'm good at making friends, I just figured you wouldn't want to spend time with a rich kid unless you had a reason to. And I really wanted to be friends with you, Y/n."

"Well how did you become friends with Dominik? Pretend you were shit at Zemeni?"

"It was a lot more complicated than that, and no I did not. You know that my Zemeni is flawless," he held a hand to his chest in mock hurt, a pout forming on his face.

"Oh, forgive me for not remembering that when you lied to my face about your Fjerdan!"

"You aren't too mad at me, are you?" he questioned, pushing himself up into a sitting position, worry filling his expression.

"No, I'm not. I just... am frustrated that you didn't tell me sooner."

"I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you!"

"Oh, you don't have to-"

"No, I will," he said, leaping up from the bed to stand in front of her and hold her arms. "I will. Are you free tomorrow evening? Actually, don't answer that, I know you are. I'll pick you up at six bells, alright?"

"Pick me up? Nik, what do you mean?"

"I'll feed you, all you have to do is look pretty and bring your appetite, which shouldn't be too difficult for you given how gorgeous you are anyway, because I'm paying and that's that."

Y/n felt her face warm at his words, and the pesky butterflies that had slowly been waking up the last week fluttered in her stomach.

"I don't have anything nice to wear though, so you'll just have to deal with what I've got and not take me anywhere fancy. Seriously, a street vendor would be fine. And don't spend too much, becau-"

"Saints, please stop talking! I will take you where I want to take you and if you don't have anything to wear then tell me, because I refuse to be seen in public with somebody who's naked, alright?" She hit him (gently), and he jumped back, laughing. "I mean it! Imagine how ruinous that could be for my reputation!" She hit him again, smiling along with him as he picked up a pillow to defend himself. Y/n lifted a pillow of her own, and before long they were having an all-out pillow fight on the floor of her bedroom.

~~~

Y/n was panicking.

It wouldn't be long until six bells, and where she was always late, Nikolai was extremely punctual, and she knew for a fact that he would be knocking on her door as soon as the first bell sounded, and here she was, stood in the middle of her room, surrounded by clothes yet not wearing any of them. She was yet to pick an outfit, and although she'd said to Nikolai yesterday that he'd have to deal with whatever she picked out, and she'd never been one for caring what other people thought of her clothes, but for some reason, nothing seemed good enough.

"Ugh, this is ridiculous!"

It was ridiculous, how much time she had spent on finding the perfect outfit. But for some reason she wanted to look nice for their date- wait, what? Since when had she been thinking of this as a date?!

A knock sounded at her door, three sharp raps, and she knew immediately that it was Nikolai.

"Shit!" she whispered, the word leaving her mouth like a hiss. "Uh, one minute!" She heard muffled laughter (the bastard), and hopped around the room, picking up random items and pulling them on as quickly as she could. Running over to the door, she yanked it open, revealing her Golden Boy, hands in his pockets, looking effortlessly handsome in his simple white shirt and black slacks.

"Are you sure you want to wear that? I know I said I wouldn't judge you, but this outfit is really quite something." He was trying to hide his smirk incredibly unsuccessfully, and she slapped him on the arm, sending him a glare.

"Look, I'm struggling, okay? You haven't told me anything about where we're going, and I have no idea what I should wear!"

"Just... okay." He walked around the small room, rummaging through the various piles of clothes, discarding most and throwing them to the side. "Aha! Here, put these on." He shoved the articles he'd gathered into her hands, then pushed her behind the screen she'd put up in the corner of the room. Changing quickly, and definitely not almost falling over multiple times, she emerged five minutes later, dressed in the blouse and long skirt he'd picked out for her.

"Alright, fine. Can we go now?"

"Hmm?" He turned around, then froze, staring at her.

"What? You were the one that chose this outfit, if there's a problem it's your fault!"

"No! No, it's not that, you just... you look... good," he finished quietly, blushing.

"Oh," she replied, her own blush heating up her cheeks. "Well, um... let me just put my shoes on, and then we can go." He nodded, and watched as she laced up her boots. Opening the door for her when she was done, Nikolai offered his other arm up to Y/n, and she took it gladly (partly to be closer to him and partly to stop herself falling over from how nervous she was). "Actually, where are we going?"

"A tiny restaurant I found on my first day here; the food is incredible."

The walk was short, and it startled Y/n to realise that Nikolai's guards had come with them, trailing behind at a distance. When she'd asked him about it, he just said that they'd always been there, just out of sight. She wondered how many of their conversations they'd overheard, or if they'd picked up on how much she liked her Golden Boy now. She didn't have much time to ponder, however, as Nikolai pulled her around a corner into a hidden courtyard that, in her entire life living in Ketterdam, she had never noticed before.

"What? Don't you like it? We can go somewhere else, if you want? I just thought tha-"

"You're rambling, Nik. And I do like it, I'm just annoyed that you found this place before I did and you didn't even grow up here!"

"Oh! Well that's alright then. Come on!" He seemed to ignore everything she'd said past 'like it', dragging her along by the arm to a table out the front of the restaurant. They were greeted a few moments later, presented with menus and the specials, then left to decide what they wanted. Y/n made her mind up quickly (a habit she'd picked up from not liking being rushed), then took the time to look around.

The courtyard was small, boxed in by tiny apartments on all sides, some with little balconies overlooking the square. The walls were lined with plants, flowers blooming despite it being late in the year, and small lights littered the spaces in between the leaves. It was gorgeous, and she wondered how often Nikolai had come here. Speaking of Nikolai, she turned back to study him. He seemed to be taking extra time to decide what he wanted, brow furrowed as he browsed the menu, biting a nail as he did so. A strand of his hair had come away from his perfectly styled locks (seriously, who had time for that?), and before she knew what she was doing, Y/n was reaching over and smoothing it back.

Nikolai had looked up as she moved, and was now sat staring at her, eyes wide, as her hand brushed his forehead.

"What," he cleared his throat, "What are you doing?" His voice was shaky, and filled with nerves, and Y/n thought he was adorable like this.

"You had a hair out of place, and it was annoying me," she shrugged, leaning back in her seat. "Have you chosen yet?" He nodded, still looking at her, a dazed expression on his face.

"Yeah, I have," he replied, voice quiet, and Y/n got the distinct feeling that he wasn't talking about the food.

~~~

The rest of the evening passed in a blur, filled with laughter and talking, and never a dull moment. There were silences, yes, but they were comfortable, and the longer the night went on, the more Y/n found herself thinking of it as a date.

He might not be thinking it's a date, though. I don't want to get my hopes up.

When they came to leave, Nikolai paid just like he said he would (much to Y/n's annoyance, because she could have paid for her own meal), and they left the courtyard arm in arm.

They were almost back to the University when Nikolai spoke.

"I had a nice time tonight, Y/n." She'd been looking up at the stars, barely visible through the clouds and making her neck sore, but now she turned her head to face him.

"Me too." They were quiet again for a bit, but then Nikolai started huffing, apparently wanting to say something but not finding the words or the courage. "Spit it out, Lantsov."

"Was this a date?"

His words shocked her, and her mind went blank for a moment. At her lack of answer he grew worried, concern that he'd messed things up crossing his features, and she quickly went to rectify it.

"I'd like it to be. You know, if you would. Obviously if you don't then no, but if you do then that's-"

"I'd like it to be a date, Y/n/n."

"Oh. Good. Okay then." Y/n was quiet for a minute. "Good." She winced at herself, cringing at how awkward she was making it, but luckily they pulled to a stop outside her door, giving her an escape. He was smiling at her, a soft smile reserved for her, not one of the blinding ones he used to win people over, and her heart fluttered.

"Night then. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, see you tomorrow, Nik." She went to open her door, pausing for a moment as she made a decision. Reaching up, she planted her lips on his cheek, then hurried inside and slammed the door, leaving him standing in the hallway.

~~~

Three weeks later, Y/n was sat at a table in one of the coffee shops littered around the campus, usually filled with students dead on their feet needing the caffeine to get through a class without falling asleep. She had her notes out in front of her, working her way through an essay she had to write, when a book slammed on the table, making her jump. She looked up, immediately finding the perpetrator.

"What the fuck, Nik? Why would you- oh shit. No. Not that face. That's your 'I have an idea that you won't approve of' face, and we both know what happened last time."

He'd fallen off a wall trying to climb it, saying he could sneak into the principal's office from there. He'd ended up concussed.

"That is not a face I have, and anyway, you've only known me for like, a month, Y/n/n, how do you know what my faces are already?"

"I'm good at reading people," she shrugged. "Go on, spit it out."

"Hear me out," he said, excitement creeping into his voice. He lifted the book in front of him.

"Privateering for dummies? Nik, seriously, what are you gonna do?" He frowned, turning the book to read the title.

"Shit, I picked up the wrong one. I know the basics already, just wanted to learn some history really. Must have left in such a hurry I didn't get the right book."

"What do you mean, you know the basics? You're going round attacking enemy ships in your spare time? Wait, is that why you bailed on me the other day?"

"I didn't bail on you, I forgot, and was busy with something else, so can we please move on from that. And no, I'm not a privateer yet, I just..." he sighed, finally sitting down. "I can't stay here, Y/n/n. I'm bored as fuck and while you are amazing, and learning languages with you is great, I need to be doing more. You know what I'm like, always fidgeting. I think this will be good for me."

"One, you need to actually tell me what you were doing to bail on me, and then we can move on. Two, I know I'm amazing, but thank you for the extra validation. Three, why privateering? Why not become a mechanic or something? And four - don't look at me like that! You can't come in here, dump that information on me and then expect me to just smile and go along with it! Four, what about your obligations? Won't people notice that the second prince of Ravka has disappeared, and then not long later a privateer that looks remarkably like Nikolai Lantsov turns up?"

"All valid points. If you must know, I completely forgot we had plans, and I feel really bad about it, but at the same time I was reading this incredible book that I couldn't put down, and then there was a really hot sex scene, and I-""

"Okay! I don't need the details, thank you!"

"Fine, fine," he said, dodging the straw she threw at him. "Privateering because when I was travelling over here, and this is going to sound really cheesy, but I just felt... at home. I felt more like me than I had for a long time, and when you've spent your life cooped up in a palace, although not cooped up, 'cause it's a big space, but you know what I mean," he paused, frowning as he tried to remember his train of thought. "It felt so free out there, nothing but water as far as the eye can see, and I don't know, maybe I could do more for Ravka out there than I ever could as the spare. As for your fourth point, I'll get tailored, change what I look like, keep a low profile for a little while so the timings don't quite match up."

Y/n was silent for a while, contemplating everything he'd said. "When would you leave?"

"We would leave next week, I've already made arrangements for a couple of things, but pretty much everything else will have to be done on the night, because I can't get everything past my guards. What? What's that face for?"

"'We'?" she asked quietly. "What do you mean 'we'?"

"Aren't... you're not coming with me?" He looked confused, and gods bless him he wore his heart on his sleeve, because his expression was so genuine and so lost that she immediately felt bad for what she was about to say.

"No, Nik," she started gently. "I can't go with you, not when I've worked my ass off my whole life to get here. I need this degree to get a proper job, so that I can support my family, and being with you won't help that." She saw hurt flash across his face, which quickly morphed into a neutral expression, attempted boredom covering up any real feelings.

"Being with me?"

"You know, going and being a privateer with you. Obviously I don't mean literally being with you, or we wouldn't be together, but abandoning all of this? I'm sorry, Nik, but I can't do it, not even for you." He nodded, still no sign of any emotion on his face, and even when she tried hard to read him, Y/n got nothing. She felt horrible, knowing that she was the one that had made her sweet Golden Boy look numb inside, but she couldn't take back her words. She'd worked too hard for this life, and no matter what she felt for the man sitting opposite her, she couldn't just give it up. He stood, taking Privateering for Dummies with him, and left the coffee shop without looking back.

~~~

The next few days were excruciating, having to spend all of her classes with him trying to make conversation while he tried to ignore her, or when he had no choice but to speak to her, answering in short sentences. The professor had noticed, and one lesson asked if Y/n wanted to move, but she'd said no, not wanting to give up just yet. She'd be damned if Nikolai left while they were still on bad terms.

After one particularly painful lesson where he'd spent the entire time pretending he couldn't hear her because his ears were blocked from the bath he took that morning (a blatant lie, she was sure), Y/n approached his dorm door, knocking firmly. It swung open not long after, revealing Nikolai, hair mussed and bags under his eyes. Upon realising who was stood at his door, he went to close it, but Y/n snuck in under his arm, moving to stand in the middle of the room. It was a mess, clothes everywhere, bed unmade, books and papers scattered on every surface. Normally he was the picture of tidiness, and seeing his room so chaotic made her heart hurt. "Nik," she began.

"Just go, please." His voice was tired, assumedly from his lack of sleep, and she started walking towards the door. He opened it back up for her, but Y/n threw her arms around him instead, bringing him into a hug.

"I'm sorry, Nik. I'm so so sorry. Why didn't you tell me you were like this?"

"I didn't want you to worry, darling." He was sniffling against her neck as he wrapped his own arms around her. The pet name made her heart skip a beat, and she didn't understand why he wouldn't tell his girlfriend that he'd been in such a state.

"I'll always worry about you, Nik, you're my best friend," she replied. "And also my partner, which makes the worry doubled."

"Please, just go. I'm leaving tonight anyway, and I'd rather I didn't get caught and drag you down with me." He pulled away from her, wiping his eyes and going to pack more things away. Now that she understood that tonight was the night, she realised that his room was a mess because he was leaving.

"I don't want you to go on bad terms, Nik. What if something happens to you before we see each other again and we don't get a chance to work things out?" Desperation had crept into her voice now, but Y/n didn't care. Not when tomorrow she would be alone again. "Please, just talk to me, we'll figure this out."

He shook his head, shoving more things into the bag on his bed. He pulled on a thick jumper, ears popping out as it came over his head and hair somehow more tousled than it had been before. "There isn't anything to figure out. I want to go, and you want to stay. I was just doing damage control so that when I left it hurt less."

"This is hurting more, Nik, can't you see that? I've spent the last however many days thinking that you hate me because you won't even talk to me, let alone look at me! You might think that what you did was better, but it's not, not in the slightest. Because now I'm scared that you'll just keep pushing me away, instead of helping fix this, and I don't want you to push me away!" He flinched as her voice rose, but she couldn't bring herself to care, not when she now had tears streaming down her cheeks and a lump in her throat at the idea that maybe he was just like all the other rich people, and she was just a charity case to him. She'd been stupid to trust him, to think that he was different, and when he didn't say anything, she huffed, suspicions confirmed. "Fine. Fine. But don't come running back to me the next time you're in Ketterdam because you want someone to be your friend, because I won't be there." She pulled her necklace out, chucking it on the bed. "Keep it, so that you can remember how badly you fucked this up every day you're out on the True Sea."

She was being bitter again, just like when they'd first met, but now she had good reason. She wanted him to have a reminder of her, and her necklace would be perfect. Nikolai was still silent, stood by his bed and staring blankly at the object she'd thrown his way, and when she closed the door behind her, the silver of it was glinting cruelly in the light of his lamp.

Part 2

[aliciavance4228]

I Hate Lore Olympus (Sorry Not Sorry)

Note: I know that "hate" is a big word and that "dislike" is more fitting. But I never thought that I would ever encounter a comic that is so bad from its very beginning, so I have all the right to use it.

I remember that back when I was around 13 I heard for the very first time about Lore Olympus. I was already into Greek Mythology back then, but I hesistated reading/watching Lore Olympus and I remember myself abandoning it exactly in the middle of episode 10.

So I'm going to talk here about every little aspect that I didn't like about it and made me willing to abandon it so far.

The Colors

Look, I know that associating each god with a specific color based either on their role or personality isn't a new idea; we already see that in Disney's Hercules. At first I was like: "That must be interesting. I mean, it’s an easy way to distinguish each one of them, right?" But then I realized that the main reason why the creator chose to do that in the first place was because she wasn't too good at drawing. There are panels in which the characters are looking normal, and others in which they don’t look like themselves. The only thing that indicates you that yes, this is [Insert Name], is purely their color.

Also, I do not like the choice of color for many characters as well. For instace, the only reason why I believe that Hades is blue and Persephone is pink is because of the "boys=blue; girls=pink" stereotype. Also, why are Zeus and Poseidon purple and green, respectively? For me, it would've made more sense if Zeus was either white or golden and if Poseidon was the blue one. For Hades I think that either black (mortuary color), purple (associated with the riches) or at least a shade of grey would've been a better choice. As for Persephone, I think that ivy, teal, liliac and indigo would've all been better options.

Oh, and... why is Minthe red? Judging by her pointy years the creator wanted to make her look like some sort of a she-devil instead of a nymph. Mint green would've been a better color choice for her.

The Art Style on its own

This is a very subjective opinion, but I don't like this way too colorful, cartoonish design. I quess I'm just way too used of Seinen and Josei, lol.

On a serious note though, back when I was 6 I literally had a fairy tale book full of graphic/explicit illustrations. Inside the "Bluebeard" chapter there was literally an image with all of Bluebeard's previous wives beheaded, tied and thrown into a pool of blood. Not a very long time ago we used to tell our kids stories about cannibalism and child abandonment (looking at you, Hansel and Gretel!), because children are capable enough to understand that life isn't just rainbows and love and that bad thing are happening too. Are you really going to tell me that a pre-teen cannot read a comic series unless it's extremely colored and looks like something made by Disney?!

Minthe

You could've made Minthe either Hades' ex or a girl who tried to seduce him while knowing that he is already in a relationship. In these cases I would understand why you would choose to villainize her and turn her into the Big Bad Guy. But the fact that she and Hades were already in a relationship and he was willing to have an affair with another woman without any hesitation justifies her anger completely, anyone would be angry if they would know that their partner is cheating on them. The choice of making Persephone the mistress instead of her and then acting as if Minthe was in fact the bitch all this time is horrible.

Persephone

I want to know:

Why does she look and act like a child? Just because she was initially an "innocent flower girl" or something like that before she was kidnapped in the original myths that doesn’t mean that she has to act straight up like an infant. This kinda reminds of some sort of a Betty Boop situation: she's basically a character with the head of a child put on the body of a grown sexy woman; which not only that makes men thirsty over her, but helps them to easily manipulate her as well.

And look, I know that Homer is partly to be blamed for this as well: he describes her as trim-ankled and buxom all the time, so in this case it's alright to criticize the poet for the amount of unnecessary fanservice. Don't take this part too seriously.

Why is she only 19 whereas Hades is 2000+? Look, I know that even in the original Greek Mythology there is a generational gap between Hades and Persephone, but you could've made her at least a few centuries older. Was it that hard?! In this comic Hades is both physically and mentally WAY older than her, which instantly makes this relationship creepier than in the original myths. What is next, making her a minor?!

Why is she this little cupcake uncapable of doing anything wrong? Give me a complex character as a protagonist, not a Mary Sue. I understand that you wanted a compassionate and emphatic Persephone, but you know that just because someone is nice that doesn’t mean that they're automatically naïve or stupid, nor that they cannot have layers, right?

Hades

Look, I know that for a significant amount of time Hades was considered the equivalent of Satan and by extension depicted as evil by the Christian Hollywood. But just because he wasn't the devil that doesn’t mean that he automatically was this innocent shy awkard cute saint that never does anything wrong and should be raised in glory. You could've at least give him a dark and dour personality: make him morbid, brooding, sarcastic, surly, insufferable... I don't know, just anything. Besides, I don't like how the narrative acts as if he has no fault at all, when it's quite obivious not only that he cheated on Minthe, but that both of them are toxic and abusive in this relationship, not only her.

Ah, and... he's a creep. He's more of a creep here than in the original Greek Myths, and he's literally kidnapping her there. It's very obivious that he likes Persephone only for her body and nothing else. Even Plato wrote: "This is the reason why Haides, who is wise, consorts with her [Persephone], because she is wise." once.

Remember that moment from episode 8 when she asks him to help her with her hair, and he not only that immediately assumes that she wants to have sex with him, but also tells her that they can do that in the kitchen but to be careful because he has loud neighbors or something like that? That was straight up disgusting in my honest opinion and not exactly something that the ultimate gentleman this narrative presents him as would say.

Demeter

I vaguely remember one moment when Demeter shows Persephone a greenhouse or something like that, which turns out to be a cage. I can't tell for the moment if it was a dream or something that actually happened, but depicting Demeter as an overbearing mother is an instant big no for me. If anyone dares to demonize her just because they ship Hades and Persephone then I invite them to sleep in my trash can, no discussion.

Aphrodite

I just want to know why is Persephone more beautiful than the Goddess of Beauty. You cannot make the Goddess of Beauty less attractive than your MC, just because all the focus is on her.

Overall, I am very glad that I didn't continue it, and that because, from what I heard, things are becoming creepier and creepier with each chapter, and the entire comic is an insult to Greek Mythology (I can tell).

[evita-shelby]

They didn't know we were seeds

chapter 23

cw: mentions of infant death by natural causes, disability caused by injury, past sexual assault, abuse of power.

taglist @justrainandcoffee @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings

Despite the new armor the Peacekeepers sport and the tighter restrictions, things had returned to what could almost pass as normal.

Eva continues her businesses, her cousins go unbothered by Campbell and his men and, despite the alarming rise in public floggings and the blatant abuse of power, there is no proof Eva is involved in any rebel activity.

But the Inspector, now Major, has not given up.

The Shelbys have taken their sweet time taking care of the pig, the victory tour is set to start soon, and the man is still six feet above ground.

“Your son takes after his father; in ten years they will be betting how well his genetics help in the arena.” Campbell is waiting for her in the only café that can cater to him. He wrinkles his nose at the aromas of a typical 10 foods, the rich foods that are the norm here deemed disgusting for those with weaker palates like Chester Campbell.

“That is still a long time from now, a lot could change by then.” Because if it doesn’t, we’ll all be dead anyways.

“Your status as Victor won’t keep him from the reaping bowl. Your kind has grown confident that winning a game will save them from justice.” The man speaks and Eva feels her skin crawl.

Your kind. He was of the same cloth Evertt and all those monsters were.

No wonder Jack feared the man. Who knows what things Campbell did when he was in Two,

“I never said I could save him from the reaping bowl with my status.” Eva drinks her coffee with feigned calmness as she reminds him what sort of dangers a district already has. “Who is to say Laurie won’t die in an accident or illness, or become disabled? Just yesterday a newborn girl died eaten by ants when they crept inside her Panem-issued formula, a week ago a twelve-year-old boy fell into the canals playing with frogs and now he can’t even walk or collect tesserae. The world is filled with perils, sir.”

“Laws state a Peacekeeper can remove children who are in danger from her own parents, I would hate to see them take your little boy from you because you’ve gone insane, Miss. Smith.” The man sits there thinking she’d go as far as hurting and killing her son to keep him from the games.

Good. It means that he and his superiors will think she is desperate enough to agree to anything for Laurie’s sake.

Eva doesn’t care if Campbell acts on his suspicions, she just needs him to file that report and send it straight to Snow.

“Have you seen the white roses in my front lawn, Major?” the woman hides her smile as the man nods knowing they were a gift from Snow. The Victor has made sure everyone and their dog knows it, shown how loyal she is to him and his freak show by proudly displaying them for everyone to see.

“President Snow gave me the first one. A lovely white damask rose with a strong smell that lasts almost three times as long as the average ones, didn’t take long to grow roots under my care and now I have three bushes.” Eva grows bold enough to take one of the colorful little pastries the good major has left untouched and picking a piece off it breaking all those rules she was taught by her aunt and later Clemens. “Anyways, he had cut it from its branch because the acidity in the soil gave it a pink tone and its defect ruined the scene. The rose was a warning of what he does to those who rebel against him, and if you remember my games, you will remember that I won due to my cunning and not strength or skill with a weapon. Those roses I care for so much are my way of assuring President Snow I know my limits and will not cross them.

I am not Katniss nor Peeta, in fact, if those two could be more like me, we wouldn’t be in this mess and the rules wouldn’t have changed after seventy-four years.”

“Then why do you and Mr. Nelson meet in secret at your farm? Did you really believe I don’t know he comes here disguised as a Peacekeeper?” the man shows the card he’d hidden under his sleeve and if falls like ice down her back.

They knew. They knew! THEY KNEW!

It takes Eva’s all to keep the mask from breaking.

Who? Had Laurie told the wrong person? No, she knew his teachers would have warned her. Her farmhands who’d seen a man leave some mornings. No, they assumed he was a married man from town.

Who?

“One or two raids and the two of you would be dead, your families reduced to avoxes and your sweet little son in a home waiting for his twelfth birthday so he can join the two of you in death.” The man smiles as if he had delivered her the best of news. “All because his father stole an identity of a dead man.”

They had to kill him. If Shelby didn’t fucking do it, then Eva would.

When Eva calls, it is always when Jack is home from work and at once Atia’s son would then lock himself in his bedroom with the house phone for privacy.

This time Atia is alone, having a relaxing spa day on her day off. She’d done the things she needed at work, sent the latest developments in the new line of bombers Snow’s Minister of Defense had approved and received instructions on how to make the prototype of a disruptor for the fences’ electrical system.

Atia Nelson once trained to become a pilot, only an incident at a training camp put an end to that and sent her down the path of aeronautical engineering. Had she never fucked around with her roommate and a young man from the northern villages, the redhead wouldn’t have found her true calling nor had her three children. And now her expertise served a greater purpose: avenging Laurie and Gina.

“Jack isn’t home.” Atia says thinking it’s one of those days where Eva calls to have a private moment with her husband.

“They know.”

They know.

It made sense now, why Jack was never caught, why it was all too easy these years. Shelby may have thought himself safe, but no one is. They never have been.

“Who?” not who betrayed them, but who holds this information.

“Campbell. He’s threatened to raid the farm and take Laurie from me.”

Jack had warned her, kept her here and going alone to visit his family to keep her from getting caught in Campbell’s crosshairs.

But it had still happened and now they couldn’t wait for Shelby and his people to kill the pig. Things since the last games and the Victory Tour had become worse and would only get worse until it finally ends.

And because of that, the three of them cannot afford to wait any longer.

The memory of his hands on her, in her, as he used her knowing she’d do anything for her children still sickens her these days. She feels as helpless as then and fears what he would do to Eva, to their families, to Laurie whose only crime was to be born to people from different districts.

“Here’s what we’ll do.”

The prototype would be functional in less than an hour, she could try it out before the week is up and if not, she knows enough about these fences to know a pair of jump cables, gloves and the rubber handled wire cutters in the tool box did the job just as good.

Jack would be the bait; Laurie would be safely kept in Eva’s home with her aunt and Atia will show the man Jack’s skills didn’t just come from his sperm donor. She was great with a whip even now.

She’s never killed a soul, but lucky for her, Chester Campbell doesn’t have one.

The first test failed, but with all the adjustments Atia has made to it after has it work like a charm. Jack leaves as Sejanus Smith and not Sulla Felix knowing his old badge would set the dogs after him.

Her son hesitates when she tells him she will be using Beetee’s device to reach the farm alone.

“Don’t worry about your mama, little rabbit.” She assures him as she helps him don the riot gear and kissed the top of his head just as she always did when he was scared. Her grown-up son still as scared as he was that day he was taken to the juvenile correctional facility. “Once its over, it will be over for good.”

[shayshaybiscuit25]

I no longer support white celebs or people//

How do people not realize this is basically birthing hatred in your own heart. It makes one no better than the people they claim to hate. All white people aren’t the problem, majority, to the point racism is still ramped, yes, but to blindly go around claiming to not like or support every single white person based on the actions of others makes you seem childish asf anon. I get mad at racist, not all white people.

I suggest you go to you local library and take a deep dive in history, if it weren’t for certain white advocates even in small numbers, a lot of risked their lives along with our black leaders, a lot of things would not have occurred nor improved.

Go learn about the White Panther party.

I get so tired of people looking at things on the internet and basing conclusions without realizing you obviously know very little about our history let alone the world to make a baseless statement like that,even reading this you’re probably thinking I’m “standing up for the white man” 🙄

Some of you need to learn what’s happened. I know things are bad now, but sweetheart they’ve been worse they’ve also at one point were amazing. Many of you weren’t born to know there were three beautiful decades where black folks THRIVED!! We everywhere, music, tv, etc. We were and forever will be IT! ✨ unfortunately racist and some black people who chose money over the betterment of our people (Hi BET 🖕🏾), shut that down and now we have the entertainment industry as you all know it now. This is why many of us that you all think are “haters” say music, tv and movies aren’t the same. We had multiple talented black women across genres, not just one or two. We had every skin tone represented. Many of you truly don’t understand how y’all fall for some of the most mediocre stuff nowadays yet call it “talent”.

The standard has dropped significantly to the point everyone and their mama are getting famous now.

I may sound like a prude, but the over sexualization of black women ain’t it. They are trying to have our young girls and immature grown women thinking certain types of behavior and attire is appropriate when it’s not. No one is saying cover up head to toe, but many do not understand there’s a time and place for things. Most of our celebs are focused on money and not the influence they are putting out there. It’s all going to blow up eventually. We went from artist standing up and using their talents and platforms to better our community, go listen to L-Boogie “That Thing”, and listen to the lyrics. Nina Simone, BillieHoliday, etc to now where people can say a basic quote that sounds nice and people automatically label them an advocate. Don’t even get me started on various white artists using black artist to boost their careers or eras. (Miley Cyrus now claims to be embarrassed by her Bangerz era, yet claimed back then that was her authentic self, stop letting people use us)

I understand the times change, but said change isn’t always good. We’re still being used in ways many can’t comprehend.

Idol worship is seen as “normal”. People really be out here worshipping other humans who mock God, yet claim to be “Christian”, I don’t care if someone claims to “love” God with their mouth, actions speak louder than words. Too many baby Christians out here getting easily influenced because they lack knowledge of HIS word. I’m serious, people better stop playing with God and making excuses for their actions. God don’t play that. He shows us love, grace and mercy, yes, but putting demonic affiliation in music videos, calling God the n-word, Calling God out his name in general, mocking him, etc.

Showing every single inch of their bodies and trying to claim it’s for expression or women rights, nah you can love you and be sexy without doing all that. There’s a reason the black women of the 70s, 80s and 90s were top tier, sometimes less is indeed more.

Just because someone is rich and famous doesn’t mean they are “blessed” by God. People don’t think Satan will be crafty enough to have you believing you’re doing great, not realizing lukewarm Christianity is not good. God will spit them out of his mouth.

Don’t allow these entertainers have any of you out here drifting away from God all because you love your fav. These music artist today display the darkness right in front of us all, but get praised. Go watch the videos of early 2010s to now and tell me they haven’t gotten darker and more revealing in various ways.

Y’all stay blessed and just keep your eyes and hearts open. Developing the gift of discernment is a true blessing. People think because we’re saved we can do anything, but God knows all. We speak in love and truth. His word is Truth.

Oh wowwwwww

Anon to Anon.

[just-walk-around]

I don't know if is because I'm aro but I really will prefer that in the miraculous ladybug show the relationship between Adrien and Marinette were more like friends or family than romantic.

Like the writer kind of fucked up with Adrien character, most of the shady shit he had pulled was glossed over.

Nothing make more happy that reading a fic were this is deal with and they start over with a better founding. For example:

Adrien is a lonely sad boy that is working hard in moving on with his life after his mother death,he is the perfect son to a father that is mourning, his dad don't need to worry about him messing around (maybe if he works hard father will be proud of him, maybe if he hides his "flaws" he will look at him with love again). But staying in the house is hard for him (too much memories) his work as model and the other extracurriculars distract him but he doesn't know how to be "normal" teenager, doesn't know how interact with others outside of professional areas and his only close relationship is Chloe, but going to public school with help him, he will met more people of his age, he just needs to be perfect there too and people will know that he is worthy of it . He is naive and he could come as the classic rich white boy but he is trying. He "falls in love" with ladybug but in reality he just wants someone to see him without the perfect boy glasses and still stay with him.

Chat is the part of Adrien that he hides because is silly, goofy, unperfect (not worth of love) he knows that's a great responsibility but this is freedom too and they need to hide their identities so is good to act the less like perfect boy Adrien. Sometimes goes too far, he forgets that being a hero is serious that people are counting of him to save the day but he has a good heart, he's young he can learn and be better. He jokes to calm himself down and for the fun of it. He knows when to do it and when he needs to be serious.

Plagg is a God, he knows the value of chaos and the need of destruction to create , everything needs a balance. This human boy is young, he is reckless (he don't know what his life is worth anymore), he is naive (he needs guide), he will be a great black cat he just need some work. But the boy not need another "adult" ordering him around he needs to learn how to make decisions for himself, he don't need more strict rules and nagging. Plagg knows how to work with any type of human, he had being doing for centuries, (he started to lost hope in the humanity's), he had worked with cruel humans that try to abuse of his power they regret it in the end he makes sure of it, this boy is just another one that he will have to guide(in the end this boy became one of his best user his memory will be forever part of him, to remind him of hope and change for the better)

Marinette is a hardworking girl, that choose to be kind to put people needs before her(she was conditioned for that be a the teachers that think she should catter to the more privileged). Ladybug is someone that people will look for answer and help she can do it, she will sacrifice her life and dreams for the rest (she had already do it).

Tikki is a goddess, she knows the value of the order and how creation could bring destruction. This young girl will be a great ladybug she already knows of responsibility and sacrifice (that is so sad, to learn that to such young age is a tragedy itself) but she needs to learn to said no, to work in her needs because she keeps going like this she will burn she will not grown. She is chaotic (work fast to not disappoint, who cares what she lost in the way) she is nervous ( she is scared what if she fail? ) she doesn't know what to do with her feelings (they never matter in the first place).

Tikki knows what she needs to do, but this young girl needs someone to teach her the balance of life. She knows that the mission is important that Noroo needs helps but Hawkmoth is dangerous and her user will work until her dead to stop him, but she-is-so-young and Tikki doesn't wants to lose another one (not again, not again please) so she will help the best she can.

So yeah I think that in this point the fans only lives on the head cannons.

[docholligay]

The violin bit she’s playing is also very simply and I know that not even being a violinist, so I have to imagine that not only did she, known concert violinist Michiru Kaioh, get roped into this bullshit, but she’s being forced to play whatever kinda vibe-ass music the Three Lights are into, and I ALSO know it’s not challenging because she’s wearing fucking FULL LENGTH OPERA GLOVES to play an instrument based almost entirely on very subtle gradations of touch.

Is this a cry for help to her fellow violinists? Like, ‘Girl help this is essentially the grown-up version of Twinkly Twinkle Little Star and I’m trapped” Or does she simply know that it doesn’t fucking matter if she hits a wrong note because no one in the audience is paying attention to her anyhow? Because let’s talk about this fucking outfit. Wearing a full white formal gown is a choice and a half, especially with full length opera gloves. Is she mocking the use of her skills for such an event? Is this “eating instant ramen with the ivory chopsticks from grandmama” energy Michiru is giving us? Because for me it absolutely tracks for her to be like, “Ah yes, I, a finely tuned instrument carved from birth, am standing up here to play Popular Tunes to teenagers who could not hear the music, I suppose it may be called, over the sound of their own hormonal rioting if their lives depended upon it. Not to make too much of myself, but it rather has the energy of using the crown jewels to dress for a child’s tea party. Perhaps less meritorious.”

But also but also: If she wearing a full length formal dress she might wear to play with an orchestra, why is it, uh, not full length? I mean sometimes they make goofy choices in the anime, sure, but wearing a full length elbow glove and not a floor length dress is a DECISION. So on the one hand, she’s saying, “White tie event” and on the other she’s saying “Cocktail party” though the length is goofy on her, Michiru honey you could do better. Is she m,ocking it with the length, too? Is this some dress she stepped on in the mud and just had the end trimmed off, because, “Oh honestly, as if anyone attending should know the difference”

I also want to point out that despite the fact that nearly everyone is there for the three lights (remember, the inners didn’t even know Michiru was PLAYING) Michiru has top billing onstage. You can see in the second cap her name is on top of the Three Lights. Is this just a “Rich kid Michiru’s parents are probably a major sponsor and the Kaioh name has to constantly be out there as exceptional?” or did Michiru tell them that in Japan you have to go in alphabetical order and Seiya was just like, “Uh I mean yeah, obviously, only an alien would not know that, and I am...definitely a normal Japense person. ahaha. Yeah.”

[aurelieorleans]

Like this and I'll send you an IM about plotting.

Name: Aurelie Josèphine Orleans.

Age: Nineteen.

Gender: Cis female.

Pronouns: She/her.

Occupation: Nobility; Princess of France.

Face claim: Emily Carey.

Statistics: Here.

Playlist: Here.

Pinterest: Here.

Character tropes: Women are wiser, Hundred percent adoration rating, Friends to all children, Guile hero, Modest royalty, Politeness judo, Rich kid turned social activist.

Character inspirations: Margaery Tyrell (A Song of Ice and Fire), Lady Sybil Crawley (Downton Abbey), Emma Woodhouse (Emma), Rachel Elizabeth Dare (Percy Jackson), Susan Pevensie (The Chronicles of Narnia), Queen Alysanne Targaryen (Fire and Blood), Elizabeth Bennet (Pride & Prejudice).

HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER FEEL ABOUT THE REVOLUTION? DO THEY SUPPORT IT, OR DO THEY FEAR IT? HOW DO THEY THINK IT SHOULD CONTINUE?

Aurelie has incredibly conflicted feelings regarding the revolution. On one hand the idea of a revolution puts her livelihood and her life completely at risk. No matter how much sympathy she has for the people she has grown up with a level of institutional wealth and privilege that is difficult to just turn your back on. So it scares her, the revolution scares her deeply.

The massacre of the House of Courcillon was in a way a wake up call for Aurelie. It was what caused her to view the revolutionists with more caution. Her sympathy for their cause does not mean she is sympathetic to the murders of nobility. But more so it scared her because it is not impossible to see how at least some people would like to see her family, and her, share the destiny of House Courcillon.

At the same time she is acutely aware of how needed it is. She sees her mother who has used intimidation and power to get her way, who uses fear rather than love, who has alienated the people. And she sees her father too weak to stand up to his queen or his people, nor does he seem to have the strength to stand up for either of them.

The revolution did not come from nowhere. They have lived in lavish luxury while people starved and that is why Aurelie does support it in her heart. Her sweet, kind heart of gold that only wishes she could truly do more. She tries to whisper words in her parents ear, tries to tell them the people need more to live. What is a kingdom without a people? It is not worth much.

Aurelie cannot see life going back to how it used to be, at least not peacefully. She hopes for peace now. She hopes for her family’s safety, and her own, and she hopes for the people’s. There has been too much violence and Aurelie is learning it is possible to have empathy for the cause while also fearing the consequences.

WHAT DOES YOUR CHARACTER SEE AS THE GREATEST PROBLEM OF THEIR LIFE?

There are a few problems that could really be listed: the impact of the revolution on her family and standard of living, of how her support has impacted her relationships, the discovery of her mother’s affair with the general.

But I would like to focus on a problem that I believe is normal for any nineteen year old young woman. That is to have power in what your life is destined to be.

To put it in as few words as possible - she has no true agency.

Aurelie is the Princess of France. She has had all the luxuries a little girl could ever dream of, when she was six she was given a small kitten, white and blue eyed and Aurelie adored her pet. She adored her dresses and she loathed her first pianoforte tutor with great passion (she later realized it was the pianoforte she loathes). It is easy to see only her title and believe she has freedom and agency but Aurelie has lived in a gilded cage her whole life.

Her privilege does not equal agency, it equals duty. Her education, lavish life, it is all to shape her into the young woman she is predestined to become. She is a woman born in the 1700s, a woman of royal blood, she has duties to be a wife and a mother. Aurelie has never imagined herself wanting anything else, there has never been reason to.

Before the revolution she never dared to.

She sees the people raise their voices, claiming their worth. In voicing her support for the recent political developments where she can, Aurelie is finding her own voice. She is finding agency and it’s thrilling and frightening, and it makes her want to hide from her mother in particular.

Aurelie wishes to marry, she wishes to have children. But perhaps she would also wish to marry for love. Not because it has been decided for her. She wants a say in her life.

WHERE DOES YOUR CHARACTER SEE THEMSELVES IN FIVE YEARS?

Aurelie understands her position in life and at court. She may have become somewhat of a People’s Princess but that is not what she is intended to be. If the royal family is to maintain the little power and standing it now has the best course of action is through marriage alliances.

Aurelie imagines there will be thoughts and plans on who she should marry and she highly doubts her own opinions will matter much. She hopes she will marry someone kind, someone who will care not only about her but about the common folk.

She is not against marriage. She wants to get married; her entire life has practically been spent teaching her how to be a noble woman and a wife to carry on noble lines. This is the duty she serves to society, to her family but with all the changes in France she is having to confront if it is the duty she serves to herself.

Caring about the people is something she is proud to do. It is something she hopes in five years she still has the privilege and possibility to do.

[westcoastrry]

Can’t Help If This Is Us

Hello friends. I’ve worked super hard on this fic. I’m not a fast writer so this took my while and I’m super happy with the way it turned out! Special thank to my bestie @harryforvogue​ . I wouldn’t know how to spell or about even write if it wasn’t for her so thanks you ugly fart face.

Also I wrote this entirely for free so all I ask is for feedback. I would really appreciate it and would love to hear your thoughts!

literally mate please let me know your thoughts. PLEASE. I beg.

WARNING: there is smut in this and mentions of the mafia.

I hope you enjoy reading Kiara and Harry’s story as much an I enjoyed writing it. 11.5k words

A fic about Kiara, a normal girl who works at a coffee shop in the upper east side of New York, where she meets Harry. A man who is caught up in a job he doesn’t want but is working hard to craft a better life for himself.

Fuck me like you wanna make love

Call me when you wanna stay in touch

Lie together just to gain trust

Say what you wanna say, can't help if this is us

Moving to New York was a fresh start for Kiara.

It’s only been a couple of months, but she has grown accustomed to the city.

She has an apartment in a not-so-great part of town, but it is close to her University, and the view from her balcony isn’t too bad. She is a coffee connoisseur, so when her pregnant friend and neighbor, Trina, helped her get a job at a cafe on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, how could Kiara truly not make the best of her newfound city life?

“An Americano please?” a deep British voice asserts.

Kiara’s cleaning off the steamer about an hour into her morning shift when the man with long chocolate curls speaks to her. Kiara has been working here for a month, and some very high profile people have come to the shop, but Kiara has never seen this man, but he sure looks important. He is in a suit, all black, and the only accessories are the multitude of rings he has on his fingers. The rose one catches her eye first, then the big gold H.S letter rings. Those are his initials? What is the point of that? Is this man obsessed with himself?

“Americano?” he says more lightly, snapping Kiara out of her thoughts.

“Sorry, I- Americano,” Kiara stutters.

Kiara isn’t one to get easily flustered, but how can she not be when this six-foot sexy man was towering over her in a suit, asking for black coffee.

Only real men drink black coffee.

She works around the machine expertly until the man’s voice interrupts her. “You’re new here?”

“Yeah,” she responds, swiping a curl off her forehead. Managing her naturally curly type four hair in the bipolar New York weather has been a challenge. Most days, she wears her thick hair in a bun, or when she can afford to get it done, box braids. “Started working here a month ago.” Kiara hands him the coffee in a brown to-go cup.

“Hmmm. I’m here all the time. I’m sure I would have noticed a new pretty employee.”

“Guess I’m not all that pretty then,” Kiara fires back, handing him a receipt with a pen to sign.

Harry doesn’t really know what to say to that because he actually does find Kiara pretty. He likes that her face is an even brown color with a few beauty marks. He likes the color of her light brown hair, and he really likes the sound of her voice. It’s sort of angelic, even when she is snapping at him.

Harry smugly hands Kiara his hefty card (the first indicator that this man has money) and signs the receipt. He drops some cash on the bill.

“That’s your tip. By the way, I do think you’re pretty.” His eyes flick down to her name tag. “Kiara.”

Kiara rolls her eyes at the man. He probably walks around life getting everything handed to him because he’s rich, white, and hot.

Screw him and his stupid cute dimple, Kiara thinks to herself. She goes to grab the receipt he signed and see’s two fifty-dollar bills stacked on each other.

Her mouth forms into an “o” shape. A hundred dollars on a three-dollar coffee? What sense does that even make? This had to be a mistake.

“Hey Kiara, are you okay?” Trina, who’s waiting tables today, asks. She has her brown apron tied over her baby bump with a few crumpled receipts and pens tucked in the pockets.

“I just got tipped a hundred dollars,” Kiara says, still shocked.

“You go, girl!” Trina enthusiastically shouts. “Who was it? A regular?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never seen him before. Brown curly hair, dressed in a nice black suit-”

“Oh, that’s Harry,” Trina smiles. “Everyone loves Harry. He is a cutie. Been getting coffee here for a long time. He owns the strip club down the street.”

“I’m sorry. The dude owns a what?”

“A strip club bar type thing,” Trina shrugs. “Very fancy. It’s pretty much only for the elite. He is super nice. Everyone loves him here! He bought me a crib and this fancy high-tech stroller when he found out I was pregnant.”

“Yeah, well, he is kinda a dick if you ask me,” Kiara mutters under her breath.

“He tipped you a hundred dollars, and you’re calling him a dick?” Trina curiously questions.

“He called me pretty! And he had this arrogant ambiance to his voice. And what is with all the rings? It’s tacky.”

Trina places her hands on her hips.“Oh, just say you find the man hot! It’s okay to admit you find Manhattan’s most eligible and rich bachelor hot. I don’t blame you. I would get on it if I wasn’t thirty and pregnant.”

“I’m not admitting anything. Besides, I don’t have time for men. Men just cause problems.”

“Oh, you're telling me?” Trina points to her bulging belly. Kiara snorts at her friend and starts to walk away to grab more coffee beans from the storage, and Trina follows closely behind her. “You need to have some fun! Loosen up. Get your head out of that textbook. You have been living next to me for three months, and I haven’t seen you invite not one boy over! I know that vibrator you use is tired.”

Kiara grabs the box of coffee beans and turns back around to face Trina. “My vibrator is doing me just fine.”

Kiara’s whole life has been centered around academics. She was a really smart kid growing up. She had a good start to life too. However, Kiara’s wholesome childhood took a turn at twelve when her Dad died in a car accident. The accident was horrific for her entire family, but it hit her mom the worst. Her mom went from being a well respected physician's assistant, to being a drug addict, and Kiara had to grow up at the tender age of twelve just to take care of her mother. Around the age of fourteen Kiara’s mom got shipped off to rehab, and she ended up weaving in and out of foster homes until she was eighteen. Kiara realized that she never wants that to happen to her future family. She has been working hard on her academics because she hopes to have a stable income, so she can give her future kid the life that she never had.

It’s not like Kiara didn’t want to go and mingle around. Meet a new guy, have a one-nightstand, maybe even possibly fall in love. However, the dating scene as a brown skin woman in a whitewashed part of the city isn’t as easy as it sounds. Kiara doesn’t teeter the line of looking ethnically ambiguous. She is clearly a Black girl. Caramel skin, tight curls, full lips, and wide hips. Kiara likes these traits that she carries. In fact, she loves them, but men don’t. Specifically, men that aren’t her race. Not to mention that Black men are hard to come by in this particular part of city.

The simple fact is most white men don’t like Black women.

It’s even arguable that Black men don't even like Black women.

And Kiara is okay with that. She doesn’t need to be approved by a bunch of white people, nonetheless ones with penises. She just wishes she had more options to date within her race, or at least find someone who genuinely liked her.

Maybe that’s the reason why Kiara doesn’t want to go out and find a man to have some fun with. She knows he’s going to be white, and she will have to endure hundreds of questions about her race and her hair or meet racist parents, and she has done that all before.

So, for now, instead of explaining this to Trina, her very white friend, she will just blow off her questions about why she isn’t sleeping around or why she doesn’t entertain the idea of going to bars to find cute boys.

+++

The next day Kiara is off work. She spends her day sitting in her bed, in red pajama shorts and her university sweater, studying for her midterm. She got through quite a bit but is still a little worried about not getting an A. About an hour into her studying, she hears bickering from Trina’s apartment.

“I don’t know what you are being so shy about. Just ask her! You are great with girls.”

“No, I’m great at fucking girls. Trying to establish a genuine connection, I haven’t done that in a while.”

“I believe in you! Now go!”

Knock

Knock

It’s another guy that Trina has been trying to set Kiara up with. Trina does this about every other month. Very rarely does Kiara entertain the idea and sleeps with them, because she is bored, but it usually doesn’t go further than that.

Kiara opens the door to her apartment and there stands Harry. He is holding a boutique of red roses in one hand, and his other is behind his back. The suit he is wearing today is slightly different. Same silhouette, but this time the suit is brown. Kiara finally gets a good look at this man, and fuck.

Green eyes, full bright pink lips. Wide shoulders and defined biceps that show he does work out but isn’t a gym rat.

Gucci loafers. Now, this is an interesting man.

“What are you doing here?”

Harry nervously gestures to the flowers in his hand. “I brought you this.”

“You just came here to bring me flowers?”

“I also brought you this,” Harry pulls his hand from behind his back and shows a bottle of wine he got when he went on a business trip in Napa. He was saving the wine for a special occasion, like the next time he would go visit his mom, but this is more than a special occasion in Harry’s eyes. He is trying to swoon this girl.

Kiara smiles at him and grabs the wine bottle. If it’s one thing Kiara has learned in her adult life is that she loves wine. She usually only gets the cheap stuff from the liquor store down the street, but Kiara has never seen this bottle before.

She walked to her kitchen, leaving Harry staring at her dumbfoundedly. She pulled out two wine glasses from her kitchen cabinet.

Normally Kiara wouldn’t entertain this. Especially since she has a test to study for. However, she can’t lie and say she hasn’t been worked up...sexually.

“Alright, you brought me wine. You are welcomed in.”

Harry follows her inside the apartment, feeling a bit awkward. Usually, Harry never found himself at a girl’s place. He always took his one-night stands back to his house and had his assistant, Trevor escort them out in the morning.

Harry was nervous because this wasn’t a one-night stand. This was him bringing wine and flowers to a girls’ apartment, which he barely knows.

Just like Kiara, Harry also hasn’t been in the dating scene in a while. He has been busy with work, and it’s not easy what he does.

“So why did you come all this way to bring me wine?” Kiara asks Harry, pouring some wine into a glass and handing it to him. “I know you don’t live in this part of the city.”

“I don’t.” Harry sits on the barstool by the kitchen countertop. “I told you I thought you were pretty. Nice place, by the way.”

Kiara looks for the sarcasm on Harry’s face when he compliments her one-bedroom apartment but doesn’t find any. Kiara’s apartment isn’t ugly. But it probably is nothing compared to what Harry lives in.

Kiara takes a gulp of her wine. “It’s kinda trash actually. This is the ghetto.”

“You go to Columbia?” Harry asked, noticing her university sweater.

Kiara takes one more gulp of her wine, finishing off what is left in her glass. She was going to answer Harry’s question. She really was. But she got a good look at his bone structure. The way his jaw is a perfectly angled line. The way his Adam apple moves when he takes a sip of his wine. Even the way his fingers glide against the glass.

She begins to wonder how his fingers would feel against her.

“Kiara?”

That was it for Kiara because she doesn’t think she can keep herself composed in front of this beautiful rich man.

Instead of pouring her wine, Kiara grabs the bottle and starts to chug the wine like she is a trucker drinking a Samuel Adams.

Her lips remove from the bottle with a pop sound. Harry is now staring at Kiara completely taken aback by her actions. “What are you really here for, Harry? Sex? Because we can cut the small talk part.”

“Maybe I actually like you, Kiara.”

“You don’t like me.”

“Who told you that,” Harry counters.

Harry watches closely as Kiara struts towards him.

“I thought you were into blonde models?”

“Where are you finding this information from?” he questions.

“Google.”

Harry smirks. “So you’re googling me?”

“You know, if you wanted to know more about me, you could have just asked.”

Kiara cut him off with her lips attached to his. She wanted him to shut up, but she also wanted to kiss him.

Killing two birds with one stone.

Harry’s lips move in sync with hers, and he places his ringed hands on her back, pulling her closer to him.

If Kiara is being honest with herself, Harry’s lips feel like magic. It’s been a while since Kiara has kissed a guy, and she feels butterflies in the pit of her stomach.

“Kiara, what are we doing?” Harry mumbles into her mouth.

“We are gonna go back to my bedroom, and you are going to fuck me. Hard.”

“A-are are you sure about that?” Harry stutters on his words.

“We both know you didn’t come here to take me out on some date. So let’s just do this.”

Harry should have confidently responded and said, “No, Kiara, that is not why I’m here. I’m here because I actually find you attractive, and I know you have been working at the shop for about two weeks now but I have been very nervous to ask you on a date.”

However, his mouth went dry because Kiara threw off her sweater and her perky boobs sat fully on her chest.

“Kiara-”

“You know,” Kiara rests the palm of her hands on his muscular chest. Kiara has the upper hand and she sees it in the way Harry was staring at her, gaping at her actions. She loves being this bold. Upper chest bare for a man who is practically drooling over her boobs. Kiara likes to be in charge, but only for a little bit. After a while she wants to be taken care of. In bed that is. “For a man of such little words, you are talking so much right now.”

Harry grabs both of her wrist, but keeps her hands placed upon his chest. He knows his heart is racing a mile per minute. Kiara feels it and for a second she thinks to herself that there is no way she is causing this man's heart to skip beats.

Kiara stands up on her tippy toes and lets her tongue dart out to touch right below Harry’s ear suckling on the spot until it turns a nice red shade. She detaches her lips with a pop.

“You want this,” Harry whispers.

“I need this,” Kiara responds back.

“Tell me what you need Kiara.”

Harry’s right hand brushes over her bare breast, causing her to buckle a bit and stumble onto Harry’s chest.

“Hold yourself up, love, and tell me what you need.”

“I need you to fuck me,” Kiara whines.

With that, Harry holds Kiara's hips and roughly turns her away from him. Her hands went out and to grab at the granite countertop, holding herself up as much as she possibly could.

“How do you want it, hmm?” Harry whispers, quickly shrugging off his blazer and undoing a few buttons from his shirt. He begins to place wet kisses along the back of her shoulder. “I can fuck you right here, bent over the counter top. Or I can take you to the bed.”

“Here,” Kiara choked out through a moan.

“Can you handle it?” Harry teasingly asked her.

“I can handle it.”

“Can I take off your shorts?” Harry asks in a more serious tone.

“Mhmm, yes please.”

Harry shimmies down Kiara’s shorts. He takes the time to run his hands over her ass. The contact of her hot skin and Harry’s ice cold rings feels good to Kiara. She wants him to spank her, but she isn’t exactly sure what Harry is into and now she wishes she was sober enough to vocalize what she likes in bed so her needs can be met.

“Let's get a good orgasam out of you. Can I eat you?”

“Yes. God Harry, you're teasing me.”

“Not teasing,” he reassures her. “Just wanna know what you like.”

Harry gets down on his knees and opts for pushing her gray panties to the side instead of taking them off. Her core is glistening in her arousal and the smell alone makes Harry’s dick twitch in his boxers.

“Stop staring at it and-” Kiara cuts her sentence off with a yelp because Harry has attached his plump lips to her clit, giving her small kitten licks.

Kiara doesn’t really prefer to be eaten out. Most men's mouths don’t really do it for her. However, Harry is doing a very good job at keeping her legs shaking. She wants to turn around and look at him, but everytime she tries he delves deeper and deeper in her core, until she can barely hold herself up.

“M’mmm. A little higher please?”

Harry smirks against Kiara’s core because the little please she added to the end of her request tells him that she is slowly letting go of the tough exterior she puts up.

“Here? Is this good?”

“Yeah. Fuck right there please.” Kiara grips at the counter harder until her fingertips turned white.

“Been eating your veggies, huh?” Harry talks against Kiara’s core, the vibrations making her shudder. “You taste good love.”

Kiara is unable to respond because Harry is really going at it. His hands tightly grip Kiara's hips. His face is completely buried in her cunt, and he feels a slight ache in his jaw from the motions he makes with his mouth.

He continues to lick over her swollen folds, and then wraps his lips around her clit, which makes Kiara arch her back and push onto him. She is a panting mess, mouth wide open, eyes pinched together. She begins to thrash around but Harry grips even tighter at her hips.

“Stay still love.”

“I can’t,” she whined. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Why don’t you ask to cum?”

Kiara chokes on her spit slightly when Harry pulls his mouth from her pussy, and dips a finger inside of her. “Am I not entitled to an orgasm?”

“You are if you wanna be good for me.”

“Well if you're looking for a good girl I think you have come to the wrong place-”

Harry adds a second finger to her, which shuts Kiara up. “Ask nicely and you can cum.”

“I didn’t know you were gonna be so-”

“So what?” Harry asks her.

“Dominant.”

“You're lucky I’m not spanking you.”

“What's holding you back?” Kiara challenged.

Harry gets up from off his knees, and his free hand reigns down a heavy smack on her ass.

“Ask me nicely,” Harry demands, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of her.

“No.”

Smack.

“Ask nicely Kiara. I can do this all night.”

Kiara snaps her head back to look at Harry. “No.”

Smack.

Smack.

Smack.

The three spanks that Harry had given to Kiara were much harder than the first. So hard that Harry started to see an outline of his hand print.  

It's when Harry gives her one more smack and pushes his fingers deeper into her, hitting a sensitive spot that Kiara gives in.

“Fuck, Harry please just let me come,” Kiara struggles to say with a couple tears falling from her eyes from being so wrapped up in pleasure.

“Say sorry.”

“I’m sorry. So damn sorry. Please, I'm so close.”

Harry laughed at how her personality has done a complete one eighty. She went from being a complete brat to now begging him for an orgasm. “You are?”

“Yes please.”

Once Harry feels her pussy tighten around his fingers he pulls them from inside of her. “I don’t think you are that sorry.”

Kiara let out a whimper at the loss of connection. Her legs are still shaking and she almost slipped off the counter but Harry was quick to catch her.

Harry's strong arms snaked around to the front of Kiara’s stomach, letting her stumble back into her arms. She felt Harry’s hard cock press up against her raw ass.“Easy now.”

Usually, Kiara would give Harry some witty comments, but right now she is too worked up from being so close to her orgamsm. She feels a bit fuzzy, not sure what to do next. Her core aches and all she can think about is getting off.

Her hands go down to rub at her clit, but Harry quickly smacks it away.

“That's my job tonight alright? You gonna let me fuck you? You're gonna be good so I can get you off properly.”

Kiara nods her head.

“Verbal consent Kiara.”

“Yes please.”

“Good girl.”

Harry’s smug voice echoes in her ear as he places wet open mouth kisses along her neck. Harry is really enjoying himself. She felt him smile against his neck when he started to coax soft moans out of her.

Kiara weakly pushes Harry's head away from her neck.

“Doll, are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No, I'm good. Can we just take this to my bedroom?” Kiara politely asks. “I think I will be more comfortable there.”

When Harry gets a good look at Kiara, he can tell he has pushed past the first layer of her tough exterior. He knows there is probably much more fight and sass in her, but right now she looks vulnerable.

“Yes of course we can,” Harry held his hand out and Kiara willingly took it as he led both of them to the bedroom.

When they arrive, Kiara sits at the edge of her queen sized bed, and Harry lets go of her hand. She whines a little at the feeling of Harry’s hands slipping away from her.

Harry chuckles at the girl. “Let me just take my shirt off darling.”

Kiara watches closely as Harry’s fingers undo the buttons one by one. His silk shirt gilded easily off his toned shoulders. He made his way to sit at the top of Kiara’s bed leaning against the headboard, and Kiara crawled on her hands and knees toward him.

“Christ,” Harry mumbled under his breath.

Harry spreads his legs wider, which allows Kiara to sit comfortably in his lap. She let her hands roam up and down his tattoos starting with the birds on his collar bone. She then notices the butterfly right above his tummy. When she places her left hand on it, tracing the wings, Harry sighs contently at her touch. It’s a comforting touch, one that he has never experienced with his one-night stands.

Harry breaks a sweat on his forehead when Kiara continues to trace his tattoos. His broad chest stops moving up and down because he begins to hold his breath. He isn’t really sure what she is doing, but it feels good. Good enough for Harry to exhale and relax into the bed.

For Harry, sex with girls usually got directly to the point. Of course, there was foreplay, but not to any extent like this.

Having someone else’s hands on your body is a part of sex. However, this feels much more intimate than that. He’s got that feeling of butterflies in his stomach when Kiara begins to run her hands all over his body. It felt like he was in high school again, having sex for the first time and being so nervous because you don’t know what to do. But in this case, the nerves and butterflies don’t come from a lack of knowledge of the female anatomy. It comes from being completely enamored by the beauty this one girl holds.

And for just a second, Harry questions if he deserves this to feel the way he feels right now. Warm and a little drunk on the feeling of love. He doesn’t love Kiara, at least not yet anyway. But he feels like at this moment, Kiara cares for him. And even if she doesn’t care for him, he wouldn’t mind existing in this false reality he has created in his head for a really long time.

Something about having his body touched in such a vulnerable way is making him feel things he has never felt in his life.

“You have a lot of tattoos,” Kiara points out, fingers still tracing his butterfly tattoo.

“Yeah, I have been collecting them over the years.”

“Which one was your first one?” Kiara asks curiously.

Harry brought Kiara’s delicate hands up to the swallows on his chest.

“These ones,” Harry’s voice shakily said. Kiara takes her index finger and begins to trace the birds.

“How old were you?” Kiara asks, keeping her eyes looking at the birds.

“Sixteen,” is all Harry says, trying to keep his past where it belongs. In the past.

“That’s young. You don’t regret any of them?”

“No, actually. I think they all tell a story. Sure, some of them are stupid, but they all got some meaning behind them.

Kiara innocently brings her hand up to his cheek, cradling his face. “You gotta tell me about them one day. You have so many.”

“Mhmm,” Harry hummed in response.

“Let’s kiss some more,” Kiara suggested, wiggling her hips in Harry’s lap to find a comfortable position.

Harry nodded his head in response letting his lips touch Kiara’s, but not yet giving in to her request. His hands find their way to her lower back, and Kiara’s hands now have made their way up to his shoulders.

“You look good. You know that?” Harry says against her lips.

Kiara now has a grin on her face and blushes at Harry as if she has never received a compliment in her life.

Kiara brushes a brown curl off of Harry’s face with her index finger, “You can’t give me compliments while I’m buzzed off of wine because you might make me fall in love with you.”

Harry smiles. “Why don’t I just fuck you like I love you?”

Harry realizes what he said and awkwardly takes his hands off of Kiara’s body, nervously running his hands through his hair.

Kiara see’s the worried look on Harry’s face, but she is just a tad bit too intoxicated to process the weight of Harry’s words.

“Or you could let me fuck you,” Kiara bodly suggests. “I just haven’t done it in a while, so you might need to take over when my legs get sore.”

Harry nods, his forehead pushed upon Kiara’s. He kisses her again, and is taken by surprise when she lightly bites on his lip. She then gives a quick kiss to the corner of the month, and then his throat. She leans over to kiss his collar bones, and Harry takes the opportunity to grab a handful of her ass.

He then slowly peels her underwear off of her. He drags it slowly past her thighs looking down at her soaking wet core.

“You’re wet,” Harry mummers into her ear.

Kiara cups Harry’s dick through his boxers, and slides them off of his hips.

Harry groans in pleasure when he feels her hand touch his hard dick that is leaking pre cum.

“Don’t get too cocky now,” her hand lazily pumps at Harry's length, which she finds to be quite impressive in size.

“Kiara, don’t forget who is in charge here,” Harry grits through his teeth.

Kiara dips her head down to lick at Harry's heavy balls, she then continues her way up to his shaft until she makes her way to his tip and suctions her lips around the pink swollen flesh.

Harry looks down at the Kiara, who is giving him those innocent eyes, as if she doesn’t have his entire dick in her mouth

“Oh fuck me,” Harrys rolls his eyes, and lets his head fall onto the headboard.

“I will. But let me suck you off first.”

Kiara passes her thumb over his dick, and kisses all around the tip. She licks him up and down before taking him into her mouth entirely, making sure to make eye contact with him.

Harry places his hand gently over Kiara’s head, asking permission to touch her. She blinks at him signaling to him that it's okay.

He took a rough grip to Kiara’s brown curls, moving her head up and down in a steady rhythm.

“That's it,” he encourages as Kiara suckles on his tip. “Fucking hell.”

She pulls her mouth from Harry's length and gives him a few sharp tugs.

“Slow down,” Harry pants. “Want to be inside of you when I come. Can you handle it?”

Kiara swings one leg around Harry’s lap, her core just inches away from Harry’s throbbing dick.

“Yeah I can.”

“Well what are you waiting for?”

Kiara slowly slides down on Harry’s dick, and his hands cling to the sides of hips, coaxing her on her way down. Harry groans at how tight and snug she feels around him.

Kiara is about halfway down when the blissful feeling starts to hit her. She tightens her grip on Harry’s shoulders biting her bottom lip.

“What's wrong? Thought you said you could handle it.”

Bravely, in one push Kiara glides right down Harry’s dick.

Harry groans with pleasure as soon as she makes it all the way down. His hands go out to grip her ass, and help her bounce up and down.

“That's it. Good girl. You like it when I call you that?”

“Yes,” Kiara responds, picking up her speed so that her tits move up and down with her.

“What do you want me to call you? I can call you my good girl, a slut, or whore. Which one do you prefer?”

“A whore,” Kiara is slightly embarrassed at what this man is doing to her, but she is so wrapped up in the lust of the moment that she really couldn’t care less.

“You're my dirty little whore, hmmm?”

Harry cranes his neck down to place a kiss on her tongue, lapping his tongue over her soft skin that smells like a floral scented perfume. He moans softly into her neck and squeezes at her fleshy hips.

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I’m your dirty little whore,” Out of nowhere Harry thrust his hips up to meet hers. “Fuck, Harry!”

Harry placed a wet kiss behind her hair before speaking, “How about you get on your hands and knees for me. I can fuck you like that.”

“Okay,” Kiara withdraws herself from him with ease due to how wet she was. She props herself on her hands and knees and arches her back for Harry.

Harry places a hand on her lower back. He rubs the tip of his dick over her wet folds before pushing in.

Harry moves slowly at first, testing out the waters to make sure he isn’t hurting her. Her sweet moans are only egging Harry on, and he is sure he isn’t gonna last another five minutes inside of her.

“Please Harry. Fuck me faster please.”

Harry hands grips on Kiara's fleshy love handles. It is a little tight for her liking however the pain is quickly drowned out by the intense pleasure she begins to feel.

This is a dirty shag. Harry is pounding into her at such an extreme pace that Kiara can’t even get a full moan out. Her little “uhhhh’s” and “nggggs” only encourage Harry on.

Kiara’s orgasm hits her first and it's just as blissful as she thought it would be. Legs trembling, her arms are no longer propping herself up, instead her right cheek is pushed up on the bed, and a bit of salvia is foaming out of her mouth.

“I’m gonna, oh god Kiara. Just give me a sec- fuck!”

Harry’s orgasm shortly follows and it's just as euphoric for him as it was for Kiara. This was one of the most satisfying sexual encounters Harry has had in a while and he wants to enjoy every second of being buried in Kiara’s warmth.

Harry was about to pull out from her but when he looked down at where they were connecting he realized how fucked he was.

Not only did he not wear a condom, but he most definitely came inside of her.

“Fuck,” Harry mumbles under his breath.

How could he be so careless? This has never happened to him. Harry has had quite the extent of sexual partners and he makes sure to always use a condom.

He wants to blame it on the wine but he didn’t even finish his glass.

“I need a second,” Kiara tiredly whispers, panting.

“I didn’t use a condom.”

“I’m sorry?” Kiara says still coming down from her high.

Harry runs his hand through his tangled hair nervously, “I didn’t use a condom. I haven’t had sex in almost a year though. I get tested regularly too. I’m sorry it just slipped my mind. I can run out and get you some plan B.”

“It's okay,” Kiara responds. She turns her head around to look at Harry. “Do you mind pulling out now though?”

Harry looks down at his dick, and then looks up at Kiara. “Oh yeah shit uhh.” He grabs on to Kiara’s hips and slowly pulls out of her.

“I haven’t had sex in like six months by the way,” Kiara slowly turns herself around to face Harry who has now tucked himself back in his boxers. “It could be longer honestly… it's been pretty dry here until now.”

“Yeah, same. Busy with work and what not.”

There is a moment of uncomfortable silence. Kiara has the sheets up to her bare breast, and Harry is not only taking in the raw beauty of the girl in front of him, and still beyond shocked he forgot to put on a damn condom.

“Well, I can get you some plan B. I think there is like a Target down the block from your apartment.”

“No, it's fine!” Kiara responds way too quickly. “I mean like, Trina has a stash in her car. I can steal from her in the morning. You don't have to rush out if you don’t want to. It’s not safe to drive at night, and you probably have such a long way to go.”

“You want me to stay?”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Harry shakes his head. “No...errr it's not. I would really like to stay.”

“Okay well I’m gonna pee. And clean myself up. I can bring you some water?”

“Water would be great.”

Kiara nods at him, standing up so that her white sheet is wrapped tightly around her body. She knows that there is no reason to hide from Harry. He just took her from behind and called her a whore, but Harry isn’t just any man. He is a man who looks like a greek god, and fucks like one too. So Kiara couldn’t help but be a little self conscious.

Kiara quickly comes back with two glasses of water. She has even changed into an old ratty T-shirt and a fresh pair of underwear.

Kiara hands Harry a glass and he takes a sip, “You know,” she starts, crawling into bed next to him. “If you told me you fuck like that maybe I wouldn’t have put up a fight at the cafe.”

Harry blushes, setting the glass on the nightstand next to him. “Didn’t plan this, you know. Not that I mind. Trust me, I like this.”

“I would be lying if I didn’t say I thought you were cute.”

“Oh,” Harry playfulls wiggles his eyebrows, scooting himself closer to Kiara on the bed. “Please do tell me more.”

Kiara pouts at Harry until he places a kiss on her bottom lip, another sloppy wet one on her cheek. He grabs at her sides, tickling her.

“Har- Harry! Stop, please!” Kiara begins to laugh uncontrollably. She even attempts to pull Harry’s enormous hands from her body but has no luck.

“Okay, okay,” she gives up, Harry pulling his hands off of her. “It was the whole curly hair, suit thing. I love a man in a suit, and you know you got an Americano. You have good taste in coffee.”

Harry smiles. “You make good coffee.”

Kiara hums awkwardly, not making eye contact with Harry, instead opting to stare at his mermaid tattoo with abnormally large tits.

“I like your hair too,” Harry speaks up. “It frames your face nicely. It was the first thing I noticed about you.” Harry’s ringed hands make their way to the top of Kiara’s thigh, rubbing her soft skin. “Then it was all the pins you had on your apron. You have a lot.”

“Oh. Yeah I’ve been collecting them over the years.”

“You had one that said, ‘Don’t be a damn.’ What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure,” Kiara shrugs, breathing out a relaxed sigh. “It was like my third year of undergrad. I studied abroad at the University Of Edinburgh, in Scotland and this guy who had a jewelry shop said it to me. The next day I came back he just gave me the pin and told me to always keep it with me.”

Harry smiles at Kiara with adornment, “I have family in Scotland. I’m from London though. Grew up there with my mum most of my life.”

“What brought you to New York then?”

“School then work. I went to Columbia,” Harry says, giving her the shortest answer possible. “I noticed you had it on your sweater earlier…. You know before you tore it off.”

“Shut up!” Kiara groans, striking Harry’s chest. “But yes I do go to Colombia. Just for my teaching credentials. I want to teach history.”

There is a beast of silence. “Are you sure if I stay the night? I don't want to intrude-”

“I want you to stay the night.”

Harry’s heart warms because no girl has ever said that to him. The feeling of butterflies swarming around in his tummy has come back, and he knows his cheeks are heating up in embarrassment.

“Alright.” Harry pulls Kiara’s body closer to him which makes her squeal in surprise. “Only if you keep me warm for the night.

+++

Harry is awake before Kiara.

Harry is used to waking up early for his job, and usually, he would be on his way to get his morning coffee and then head on down to the club.

However, he just can't leave the girl he just fucked last night.

Her breaths are short, and he can feel her heart thumping against his chest. She was properly attached to him, and Harry really liked it. Having her this close to him.

He takes the time while Kiara was asleep to not only watch her sleep peacefully but look at all the artwork she has displayed on her walls. There are no family pictures that Harry can spot, just a picture of her and Trina on her desk. It looks like they are at some club. Trina has a drink in her hand that looks like she is about to spill and Kiara is downing a shot.

Kiara stirs a bit in her sleep and Harry watches as she slowly blinks her eyes open.

“You're warm.” She blinks. “Do you want breakfast?” Kiara offers, nuzzling herself in the crook of Harry’s neck. “I make a really good omelet.”

Harry laughs. “Kiara I really can’t keep up with you.”

Kiara begins to innocently pepper kisses all over Harry’s neck. “What do you mean?” she pouts.

Harry groans once Kiara sucks on a sensitive right beneath his jawline. “For starters, you didn’t like me at all when we first met. Then we fucked because you claimed I was here just for sex. And now you are offering to make me an omelet.”

“What are you here for then?” Kiara presses.

Harry sighs, looking down at the pretty girl all tangled up in his arms. Harry knows exactly what he wants. He is twenty-seven and he is really looking for love. A life-long partner who he can come home to after a hard day at work. A partner who makes getting up in the morning all worth it. Someone who he can take out on dates, maybe even take to meet his brother.

He wants to take a leap of faith with Kiara. He wants to ask her on a date, however, he can’t bring himself to do that. He doesn’t want to put this girl in harm’s way because he likes her.

And it's not even about Kiara getting hurt. He would never let anything physically happen to the people he cares about in his life. It’s honestly about the hurt she would experience if something happened to him.

“I-”

Harry is interrupted by Trina barging into the bedroom.

“We will be late for the train if you don't get your ass up! You always sleep in--” Trina pauses once she realizes her best friend is wrapped up in her other best friend’s arms. “Oh fuck.” Trina points back to the door. “I’ll wait outside for you.”

“Shit,” Kiara grumbles to herself. “I forgot I had work.”

Harry watches as Kiara frantically pulls her underwear up her body. When she realizes Harry is staring at her, she turns around to slide on her black lace bra.

Harry isn’t trying to be that much of a dick, staring at Kiara while she is getting changed. It's just that her ass is littered with marks from his heavy handy, and a light bruise on her loved handles from holding her securely on his lap, while he pounded into her.

The bruises were tainted with the memory of last night, and Harry notices how every little mark told the story of their rough and passionate sex. Looking back on it Harry doesn’t know if he was too rough with the young girl. He doesn’t like that it was possible that he may have hurt her.

“You need to go,” Kiara demands, pulling her jeans on, and then her white shirt.

Harry picked up his white button-up shirt off the floor and threw it over his shoulder. “Kiara, was I too rough? Maybe you should put something on the bruises--”

“I’m going to be late for work Harry,” she snaps.

“Are you mad?”

Tears well up in Kiara’s eyes and this is very unusual for her. She never cries. She is not even sure why she is crying. She pauses for a moment not answering his questions.

“I’m fine,” Kiara answers with her back still facing away from Harry.

“You’re crying, Kiara.”

“I’m not!” Kiara yelled, throwing her hands up in the air turning around. “I- I’m just a little overwhelmed.” Kiara’s breath gets caught in the back of her throat. “I have school, and I work full time, and I’m interning at this elementary school...and that…” Kiara points to the bed. “That was the best sex I have ever had, and now I look like a complete freak.” She wipes a tear with the back of her hand. “I look like a complete freak because all we did was have sex and now I’m crying. It doesn’t have much to do with you I think. I’m just a little stressed.”

That was a complete lie and Kiara knows it. At this moment, she could care less about school or the stress of work. Its that empty feeling you have after sex knowing that this isn’t a forever thing. Harry will go back to being Harry, and she will go back to being Kiara. It is simply just sex...nothing more.

Harry gets off the bed in just his unbuttoned shirt and boxers. He tests the waters by placing a comforting hand on her back. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Just show yourself out please.” Kiara walks away from Harry’s hold, grabbing a scrunchie off her desk, and her purse. “I have to go.”

Harry doesn’t stop her. He knows that if he stops her he is gonna want to kiss her. Then he is gonna convince her to come back to bed with him, and he can’t do that. For her sake.

+++

“Are we not gonna talk about it?” Trina asks while she is driving her SUV.

Trina and Kiara usually take the subway together. It works out much cheaper for the both of them, but they can’t be late for work. Not during the Monday rush. Kiara is in the passenger seat pulling up her hair and frantically covering up a few hickies on her neck from last night. Trina is driving just a little bit above the speed limit, trying to make sure they both get there on time, and also worrying about her best friend who isn’t her usual bubbly self.

“There is nothing to talk about, other than I need some plan B,” Kiara replies dryly.

“You're joking.”

“Nope. Pass me your purse.”

Trina keeps one hand on the wheel and hands Kiara her purple purse from the back seat.

“Kiara you had sex with my best friend. Unprotected sex.”

“Exactly just sex,” Kiara shruged, digging up the pill from the bottom of Trina’s bag. “And I’m your best friend!”

“You are both my best friends!” Trina argued. “You know the poor boy actually likes you right?”

Kiara rolls her eyes. “Did he tell you that?”

“Yes! Actually, he did! More than once!”

“He is lying. I’m just a normal broke student. And him? He is a fucking rich man but he looks like a literal greek god! Trina you know I googled him. His past girlfriends are models! White, skinny blonde models. I’m not white, skinny, or blonde!”

“He was a party boy in the past!” Trina retorts. “He likes you, okay? He just has trouble communicating his feelings. I know you like him too. You just have this strange idea in your head that you are not good enough for him! Which is ridiculous.”

“It's whatever,” Kiara huffs, pooping the pill in her mouth and swallowing it, “It was a hook-up. A simple one night stand.”

“It’s okay to want something more Kiara.”

“He doesn’t want something more! It's so painfully obvious,” Kiara throws her hands up in the air.

Trina knows how stubborn her best friend is. It's why they get along so well. They both have this hot headed temperament. However, Kiara never really likes to give herself time to relax. She likes to be busy but it is clearly taking a toll on her mental health.

“Let me take you out drinking after work.”

Kiara turned her head towards her friend and smiled. “Thank you. Now we are speaking my language.”

+++

While Kiara’s working, a part of her secretly wishes that Harry would show up for his americano. She is trying her hardest to convince herself that he is not worth her energy or time, but the sex is still fresh in her mind and it doesn’t help that her body is showing evidence of what took place last night.

There is still that dull satisfying ache between her legs, the sound of Harry calling her a dirty whore plays on rewind all day. She is practically daydreaming about having sex with Harry again while making coffee.

Harry was the first man to meet her needs in that manner. Sure she has cum during sex a couple times, but it wasn’t anything mindblowing. In fact her orgasms were usually underwhelming, but with Harry he knew what he was doing. His dominance was a complete turn on.

And sure Kiara could be fuck buddies with Harry. But she thinks she deserves a little more than just casual hookups. She wants a relationship because at the end of the day, she wants to build a family. A family that makes up for her broken one.

Kiara has sat down and contemplated this before. Is it inherently selfish to want to fix her childhood trauma with a family of her own, but fuck. Can you really blame her?

+++

When Kiara gets home she quickly changes into a simple black dress. It hugs her curves nicely and it's the dress she usually pulls out when she used to go clubbing with Trina (which has come to a halt because of her pregnancy).

The subway ride to the club is filled with laughter and Trina having to help Kiara actually get on and off the train (because she pregamed at the apartment).

Once they got to the club, Trina walks up to the front of the line with Kiara.

The bouncer's eyes lit up as soon as he saw Trina, “Hi Trina. Umm, should I tell Harry you are here? James is also here too. I can let him know as well.”

“Harry is here?” Kiara questions.

Trina whispers in her ear, “Yes, this is his club.”

“I’m gonna need more drinks if I have to look at his stupid face again.”

Trina playfully rolls her eyes, “Yes, you can let James and Harry know we are both here.”

The bouncer pulls out his walkie talkie and opens the door for Trina and Kiara.

Kiara supports herself on Trina’s arm as they walk into the club, “You didn’t tell me we were going to Harry’s club?”

“I know, I thought you might put up a fight about it.”

She probably would have put up a fight about it, however she wouldn’t actually mind seeing Harry's stupid, beautiful looking face again.

The club itself is beautiful. The ceilings are covered with mirrors, and hanging down from them were stunning crystal chandeliers. The chairs are red, and glass tables are placed strategically in each booth. There is also a bar with some red stools, and a huge red door near it.

“What’s back there?” Kiara asks.

“The strip club. But we don't need to go over there. C’mon you wanted some wine, didn’t you?”

Trina and Kiara made their way to the bar and a heavily tattooed girl with a name tag that says Drew is working on the opposite side of the counter mixing drinks.

“Hey, Trina! What are you doing here? You can’t drink.”

“It’s for my friend, Kiara.” Trina gestures to her Kiara, who drunkenly waves back at Drew “She will take some wine, something sweet. I’ll just have some sprite”

Drew grabs a wine glass and puts it on the table before walking away. “Coming right up”

“James is that new guy you are seeing, right?”

“Yes. He works for Harry.”

Kiara has heard Trina mention James on multiple occasions. She even thinks he has come to the cafe a couple of times for lunch, but Kiara can’t put a name to the face. She is unsure if Trina and James are dating, but she is not sure how far she should pry. She does briefly remember Trina telling her that James does not care about Trina being pregnant. In fact Trina told her one day during their thirty minute break at work that James is just happy to be a part of Trina’s family.

“Mhmm. So Harry owns this club?” Kiara asks, taking a sip from her wine that Drew provided for her.

“Yeah. He owns a few more too. I believe it's a family business or something?”

Kiara sighs before downing the rest of her wine. “Just eat the fucking rich already.”

“Kiara? Trina?”

Kiara spins around on her chair, holding up her second glass of wine that Drew had given her and made eye contact with Harry.

He looks breathtaking. Hair neatly combed out of his face, tailored suit, ring decorated fingers that Kiara thought was repulsive, but now she can't stop thinking about how they feel against her heat.

“Trina, it's Wednesday,” Harry sternly told her, pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose, slowly breathing in and out, trying not to lose his temper at his best friend.

“Are you not happy to see me?” Kiara says, standing up. She almost trips on her heels but Harry grabs her arm.

Kiara places her hand on Harry’s cheek. “I know you have to be happy to see me. You don’t fuck someone like that unless you hate them or love them. And who could hate me?”

“Okay!” Trina chippers up, grabbing her friend and bringing her back to the barstool. “Maybe we should get some water in you, okay?”

Harry is flustered because way too much is happening at once. Harry has told Trina multiple times that Wednesdays are not a good time to show up at the club. He has his meetings on Wednesday, and dangerous people are always floating in and out of the club talking business with Harry. He just wants to keep Trina and Kiara safe.

“Drew put all their drinks on my tab,” he tells the dark-haired bartender. “Trina, did you drive here?”

“No, we took the subway,” Trina answered.

Harry sighed frustratingly. “Okay. I'll take you two home. Just don’t leave here until I come get you.”

“Harry,” Trina starts. “I'm sure we will be fine. It’s not that big of a deal. James is here anyways--”

“Trina please.”

It's the crack in Harry's voice that caused Kiara to stop drinking her wine and look up at him.

Trina shoots Harry a look of sympathy. “Okay fine. We will stay here until you're done.”

Harry exhales the air he was holding in, a nervous habit he is still trying to break. “Okay. I will be done soon.”

“What's got his panties in a twist?” Kiara snorts as Harry walks away.

“I’m not sure actually,” Trina responds. “He is always stressed at work. I’ve been trying to get him to take a break for ages, but pulling that man away from his job is an impossible task.”

“He always seems so tense.”

Trina laughs, “Yeah maybe you can help him with that.”

“Well I see you have been helping his fellow associate...James.” Kiara wiggles her eyebrows at Trina.

Trina dramatically sighs. “Don’t even get me started on him.”

“What? I thought things were going great!”

“They are!” Trina assures Kiara. “But I’m still not sure what he wants. I’m pregnant and thirty. I really don’t want to fool around anymore. I want to settle down. The baby is coming soon and I won't have time for hookups and flings. He says he doesn’t mind that I’m pregnant, but he hasn’t said he wants a relationship with me.”

“Why don’t you just be upfront with him and ask?”

“Because I don’t want to scare him off!”

“You deserve someone who is upfront with their feelings, Trina. You are never gonna know until you ask.”

Trina sticks her index finger in Kiara’s face. “I’m not doing shit until you figure out what's going on with you and Harry.”

“Fine I’ll admit. The dick is good.”

Trina squealed. “I knew it, you filthy whore!”

“I'm just a little nervous. What if he is just hooking up with me for some weird black girl fetish? What if he is a racist?”

“I can tell you that's not Harry.”

“Am I ready for this?”

Trina takes a sip of her sprite. “I dunno. You know the answer to that question, not me.”

“Well I don’t know, and you don’t know. So that's my cue to keep drinking.”

Trina rolls her eyes and is about to tell Drew that this will be Kiara’s last glass of red wine until she makes eye contact with a man walking towards them.

“Fuck,” Trina grabs her purse then grabbed Kiara’s wrist. “Don’t talk to him okay? Just don’t look at him and maybe he will go away--”

“Trina... Haven’t seen you in a while.” The man's voice is heavy and dark. When Kiara looked up at him the first thing she noticed is that he is extremely well dressed, with a bling out watch on his wrist. “Who is the lovely lady you brought with you?”

“Leave her alone Dorian.” Trina says.

“What's your name?” The man reaches out to touch Kiara’s lower back but she flinches away.

“Don't touch me! Who do you think you are?”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “Feisty. Pretty too. You are one of Harry’s girls?”

“Excuse me? One of whose girls?”

“Are you not a dancer for the club?” the man asks in a condescending town that sets Kiara off.

“Oh hell no. You know damn well I’m clearly not stripping so what is it that you want from me?”

Trina leans into Kiara’s ear. “Kiara please leave it alone,” She grabs her wrist but Kiara quickly pulls it out of her grasp. “Let's just go.”

“No, let the girl talk Trina. She has quite a mouth on her anyway. Maybe she can put it to a much better use.”

Slap

Kiara’s hand connects with Dorian’s face before Trina could stop her. Trina knows her friend has a temper but so does Dorian. The slap slightly echoes over the music and gains a few people's attention including Drew, who stops mixing her drink and keeps her eyes on Dorian, who clenches his jaw and fixes his suit on his shoulders, trying to regain his composure.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he mutters quietly.

“And what the fuck are you gonna… Ow!” Dorian roughly grabs Kiara wrist and drags her towards him.

He holds her hand above her head. “You don’t know who you are messing with. Do I need to show you?”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Kiara begins to squirm. “Let go of me before I kick you in the crotch--”

“Hmmmm. Maybe I should teach you a lesson. Don’t think Harry would mind if I borrowed one of his girls.”

“Refer to me as one of Harry’s girls one more time and I will do more than just slap you.”

“Dorian. Let her go.” Kiara’s eyes float from the man holding her wrist to Harry who is stalking up to her with a man right next to him. His voice was deep and assertive. Something Kiara never thought Harry to be other than when he was in bed.

Dorian lets Kiara’s wrist go and she stumbles back a bit towards Trina.

“Harry!” Dorian loudly greets. “I was just telling one of your whores she needs to watch that mouth of hers.”

“She is not a dancer, Dorian.”

“Oh, is she not? Such a shame,” Dorians eyes shamelessly rake Kiara up and down. “With a body like that I’m sure she could attract some clients for you.”

Kiara launches at Dornian but Harry is quick to grab her this time pulling her into his chest.

“Behave. Please,” he whispers in her ear.

“Dorian, you need to go.”

“Harry, you know better than that. Came here for my money. Come here every Wednesday to get my payment.”

“Well, you're not getting it today. Come by tomorrow.”

“Funny you say that since you know the history between me and your father--”

“I don't give a fuck about the history between you and my father!” Harry seethes stepping closer to Dorian. “You don’t see him here do you? I made you a deal. You will get your money, just not tonight. You don’t get to threaten my friends and then just demand money.”

“You don’t want to test me boy--”

“No, you don't want to test me. Not tonight. Leave.”

Dorian smirks at Harry before raising his hands up in defeat. “I’ll be here tomorrow. If you don’t have my money there will be problems.”

Harry watches Dorian walk fully out the door before turning to Trina and Kiara. “Both of you. My car now.”

“What just happened?” Kiara questions.

“Trina just take her to the car.”

+++

The car ride back to Kiara’s apartment is silent. Kiara sits in the back confused as to why Trina and Harry kept whispering to each other. A whole conversation is happening and Kiara’s trying to keep up, but she can only get bits and pieces of what the two are saying.

“I might be still drunk but I can hear you know.” That is a lie.

Harry’s eyes glance up to the rear view mirror. “Are you okay Kiara? He didn’t hurt you right?”

“No but I did hurt him. Slapped him. And if you didn’t come and interrupt I was about to kick him in the balls.” Kiara hiccups at the end of her sentence.

“She is right,” Trina agrees. “She is more of a fighter than she leads on to be.”

“Exactly!” Kiara yells. “So if you would have given me the chance I would have fucked him up.”

Harry, who was clenching his hand at the wheel during the whole drive, lets go and smiles. “I believe you Kiara.”

+++

Harry makes sure to walk Trina into her apartment safely, before helping Kiara to hers which was a challenge in itself because she can’t even walk in a straight line.

“Woah,” Harry says, wrapping his strong arms around Kiara’s waist trying to keep her balance. “How about you sit down on the bed?”

Harry helps Kiara walk into her bedroom and he slowly sits her down on her bed. Her hair is completely ruined, her dress slightly bunched up at her hips and her lips gloss slightly smudged. Harry thinks she looks beautiful. He is staring a little too long before he realizes he should help her take off her heels.

He gets down on one knee and his fingers begin to work on the claps of Kiara’s heels until she wraps her leg around Harry’s neck and pulls him closer to her thigh.

“Wine makes me horny.”

“I know,” Harry pushes himself away from her, no matter how tempting she looks, and goes back to undoing her heels. “But I think it would be smart if I get you to bed.”

“Why was that guy asking you for money?”

“Asking me anything but that.”

“Okay. Did you mean it?”

Harry slides one heel off her foot and looks up at her. “Mean what?”

“When we met.” He grabs Kiara’s other foot. “You said I was pretty. You meant it?”

Harry is silent for a couple seconds, his voice low. “Of course. Why would I be lying about that?”

Kiara shrugs as Harry glides her shoe off. “Guys are assholes. Well most guys are.”

“Mhmm. Where can I find some clothes for you?”

“Top drawer.” Kiara points at her dresser right in front of her bed. Harry walks over to get some clothes and places them on the side of her bed. “When I moved here I hooked up with this one guy from my class. I thought there was something going on between us ya know? He was nice at first. So I was gonna ask him if he wanted to go on a date because well, at that point we were hooking up. Turns out he had a girlfriend.”

“Sounds like a dick. Can I unzip your dress?”

Kiara nods her head and stands up hastily, turning around so her back is facing Harry. “I feel like I’m never good enough to be the girlfriend.” Harry listens closely as he zips Kiara’s dress slowly. Her delicate skin has goosebumps on it. When he gets all the way down to the top of her butt he pushes the dress off her shoulders, and allows her to step out of it.

“I’m good enough to hook up with. But never good enough to meet the parents or keep around longer than a couple weeks.” She turns around to face Harry, and grabs the shirt he picked out for her, throwing it over her head, and ignoring the pair of sweats he brought her, opting to stay in her underwear.

“So do you find me pretty in a fuckable way? Or do you find me pretty enough to keep me around longer than a few weeks?”

“Do you want me to answer that? Because you are really drunk, and my goal isn’t to scare you off.”

“Yes please,” she hiccups. “If you want to fuck around lets just be up front about it. Think I’ve gotten my hopes up about too many guys and I just wanna know.”

“Well I always think it's time for me to settle down,” Harry explains to her. “I’m twenty seven and my mum will not stop bugging me about it.” He laughs but Kiara stays silent. “I guess dating is just a bit confusing for me.”

“Confusing?” Kiara questions, tugging at the bottom of her shirt to make sure it is covering her butt.

“I really didn’t expect to be around this long. I’ve done a lot of stupid stuff Kiara, stuff that I really shouldn’t have done because it put my life at jeopardy. I think I never settled down because I didn’t think I was able to.”

“And what about now? Do you think you can settle down.”

Harry inhales and exhales quickly. “I’m not sure.”

“Okay.” Kiara turns her back to Harry and walks to her bed. She is definitely disappointed in his answer, but she knew she shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to keep seeing you Kiara,” Harry quickly responds, breathlessly. “I want to take you to dinner.”

“You don’t have to pity me Harry-”

“I’m not pitying you,” Harry cuts her off. “I like you Kiara. You're a nice girl, beautiful too, and I mean that. My life can be… menacing to say the least. I like you enough not to drag you into my bullshit.”

Kiara tiredly rubs her eyes with the back of her hands. “What exactly is the bullshit?”

“It's my family business and my family… Well, they are interesting people.” That is all Harry could tell her without explicitly saying, “Instead of going into finance with my business degree from Columbia, I had to join my dad’s mafia and fix all his mistakes while he lives in a mansion, even though all I have ever wanted was to have absolutely nothing to do with the “‘family business.’”

“You seem like you don’t want to talk about it.” Kiara is now sitting with her knees up to her chest on her bed and Harry is towering over her small frame.

“No. I’m not a big fan of my past. But I want to get to know you, and you can get to know me. I’m busy with work, and sometimes it's hard for me to open up, but I’d really appreciate it if we took this slow.”

Kiara pouts. “So that means I can’t convince you to stay the night? Even if I suck you off?”

Harry smiles at her. “No.” He places a kiss on her forehead. “But I will come get you tomorrow at seven for dinner. Does that work?”

“Yes it does. Thanks for bringing me home tonight.”

“Anytime. I mean that.”

Kiara flips over to her side, hands resting underneath her head. “Drive safe.”

Harry is unsure about his life. In fact he is unsure about leaping into this with Kiara. He knows they aren’t dating, and that's good for him. He needs time to figure out his life. He knows if he wants to be in Kiara’s life, he has to pay off his fathers debt’s and get out of the mafia, or else he will never truly have the life he wants.

Right now, he can see a future with Kiara. He can see himself waking up next to her, making breakfast. He can see himself enjoying a domestic life with her.

He knows he can’t have that right now. But he sure is gonna work like hell for it. For her.

[weirdochick56]

Sin- Steve Rogers AU Chapter Three

Biker!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Explicit language, set in a universe where Pietro isn’t Wanda’s twin, but her older brother!!!

Disclaimers: I don’t own any MCU plots/characters mentioned. 

Word Count: 3, 379 Words

Summary: Y/n finally comes face to face with Biker King and it’s nothing like she imagined. And when she least expects it, the very person she came looking for will find her and all the emotions she has been holding in will come pouring out in unexpected ways.

Read Chapter Two Here!!

*

Under different circumstances, maybe you would’ve stayed there, in his hold a little while longer. It wasn’t like it was an unpleasant feeling...not in the least. 

His hot hands and cool rings contrasted eachother deliciously on your skin and it had actually taken you a while to pull yourself out of your dazed trance, between getting the air knocked out of you and now....

“Oh.” 

You didn’t mean to yelp the way you did when your gaze met those of the blonde Adonis that stood before you, but you couldn’t help it. Those eyes...if you had thought they were pretty before, now you could say with absolute certainty that they were utterly showstopping. 

Salacious, intense, powerful...you’d never wanted to drown in a person’s gaze more. 

He had the kind of eyes you don’t just get lost in, but entirely lose yourself to. The kind that if you stare into too long, you might be swallowed like quicksand. And yet, even knowing this, you couldn’t pull yourself away and had found yourself for the second time in only a short span of time, unable to breathe correctly. 

His gaze was steady on yours as well, though unlike you he wasn’t shaken in the least. He was all cool and collected, his eyes searching yours out shamelessly. 

And so you stay like that for a few moments, his big hands pressed onto your mostly bare back and your hands gripping his forearms tightly, steadying- anchoring yourself. Though nothing about the piercing power of that gaze was anchoring or even real to you. 

Gradually, your heart begins picking up an erratic pace which only spikes when his fingers begin tracing softly over your skin. 

The shivers this sends down your spine feels like a slap to the face and you find yourself almost aggressively pushing yourself away from him. He hesitates a bit, but it’s only a split second before his hands are unclasped and off your skin. 

Breaking away seems to break the trance-like state you were in and instantly, the embarassment sets in, your cheeks heating up immediately. You bow your head refelctively. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble out of pure shame. Not because of him, but because of yourself.  

Why were you acting like this? 

I mean, you weren’t normally one to fall for a pretty face because you had grown up around rich pretty boys your whole life.

But he...

You take a cautious peek at him again and instantly regret doing so when you realize the fact that his eyes had seemingly never left you and were now practically glowing with amusement as he watched you closely.

Your breath hitches and you bite your lip, a nervous habit of yours. His eyes momentarily flick down to the action but they quickly return back up to your gaze. 

Your eyes are everywhere at once, your breathing labored. ‘He’s too close’, you think to yourself amidst the chaos in your brain. 

And he’s too goddam perfect. 

He’s all sharp jaw, high cheekbones, silky, messy blonde hair, pink plump lips and piercing blue eyes...every slope and curve and straight edge of his face was all too perfectly harmonious with one another. To say you were in complete awe at the Adonis before you would be an understatement. 

You couldn’t breathe. 

His plump lips are so pink and full and they’re only highlighted more by his dark neatly kept beard, you have to blink several times to make sure you’re not imagining them. How can a man have such pretty lips? 

You had never seen someone this alluring in your life, he wasn’t at all like the pretty rich boys of your town. 

He had a naturally intimidating aura to him, in that rough-around-the-edges badass biker way that you shouldn’t be finding this damn attractive. 

And then you take a moment to take in his full form. You were right; he was easily a whole foot taller than you, sporting more tattoos than you could count on his visible skin- that was, his collarbone and hands, some of the ones up his arm poking out when he moved. 

Unlike most people here who wore kuttes, he was wearing a thick leather jacket with the word, ‘President’ patched in bold black and white on it, but you knew he had his arms fully tatted because you’d seen it that day at the store.

 He also wore black worn jeans that clung sexily on his slim hips, chains hanging over the jean hoops and clanging everytime he moved. He clearly loved his black combat boots because it was visibly obvious he used them a whole lot. 

His sexy mouth lifts at the corner into an even sexier smirk and you all but come undone when he speaks again. “It’s okay, angel.” 

‘Doll’, ‘angel’...

Your brow furrows and before you know what you’re doing...

“Are you in the habit of giving girls you’ve never met pet names, sir?”  You blurt without thinking. 

The unintentionally sassy words fly out of your mouth before your brain can even catch up, but when it does, your eyes instantly widen and your hand flies to your mouth, clasping over it in complete horror. 

You want to die when the excessive attitude in your words sinks in and suddenly you’re all too aware of just how much bigger and intimidating this man was compared to you. 

He could snap you, and most grown men, in half without a second thought. 

You open your mouth to apologize profusely thinking you’ve offended this (most likely) dangerous outlaw, but you freeze once you see his expression. 

He doesn’t seem angry at all, in fact, he’s...laughing? No, it’s not a full-on laugh like the one you’d seen in that parking lot. It’s more airy, more casual. 

He was chuckling. At you. 

He speaks again, this time amusedly. “Nah, only the pretty ones.” 

You’re caught off-guard by the suave of his words and you find yourself profusely blushing once more. You have no idea how to respond to him so instead, you just shake your head, desperate to escape this increasingly flustering situation.

“Okay. Now, if you’ll excuse me...” you offer him a forced polite smile and go to side-step him. 

You barely make it two steps before his hand is flying out, gripping your wrist firmly and tugging you backwards. A little gasp flies out of your mouth at the suddeness of the movement and before you understand what’s happening, you find yourself pressed tightly against a wall, shrouded in darkness. 

You turn your wide eyes onto Biker King, whose thick arms are now pressed beside each side of your head, caging you in entirely. His long torso is leaning down slightly, so his eyes are directly with in your line of sight. 

His scent comes onto you like an avalanche. He smells strongly of leather, cologne, shaving cream, something woodsy yet manly and strangely enough, clean laundry. 

It was unlike any scent you’d ever smelt on a man, but somehow it fit him perfectly and you found yourself inhaling deeper than usual, your heart racing at his sudden proximity. 

He’s so close, your chests are only an inch or two away and he’s staring straight into your soul, cornering you like a predator would a helpless prey. 

“Uh...” you can only mumble awakwardly, still kind of dazed and gaping up at him in utter shock, you can barely hear yourself over the loud pounding of your erratic heart. 

Up close, he’s more beautiful than you could’ve ever imagined a person to be and his piercing gaze was honestly dizzying you. 

“Why are you here, doll?” 

His sudden question jerks you painfully back into reality and you press your lips together, your brows pinching up instantly at his words. The question is so blunt, so sudden, you can only blink furiously up at him. 

“I- what?” You breathe shakily, suddenly unable to function at all. 

He tilts his head down at you, raising a brow and speaking awfully matter-of-factly. “Well you’re that pretty little thing from that shit-hole parking lot, aren’t you?”

At first you can only blink stupidly at him, not expecting him to recognize you but then it suddenly dawns on you...if he recognized you then-

You gasp loudly, cheeks more fiery than ever. 

A knowing smirk grows on his face. “Hey, for what it’s worth, angel, it was a pretty catchy ringtone.” 

You bite your lip in order to supress any small sound threating to spill over out of your lips. 

His eyes darken when they fall onto your meek movement and he tightens his hold in the wall, inhaling sharply. “Damn...” 

Your blush darkens and your stomach clenches at his small, heated mumble that leaves those pretty lips. 

Maybe it was the smug little smirk on his beautiful face that bothered you so much. Or maybe it was the way his eyes pierced through you like you were see-through, but either way, you felt trapped. 

Like he was a lion and you were some small, distressed powerless prey, unable to escape that watchful gaze.

“I have to go...” you breathe curtly, staring at his mouth from under your lashes as his pink tongue pokes out, sweeping lightly over his lips.

He chuckles sexily. “Oh, nu-uh, doll. You haven’t answered my damn question yet. What’s a girl like you doing here?” 

“A girl like me?” You frown. 

He laughs, looking away for a second before turning his magnetic eyes back onto you, somehow more intensely than before. 

“You and I both know you don’t belong on this side of town, angel,” he whispers meaningfully, staring at your mouth fixedly. 

“I-I don’t even know you,” is all you can manage in a shaky voice, feeling like an invisible force is pushing at your chest. 

His eyes lazily drag up to your own and he hums thoughtfully. “You don’t have to. You just have to tell me what you want with this place.” 

You find yourself reeling back indignantly at his demanding tone despite your nervousness. Just who did this stranger think he was?

“I don’t have to tell you jack shit,” you snap. “Now let me go, please.”

If he’s shocked by your little outburst, he doesn’t show it, instead he laughs lowly, the sound somehow like pebbles scraping against gravel and also like what silk felt on your skin or the way honey squeezes out of a bottle. 

The sound was so sexy- a perfect balance of masculine and airy- that it felt like a carress on your skin. 

“Oh, you’re definitely not from around here, little spit fire.”

You want to ask him what he means, but before you can, a voice cuts in from behind you both. 

“Prez.” 

The both of you freeze, but perhaps for entirely different reasons. Biker King looks mildly annoyed at the interruption, and you...

Well that voice sounded freakishly like-

Biker King releases a big breath, smoothly pushing off the wall and spinning around to look at the voice, leaving you to finally be able to release a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in. 

You’re still safely hidden behind the much larger frame of Biker King, but you can easily make out about three pairs of manly feet from between his lean, jean-clad legs.

“Sorry, Prez,” the same voice quickly pushes out, but he sounds more panicked than apologetic. “I know you’re busy but...” he pauses, and for some reason you know it’s because of you. 

‘Prez’? As in “president”? You found yourself wondering silently. 

Tentatively, you step out from behind Biker King, head bowed. “Uhm- I was actually just going so..” 

You don’t even plan on looking at them before high-tailing it out of there, but a shocked voice stops you. 

“Y/n?!” 

Your head snaps up instantly. 

And when your gazes make contact for the first time in a long time, you can’t help the tears that instantly pool around your eyes, eyes and nose burning furiously as all the overwhelming feelings and thoughts you’d been suppressing for so long come rushing to the surface.

It was an instantaneous reaction because deep down you had felt he was near and a wave of conflict crashes right against you as you stiffen up.

Your mouth feels dry as you blink the threatening hot tears back. You haven’t seen him in a while, but he hasn’t very much changed appereance wise. 

Those eyes were still the warmest blue you’ve ever seen, that hair was still kinky and he hadn’t chopped off his frosty tips. 

It dawns on you why you’d recgonized that voice and your heart squeezes tightly as you’re fact to face with him...

Your voice is croaky and breathy when you say his name, but you force yourself to. 

“Pietro.”

*

Steve’s POV

I watch with raised brows as Pietro, or ‘Pretty Boy’ as we called him and my angel -Y/n is what Pietro called her- naturally draw closer together, like being pulled together by some kind of fucking magnetic force, and a surge of anger rises within me instantly. 

‘So your name is Y/n, huh?’ I can find myself thinking that her name is beautiful, delicate and feminine like her and that it would probably feel good to say on my tongue. 

Bucky and Sam each shoot a weird look my way, as if asking ‘what’s up with these two?’ and I give them a short shrug, quickly turning my gaze back onto the stomach-churning scene developing before me. 

Fuck, I hated her being so close to another man, it was inexplicable. I had just met the girl but I already knew I wanted her in my bed- it was like an instinct to me. 

Pietro is now within reach of her and I can do nothing but clench my fists as he reaches his arms out, with tears in his eyes appareantly not giving a flying fuck that his brothers are watching this unfold and tugs her small body towards him. 

What fucks me up more than anything is that she doesn’t fight him in the least. 

I mean it’s clear that they know eachother from their dramatic soap opera moment, but it’s the fact that they look so natural doing it -like they’ve done it so much before it’s muscle memory at this point- that makes me want to kill someone...perferably Pietro. 

He buries his face in her hair, inhaling her scent deeply and I can’t say I blame him. In the small amount of time I’d spent close to her, I’d become addicted to her smell. She smelt nothing like the women I’d fucked over the years. They used cheap off-brand shit, that too potent sweet stuff...but her? 

She smelled like wild flowers and vanilla, an expensive, soft, but not entirely inconspicuous scent I would fucking drown in if I could for the rest of my miserable life. 

As I watched on, helplessly clenching my fists so as to not do something rash, she shakily lifts her petite arms and wraps them around Pietro, hugging him tightly to her.

Oh. I growl under my breath, unable to resist the pang of jealousy that hits me.  

Bucky, my vice president, sends a look my way and I’m pretty sure there’s murder on my face, but all he does is smirk amusedly, the fucker. 

But then it gets worse, because Pretty Boy’s hands start wandering, rubbing her back tenderly, up and down almost to her nice round ass. Up and down, up and d-

I see red, and before I know what I’m doing, I feel myself lunging forward, ready to rip them apart. 

Except...

“Oh shit!” I freeze when I hear Sam voice all our thoughts at what has just happened. 

In the time I had stepped forward, Y/n had suddenly broken away from the embrace, brought her small fist back and clocked Pietro right in the jaw. 

We all stare like damn idiots at the loud smack sound, and consequent mixture of grunts and yelps that rings out, but none more than me. 

Little spitfire packs a damn powerful right hook, even with her size. 

I can see even Bucky, whose the most stoic of us all, is unable to do anything but gape at the scene. 

Our shocks lasts very little because in the next second, still cradling her injured hand to her chest, she uses her other free hand to smack him in the head, over and over. 

“You asshole!” she hissses, whacking him anywhere she can get her small hand. Pietro is crouched over, arms thrown over his head in order to protect himself. 

“Y/n stop!” he demands. 

But this only seems to anger her more and she’s attacking him with more fury now. “How dare you just up and leave like that? I thought-” she huffs, pained. “I thought you loved me, you dipshit!” 

It would seem my little angel has a potty mouth on her and I can’t help but smirk bemusedly to myself despite the fact that anyone here can tell there’s history there. 

Sam and Bucky’s shock seems to have worn off as well and they’re now staring, on the verge of laughter. 

It was pretty comical I’ll admit, seeing as she was way smaller than him and still whooping his ass. It was actually pretty impressive considering he was one of my guys.

I snap into action once I remember that she’s injured her hand and that Pietro isn’t fighting back because if he did, he could kill her. 

“Sam, Bucky,” I snap, pointing at Pietro with my eyes. They don’t hesitate a single second and instantly capture Pretty Boy in their hold, tugging him back. 

I reach out and grab Y/n by her waist, easily lifting her up and away. 

“Let me go, dammit! Let me go!” 

She wiggled aggressively against my hold, still flailing her small limbs about and yelling like a nutjob, but she’s no match against my strength. 

I hug her tightly, pressing her back to me so she can relax. “Settle down, angel,” I whisper calmly in her ear, but she keeps resisting, so I hastily add “If you keep wiggling that pretty little ass of yours like that on my cock you’re going to make me do something I’ll regret later. So I highly suggest you stop. Fucking. Moving.”   

I suppress the urge to grin when I feel her instantly stiffen beneath my touch. She finally seems to give up and fall limp against my hold. 

I mean, I was only half lying to get her to calm down. Actually, I was already half hard. 

‘You are one sick fucking bastard, Steve’ I think to myself bemusedly. 

“Y/n?! What the hell is going on?!” Another feminie voice calls out from behind us. 

Our necks snap instantly towards the direction where it came from and I frown. A pretty redhead comes bounding towards us, or well, me, looking just about ready to kill me and it is then I realize that I’m still carrying Y/n. 

“What the fuck are you doing?! Let her go!” She starts to give me hell, but Y/n suddenly sighs. 

“It’s okay Wanda,” she mutters. “He was just trying to keep me from killing-”

“Wanda!” Pietro calls out suddenly and the redhead’s eyes widen, much like Y/n’s had when she had first seen him. She instantly turns to Pretty boy and runs over to him, tears in her eyes. She practically jumps on him and holds him tightly to her. 

What. The. Hell. 

Sam turns to Bucky incredulously as ‘Wanda’ and Pietro hold eachother like they were the other’s life line. 

“Dude,” Sam breathes over to Bucky. “Where the hell is Pretty Boy getting all these babes from?” 

Bucky shrugs. “No clue.” 

“Wanda what are you doing here?” Pietro breaks away from her, ignoring Buck’s and Sam’s whispers. 

“Oh Pietro! I thought you were dead!” she sniffles and I’ve had just about enough of this shit show. 

“Enough.” I call out, gently setting Y/n down. I try to ignore her pretty gaze burning holes into the side of my head and focus on the issue at hand, turning my harsh gaze to Pietro. 

He gulps audibly because he knows I’m no longer playing around. 

“Pietro, you’re going to explain now.” 

Read Chapter Four Here!!

***

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[lumosinlove]

Relic Keel

(Warnings in tags)

part i

Sirius woke up with the sun for one reason only. He wanted to see the far off, white sails of Lupin’s boat.

Some people came to Hogwarts Island for the yearly trade show in Helga. Some people came for the resorts. Some came for the waves, perfect for surfing. Some came for the history.

If Sirius hadn’t already lived there his entire life, he would have come for those white sails. But he’d always been here. This island didn’t let many go. Not even Lupin’s boat truly went. It always stayed in view, never even close to a dot on the horizon. Sirius only ever saw the tourists really leave. And they didn’t count. They were strangers.

Sirius pushed himself up from the mattress he’d dumped on the floor one day and never bothered with again, and glanced at Saint, who had fallen asleep on the porch hammock. A book was clutched to his chest. James got them for him, from the island bookstore or his father’s library. Anything he wanted. He even told Saint to keep them sometimes, but Saint never would.

“If I’ve read it, I’ve got it up here,” Saint would say. “I don’t need people asking questions about how I got them anyway.”

“Tell them the truth,” James would say. “I got them for you.”

Saint would just laugh. Everything about Saint was sunny, all the way down to his honey brown skin and bright smile, his golden hair and his amber eyes. Sometimes his laughs weren’t though. Sometimes things about Saint promised storms.

“Or one of the Gods,”—a Hollow word for Godric’s inhabitants— “could say I stole them,” Saint would always reply. “And it’d be all over from there for this St. Clair.”

St. Clair was the name given to all the kids of the island who didn’t have one. It was the name of Godric’s church and orphanage, and Saint Clair was the saint of the island. They thought they were doing a nice thing, giving orphans a name.

The Hallow called him Saint because he wasn’t one, though, and that was why Saint liked it. He wasn’t a St. Clair. He was no saint. No one was.

“Pretty fun,” Saint would laugh. “To be known for what you’re not.”

“Not to mention,” was another one of his sayings, “I get to go around telling all the people of the island that they can worship me in bed.”

Only Sirius knew his real name.

Hogwarts Island had four neighborhoods. Hot all year round, and just off the coast of Guadeloupe in the French territory of the West Indies Islands.

Your island paradise! said the sign on the main port dock in Rowena.

Sirius had spray painted that sign. More than once. Saint liked to replace the dice with site, just to freak people out a little. The tourists took pictures of it anyway, and then of each other. Zinc covered faces, or barely covered girls on spring break. It didn’t matter. They would all be gone in, at most, two weeks. Hogwarts was small, and the neighborhoods kept to themselves. Tourists were both a part of and outside the dynamic.

First, and northward, there was Godric. Money, money, money. Great manors lined the streets, built in the days of French occupation. They were still mostly filled with the old families—Potter, Lupin, McKinnon, Evans, Deveaux. Sirius always swore that more money went to these peoples’ golf courses and gardens and swimming pools than to food and water. It was also where the main hotels were. Griffin Beach was lined with villas and hotels and resorts, all either pointing outwards towards the endless ocean, or inwards, towards the pools and bars and Gryffindor Golf course.

In the western part of the island was Rowena. Rowena was where the island’s port was. It was where the tourists came in, only to get swindled into paying too much for crappy hotels, for their drinks, and for surfboard rentals.

To the East lay Helga. Anything anyone needed, they found it in Helga. Rows and rows of the finest craftsmen. Helga held the other part of Hogwarts’ main income. What the tourists didn’t cover, Helga’s treasures and their yearly trade show did. 

Finally, there was Salazar. The snake of the South, people called it, because it wound all the way out to the skinniest, most pointed part of the island. Salazar was equal part money and dirt. Salazar held more old families, more old money. The Montagues and Capulates, Saint liked to say, the Jets and Sharks. Lestrange, Carrow, Meadowes. Black. The houses, Gothic and looming and built within inches of each other, were the maze of the drug dealers. One quarter of it, at least. Normally, Sirius Black would have nothing but hatred for his home arrondissement, the one he hadn’t re-entered in almost seven years now, for fear of never escaping again, but Salazar had produced Dorcas, after all. And Dorcas was one of Sirius’ closest friends. Doras gave Salazar, if not a redeemable image, proof that it wasn’t a complete hell-hole. There were rarely any cross-over. Godrics stuck to Godric, Salazars to Salazar, and so on. Unless there was trouble.

But then there was The Hollow. It was a sliver of a place, right on the northern-most shoreline. Ironically placed beside Griffin Beach, just outside of Godric. A small slice of land dedicated to…no one really knew who. Runaways, like Sirius? Do-what-you-wants, like Dorcas? Godric-rich-boy-looking-for-a-thrill, like James? Or had you been born there, like Saint?

To the island, they were like the poor of Ancient Rome, slanting wood against the outside of the city’s walls for shelter. But it didn’t feel that way. Not to the people inside.

Some knew what they had done to end up there. Some didn’t. Everyone knew that was it though. You didn’t make it out of The Hallow. Saint liked to say that you had to make it in. Like some A-lister Godric club. A tangle of too low wires, stollen cable, junk yards and thatched, patched houses. More surfboards outside of houses than cars.

They called their little piece of wood leant against the Roman wall Grimmauld Place. Grim old place, in French. Sirius didn’t know why. It wasn’t grim to him. It had always been called that, forever, named by just another somebody that no one knew. A shelter, gorgeous and haphazard, built by different inhabitants over the years, that was half on the ground and half in the trees. Rope ladders, rope bridges. Spirals and spirals of it. Warm, hanging lanterns all the way up into the branches of the biggest oak tree Sirius had ever seen. Like fireflies. None of Godric’s window screen mania. You wanted the sun on your face, you wanted the ocean breeze, you’d deal with a few mosquitoes. Sirius knew that the sun, the sand between his toes, his friends, just a level below…it was worth it. He’d never forget the first time he’d seen it, Saint looking over the railing, much younger, and telling him to fuck off. He’d take it over the dark halls he had grown up in any day.

Sirius planted his feet on the floor and pushed himself up, going to the sink for a glass of water and so he could stare out the window some more. There it was. Sirius loved that boat. The sailor sailed it like they were trying to escape, too. Only, Sirius couldn’t think of a reason a Lupin would want or need to escape. He’d seen their house plenty of times, almost everyday when he went to work at the Potter’s. But that boat…it didn’t fit anything else about the Gods, except perhaps that they could afford it. Sirius loved that boat, he loved its billowing sails, and the looping script reading, Wolfsbane, its name, across the side.

The sky was just beginning to give up dawn, and Sirius wanted to be closer.

He put his glass down and shoved his feet into his flip-flops. Saint was closer to falling out of his hammock now, and dappled in the pale light between palm trees. Sirius gave the hooked fabric a kick, and Saint flailed awake.

“Fucker,” Saint said, one eye open and voice groggy.

“I can’t sleep,” Sirius said. “Let’s go do something.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost dawn.”

It was all Sirius needed to say. Saint threw a hand over his eyes before rolling to his feet and stretching his back. Sirius stared out over one of the railings of Grimmauld and all he could see was ocean. He looked for his boat, his white-sailed perfect thing, and then turned away. He’d have time to watch again at the beach.

The Hollow was grand to Sirius, mostly because it was the farthest away from Salazar that one could get. At this point, Godric, as much as Sirius hated it, felt like a point of protection. If Salazars hated the Godrics, they’d hate having to go through them to get to the Hollow even more. But the Hollow was great for other reasons.

Shack Beach was theirs. No tourists. No villas or hotels that shooed you away from the private bars and lounge chairs. It was empty, and so it was full. And the waves. Oceanic rollers that pushed you up, that let you get your feet under you, or forced you down beneath the surface in a tumble of salt and sand. Not so great during a hurricane, but glorious for this.

Sirius hefted his board under his arm before throwing it into the sand and stretching his arms back, then up above his head. Saint was doing the same beside him, his wooden, sea-soaked cross hanging around his neck.

“D’accord, Black,” Saint said. “Wagers?”

“Whoever gets the most air has to play lookout for Dorcas,” Sirius said. “And dinner.”

“High stakes,” Saint whistled lowly. “Fine.” Saint’s smile was sharp. “Go.”

They took off at a run.

The water, although warm, was the shock Sirius needed. Saint beside him, as always, and the unknown weight of creatures and water below them. It was terrifying and thrilling. The ocean floor was dark this early, but Sirius stared down at it anyway as they sat on their boards, waiting. They didn’t need light for this part anyway. Sirius could recognize the telltale pull of the tides in his sleep.

“Oh,” Saint drew out the sound, tilting his head back. “I feel it, baby.”

Sirius turned wordlessly back towards the shore, Saint following with a flash of a smile, as they began to paddle. Sirius felt the lift, the curl, heard the water begin to rush and rush, faster and faster. The water kissed his feet and hands. Sirius jumped himself up and let out a long whoop, laughing as he gained his footing with a few twirls before pushing himself up towards the crest. He curled around the top of the wave and there was the Wolfsbane again, just for a moment, before it disappeared to the sea again. Sirius, for a moment, had felt like he was sailing beside it, with it.

They could stay out there for hours, always had been able to, but Sirius had work soon. They went until Sirius felt thoroughly salt-drenched, lips parched. Dragging their boards, they collapsed together in a small thicket of palm trees, up the beach a little. It was like a small cave of bark and wind-rustled leaves. There were still a few stars visible, and Sirius closed one eye and connected them with his finger.

“Dipper?” Saint said.

“Just Orion,” Sirius sighed and dropped his hand. “We learned that in school.”

Saint snorted. “When’s the last time we went to school?”

“True,” Sirius laughed, then, “You should steal the Wolfsbane for me."

Saint looked over at him. “What is it with you and the Lupins’ boat?”

Sirius just shrugged. He didn’t know. “I miss sailing, maybe.”

“You know Kris will let you take one of his out at the marina,” Saint replied.

“I don’t want to get him in trouble. He already lends us the motorboat, anyway.”

“You’re all trouble,” Saint said, and then he knocked their ankles together when they had been quiet for a few moments.

“Well?” he asked quietly as the sun began to warm them.

Sirius turned to look at Saint, sand in his hair. He laughed. They both knew what that meant.

“That sort of day, huh?” Sirius said.

“I’m asking for you,” Saint said. “I can go wherever I please, Dorcas has Marlene, but you…” Saint made a tisking sound. “Oh, Sirius Black. You lonely creature of the sea.”

Sirius scoffed. “You’re always so romantic.”

“Come on,” Saint propped himself up on an elbow and pressed a warm palm to Sirius’ bare chest. “It’s nice. It’s nice because we know each other.”

“Why do you always do this to me in public places?”

Saint raised an eyebrow and looked around the empty sands.

Sirius knew Saint could feel his chest rising and falling beneath his hand, knew that if he dragged it down some he would feel Sirius stirring in his swim trunks. Saint was his best friend. It was easy with Saint. There was no risk of losing Saint. Except maybe to Saint Clair, but they never went to Salazar, and Salazar had yet to come to them.

“Come here,” Sirius sighed, as if he was entirely put upon, and Saint made a pleased noise and leaned down for a kiss. He tasted like the sea, salty and smooth. Sirius pressed a hand to his back, coated with sand.

“Sandy hand jobs,” Sirius grumbled into his mouth. “My favorite.”

“There’s no sand in my mouth,” Saint breathed out and threw a leg over Sirius’ hips, mouth moving down to suck at Sirius’ neck. Sirius let his eyes close, hand squeezing around one of Saint’s strong shoulders.

“That’s true,” he said.

The barely there light in the sky cast Saint’s skin in blue, his light curls taking on the color, too as he kissed down Sirius’ chest, whose breathing was coming faster. He bit playfully at Sirius’ hip when he reached the band of his swim shorts and Sirius laughed, hitting his head lightly.

“We gotta go soon.”

“So?” Saint looked up with one of his sharp smiles, his freckles sprinkling his brown skin and honey eyes.

Sirius did love Saint. They loved each other, in their own way. For a long time now, they had been all each other had. Some type of love had to grow out of that. It just had to.

He was warm and felt safe as Saint’s mouth slipped over him, nursing him slowly. Sirius threaded his fingers into Saint’s salt-tangled hair and let his head loll back in the sand.

Sirius didn’t relax often. Saint knew that because he was the same, even if he pretended he wasn’t. The closest Sirius got, besides this, was in the ocean. Something to focus on. Something to look for and be careful about. Something to love.

He breathed out slowly, trying to quiet his mind and pass all his attention to Saint. He was stiffening quickly to full hardness from the wet heat, and his hands in Saint’s hair moved with his movements, sounds soft.

Sirius let himself stare out at the ocean again. The Wolfsbane was filled with wind, the double pontoons tilted so that one was a little ways out of the water. He could only barely make out the sailor’s silhouette. He didn’t know which Lupin it was. They was skilled though, very skilled. Sirius would do anything to have a sailboat of his own that he could take out every single day. He envied the sailor.

It didn’t take him long to come, not with Saint knowing his body so well. Soon, he was open mouthed, back arching as Saint pulled his orgasm from him.

Saint smiled when he leaned back, sitting on his heels and tucking Sirius back inside his shorts. “Worship me yet?”

“Always,” Sirius panted. “What do you want?”

“Have you seen your mouth?”

Sirius hummed and surged up to kiss him before knocking him back into the sand. They wrestled, rolling and laughing together in the dune, before settling with Sirius on top, hands pinning Saint’s wrists.

“Go on,” Saint grinned, then parroted, “we gotta go soon.”

“So romantic.”

Sirius reached into Saint’s suit and took his cock, hot and throbbing into his hands, biting his lip at the way Saint’s mouth dropped open. Saint really was beautiful. Sirius thought there must be something wrong with him to not want him in the way that he should.

“Life’s not too bad,” Saint sighed after, as Sirius rolled to lay next to him again. “Island. Surfing. Sex. We’re basically The Beach Boys.”

Sirius laughed. “Basically.”

Saint made a disgruntled noise. “Is it weird that we aren’t in love?”

“Yeah,” Sirius replied. “It sort of is.”

“Do you wish we were?” Saint looked at his profile.

Sirius returned his gaze, their noses close. He nodded, sand shifting in his ear. “Sometimes.”

“Gosh, we suck.”

“We really do,” Sirius patted near where Saint’s swimsuit was still askew. “Literally.”

Saint let out a loud laugh, pulling his trunks up, and Sirius a long groan.

“Gotta go to work.”

“Poor baby,” Saint said.

“You also have to go to work.”

“Poor me.”

“You also owe me dinner. And your Dorcas’ look out. I won.”

Saint sat up. “Then I gotta go to work.”

Sirius smiled and looked back out over the waves. The white sails were pushing back West, towards Lupin House to dock. He’d have to wait until tomorrow to see them filled and tilting again.

~

Dorcas slung her backpack on while Saint all but forced the Jeep into park. She hopped out of the door-less side and turned to grin at him, elbows resting against the hot metal of the rusty blue sides.

“One hour,” Saint said, already kicking his seat backwards and pulling out his earbuds. “Then I have work. Don’t think I won’t leave you here.”

“You’re a saint, baby, really.”

Saint flicked his sunglasses down over his eyes. “Don’t I know it.”

Dorcas waved him off before jogging lowly around the back of the McKinnon’s gardens, skirting the gate until she found the bent out posts. She threw her backpack through first, before sliding through herself on her stomach. The manicured grass stained her tank top green in places, but Marlene wouldn’t care. Marlene was an angel. Dorcas was positive.

Marlene’s father, not so much.

Dorcas kept away from the vast windows until she could pull herself up one of the drain pipes that led straight to Marlene’s bedroom window. She crouched, sneakers wedged against roof tiles, and tapped on the glass.

At first, all Dorcas could see through the window was Marlene’s familiar bedroom, the sunlight partially reflecting herself back at her, her chin length dark hair, backwards hat and tank top. In the rest, Marlene’s bright walls, once white but now covered with posters and Marlene’s paintings. Concert posters, random letters from the Hollow’s old abandoned movie theater marque that Dorcas had brought her, and the oil paint in swirling shapes or stroked to form friends’ faces. Dorcas saw her own face many times, and the sight was warmer than the hot sun.

Then, Marlene was there, blonde hair falling over her shoulders. She pressed her forehead to the warm glass briefly before pushing the window, sticking with the heat, open.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Dorcas said.

“D,” Marlene sighed, and pulled her in.

Marlene was an angel. Dorcas was sure.

~

Saint felt uneasy in Godric. He probably always would. He kept his earbuds in, but tapped off beat and nervously, glancing back at the McKinnon house every once in a while. All these houses looked the same. The lawns were so green that they rivaled the sea, aqua and glimmering in the sunlight. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like the women, seemingly ever out for a morning speed-walk with each other, died blonde hair piled high on their heads, who stopped to ask, Do you do lawns? What about pools?

Saint merely slid his sunglasses off, smiled at them, and they were lost. Their eyes went bright, their mouths giggly. Boy from The Hollow, they would whisper to their friends later, so sad to waste such a face—

Saint had always been beautiful. He knew that. But it didn’t matter so much when you were from where he was. In Godric, beauty was key. Anywhere else, it was a waste.

And then they’d see his neck. The cross with the 7 singed there, hanging around his neck.

Oh, they’d gasp, oh, sweetheart, you’re one of those St. Clair Church orphans aren’t you?

A waste. A waste.

The nuns—waste of space, wasteofspacewasteof—

Saint hated the Godric men, with their linen pants and green juices. Walking their property lines and greeting each other each morning, like Roman elite on their salutatio.

Saint was here for Dorcas, who for some reason had decided to love one of those men and women’s daughters. He could never.

That was the surest way to be a waste. Why love them? Why love anyone who was raised like this? By these people?

There was an excitement that came with The Hollow for the Godrics. A strange fascination, animal and exotic. Marlene, to her credit, didn’t have it. She loved Dorcas, too. James Potter…Saint liked James well enough. But both he and Marlene could still go home every night. They didn’t live it. Not like Dorcas, not like Sirius, not like himself.

Yes, Saint would say. I do lawns. I clean pools.

Saint grinned sweetly. Sultry.

He’d also steal their favorite gold necklace.

~

“So, Remus, what do you plan to do with yourself this summer, sweetheart?”

Remus looked across the dining room table at his parents. His mother was looking at him expectantly, knife and fork poised, and his mind had still been with the wind and the sea.

“I know the history museum is always looking for volunteers, which looks wonderful on a college application,” his mother continued when Remus had paused for too long.

Remus nodded, hoping to keep his expression pleasant, and cut his pork chop. “Maybe. I was hoping to lean in a little bit of a different direction.”

“Oh?”

“Just sailing, I mean. Racing. There are prizes, some of them with money attached. Good for scholarships, or…”

Remus’ father chewed slowly. “Oh. Well, yes. But you have the mornings to do that. Something more productive with your day, maybe. What are the other boys on the team doing, for example. Maybe ask James or Luke or Thomas. Well, maybe not Luke, given everything that happened this year.”

Remus only nodded again, biting down everything else. But he wanted to race sailboats, run with them, he wouldn’t say. What could be more productive?

“Yeah,” he said instead. “I’ll look into some options around town.”

That, made his mother and father smile.

Julian sat to Remus’ left swinging his legs and looking between them all.

“Can I go out on Wolfsbane?” Julian asked hopefully. Julian, through Remus, had developed an incredible love for Remus’ sailboat and wanted nothing more than a ride.

“Absolutely not,” Remus’ mother said. “Not until you’ve finished your lessons at the Club.”

The Club. Dreaded words. Gryffindor Club, what Remus and Marlene secretly called The Yacht, was the most prestigious private club on the island. You needed a two-member invite. It was beautiful, but it was all walls. Closed off from the rest of the island. People came here, stayed at the club, and didn’t even see. The pools were not the ocean, and the cuisine was not Hogwarts cuisine. Remus wasn’t even sure his parents knew anymore, although he knew they had once. Early on. He didn’t know what had changed. You fall into a crowd, maybe.

He would get Julian out and about one day, when he was old enough. Remus himself spent his time on all parts of the island, in all neighborhoods—almost. He loved Helga more than anything, with its nicknacks and beautiful, dream-like creations.

Except The Hollow.

He’d never gone. Almost, once, on a dare from James when they were thirteen. There were nasty rumors. He’d only seen it from the sea, the deserted sands of Shack Beach and clusters of houses. And the rumors looked true enough. He knew James went sometimes, knew who he was friends with. The only reason he didn’t get shit for it at school was because everyone liked him too much. Remus thought they liked the fact that James could get away with it, too. James could get away with anything. He was a Potter.

Everything except me, Lily always said, and Remus smiled at the thought.

They’d all be out of here in a year anyway. At least for a while. College was like a promise-land. Remus was so sick of this island, but not the ocean. He’d miss the ocean.

The Lupins had been on Hogwarts for nearly one hundred years—a short time, compared to the Evans and McKinnon families. An even shorter time compared to the Potters and Deveaux. One hundred year old new money? Remus thought it was a ridiculous statement but, compared to the other Godric families, they were new. It was relative. Relative money. The Salazar families had been there even longer, Remus couldn’t quite remember their stories.

Remus couldn’t imagine how no one had wanted to go out and see the world. This island was his home. He loved its every shore and nook. But he…wanted. He wanted with the sea and the wind and his Wolfsbane with its twinning pontoons and white sails. It’s tiny below deck cabin that snugged in a bed for nights lulled by the waves. Nothing outside but water and the stars.

After dinner, Remus climbed up the tall, winding stairs to Bane Tower. It had been named by his great, great, great, grandfather, also named Lyall, like his father. A play on words. Lupin, wolf. Wolfsbane. Bane Tower. Sometimes Remus felt like he was just another word game. Remus and Julian. Raised by the wolves.

“It kept him sane, the stars,” Remus’ grandfather had always said. “Quite literally, I mean. Madness runs in our family, Remus. Who knows when it might pop up again. And they kept him almost sane, I should say.”

The stars kept Remus sane, too. They were a map on the ocean, and an escape on land. He didn’t have to think when he looked at them. Maybe that was what was dangerous about them. Hypnotic. Mirrored by the haphazard lights of The Hollow, right along Godric’s shore.

Remus’ grandfather had died of madness. That’s what they said. Remus had watched him go. He missed him.

It didn’t stop Bane Tower from being the perfect place to see the stars.

~

For Gods, the Potters were good people. Really, for anyone the Potters were good people. They were kind to Sirius, and payed him well. Mostly he looked after their boat, but he would also do chores around the house, run errands for this and that for Mrs. Potter.

It was how he had met James. Really met him. School didn’t count, Sirius had disappeared when he was eleven from his old life and that meant, what friends he might have had at Hogwarts Academy were no more. No one liked a run-away. No one really liked a Black.

The Potters weren’t prejudice. Did they have more money than Sirius could picture? Yes. But they were good. It was the only reason Sirius had even considered liking James again. And still, that didn’t mean he understood why James still hung out with him—them. James was the only one from Sirius’ old life who had decided to reconnect. It was strange. Sirius had nothing to offer him.

It had only gotten stranger when, about two years ago now, he’d brought Lily Evans, who had in turn brought Marlene McKinnon. The boys and the girls had been taught separately when Sirius had still be there, and so Lily and Marlene were vague memories for Sirius. Dorcas—homeschooled—and Marlene were gone for each other almost immediately, and Sirius had theories about Lily and James. None of them had ever brought anyone else, so, Sirius assumed, the rest of his old schoolmates had turned out to be the assholes he expected. Gods in their own territory, up on Olympus, reaping their spoils on the backs of others. Lacrosse playing, secret addicts to something, who drank too much, lived for the summer, and liked boobs more than themselves. Then again, James hung out with those people, too. It was hard to figure out.

But weren’t they all.

“Black!”

James, in all his leather boat shoes and pink swimsuit galore, was jogging up the dock to meet him. Sirius gave a nod, but kept sweeping last night’s rain from the decks, the morning sunshine hot on his neck.

“What’s up?” Sirius said.

“Throwing a party,” James said. “Thought maybe you and your crew would want to come.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “You’re inviting us to a party?” They were famous, Godric’s boisterous parties. Drugs, alcohol, swimming pools, and the ocean. The best mix.

James nodded. “That I am.”

Sirius laughed. “Pots, that place will be crawling with Gods.”

“I thought you liked that sort of thing.”

“Yeah,” Sirius said. “On our turf, where we aren’t so outnumbered that, when the police show up—because they always do—we’re the ones who get blamed just for existing. And for the Crucio that’ll be there—and don’t try to tell me someone won’t bring some.”

Crucio. Hogwart’s powdery nightmare.

“Fine,” James said. “We’ll make it one of yours, then. Your turf, you name the place.”

“Why?”

James grinned. “Maybe I like transcending boundaries.”

“Maybe Marlene wants to see Dorcas.”

“Maybe.”

Sirius straightened and leaned on his broom, looking at James squint at him in the bright sunlight reflecting off his glasses. He was wearing a navy Castle Lacrosse t-shirt that decidedly did not go with his shorts.

“Maybe,” Sirius said. “But it’s gotta be at Shack Beach.”

James whistled. “That’s pretty deep territory. You know Felix will make its rounds.”

Crucio was the island’s greatest gift, and its greatest curse. Some people called it Crucio, some called it Felix. The drug wasn’t very addictive chemically, but its effects were powerful. Sirius had heard that it allowed the user to hallucinate memories. Past, distant or near. It could keep people coming back for more, time and again, hoping to relive things—or desperate to see something different. Crucio wasn’t addicting, but memories definitely could be. Good thing Sirius didn’t value his past.

Sirius stuck to the name Crucio. It was torture to live like that, not luck.

Crucio meant a good and steady cash flow for the suppliers. Like Dorcas. Sirius and Saint basically lived off of her income—not that she could do much without answering for how she accumulated it. It was a strange gift, a tedious life, but Dorcas seemed to like it.

Sirius stared James down. “And if it does, no cops will show up to tell about it.”

“Deal,” James sighed. “You’re fucking hardcore, Black.”

“Sure,” Sirius said.

“Potter,” came a voice from the end of the dock.

They both looked and Sirius stiffened as soon as he did, feeling self-conscious clutching his broom. Remus Lupin and Luke Deveaux were standing there, aviators on and Castle Lacrosse tank tops. Luke’s flashy Jeep was waiting in the circle driveway of James’ house. It was Luke who had spoken. Remus stood a few steps back. With their sunglasses, Sirius couldn’t tell where they were looking.

“Let’s go,” Luke said simply.

Sirius turned away before they could, pushing rain water harshly into the sea.

“Yeah,” James said, voice softer this time. “Coming.”

Pity. Sirius could practically feel it.

“Ten tonight?” James said to Sirius. “Sound okay?”

“Okay,” Sirius said without turning around.

He felt the vibrations of James jogging back down the dock, but didn’t turn to watch the three Gods go.

[violetrose-art]

Corpse Bride Headcannons, Theories, and Ideas

This is just a list of the theories, headcannons, and ideas I came up with for Tim Burton's Corpse Bride. I might add more later on, so watch out

-Victor and Victoria were born and raised in a small English village close to the Atlantic Ocean called Burtonsville

-Victor’s full name is Victor Ichabod Van Dort

-When he was about four years old, Victor found Scraps as a mixed-breed puppy in an alleyway. Nell and William refused at first, but William saw how his son quickly became attached to the dog, so he let him stay. Sadly, when Victor turned eight, Scraps was brutally mauled and tragically killed while trying to defend his beloved owner from a bigger, nastier dog

-Victor’s favorite toy as a child was a stuffed horse he called Usher. He begged his mother to let him keep Usher until he was fourteen

-Victor learned to play the piano when he was about five years old. He was a fast learner and he picked up on it very quickly, and his tutor was greatly impressed by his skill. His favorite musicians are Mozart and Beethoven

-Victor works as an artist to draw many types of butterflies for the Lepidoptera Community, as well as a professional pianist. Originally, his father wanted him to work as a fish merchant and take over the family business, but Victor politely told him “no thanks” because he wanted to follow his own dreams. William was disappointed, but deep down he wanted his son to be happy. So he usually encouraged him, especially when Nell wasn’t around

-Outside from his butterfly works, Victor does paintings during his free time at home. The color theory that he studied was written by Eugene De La Croix·         Victor has been drawing since he was a child. His favorite things to draw are animals, butterflies, and other insects. He also does landscapes and people sometimes. He also likes to write sometimes, mostly a few poems and a couple musical compositions. Nothing he took too seriously, though. He also likes to sing when he thinks he’s alone

-In his childhood, Victor used to have a somewhat regular playmate named Humphrey. They were almost friends, but when William’s business became very successful and Victor’s family became rich when Victor was about eleven, Humphrey stopped coming over and the two boys haven’t seen each other since

-When he was a boy, he learned how to speak French because his mother thought it was “high-class” to be bilingual. Victor was diligent in his studies and thus has a good knowledge of spoken and written French. He may not be perfectly fluent, but he can carry on a decent conversation

-Victor is severely allergic to walnuts and poison oak

-Victor had a cousin named Mary whom he was very fond of, but she passed away when she was seventeen and he was six. She got lost in the woods and was attacked and devoured by a pack of wolves

-Victor doesn’t drink anything more than the occasional glass of champagne or wine. The reason? Mayhew once got him drunk and it turns out Victor is a CHATTY drunk. As in, he’ll tell you his life story at the slightest provocation. Victor was so embarrassed when he sobered up that he nearly swore off all alcohol forever. It’s very unlikely he’ll ever knowingly get wasted again·         After he and Victoria were finally married, Victor gained confidence and he stood up against Victoria's parents earning him some respect

-Victor HATES smoking. He was secretly offered a cigarette from Mayhew when he was fourteen and after the first inhale, he was coughing and gagging so much that he nearly threw up

-Victor is the tallest member of the Van Dort family, making him stand out quite a bit during family reunions

-He may not be a sporty person, but Victor enjoys cycling. He also loves a good game of chess

-Victor adores reading. His favorite writers are William Blake, Charles Baudelaire, Lewis Carroll, Edgar Allan Poe, and William Shakespeare

His favorite books are “Les Miserables”, “Dracula”, “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland”, “The Fall of the House of Usher” and other works by E.A. Poe. The play/book that he hates the most is “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” because he strongly dislikes this style of a love triangle in the plot line. He also has a fascination with penny dreadful. Yes, he knows the serial stories are really nothing but lowest common denominator trash, but he loves them anyway. He got hooked on them as a teenager thanks to Mayhew’s nephew, and he used to keep a secret stash under his mattress

-When she still rather young, Victor noticed that his daughter, Emily, became very interested in music, so he taught her how to play the piano as well as the violin

-Victoria was the one who taught her son, Edward, how to read and they bond over books and stories they both enjoy

-The worst day of Victor’s life happened about three weeks after Scraps died. Victor’s parents had some business friends over for tea, and forced a still-grieving Victor to come down and be social. Poor Victor made a bad impression, being quieter and clumsier than normal, culminating in knocking over one man, tripping his wife, and insulting said wife’s coat in apologizing. Nell, humiliated and enraged, turned on her son once the guests were off, screaming at him about what an embarrassment he was while they were still standing on the front steps. Victor was so horrified, embarrassed, and depressed that he came too close to taking his own life. He got his hands on his father’s straight-razor, snuck into the bathroom, and actually had it to his neck when a noise from outside the bathroom spooked him and he dropped the razor and ran back to his room as fast as he could. Fortunately, the distraction gave him time to realize suicide wouldn’t fix anything, and he made a promise to himself never to stoop that low again. His parents also apologized the next day, which helped a lot. Victor avoids telling anyone about it unless he feels he has to, certain they’ll think less of him for it

-Victor was born June 9th, 1867

-Victoria’s full name is Victoria Elizabeth Everglot

-When she was very little, Victoria had always wanted a pet (like a cat or a small dog) but her mother said that having a pet in the house was uncivilized and improper and that all animals were filthy and uncouth creatures

-Victoria’s favorite hobby is sewing and knitting. She often designs most of her husband’s clothes and others in her spare time

-As a child, Victoria tried to be closer to her parents, but often found the family maid Hildegarde as more of a mother figure

-Victoria loves to read in her spare time… even though most people call it scandalous for a woman to do such a thing. Her mother even said reading was too passionate for a young lady. At a young age, Hildegarde, taught Victoria how to read (something her parents never found out about)

-Her favorite books are “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland”, “A Christmas Carol”, and any classic fairy tale. And her favorite writers are Charles Dickens, Lewis Carroll, Charles Perrault, Hans Christian Andersen, and the Brothers Grimm

-Victoria’s favorite toy as a child was a china doll she called Miss Liddie. By the time she was about eleven, she had grown out of it. Even though she knows she’s too old for toys now, she still misses Miss Liddie

-Victoria isn’t allergic to anything, but she does tend to sneeze if dust is in the air

-When she was a little girl, Victoria was nearly trampled by a horse-drawn carriage, which made her develop a slight fear of horses

-Victoria likes to sing whenever she thinks she’s alone. She doesn’t believe it, but she has a surprisingly lovely singing voice

-When she was a little girl, Victoria was entranced by the piano in her house and she immediately wanted to learn how to play but her mother had told her daughter many times that music was improper and too passionate for a young lady. But Victor always tells his wife that music is a wonderful way to express oneself and that he would be more than happy to teach her how to play

-Victoria used to have a regular playmate named Gwyneth in her girlhood. They were good friends, but when Victoria reached her pre-teen years, Gwyneth stopped coming over to play for some reason and she never heard from her since

-Victoria is the most beautiful member of the Everglot family

-When she was in her early teens, Victoria secretly dreamed of becoming a writer someday

-Victoria was born February 3rd, 1868

-Victor and Victoria had two children. Their names are Emily Alice Van Dort (age 15) and Edward Daniel Van Dort (age 10)

-When Victor and Victoria were married, they moved out of their parents houses and bought a beautiful two story house that sat at the edge of a large meadow that was right next to the forest… plus, the house was a good mile or so away from Burtonsville

-The Corpse Bride’s full name is Emily Charlotte Cartwell

-Emily was born into a wealthy family. Her parents, Lord and Lady Cartwell, couldn’t say ‘no’ to their daughter and they practically gave her everything she asked for, so she became incredibly spoiled, selfish, and incredibly naïve·         Emily was a hopeless romantic, often spending time reading romance novels and daydreaming about her wedding when she was alive

-When she was alive, Emily was blonde

-When she made it to Heaven, Emily was finally reunited with her mother and father

-When their daughter disappeared, Lord and Lady Cartwell were so sad and depressed that they wasted away and passed away in their sleep

-Before ascending, Emily considered Bonejangles to be one of her best friends. They used to sing and dance together all the time. He even taught her how to play the piano

-When she was alive, Emily knew how to ride horses. She even had a pet white mare she called Aphrodite

-Emily Cartwell died at age eighteen

-Lord Barkis’s full name is Barkis Finbar Campbell Bittern

-Emily met Lord Barkis while she was on an outing with her parents. Her parents had their backs turned while Emily was talking with Barkis. After only a few minutes of talking, she was instantly smitten with him and she accepted his immediate proposal of marriage… and her mother and father were not happy about it at all. Emily and her father had a huge fight and she decided to elope with Barkis… but for her, it didn’t go as planned

-Barkis told her that if they were going to be together, they would need money. Emily wasn’t sure, but in the end, she agreed

-On the night she was running away, Emily stole not only her mother’s wedding dress, veil, gloves, and best shoes, but she also stole the jewels from her mother’s jewelry box and a large bag of gold from her father’s office

-As Emily was waiting for her fiancé that night, Barkis snuck up behind her, stabbed her, knocked her out cold, took all of her money and jewels, and buried her alive. She woke up in a shallow grave and tried to claw her way out before suffocating to death. That's why her hand was sticking out of the ground

-Barkis was married six times in his life. He and his first wife were married out of love until he found her cheating on him and killed her. The second was an elderly widow for her money. The third one got away before he could even hurt her, but she drowned herself in a deep, rushing river. The fourth was a drunken lonely woman who “accidentally” fell out of a two story window. The fifth being Emily and the sixth being Victoria

-In the Land of The Dead, Barkis was brutally beaten and ripped apart before he was imprisoned in an iron coffin chained seven feet underground with other criminals like him for all eternity

-After he ran away, Barkis studied linguistics in French, Latin, German, and Russian in order to impress others… or use different fake accents to fool them with

-Barkis’s original first name was Bradford and he had a rough upbringing. His father was a violent alcoholic and his mother was a reckless prostitute and they both abused Bradford as a child until he ran away from home at age sixteen and changed his name to Lord Barkis

-Barkis has a twin sister who had a son named Hector. Hector greatly looked up to his uncle and when he heard about what happened to Barkis, he was taken aback, but he also felt he could use that to his advantage. When he turned 30, Hector came to Burtonsville to exact revenge on the Van Dort family… but he also developed a vile infatuation with Emily. Whenever he tries to woo the young girl (which always fails since Emily finds him repulsive and cruel), Victor gladly steps in the way every time and he always sternly tells Hector to stay away from his daughter

-Mrs. Van Dort’s full name is Eleanor Minerva Fitzackley Van Dort

-Nell came from a lower class family. She lived with her father, mother, and three sisters. However, Nell wasn’t happy with her place in society and she wanted to became something more

-Nell and William first met when she was caught in the rain one stormy day and he offered her a ride home in his fish merchant carriage. She declined at first, but quickly gave in when it started to bucket down. As they rode together, they started chatting and soon became very interested in one another

-Nell and William made their way back to the village just in time to witness Emily's soul disappear into the night as a swarm of blue butterflies

-When she learned about Mayhew’s death, Nell quietly wept in her room about it. She might be overbearing, but deep down, she truly does care for the ones closest to her. She also adores her husband and son, even if she does find them a bit irritating. She just has a hard time showing her emotions

-Mr. Van Dort’s full name is William Oscar Van Dort

-William loves talk about fish and his business, he always tries to weasel in the topic whenever possible to his wife and son's annoyance

-William used to take Victor on fishing trips when he was younger, which practically bored Victor to death

-While he tends to be the more passive one in their relationship, William does put his foot down when the situation calls for it

-It may not seem like it, but William adores Victor and he tries to do whatever he can to be there for his son

-When Victor turned sixteen, William gave him a silver pocket watch with a design of a fish on the front and his initials

-Lady Everglot’s full name is Maudeline Hortense Glottberg Everglot

-Maudeline and Finis didn’t plan on having a child in the first place and Victoria came as more of a surprise

-Maudeline had a sister named Marie who loved playing the piano. They didn’t get along in their youth and they drifted apart as they grew up. Maudeline wasn’t even invited to Marie’s wedding to Lord Frederick Cartwell

-When Marie died, she left her piano to her sister, but Maudeline never touched it. She felt it brought back too many memories and forbade Victoria from going near it was well

-Lord Eveglot’s full name is Finis Augustus Everglot

-While he was disappointed in not having a son, Finis deeply cares for his daughter. He just doesn’t know how to show it

-Even though they’re not good at sharing their feelings, Maudeline and Finis do care for each other to some extent

-Hildegarde has lots of grandchildren and she visited their home in the countryside as often as she could before she passed away

-When he was alive, Bonejangles was a freelance jazz musician from America and his original name was Dexter. He was finishing a gig in England when he died in a horrible carriage accident (he was run over), which also caused him to lose his eyeball

-General Bonesapart and General Wellington were actually General Napoleon Bonaparte and English General Wellington, two real historical figures. However, even though they hated each other at first, they became real pals eventually

-Although they don't say it out loud, people in Burtonsville make fun of Maudeline's hair cut, calling her names like "Rump Head" or "Hairmungus"

-Elder Gutknecht is one of the many Afterlife Lords, responsible for managing the dead after they pass. Among them include God, the Devil, King Vince, Hades, Hel, Osiris, Odin, Freya, and, the Hindu God Yama

-The Underworld is actually thousands of miles underground and due to the magic surrounding it. Mortals can't access it unless they die themselves

-After his death, Mayhew kicked the habit of smoking altogether and is very glad he did

-Elder Gutknecht has a fearsome Hellhound by the name of Infernius, his fierce and ever loyal pet. He guards the entrance to the Land of the Dead and can breathe fire that heats up to 900 degrees

-The fellow who was cut cleanly in half was an English gentleman by the name of Herman, who lived in Burtonsville years before. He ended up meeting his death due to an accident involving a rather large guillotine

-Generals Bonesapart and Wellington are the leaders of army of the Land of the Dead, but are only called into combat in times of great peril

-The people of Burtonsville sometimes call Lord Everglot “Everglut” behind his back

-Victoria has a cousin by the name of Dolores. Dolores is something of a freeloading con artist who moved to America when she left home. She considers herself a very attractive woman, but she just wears too much makeup and rather revealing clothes and is actually rather sleazy in reality. She also smokes, which Victoria and the rest of the Everglots are strongly against

-When he was alive, Elder Gutknecht used to be a wise sage that helped people in their time of need. He passed away when he reached the age of 102

-The Everglots were a family of nobles with a significant amount of money, but due to a bit of excessive gambling (by Dolores), they lost almost everything

-Almost every member of the Everglot family is rather ugly due to bad genetics. Victoria considers herself very, VERY lucky to have not inherited such genes (she unknowingly received her natural beauty from her late Aunt Marie)

-Pastor Galswells was raised in a strict environment. He was taught that kindness was weakness and to be stern and firm with everyone. He passed away shortly after the official wedding of Victor and Victoria and a new pastor took his place. His name is Pastor Ivan Blackthorp and he’s much kinder and friendlier than Galswells ever was

-The reason Victor named his dog Scraps was because he only ate table scraps

-The people of Burtonsville have a secret inside joke about the squatty walk Finis Everglot does where they assume that he would jump like a toad and snatch up a fly at any moment

-Burtonsville is well known for its raven population and there's an old legend saying they're messengers to the Land of the Dead

-For some weird reason, William Van Dort is known to mutter the words "Fishy, fishy, fish" in his sleep and it honestly creeps Nell out

-Paul, the decapitated head waiter, was actually a French man who served Marie Antoinette during her reign. Unfortunately, he was unjustly executed by association with the queen when the French Revolution broke out and he was never able to find his body after he died

-Several people have assumed Maudeline's hair is an actual wig and she's bald under it… only to be mistaken, resulting in a whooping

-Lord Barkis was a master of disguise in life and was never caught by the police as a result

-The Underworld has a prison known as the Iron Tomb and it holds some pretty infamous inmates who include Bluebeard, Caligula, Henry VIII, Mary I of England, and many more

-The Town of Burtonsville was actually built on an ancient burial ground, which is possibly why the Land of the Dead is connected to it

-After her death, Emily was made the official guardian angel of the Van Dort family

This is all I've got so far, but feel free to tell me what you think and tell me which one is your favorite

[littlemrcaprisun]

TW: brief mentions of miscarriage

(This is a rewrite of an old fic from a previous ship and I just changed the names and POV so if there are errors in that... well sorry.)

Despite all of the odds and challenges that face you, you both decide to go through with having a baby. It takes months to see results, whether it be the it just not working or it working and ending in heartbreak. You’re about to give up on the dream when the fifth pregnancy makes it past the first trimester and halfway through the second. You decide to tell your family and friends, well Alcina does. You only tell your parents and it goes over just as well as expected: poorly. Your parents still aren’t happy with the fact that their child left their husband, the rich doctor with the hefty salary, for another woman twice their age. While they have grown to love and accept Alcina, and your newfound sexuality, a baby announcement was the last thing they wanted to hear out of your mouth. You don't tell Alcina about their reaction for a long time, after all stress is the last thing she needs right now considering how this whole process has gone so far. What you can’t afford is stress risking this precious thing they’ve fought so hard to build. However, Alcina catches on quickly and confronts you about why you’ve been so quiet and reserved lately, especially where the baby is concerned.

“I’m just… I’m… processing.” You shrug after dinner one evening as Alcina helps you get ready for bed. Alcina furrows her brow and stops to turn to you.

“A-are you having regrets?” Alcina asks quietly, her hand flying to your belly immediately. You are barely showing but still enough to be noticeably pregnant and the palm of her hand wraps perfectly around the swell of your bump.

“Oh, no. God, no.” You look up to Alcina , fervently shaking your head. “Never.” You pull Alcina’s chin down to look into your eyes and you make sure Alcina can feel the sincerity burn through her eyes

“Then, please, tell me what’s really wrong.” Alcina carefully lowers both of you onto the bed, just to be precautious. Your belly barely protrudes through your hoodie as you lay back against the pillows, but it’s enough that Alcina can see it and she can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of her lips.

“It’s just my parents… they aren’t very supportive yet… of the baby, I mean.” You admit and sit up on the edge of the bed. You lean back and brace yourself on your hands and try to focus your energy into not crying. Alcina pulls you toward her until you are comfortable and she is lying between her legs, ear pressed to belly. You feel yourself relax almost instantly as she feels the warmth coming from you and the life growing inside you.

“I know your parents’ opinion means the entire world to you, but… I don’t know.” Alcina sighs. “I don’t think there’s anything I can say to make you feel better about it. We’ve just fought so hard to get to where we are now and I hate the thought that you might… that you might regret it.”

You lift your head and place a hand on Alcina’s cheek and another on your belly. “I don’t regret anything… I just wish this were easier.”

“So do I. I am terrified I am gonna wake up and this is all going to be over. I couldn’t take it if… if…” Alcina chokes on her words before she can finish her sentence. You try to comfort Alcina and tell her everything is going to be okay but she shakes her head, recomposes herself, and speaks again. “You are six months pregnant. You’re in the ‘safe zone,’ but I can’t let myself believe it’s real. I don’t want to know if it’s a boy or a girl, I don’t want to name it, I don’t want to build a nursery. I don’t want to accept that we’re going to have a baby because I don’t believe that we’re going to have a baby… I’m sorry this isn’t even relevant. It just kind of came out. I’m just so scared of losing this one too.”

———

“Cina... I’m having some regrets.” You whisper, your voice seeming to go on forever in the cool dark room. Alcina shifts next to you in bed and opens an eye.

“What’s wrong?” She asks and when she rolls over she feels the cool damp surface beneath her hip. Immediately, she jumps out of bed and flips on the light. You both cringe at the brightness but quickly adjust and the sight before you comes into focus. You are lying on your back, clutching your belly and your hip, the white sheet around you has turned grey from the water surrounding your bottom. “I-is it time?”

“I think so.” You nod, smiling widely. You’ve had a few contractions since your water broke and you didn’t find them to be that painful, however the ones that follow aren’t such a breeze. As Alcina is helping you out of the bed, so she can change the sheets, you have another contraction. You let out a quiet cry and lean over the side of the bed. “Time it, time it!” You yelp between heavy breaths. Alcina is quick to start counting before she can get your phone out to use the app the midwife recommended to both of you. Within a few minutes, you are back to normal and standing up right.

Alcina sets to work “birth-proofing” the bed by taking off the wet sheets, putting down new ones, placing waterproof shower curtains, then places not so new sheets over top of that. You, meanwhile, make your way out of the bedroom, down the hall, and to the guest room, where your mother, who had finally started to come around, has been camping out for the past four weeks in anticipation for the arrival of her first grandchild.

“Mom…” You whisper hesitantly, anxious about waking your mother up in the middle of the night despite the situation at hand. “Mama, my water broke.”

She doesn’t move and you panic for a moment, unsure of what to do, when you hear her mother’s voice. “Are you in labor?”

“I’m having contractions.” You bite your lip. “They’re about 30 minutes apart.” And with that your mother sits up and switches her bedside lamp on. She climbs out of bed and rushes over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“What can I do for you, sunshine?”

“I’m okay for now, I just want to get back to bed before I have another contraction.” She helps you back down the hall towards the bedroom but before you can make it, you have to stop and brace yourself against the wall. “Fuck.” You curse as this contraction takes hold and all you can think about is counting how long it lasts. Your mother stands behind you and gently massages your upper back in an attempt to calm you. Alcina hurries out of your bedroom to your aide.

“Don’t worry I started the timer for this one.” Alcina leans against the wall next to you and runs her hand through your hair, but you stop her by grabbing her hand and squeezing. “You’re at 17 seconds, darling. You can do this.” Alcina assures you. 25 more seconds pass before you are able to relax again.

“When are we supposed to call the midwife?” Your mother asks.

“They told us when the contractions are about 5 minutes apart, so I think we have awhile.” Alcina explains and you huff.

“This is going to be a long night.” You murmur as you check the time on the wall clock. “It’s 2:10 am and this has already been going on for about 2 hours since my water first broke.”

“It took you a whole hour to wake me up?” Alcina furrows her brow.

“I didn’t want to wake you up. I wanted you to get as much sleep as possible before the chaos.” You shrug and Alcina kisses your forehead. “And I wanted to be sure too.”

Six hours pass and your contractions are still about 25-30 minutes apart but increasing in discomfort. You don't know if they’re actually increasing in pain or if you’re just getting worn down at this point. At 9:02am, they run a hot bath for you to soak in, to try to ease some of the discomfort. It only helps a little bit. You try sitting normally in the tub, then kneeling against the wall of it, then sitting on all fours, before ending up back in a normal sitting position.

Despite the amount of pain and stress you’re in, you remain fairly positive and bubbly, and even joke around with Alcina. Your mother decided to go back to sleep around 3:45, with some convincing from you, so she’d be ready when the baby actually decided to make an appearance. But at around 10:23 she knocks on the bathroom door and is let in by Alcina. She kisses the top of your head and hands Alcina a light breakfast for both of you.

“You gotta keep your strength up.” She smiles at both of you. “How are you doing, my sweet?”

You, resting her head against the side of the tub look up at her mother and smile weakly. “I’d be doing a lot better if this baby would come.” Just as you finish your sentence another contraction, one of the worst yet, comes on and you start to weep.

“I’m going to call Dani.”Alcina murmurs. The daughter of your girlfriend who had become more like a sister to you.

“Please!” You gasp, your voice a mixture of exhaustion and pain, tears rolling freely down your cheeks. Alcina sits behind you and wraps her arms around your shoulders, whispering words of encouragement into your ear. After about a minute and a half the contraction passes and you sigh. “I need to get out of here. I’m getting pruny and I’m tired. I want to rest.”

You get in a rough nap before the contractions interrupt your sleeping too much. When you wake though, you’re pleasantly surprised to see Dani sitting at the foot of her bed.

“Hey, Tiny.” Dani smiles. You smile softly and reach out for Dani’s hand. “How’s it going?”

“Oh you know, I’ve been in labor for…” You pause to check the clock and calculate the time. “13 hours with no pain medicine. I’m surviving.”

Alcina wants to give you and Dani some time together but when you have another contraction, once again, that’s seemingly worse than the last, she can’t help but run to your side. “Talk to me, darling. What’s going on?”

“They’re barely 10 minutes apart. I think this one is 7 minutes after the last one.” You spit out the words and cling to Alcina, digging your nails into her arm.

“I’m going to call the midwife as soon as this one passes.”

It takes the midwife, Janet, over 30 minutes to get to the castle from outside the village . It’s exactly 2:00 pm when Janet walks through the door. By that time, your contractions are less than 5 minutes apart and so intense you have to hold onto both Alcina and Dani. You’re sweating, crying a little bit, not nearly as bubbly as before, completely drained, but focused and still positive.

“Hey, sweetstuff.” Janet hums and she greets you, and you give her a soft smile. “I know you’re miserable so I’m gonna save the ‘how are you doing’ speech and get to it. First things first, can I check to see how dilated you are?”

Janet determines you are about 6 centimeters dilated and you arebeyond thrilled to be over halfway to the end. “So now we wait and we breathe and try to relax and keep drinking water. You are a trooper. I know I couldn’t do what you’re doing, but it is so worth it and so wonderful for you and your baby.” Janet’s warm and assuring tone makes you feel like maybe you didn’t make the wrong choice by going with a natural home birth and some of your regret fades.

You eventually go back to the tub, where you find kneeling against the side of it helps to relieve some of the pressure this time. Your contractions are closer together and they’re shorter, but they are worse than any pain that you’ve ever felt before. Each one makes you feel like you’re going to fall apart at the joints.

At around 4:30, the contractions are enough to make you cry and moan in pain constantly, and it is almost too much to bear for everyone witnessing their sweet little Tiny suffer so much. You’ve moved from kneeling against the tub to your bed. Your knees are planted on the floor, your chest is resting against the side of the mattress, your shoulders are curled in on yourself, and your head is pressed into the bed. You want to push so bad and every passing second the pressure continues to build. You feels like if you don’t push immediately you’re going to explode

“Alright, baby, you’re 8 centimeters dilated. We’re almost there.” Janet isn’t so calming anymore when she doesn’t say what you want to hear.

“How much longer?” You whimper.

Janet sighs. “I wish I could give you an answer. It could be 30 minutes, or it could be three hours. There’s no way to tell.”

You curse Janet for even mentioning three hours because sure enough with your luck it is another five hours before you’re fully dilated. By this point, you don't even know how you’re going to find the strength to push. It’s been almost 24 hours since your labor began and now you’re just getting to the point where you can start pushing. You’re still squatting next to the bed when Janet gives you the first instruction to push. You thought for hours that pushing would provide some kind of relief, but when the pressure worsens as you push you want to stop more than any other moment of the process.

An hour passes with barely any luck or movement from the baby and both you and Alcina start to get worried. Janet assures them that it’s normal and the delivery itself can take two to three hours, especially without any medication. You move to the bed and lay on your side with your leg towards your chest as far as they’ll go. This seems to do the trick and soon Janet is exclaiming that she feels a head.

The final, and 25th, hour of labor passes and soon the house fills with the most beautiful sound you've ever heard: the sound of your baby crying. Janet lays your baby in your arms and that first moment of skin-to-skin contact feels like heaven. You look down and the little face in your arms and start to openly sob, as does everyone else in the room.

“It’s a girl.” Janet smiles. You can’t pry her eyes away from her, from your daughters.

“Cina… we have a baby. We have a daughter.” You whisper. Alcina is a mess, with tears streaming down her face and trembling with soft sobs. After feeding her, Janet wants to give Alcina the skin-to-skin contact as well and kicks Dani and your mother out so the new mothers can have some privacy. Alcina holds him against her chest while you lie in bed next to her, resting and recovering. “What’re we going to name her?”

“Slowpoke because it took her so long to get here.” Alcina teases in a soft voice directed towards the now sleeping baby.

You smile and reach over to touch the baby’s cheek. “Honestly, not to be one of those moms, but what if we just named her what she is?”

“What’s that?” Alcina asks, raising a brow at you.

“A bearer of good news and hope..”

“My dear, I don’t think that’s a name.” Alcina chuckles a little.

“No, but Evangeline is.”

Alcina’s face twists into one of pure joy. “Evangeline Dimitrescu.” She nods. “That’ll do just fine.”

[valdemart]

Valdebreed (Part 1)

When your significant other is a wealthy mad scientist demon lacking several human emotions, you don’t get a normal life. In fact, you give up a lot more than you realized you would have to. You just have to hope they also realize it.

(Afab Reader has sex with Valdemar with the intent to start a family. Some good angst, minor body horror, breeding kink tentacle smut. No sex in the first part. I wrote too damn much.)

 “You’re going to pop any day, huh?”

Annabella beamed at you, grinning widely.

“The doctor says it will happen sometime this week. Early next week at the latest.”

That comment gave you pause.

“Wait. You’re not working, are you?”

Annabella waved your concern off.

“Of course not. Even if I wanted to, the Countess wouldn’t allow it. But I’m bored at home all day just waiting for the baby to come and I wanted to chat with everyone.”

That was reassuring, at least. You didn’t think Annabella could work, not with such a huge belly. Her arms probably couldn’t even reach the stove at this point.

“Oh! They’re kicking! Did you want to feel?”

Without waiting for your answer, Annabella grabbed your hand and placed it on her lower stomach and, sure enough, you felt a little kick against your searching fingers. You couldn’t hide your delight and the mother laughed at how happy you looked.

“Careful. You’ll catch baby fever from me and end up the next staff out on maternity leave.”

You smiled in response, your hand still resting against her stomach.

“Who knows? Maybe.”

You didn’t know Annabella well enough to get into why children probably weren’t in the cards for you. Besides, why bring the mood down? You were perfectly content to let this little baby kick you all day.

“Ugh. Excuse me, dear. This little bundle of joy has me having to pee every 20 minutes, I swear.”

You waved goodbye and watched the cook waddle away down the hall. As you stood there, lost in your thoughts, you felt a small hand tug on your shirt and you jumped in surprise.

“Procurator! You scared me!”

Volta stood well below you, looking up at you with her large, watery eyes.

“Volta saw you rubbing that servant girl’s belly. Do you like babies?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course, I do. Doesn’t everyone?”

Volta shook her head.

“No. They are loud and their crying scares Volta. But Volta wonders if what the servant said is true.”

“If what part was true?”

“That you will be the next one to have a baby.”

The bluntness of ponderings made you blush.

“Oh, um…probably not.”

She cocked her head to the side like a confused puppy.

“But why not. You just told Volta that you like babies.”

You liked Volta. She was genuinely sweet, weird quirks of hers aside. But this was a weird conversation to be stuck in with her. Even if she was pushing a couple decades old, she didn’t seem to know much about more ‘grown up’ matters. And you didn’t want to explain the birds and a bees to a tiny demon in the middle of a palace hallway. Especially when there were elements of your particular birds and bees that you yourself were unsure of.

“I don’t think the Quaestor would be much interested in having children.”

“Did you ask Quaestor Valdemar to have a baby with you?”

That one was a step too far for you. You could feel your cheeks heating up.

“Oh no! Volta has embarrassed the magician!”

“It’s-it’s fine, Volta. It’s just complicated, is all. Hey, uh, I heard they were making cucumber ice cream in the kitchen.”

That was all you had to say to make Volta scamper off. While horribly embarrassing, at least that conversation was short. However, you noticed your mood had soured quite considerably in that time. While you had never discussed children, you knew Valdemar would never want them even if they could get you pregnant, and you doubted very much that they could. Your elation for the sweet mother to be had deflated and you felt a weak longing in your chest.

You could give sweets to the children of staffers and entertain them with card tricks and little illusions, but you would always be the fun auntie and never the mother. That was just your life now. A part of you had always known. From the moment you let Valdemar kiss you after learning what they truly were, you knew your life would never be ‘normal’. And that was fine at the time. It was then, it was when you moved in with them, and it was still fine now. But it wasn’t until now that you were hurt by that knowledge.

As long as you were with Valdemar, you would never be a mother.

 The sun was setting as your carriage pulled up at the front gate of Valdemar’s estate. You had been able to forget your somber morning realization enough to fulfill all your duties as Court Magician that day. Luckily it had just been some minor spells and charms. But, as you had worked, you made a promise to yourself to not think about it any longer. Why should you lose sleep tonight over something you couldn’t control?

You thanked the driver and gave him a few coins while ignoring his concerned look. It was the same look all the drivers gave you when they dropped you off. Every single one of them always looked at you with a face that screamed ‘Hey, Lady, are you sure you want to go in there? I’ll drive you somewhere safe and not horrifying’. It was just another concession you made in your new life. Put ignoring weird looks right up there with never having babies and never getting married and sleeping alone most of the time and…

You felt the sting of tears in your eyes and your shoulders slumped.

‘So much for not letting me get myself down.’

You stood at the front door for a moment. You could run. You could go back to town and start a normal life. Fall in love with a human. Do normal human things. Fall asleep with a warm body next to you every night. Have a family. Grow old with them and die a few months after each other.

You shook your head at your foolishness. You don’t pick who you fall in love with, and you don’t deny it for the sake of comfort and familiarity. If anyone could roll with the punches, it was you. So far, not even death had been able to stop you.

“I’m home!” You called out once you were in the large marble foyer. You did this every time you came home, but you rarely got an answer. If Valdemar wasn’t out doing gods only knew what, then they were downstairs working.

“In the dining room, Little One,” came the reply, and you almost jumped out of your skin.

Valdemar? In the dining room? Not once had you ever seen them in there. Not once in over a year. Did they even know how to get to the dining room?

If you had been confused when you first arrived home, you were double confused once you were actually in the dining room. The fireplace as well as several candelabras were lit, warming off the darkness that was taking over outside.

“There you are, Dear Magician. Please, have a seat.”

Valdemar was sitting at the far end of the dining table, which was clear on the other side of the room. On the side nearest you was a bowl of soup in fine, white china. There was steam rising tantalizingly off it, and your stomach rumbled. You were always invited to dine with the servants at the palace, and normally you did, but your dower mood had spoiled your appetite so you hadn’t had much. Still, this was a bizarre sight and you stayed where you were.

“Who died?”

Valdemar grinned. You could see their large, white shark teeth clear across the table.

“Several thousand humans I imagine. As they do every night. But no one we know.”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

Valdemar just sat, unblinking and smiling, waiting patiently for you to sit. So, you did.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment until Valdemar motioned towards the food. You could smell that it was chicken and you saw droplets of oil floating on top of the broth above peas and carrots. Whatever horrible news Valdemar was about to tell you, you could at least hear it with a full stomach. It was warm and salty and you were quickly halfway through the bowl. Then they finally spoke.

“I had an unexpected guest for lunch. They brought their own servants to cook.”

Well, that was still weird, but at least it explained everything. Valdemar only had a few cleaning staff that came a couple times a week. You were the only one that ever used the kitchen. Valdemar also wasn’t terribly concerned with etiquette, so you raised the bowl to your lips to drink down the rich broth.

“My guest was the Procurator.”

Also weird for Valdemar to actually host the Procurator, since they usually didn’t care what she had to say, but they did work together.

You licked your lips and set the bowl down, realizing how much better you felt with something warm in your stomach.

“What did the Procurator need?”

Valdemar smiled wider, which shouldn’t have been possible, but it was Valdemar, so they could.

“She told me the two of you had a very interesting conversation.”

“We did?”

You talked to Volta about Annabella’s baby for all of two minutes before she ran off for a snack. It was embarrassing, yes, but hardly lunch visit worthy. You tried to think back to any other conversations the two of you had in the past month, but they had all been about food. What the Hell was Valdemar talking about?

“What makes you so sure I don’t want children?”

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no no no no no!

Your mouth opened to speak, but no words came out, so you sat there, looking like a palace pond koi.

“I must say, that’s a bit presumptuous of you. I don’t recall ever having spoken to you on the subject.”

Valdemar was clearly enjoying your discomfort. They were looking at you like they were Valerius reading the label of a fine bottle of vintage wine.

“You look embarrassed. You couldn’t have been this embarrassed when you were discussing such intimate things with the Procurator. She said it was imperative that I give you a baby. She recommended us starting on it tonight.”

Did you know a spell to make the ground open up and swallow you? No, unfortunately. But you did make a mental note to figure one out if you survived this.

“I…It’s not like I…She didn’t even…”

Valdemar watch you flounder with your words, savoring each mortified little stutter you made. They may not have been physically sadistic with you, but no one could say they didn’t love to torture you other ways.

You sighed and looked down at the table, trying to collect yourself.

“Ok, I shouldn’t have assumed. But am I wrong? Do you want children? Can you even make children?”

At least hearing Valdemar admit you were right would help soothe your ego a little.

“I’m not sure.”

“See!? You don’t even want-“

You cut yourself off and stared at them.

“Wait. What?”

“I said I’m not sure. I hadn’t ever taken the time to think about it. Only a few short years ago I wouldn’t have considered a relationship with a human and yet here we are. That means there are other aspects that need to be considered as well. And physically, I’m unsure if I am able to procreate, especially with a human. It’s not something I had ever looked into.”

Valdemar admitting to being unsure of something? Clearly, you had died from the plague again and you were stuck in some coo coo crazy afterlife. Absurdity of it all aside, you felt yourself growing aggravated.

“Ok. Are you done now?”

Valdemar cocked their head.

“Whatever do you mean, Little One?”

“I mean, are you done now? You had this whole nice set up to embarrass me and I am. So, are you done now? You’re very clever and I’m a very dumb little human. I fucking get it.”

Valdemar’s smile dropped.

“I don’t appreciate that tone, Apprentice.”

Your arms prickled with goosebumps as they stared you down across the table. ‘Apprentice’ was what they said as a more polite way of calling you an insolent little shit. They rarely used it with you but, when they did, it usually had you shape up pretty quickly. But tonight, it wasn’t going to work. All the heartache of the day had come back to you, and you felt that hurt bubble into anger. Your mouth filled with venom. How dare they embarrass you like this? After all you’ve given up for them.

“I didn’t talk to you about it because I knew you wouldn’t care! You don’t care when I get home, you don’t care when I go to bed alone, and you don’t care if I’m lonely! I-“

You stopped. That’s exactly what it was. You got lonely. It was lonely in a giant palace with a demon that didn’t like to cuddle or play kissy face or have sex. You felt the unshed tears from earlier and all the anger in you shriveled and died like early clover under a frost. You couldn’t just have kids because you were lonely. Children shouldn’t come into the world with a job to do. That was a terribly unfair burden to place on an infant. You couldn’t just make someone and want them to fix you.

You turned away from the table, knowing that if you had to look at them you would cry.

“I’m going to spend to night at the shop,” You said, your voice unsteady.

Two cold, gloved arms wrapped around your waist and you were pulled back against Valdemar. They had crossed the room in a few silent seconds.

“Lemme go,” you whimpered quietly, your bottom lip trembling. You didn’t want to start sobbing after you had just gotten done yelling like some kind of mad woman.

One of the hands released you and brushed your hair back from your face.

“Hush now, Little Mouse. There’s no need for tears.”

Of course, with Valdemar asking you not to cry, your eyes decided you absolutely had you and you sobbed pitifully.

“Poor Little Human. So many emotions to feel.”

They loosened their grip and turned you around gently so you could cry against them. You always tried so hard not to cry in front of them, but you were too far gone to stop now. Their fingertips started to trail up and down your back soothingly as they made no attempt to push you off of them despite the excessive display of emotion you were putting on.

“I knew you were lonely. It would be very lonely, to come back from death’s realm. Perhaps the only human to do so. I suppose it feels simpler than that.”

You stopped crying and looked up at them with surprise. They were right. Even when people knew you had come back, Hell, even with Asra, you felt a wall between yourself and them. No one understood what it was like to come back. No one understood death like you did. No one understood being alive but knowing exactly how it felt to die. Except Valdemar, of course. But you didn’t know they knew about those feelings.

“A child won’t understand you either,” they explained as they softly brushed their thumb against your cheek.

“Do you…can you have children?” You asked softly. The pain of earlier was gone. You finally felt seen. Someone finally understood your quandary. You had tried to voice your loneliness to Asra and Portia once. They had both hugged you tightly and assured you that you weren’t alone and that they loved you. But they were wrong. As much as you loved each other, they didn’t understand the loneliness you meant. Even with half a heart, Asra didn’t know what it was to be alive when you shouldn’t be.

“I simply don’t know. I’ve never tried.”

Valdemar looked down at you with crimson, slitted eyes that should have been unnerving, if not terrifying, but you felt so soft and safe under them.

“It’s…probably something we should talk about later.”

“Of course, Dear One. Although, for the sake of science, I was hoping you’d try with me tonight.”

You stared at them, trying to process what they were saying. You had swung through too many moods tonight for their weird analytical speaking.

“I had had your bedroom ready for after dinner. Before I had teased you too much.”

“Wait, you mean you wanted to...” Were they talking about sex? Had they planned to have sex with you before you blew up?

“Considering how the evening played out, perhaps you should just sleep for tonight, hm?”

Perhaps. They were probably right about you needing to sleep this off. But you had had sex with Valdemar so rarely that just the prospect had your body lit up. Of course, they got you off plenty with their hands and occasionally their mouth, but the two of you had only had actual sex a handful of times. But now they wanted to? And they set up for it?

You wiped your eyes on the back of your hands quickly.

“No. We mustn’t keep science waiting. Important discoveries to be made and all that.”

Valdemar searched your face, looking for any sign that you might be lying to them about being ok now. When they could only see your genuine excitement, they grinned.

“Fascinating little thing that you are.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2 is gonna have it all! Body horror! Tentacle sex! Knotting! Dirty talk! Whatever else I decide is hot! Stay tuned!

[noforkingclue]

Forget Me Not Chapter 17 (Billy Butcher x reader)

The second part of your backstory of Butcher is revealed in this chapter. Hope you guys enjoy :D

Forget Me Not tag list: @spookyminxy, @leslie2898, @hangmansjoke,  @scraftskhu35, @stephdavies95, @ that-cute-stranger

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary

You tended not to revisit places that you had already scammed or had robbed someone in. However this casino was on the way to your destination and you could always do with a bit of extra cash. You hoped that nobody would recognise you and you watched over the crowds.

Then you saw him.

He looked slightly different to when you saw him last, which was about nine months ago. He had grown out a beard and his hair was still messy. When he turned around you saw that he was still wearing a hideous Hawaiian shirt. He made eye contact with you and frowned, almost as though he recognised you. He started walking towards you and you chose that moment to disappear. There was no way he could remember you but you’d rather not take the chance.

“Oi!” he yelled, “Oi hold it. I want to have a word with you.”

Ha, no chance. You weren’t about to let that bastard catch you. Unfortunately luck was not on your side. A hand clasped itself on your shoulder and you were forced around to look into his face. He had a confused expression but there was a murderous intent hidden under it. You were in deep shit if he actually remembered you.

“Who are you?”

“Buy me a drink and maybe I’ll tell you.”

You winced as his grip suddenly tightened.

“Oh no,” he said quietly as he stared dragging you away, “I know you did something to me. What are you, another supe cunt?”

“I ain’t a supe!”

“But you did something. You know a supe is that it?”

“Y/n,” a voice called, “Everything alright?”

You relaxed as your target for that evening approached the two of you. His name was Peter and he was rich and thick, exactly your type. You relaxed immediately as he walked up to you and put a hand on your other shoulder.

“Underhand her right now,” he said, “Or I’ll call security.”

“Security,” he laughed, “Load of fucking good they’ll do. What’s your plan with him? Rob him blind just like me?”

“Rob? Y/n what is he talking about.”

“Nothing dear,” you said, “I think he just had a bit too much to drink.”

You tried to use your powers to relax Peter but unfortunately, due to the noise and confusion of the casino, you hit the wrong target. You and the man, who you remembered was called Billy, both gasped. Peter had managed to pull you free but it was too late. Billy gave you a murderous look and you knew you were fucked.

“You cunt,” he hissed, “I knew I remembered you from somewhere. You fucking thieving supe bitch.”

“Security!” cried Peter as he wrapped an arm around, “Security!”

“I’ll find you,” Billy yelled as he was dragged away, “This isn’t fucking over!”

 *

 You woke up with a jolt then let out a groan as the pain hit you. You looked around the room and recognised that you were in the hide out. A wave of relief washed over you that the Boys had found you and you pulled back the covers. You lets out a hiss of pain as you tried to bend your fingers and looked down at them. They were wrapped in white bandages and you let out a shudder when you remembered what had happened.

Slowly you made your way out of bed. You grabbed the wall when you almost fell over and had to wait a moment until you regained your balance. You shuffled towards the door and gingerly grabbed the handle and swung the door open. Butcher was sitting on the sofa and looked up sharply when you entered the room.

“No,” he said firmly, “Go back to bed right now.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Tough fucking luck,” he said walking over to you, “I’m not going to argue with you. You’ve just been… You’re still injured.”

“Please,” you said, “I don’t want to be alone right now. When I am all I can think about is those men we robbed in that bar. How they-“

You broke off, not able to finish the sentence. Butcher’s eyes softened and he sighed.

“Fine,” he said, “Come here.”

You were immediately scooped up in Butcher’s arms as he walked back towards the sofa. With an unexpected gentleness he laid you down on the sofa and sat down next to you. You leant against him and when you felt him tense you started to move away.

“Sorry.” You said

“Don’t be.”

He pulled you back against him.

“If it makes you feel better than do it. Just don’t expect this all the time.”

“I understand. Where are the others?”

“I don’t think you’re in the right state of mind to know.”

“Butcher.”

“Later.”

“I have a right to know what happened to the people who fucking tortured me.”

Butcher was silent for a moment. When you looked up at him you could see the conflict on his face.

“Please Billy.”

“Fine,” he said, “One of them wasn’t there.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, a feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach

“The boss, the cunt we robbed. He wasn’t there.”

You felt your chest get tight. You sat up and put your hand over your heart. You were vaguely aware of Butcher saying your name but it sounded distant, as though he was underwater. Your breathing quickened but no air was going into your lungs. You felt hands on your face and you were forced to look into Butcher’s eyes.

“Y/n,” he said firmly, “Listen to me.”

“Can’t… breath.”

“Shh, shh, it’ll be alright. Listen to me, breath in-“

You took a deep breath in.

“Good girl. And out.”

You did this several times until Butcher was satisfied your breathing was better and you could feel your heart rate return to normal. He gently hushed you and stroked your cheek with his thumb.

“You’re safe,” he said, “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“He’s going to find us,” you said, “He’s going to find us then kill us.”

“No he’s not.”

“Yes he-“

Butcher pulled you against him. You tried to pull yourself out of his arms but his grip just tightened. Eventually you relaxed against him. Butcher didn’t say anything and just stroked your hair. When he felt you shuddering against him he didn’t comment and he didn’t say anything when he felt his shirt getting wet. He was going to be there for you. You finally needed him but he didn’t want you to need him like this.

“I found something for you.” He said when you had finally calmed down

You looked up at him and he nodded towards the TV. He switched it on and he felt his heart fluttered when you smiled.

“How?” you asked

“I know a guy.”

“And you’ll watch this with me?”

“I might die of boredom or gouge my eyes out, but yes.”

“Thanks Butcher.”

“Don’t mention it.”

You relaxed again him and put your head on his lap. Butcher rested a hand on top of your head as your eyes were glued to the TV now playing the Antiques Roadshow. Maybe Butcher wasn’t as big of a bastard as you thought.