#like I won’t see them till school next week

[lunajay33]

Fated

•🪵🦅🍂🤎•

Summary: You grew up being bestfriends with Sam and Dean as your mother would usually help hunt with their dad, but when you find yourselves at college together things change, especially when Dean takes him back hunting

Pairing: Sam Winchester x f!reader

Warning: Pregnant

•Masterlist•

Ever since I was a kid I’ve had a die hard crush on Sam, whenever our parents would hunt together they’d leave the three of us in a motel room while they worked a case, it was hard not to fall for Sam he was always so kind and treated me like gold, then eventually we started going to college together both of us were outcasted by our families for doing so, we moved in together for support as we worked in our dreams

Along the way we both confessed

“Sam I know this is your place too but I don’t want you being girls home anymore”

“Why not? Are you jealous?”

“So what if I am, I can’t bare to see you with someone else Sam can’t you see how much I love you?”

And from then on we’ve been attached at the him, any chance he got his hands were placed on me lovingly, as I finished getting ready for bed I pulled on one of his shirts and a pair of sleeping shorts, quickly going to our room and jumping in next to him as I cuddle up close

“I love you Angel” he whispered as he placed a kiss to my check squeezing me closer

“And I love you, now let’s get to bed I’ve been feeling groggy all day

He shut off the lamp and he curled around me till I was completely enveloped by him, hearing the sound of his heartbeat lull me to sleep

•

I woke abruptly at the sound of a crash from downstairs, Sam awake next to me hearing the same thing

We both got our weapons and slowly made our way downstairs, covering each other incase this wasn’t just a plan human invader

Out of nowhere Sam is tackled to the floor and I’m stood there frozen, having been out of the hunting game so long I was actually scared now, before I heard a familiar laugh

“Dean what the hell are you doing here?” Sam groaned as he got up and stood back next to me holding me to his chest obviously noticing my fear

“If you aren’t a sight for sore eyes, missed you around Angel” Dean smirked looking me up and down

“Dean come on”

“Fine, dads missing, he’s been gone for a while now and won’t answer any calls”

“I can’t Dean I’ve got a life here now, I’ve got school and y/n, I can’t just leave”

“She can come too” he said as if I wasn’t even here

“It’s not just dad, it’s your parents too, they went out together” I look up at Sam worried, even if they kicked us out they were still family

“Sam…….” I whisper as he squeezes my hips

“What about school Angel?”

“It’s study break we can spare the week” he sighed in agreement and nodded at Dean, we go upstairs and pack

“I don’t you going” he says

“But I can help it’s my parents too”

“I know but I don’t want to risk your life”

“But…….i don’t wanna be alone” I confessed my fears of being on my own since I’ve always had someone around especially knowing what lurks out there

“It’ll only be a week and I’ll be right back I promise” I knew I couldn’t convince him other wise

“Okay but……call me and please be safe Sam”

“Always am” he kissed me goodbye before him and Dean were gone, the familiar sound of the Chevy impala rumbling away

•

The week went by fast and I was so excited for him to come back, there was a weird feeling around our place and I couldn’t shake it

I pick up the phone and call hoping he’ll be on the other end saying he’s right around the corner

“Hello angel” his voice was higher than usual

“Hey everything okay? Are you coming back now?”

“About that ummm….we couldn’t find them but we got a lead we’re gonna follow it”

“But sam we’ve got school and I don’t feel right, I’m scared”

“What’s a little huntress like yourself got to be scared of” Dean chimed in

“I don’t know something doesn’t feel right, it’s been weird weather lately and I feel sick, I probably sound crazy” I felt like I was going insane

“You’re not crazy, remember last time you got the stomach flu you felt the same, maybe you just have to get some rest”

“Please don’t be gone much longer I love you Sam”

“I love you too”

•

He was gone a lot longer than we both thought, it’s been 4 months now and the calls got less frequent and I felt less important and soon after he left I found out the reason I was feeling sick was because I’m pregnant, I went to the doctors and they said I was about 2 months along, now I’m 6 months, and I’m a ball of stress I didn’t have the guts to tell him over the phone how could I when we barely talked and when we did it was quick just to check up before he had to go

I sat on the couch feeling like my life was flipped upside down so quick, why did Dean have to come back, sure he was great but he took the one thing I loved away, I hear a knock at the door breaking me from my thoughts

I got up my shirt too small as I only covered half my belly and my pajamas pant low on my hips, I walk over to the door and open it seeing Sam and Dean stood there with their father behind

“You’ve finally decided to come home” I sigh, of course I’m glad he’s okay but he left me for 4 months, I stepped aside as they all came in

They came in, Dean and John plopping down on the couch as Sam stood infront of me, his mouth hung open as he looked down at my round belly

“How…..when….why didn’t you tell me” he asked as his hands caressed my belly

“How could I we’ve barely talked and I can’t just spring that information on you over the phone”

“Sammy’s been having fun at college” Dean laughs then hearing John groan

“I told you I didn’t feel right” I say not being able to resist from running my hands through his hair as he pulls me into a tight hold

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve stayed, I can’t believe we’re having a baby”

“A baby girl” I whisper as I hear him gasp pulling back to look at me

“A girl…..a little girl” his voice shock and it warmed my heart

“Congrats Sammy” Dean smiled as he came over slapping him on the shoulder encouragingly, I’m sure John would come around he was just a grump

“Next time I’m coming with you, I’ll be damned if your leaving me and our baby girl”

“I wouldn’t dream of it”

[betty-talks]

Post-vacation depression actually hits so hard.

[nanivinsmoke]

❥ messy on a haystack

❥ dbf!logan x fem!reader

having a crush on an older man, your dad’s best friend , was something you never expected.

❥ tags: age gap (but it makes sense), based off of origins wolverine, reader is thick asf (country booty duhh), explicit language, creaming, squirting, breeding kink, pussy drunk logan, mutant awakening, semi-plot—needed him to fuck us asap, logan is a little pervy…

note: up next, fantasize. wc: 2.8k

your dad left the farm’s care in your hands this week, while he took a trip back to his hometown to check on his parents—your grandparents. which means that you were in charge of everything. from the animals, to the wood the men chopped, to the pay and the workers; you were in charge of it all. including him.

logan had known your father for a while, meeting him a few months after you left for college and that was practically six years ago. during that time, logan practically ran the farm with your father—he was his right hand man. everything was running smoothly, the farm had been booming for years. and then your father got sick, changing everything.

people found out about your father’s sickness and tried to get him sell. logan would scare them away most of the time, telling them to fuck off, but then the stress of running the farm started to jeopardize his health even more. so, logan found your number stashed in your father’s office—your dad’s too stubborn and old school to get a cellphone—and gave you a call. you caught the next flight out.

the moment you stepped on the dirt paved roads, everything seemed to perk back up. especially your old man. but, when logan laid eyes on you, he was finally able to see what you really looked like, (your dad kept old photos of you in his office) and he was amazed. you were gorgeous, prettiest lil thing he’d ever seen.

those deep blue flare jeans you wore, hugged you tighter than a grandma during holidays. and he never thought he was an ass man till he seen yours and how it sat in your jeans. and don’t get him started on how you filled out your the cropped white beater—fuck he sounded like a perv. but, it’s been a long time since he thought about a woman like that; and you were everything and then some.

after greeting your dad and explaining to him why you were here, you finally met the mysterious man who called you—and let’s just say he caught your eyes too. he was handsome, the rugged look he adorned was incredibly sexy and the way he would look at you; had your panties wet every night. if someone would hear your thoughts right now, they’d call you weird and tell you that he was old enough to be your father—but thank goodness he was not.

—

“time for lunch boys!” you yelled out to the men hard at work, watching them throw down their things and separate—happy to finally stop working and chow down. you watched as logan sauntered over towards you, standing on the porch; waiting for him to join you for lunch. “hi logan.”

“hey princess, what’s for lunch?” you blushed at the nickname and walked with him to the kitchen, where you had practically went all out. you made a big ole southern meal. you loved cooking, it was your love language. and he loved the meals you’d make.

the two of you sat down and began passing around the various dishes of food you had made, before he sparked up a conversation. “your dad left today, right? what day did he say he’ll be back?” his eyes locked onto yours as he picked the chicken you made, munching on it while he spoke.

“yeah and he won’t be back until…next monday.” he nodded and smirked, tossing back some more of the home cooked food you made. “so then i got you all to myself then?” you nearly choked on your mashed potatoes, eyes wide when you saw him smirking. there was no denying that you heard him, loud and clear.

just as you were about to respond, the kitchen timer went off—signaling that it was time to go back to work. you pouted and he hurried up to scarf down the glass of water beside his food before getting up and leaning over to kiss your forehead, “later princess. I’ll be back tonight.” you watched him leave, heart heavy with love and your mind going crazy with what happened at the table.

you spent the next few hours at the front office, crunching numbers and overseeing where the next shipment of wood was going. the sun going down and slipping past the horizon, made the workers excited as they all wrapped up their work and lined up to clock out. you watched from the porch, as they scanned their manilla colored time cards in front of the clock and headed home.

logan was the last one and when he clocked out, he made his way over towards you. his flannel was torn to shreds and his beater that made his toned torso stick out, was covered in dirt; showing how hard his day went. but all in all, he was still sexy, even when covered in dirt.

“logan~” your voice mimicked a siren, trying to seduce a sailor in by the sexy tone of their voice, while your eyes were low and lidded. he could feel himself grown in his pants from the sound of your voice, his desire for you growing by the second.

“need sumn’, princess?” his voice made you melt and you pressed your thighs together. “shower’s free and i made your bed. ooh, there’s leftovers in the fridge if you’re still hungry!” you smiled at him, trying to suppress a moan when his natural scent hit your nostrils. the smell of woods, hours old cologne and hard work, had your panties wet.

he nodded his head, licking his lips as his eyes traveled down to your thick thighs that were no longer being hidden by denim—before fixtating them back onto your own. “might have to marry ya’ one day.” he commented, planting a kiss on your forehead, before stepping into the house.

letting out a moan, you bit your lip and accepted the tingling sensation that throbbed down below. oh you needed him bad.

logan enjoyed the shower’s hot steaming waters, easing the tension in his muscles and helping him clear his brain. well at least he tried to, his head was clouded with thoughts of you. his best friend’s daughter.

once he stepped out of the shower and put on something comfy, he went down to the kitchen hoping to find you there, however much to his dismay you weren’t. he opened the fridge and pulled out a beer. just as he was about to put it his lips, he heard you let out a distressed scream and he took off running.

he could see you in front of the barn doors being harassed by the men that came a month ago, whom tried to get your dad to sell his land. one had a grip on your hair while the other stood in front, taunting you. logan practically pounced on them and his claws unsheathed, slicing them men up.

you back away and watched as they fought, blood splattering everywhere—but that’s not what worried you. what made you worry was when both of the men began to overpower logan—you had to help him. you realized there were some tools in the barn and as you moved to get, you appeared inside in the blink of an eye; grabbing a shovel before appearing right behind the fighting men again.

your mind was pushing out a million thoughts about what just happened, but you didn’t have time to focus on them right now; you had to save him. you swung with all of your might, knocking the men across the field and off of logan. their bodies crashed into other, giving logan ample enough time to pounce on them and fuck them up.

“get in the barn!” he yelled out, slicing them to bits and pieces—and just like before, you appeared in the barn.

–—

you were in there for quite a while, pacing back and forth; wondering what the hell was going on out there. the sounds of his grunting and the slicing of their skin could no longer be heard. you didn’t care what happened to them, they deserved hell or worse, all you cared about was logan.

the doors to the barn creaked open and you eyed it, but you relaxed when you saw him stomping in. your eyes watered at his bloody torso and you sprinted over to him, engulfing him in a hug. “baby, i was so worried about you!”

that nickname rolled off your tongue and he caught it, pulling you back to look at your face. he held you by your chin, puffing up your cheeks, before kissing your soft plump lips—while you gladly accepted his. the kiss was hot and a little sloppy. and when he pulled away from you, a trail spit following.

“been wanting to do that for awhile now. go ahead and take those off, you won’t be needing them,” he tugged on the hem of your shorts and you obliged. you quickly stripped them off along with your sunset colored thong, a web of your essence following. you were beyond soaked and he knew the moment he appeared in the barn, he could smell it.

you sat on a nearby haystack, spreading your legs and your slick coated lips, rubbing your sensitive little love bud. “please logan, wan’ you so bad.”

the lust that had built up over time, had overflowed and erupted; causing a change within you. and he loved it.

he watched with a lust filled glint in his eyes, his cock growing in his sweatpants as he watched you play with your pretty pussy—his desire and longing for you growing by the second. “think you can handle it, princess?” he asked and you nodded, slipping a finger in your aching hole; a sweet mewl leaving your lips.

he then replaced his finger with his fat leaky tip, pressing it right at your entrance; causing you to clamp down on nothing. he grunted and pushed through, stretching you open bit by bit; making you gasp and tear prick at the corner of your eyes.

“ ‘s too big—fuck!” that was an understatement. logan was huge, thick even. he was painfully big, but that’s exactly what you wanted. to be fucked dumb by his big fat painful cock.

“i know baby, but you can take it. yeah? —atta girl” he coached, splitting your cunt open as he pushed through, his tips inches away from kissing your cervix. logan leaned down and kissed away your tears, his cock pressing deep inside of you. he wiggled his hips around, helping you get used to his size and pressing his thumb to your clit; causing you to shudder.

the more he rubbed and he moved, the less pain you felt—and soon you were taking him so well. his cock was coated in your slick, a ring of white started form around his base as he plunged in and out of your wetness. logan watched your tits bounce out of your top with lidded eyes and the animal in him couldn’t help it anymore. his claws unsheathed and wrapped your top open—shredding it completely and freeing your jiggly mounds.

“so fucking—pretty. fuck, my pretty girl taking me so well!” his praises had you gushing all over him, clamping down on him as you started to see specks of white. you had never had an orgasm like this nor have you ever came so quickly before. none of the boys in college made you cum like this. but, that was the difference between logan and them. they were boys and he was a man.

“please don’t stop. please~” you begged, pulling him close while your orgasm flowed out of you. he grunted in your ear and your cunt weeped at the noise, his hips never faltering. “wasn’t planning on it sweetheart.” he moved his head down and took one of your hard nipples into his mouth, sucking on it like he was trying to pull milk from it.

you whined and bucked your hips up to match his thrusts, your clit pressing into him—adding more pleasure to your fucked out body.

you clung to him with each powerful thrust, his hips spanking your ass making a clapping sound erupt through the barn; accompanying your series of moans. your next orgasm approached by the minute, but this one felt different and you lowered your hips trying to back away.

“wait���wait, feels like m’gonna pee—“ but he didn’t budge, he stayed inside of your pussy—still drilling your cunt stilly—and let your nipple go with a pop; a web of saliva followed after him.

“just let go, trust me baby.” he smirked and gripped your hips, hazel eyes dancing over yours. you watched the dog tags around his neck jump with each pump, sending you straight to nirvana. your body shook as you let go, this orgasm different from your last; it was way more intense and you loved the feeling.

a clear stream of liquid splash out of you and onto his low stomach, pushing him out of you—drenching the hay bale beneath you. he slapped his cock onto your sensitive clit, coating himself in your essence.

when you finally calmed down, he leaned down and kissed your lips—hunger laced in it—his hips grinding against yours. and that’s when you realized something. he was still hard. you pulled away and looked at his swollen cock, shiny with your love. “baby, you didn’t get to cum?”

he pecked your lips some more, his tip now laying onto your belly, “just wanted to get you off first. see how pretty you looked when you came on my dick.”

you practically drooled at his words, eyes glued onto his girth that laid on your tummy—small hand fisting it, causing him to growl. “come sit your pretty ass down on my dick and ride me~”.

and that’s what you did for the next couple of minutes, riding him on the hay bale where he just made you squirt for the first time. webs of your messy fluids sticking to his thighs while you bounced and grinded on him—your boobs jiggling all in his face.

logan was losing himself under you, his cock twitching with each movement. he couldn’t wait anymore. he so desperately wanted to let go inside you. wanted to see your belly swollen in a few months with his kid and fuck another one right into you.

he gripped your ass, his hips bucking upwards, emptying ropes and ropes of his cum deep inside of you—filling you to the brim with his seed.

you rolled your hips, teasing him while leaning down to kiss him—tongues melting on one another. you pulled away and bit your lip, eyeing him with desire. the way he made you feel had you wanting more and he felt the same way. “take me inside.”

—

the two of you laid on his navy blue sheets, in each other’s arms, after a few more rounds of lovemaking. you toyed with his dog tags while he stared at your pretty face, loving how you looked with the moon glowing on you.

“your dad would kill me if he came back and saw us like this.” he spoke and you looked at him and smiled—getting on top of him and laying down on his muscled body.

“nah, i don’t think so. he’ll know i'm in good hands. ill be with the guy he’s going to sell the farm to, after all.” one of his beautiful thick eyebrows raised in response and you pressed a kiss to his lips.

“read the official letter in his office, he wants to sell the farm to you. im all for it. keep you close so we can have a litter of mutant babies together—now that i am one~”.

now it was his turn to smile and kiss on you. he rubbed circles on your back and pecked more kisses to your plump lips, “you’d look so pretty having my kids, with a ring on your finger and my last name attached to yours. i could see us turning that barn into our house, waking up next to you every day…”

“you can see all of that? you sure the wolverine isn’t a clairvoyant?” you joked and he roared with laughter. you smiled at him, so happy and content with every. so happy that you had to tell him, “i love you.”

his hazel eyes with hints of green widened and his smile became wider, “i love you more, doll.”

[sleepinthrumyalarms]

— smoke some, drink some, pop one

pairing: vada cavell x fem!reader

warnings: smut, drug use, lesbian sex, cunnilingus, overstimulation, slight roughness, unnecessary euphoria references

summary: you smoke dope. vada admits she has never eaten a girl out before. a practical demonstration ensues

word count: 2.7k

a/n: this was written under the influence of a travis scott song. expect anything. enjoy

You stare at the clock hanging above the blackboard anxiously, kicking your leg under the desk. The last few minutes of the last period always seem to stretch miles into infinity, and your patience is barely as flexible. The voice of the teacher has long since become background noise, the talk of equations and trigonometry and the finals week and how unprepared you were for it the last thing on your mind.

You pick your phone up for the millionth time to look at the messages still hanging and marked as unseen on your screen, eyes focusing on Vada’s name followed by an emoji of a puppy and a black heart.

‘got us enough to roll one’

‘just one tho’

‘don’t wanna end up like last time’

You chuckle quietly – the sweet memories of you and Vada skinny dipping in a pond at night and then showing up half-naked at Nick’s door are definitely the ones you treasure most, even though you can barely piece them together.

You look out the window, lost in thought. Your teacher asks you a question – and then you're saved by the sound of the bell ringing across the building.

As soon as you hear it you’re up and all but bolting out the door, muttering a quick ‘bye’ to the teacher to maintain your good girl image that, to be honest, has been hanging by a thread ever since the day you started dating Vada.

Not that you really care about their opinion. You just don’t want the principal to call your mother again.

You speed walk through the corridor, try to remember which floor was Vada’s class on, before you’re stopped by a pair of hands wrapping around your waist.

“Hey there pretty girl.”

You squeal in surprise, turning around in your girlfriend’s arms. She’s grinning at you annoyingly, the little shit, but the small dimple on her right cheek makes it impossible to be mad at her.

“Fuck, Vada,” you huff, pinching her shoulder half-heartedly, “I’ve got a weak heart, remember?

She shrugs, leans in to kiss your pout away.

“Sorry. I got out early. Wanted to wait for you since apparently someone's not interested in answering any of my texts anymore.”

You kiss her back, smiling apologetically, “I was too excited to see you, I guess.”

The brunette hums, lacing her fingers with yours, “Where to then?”

You think about inviting her over to your place – it’s closer to school, and your mom is working till late evening, but the rationality clicks quicker. Your mom also happens to work as the district attorney of the town – you’re pretty damn sure she knows what pot smells like, and would be able to smell it hours after you and Vada have fucked beyond the common sense of ventilating the house.

So you do the next best thing, one that won’t get either of you in trouble – you hotbox in your girlfriend’s car. You realize it might soon become the best thing, because it hits so much better.

Vada gets greedy with the joint a few times – you have to remind her it’s puff puff pass, not puff puff kiss your girlfriend so she lets her guard down then puff again.

In a few minutes you’re in her lap and making out with her like it’s your last day on Earth, the two of you giggling into each other’s mouths when you accidentally press the horn with your butt a few times, the honking sound mixing with your laughter.

You can barely make Vada’s face out by the time the last of the joint fizzles out and starts to burn your fingertips, the smoke filling the car up to the brim, but her eyes stand out amidst the choking whiteness, her pupils almost heart-shaped as she watches you with a dopey grin.

When you open the door the smoke drifts up the sky in big clouds, and breathing clear oxygen almost feels weird.

You’re still giggling slightly as Vada fumbles with her pockets to find her keys, your soft lips pressing to the side of her neck in sweet pecks making the process of finding them unnecessarily hard.

She shushes you when you finally step inside, listening for any sounds, before closing the door behind you. As soon as you realize you’re alone in the house, you press your lips against Vada’s impatiently.

“Don’t forget– your shoes,” Vada manages between the kisses, shivering as you slide your hands under her oversized shirt, “I’m serious, you horndog. Mom hates it when the floors are dirty.”

You groan into her lips, pulling away to untie your Jordans, shaking on your unstable legs slightly, and make your way up the stairs into her room. Vada opens the window to let the fresh spring air sweep through the room, hoping it’ll be enough to help the smell of weed wear off your clothes and hair.

“Wanna watch a show?” She asks, gesturing to her laptop as you sit on her bed, crossing your legs.

“Mhm. You’re thinking Euphoria, aren’t you?” You snort, watching as your girlfriend slides next to you, “Because I think we’re pretty much in one.”

“So, like,” Vada trails off, her hands coming to rest on your hips in what she thinks is a subtle movement, “Would that make me Rue, then?”

She plays with a string on your pants, feeling almost embarassed about the corny things she's saying.

“And you – Jules?”

You hum, tilting your head with a coy grin, try and mull her innuendo over in your baked out mind. The comparison does seem familiar – especially with Vada’s puppy love towards you.

“Well, I liked their duo in the first season but... weren’t they, like... extremely toxic later on?”

Vada finally pulls in you to sit on her lap, your thighs bracketing hers, and it’s such close proximity you can count all the pretty freckles scattered across her face. You’d probably get lost at fifty, way too high for mathematics of any kind, even if it’s this romantic.

“You’re right. Fuck Euphoria,” she whispers, her gaze sliding to your lips, and you don’t waste any more time to press your lips to hers.

Kissing Vada has always been something to look forward to – warm and pleasant, makes your stomach flip when she’d bite your bottom lip and lick at your teeth. Kissing Vada whilst being slightly high is an out of this world feeling. Her nose presses into your cheek, and your palms slide to the back of her neck, fingers twirling her silky brown tresses idly.

You pull away for air, and it gets stuck in your throat as the brunette presses a kiss behind your ear, trailing the butterfly smooches down to your pulse point. Her hands are kept busy under your shirt, fingertips tracing up your stomach to your ribs.

“How many times have you ever been eaten out?”

A sudden but... not at all unwelcome question. You lean back on your hands, humming when her plush lips rest against your collarbone, and purse your lips in thought.

“Mm... once or twice. I don’t really keep any notches on my belt, y’know?”

Her hands tighten around your hips, and you chuckle.

“Drinking vinegar, are you now? Don’t worry. You have an opportunity to top them all.”

Vada averts her gaze suddenly. You frown, lean in to cup her face gently.

“What’s wrong?”

The brunette rubs her thumbs over your clothed thighs, then looks back up at you, a small frown on her face.

“I’ve never done this before.”

“You’ve never... fucked anyone?” You're sure that's a lie – she's fucked you before.

“I’ve never given a girl head.”

You hum, reaching to hold her slightly shaky hands, slowly inching them closer to the waistband of your sweatpants, “I can teach you,” you suggest, biting your lip, “Show you what I like. That cool?”

Vada looks almost mesmerized. She nods, her gaze fixed on your pants, and you giggle as she tugs them down your legs, prompting you to slide off her lap to let her do so, the cool outside breeze hitting your warm skin and rising goosebumps in its wake.

“I listened to a podcast the other day,” she begins, “About cunnilingus. The host said the best advice she’s ever gotten was to google wielding techniques.”

You raise your eyebrows in confusion, “Huh?”

Vada reaches for her phone on the bedside table, quickly unlocking it and typing something in the search bar. She selects a random picture and shows you the screen.

There are indeed blueprints of what looks like wielding seams, going from bottom to the top. The arrows are forming different patterns – there are zig-zags, crescents, a circular seam and a ‘figure 8’ seam...

For all the ridiculousness, they do seem... practical.

You smile and grab the phone, turning it off and tossing it somewhere back on the bed.

Of course she would do that – research stuff. It’s so fucking endearing it prompts you to wrap your hands around her neck and press a kiss to her cheek.

“Why not stick to the usual alphabet thing, hm?” You offer, “I can tell which letter I’d love the most.”

You lean in to whisper into her ear huskily, “It’s ‘V’.”

Vada shudders, making you smile. Then her hands grasp at your hips, tugging you closer, and your breath hitches at her sudden assertiveness.

The brunette bends her knees so that she’s level with your center and parts your legs slowly. You curse under your breath – you’re pretty much drenched right through your panties, and if Vada was just slightly more sober, she’d probably tease you about it, too. You’re glad she isn’t.

She leans in closer instead, tongue lolling out and pressing against your clothed cunt, licking a stripe up the smeared wetness there. Her fingers slip under the waistband of your underwear, and you tilt your hips up a bit to help her take it off, the movement causing your heat to press further into her mouth, making you whine.

Your panties are off, and so is Vada’s tongue.

She stares long enough for you to feel a bit conscious about yourself, and you move to close your legs on instinct, but her hands keep them apart. She hooks your ankles over her shoulders, shoots you a warning look. Her dark gaze makes you clench around nothing. The shyness and uncertainty is gone like it wasn’t even there.

You’re not sure if it’s weed, or if you’re being tricked, but this version of Vada is... new. Extremely hot, too.

She lowers herself so that she’s inches away from your pussy, her warm breath fanning your swollen clit – you're so strung up that you’re starting to feel a second heartbeat in between your legs. Vada looks up at you again, making sure you’re watching her as she flattens her tongue along your slit, collecting all the warm slick that leaked out from the moment she had you on her lap. She lets out a satisfied groan, and you sigh, hips buckling to meet her.

Despite all your confidence, you feel yourself crumble at the first touch of your girlfriend’s mouth on you – you’ve always preferred this over any kind of penetration, and Vada’s eagerness to please you doesn’t help.

She withdraws for a moment, and you find yourself missing her immediately.

“Is this okay?” She asks, palms caressing your thighs to soothe you.

“Don’t make me beg.” You breathe with a chuckle.

She laps at your folds, groaning at the saccharine warmth of your arousal coating her tongue – then leans back again, and you’re almost whining before she reaches her thumb to rub at your swollen clit, her breathing heavy as she watches you gush around nothing.

“Baby.” You whine pathetically, your knees coming together to try and push her face into you.

Vada doesn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest, her digit circling your sensitive spot, never taking her eyes away, “Hm?”

“Please,” you murmur, voice stifled by the hot arousal burning in your veins, “Want your mouth, baby. Want to cum on your tongue, please.”

The brunette digs her fingers into the soft flesh of your hips before wrapping her plump lips around your clit, gently sucking, and your thighs tighten around her head at the sudden overwhelmingly good feeling coursing through your body. You almost can’t believe how good it feels – how good Vada is, almost naturally talented at making your toes curl as she mouths at your dripping pussy, keeping a burning grip on your quivering legs. The immense amount of pleasure is so sudden you’re practically sobbing her name, your stomach tensing and hips bucking with each calculated flick of the girl’s tongue. The sheets under you are considerably darker than the rest, a pool of your cum along with the brunette’s spit dampening the area.

You’ve heard that drugs can expand your consciousness, but to such a degree that has you seeing stars as Vada eats you out like it’s her second nature...

Her tongue slips between your walls suddenly, causing you to arch your back into the air, hips rolling into her face. Her tongue continues to lap confidently, going in circles around your entrance. A shaky sigh leaves your lungs, and you have to clench your eyes shut.

“Vada, oh my god,” you breathe shakily, your voice tight and high, feeling you stomach coil, “I'm gonna cum– Fuck, fuck, Vada."

Her lips find your clit again, and that’s what sends you over the edge, your thighs clasping around her head so tight she swears her ears start to ring.

You shiver as the brunette drinks you up hungrily, your legs easing their hold on her, chest heaving with shuddering gasps.

“Oh, Vada. Fuck,” you mutter, resting your forearm over your eyes as you try to calm your speeding heart, “That was so... so good, baby. I think you lied to me. Either that, or you’re... a natural.” You chuckle breathlessly, raising a shaky hand to swipe some stray hairs from your forehead.

Your legs move to unhook themselves from the girl’s shoulders, taking pity on her most likely strained muscles, but Vada’s grip turns bruising on your legs. You’re pushed back further into the pillows suddenly, and before you can let out a single peep in alarm, she’s on you again.

Her hands reach to grasp under your knees, bending your legs up, your pussy spread open for her. She doesn’t relent — her hands hold your thighs as she all but buries her face in your heat, the movements of her tongue harsh. Fast. Merciless.

The sudden aggressiveness makes you let out a broken moan, your hands darting to tread through Vada’s hair, wanting her closer but away at the same time, the painful pleasure too much for your scrambled mush of a brain to handle.

“Oh my god, Vada!”

She leans away for a moment to trace two separate stripes from your entrance up to your clit with the tip of her tongue, and you whine, your foggy mind realizing that she has actually just done the letter thing, before she’s back on you like a hungry beast, jaw hanging open to wrap her mouth around your seizing cunt with an obscene slurping sound.

Your back arches as you cum harder than before, throwing your head back against bed and squeezing your eyes shut, your girlfriend’s name tumbling out of your mouth in an almost pornographic moan. You whine as Vada laps at your center with purpose, licking you clean, before pulling away mercifully.

There’s a cocky wolfish grin on the brunette’s face as she watches you open your eyes slowly, trying to compose yourself.

“How was that for a notch on your belt, hm?”

Shit. If you didn’t just experience the most intense orgasm in your life, you’d scoff at the smugness of her tone.

“I’m gonna be honest... I wasn’t sure I’d be into... that,” you say shakily, “But I guess I am now. Jesus Christ, Vada.”

“Just Vada is fine.” She gently caresses your hips, leans down to kiss your jaw lovingly, “Now...”

Her fingers lift the hem of your shirt up to your chest, blunt nails grazing the flesh under your breasts – she watches them rise and fall with your unsteady breaths.

“How about I salt the earth behind me so that no one ever stands a chance of owning you the way I do?”

[yall-batman-fanfic]

Day Off & Double Dates | Batman/Bruce Wayne x Magician!Reader ft. Super-family and Batfamily

Synopsis: Lois Lane gets a day off and decides to spend it with someone who can relate to her predicament of being the wife of a superhero. Wanting to escape Gotham's gloom and the hovering of her family, Vivian takes the invite, and their day off turns out to be an interesting one especially when Clark and Bruce join in later.

Note: Reference to the Spotify series Batman: Unburied and The Riddler: Secrets in the Dark. I absolutely love Hasan Minhaj’s portrayal of the Riddler in that series.

There was chaos in the kitchen. While Vivian normally enjoyed such normalcy in their home and seeing the children act their age and not be soldiers in the never-ending war in Gotham, today was just not that day. 

A week booked from morning till evening, nights that had organized crime doing their work, then there was the incident where Lazlo Valentin or Professor Pyg kidnapped her to transform her to one of his Dollotrons, and then after that incident Damian and Jason won’t stop hovering – she can’t even go to the public restroom without them insisting to check if the stalker was there – she had to bind them outside with her magic just so she could piss. She just wanted some peace and quiet.

Luckily, her savior called all the way from Metropolis.

"Hi, Lois," Vivian sighed.

"Busy day?" Lois asked.

"No, quite the opposite. It's the first time in a while where they get to be their age. Damian's going to school, Cass too, so is Duke, Tim's got something, and Jason and Dick are... who knows." She glanced at the busy kitchen where everyone was running around eating breakfast, looking for their things for school and work, Damian fixing his tie while telling off Tim on something, Bruce sipping his coffee, and Alfred preparing their lunches. And for her a glass of scotch. Bruce saw him give Vivian the glass and raised a brow at her. She only raised the glass at him and took a sip.

"You and Bruce?"

"He's got work. Me... I really don't want to go to campus today. A lot just happened with a serial killer kidnapping me for his experiments-"

"Let me stop you right there because I got just the thing for you. That is if you're willing to drive to Metropolis so we can have a day off."

"You got a day off? That's surprising,” Vivian snuck the laptop from her bag. She made sure to keep the cover facing the family while she scrolled through the browser.

"Speak for yourself,” Lois scoffed. “Ten kids under your roof, and then you’re teaching like a hundred kids a day. You never get a day off.”

“Correction, we only got six kids under our roof. Two of which are full grown adults who should be in their respective apartments but are here – again, I love all of them.” Vivian chuckled. "What do you have planned?"

"How about some yoga at the park, we go shopping using your black credit card - kidding, of course - dinner. A nice girl's day out. What do you say?"

"I'm already checking the next ferry ride there and booking a space for the car. Meet you there in an hour or two."

"Great! Make sure to sneak out so they don't follow you.”

"Too late, they saw me booking the ticket," Vivian sighed loudly as Damian and Jason were on her shoulder asking a million questions. "I'll make this quick."

"This is good, Viv! It helps with their separation anxiety. " Lois joked as she heard Jason and Damian go: "You're going to Metropolis? WHY?!" And "Ma, are you serious right now? You were just kidnapped this week and you're going on a trip?"

Facing the two, she said to them, "Yes, Jason, I am. Why? Because I was kidnapped, strapped to a surgical bed with a man wearing a pig-mask about to carve my face open with an unsanitized butcher’s knife. I need a break," When Bruce came to her side and removed Damian from her back, Vivian said to him, "Lois invited me to spend the day with her."

"Will Clark be there?" Bruce asked.

"She said it's a girls day out. So I doubt it."

"BUT!" Lois called out, prompting Vivian to put her on speaker mode. "Maybe by dinner we could have a couples date. Just for fun."

"I'll head over by then," said Bruce. "Dick can hold the fort."

"Trust, finally! I'm touched," Dick teased him. "Don't worry, Viv, we got it covered."

"Can I come?" Damian asked.

"Sorry, this is an adults only dinner. Even Jon's staying with Conner tonight," said Lois.

"Ha, too bad," Jason had a triumphant look.

"Jason, that includes you," Vivian told him.

He huffed.

"See ya, Lois!" Vivian ended the call and turned to her family, who were now quiet as she addressed them. "I love you, all of you, but please no calls to the principal or the head master's office today. Damian, promise?"

"Why is it only me?" Damian pouted. "But fine."

Glad with his answer, Vivian patted his head but she turned to the next child: "Tim?" 

"What did I do now?!" Tim said. When Vivian only looked at him he sighed and promised.

Vivian turned to Cassandra and Duke.

"Promise, Mom." Cassandra crossed her heart. “Dance practice later.”

Vivian turned to Dick and Jason, expecting one of them to pick up Cass from her practice. It was Jason who took the responsibility and promised to be there on time.

When it was Duke’s turn, he said, "You got it Professor." 

She then turned to Dick and Jason again.

"I'm not even in school!" Said Dick, grinning. "But yeah, I’ll make sure to stay away from hospitals."

Vivian turned to Jason and messed with his hair, "I'll be fine. Nothing to worry about."

Jason sighed and nodded.

"Good."

"But I'll keep watch just in case."

"No."

"Fine..." 

"Mama's boy," Tim whispered to Cass and Luke.

"Yeah, and so what? At least I'm the favorite!" Jason exclaimed. 

"Says who?!" Damian questioned him. "Is that true, Mom? He is your favorite?"

"I don't have any favorites!" Vivian sighed and turned to Bruce. "I'm going out."

"I'll hold them off," Bruce snuck a kiss before she could leave. "Have fun."

"I will!"

Just as Damian was about to run after her, Bruce caught him and said to him, "you know that she doesn't have favorites. She loves all of you equally."

"Then how come Todd's getting all the attention?"

"Because he hoggs her," said Dick. "He tends to do that."

"Stop hogging Mom, Todd!"

"Please, you get to see her everyday!" Jason exclaimed.

As the argument continues, Bruce sighs and envies the sound of Alfred saying goodbye to Vivian as she exits the house and takes her car. He just has to wait until later for their date with Lois and Clark. For now, he’s got a house full of children – literal children and adult-children – making chaos once more. Maybe he should consider making another kitchen on the other side of the manor just for him and Vivian?

~*~

Driving across Metropolis is both relaxing and a hassle. There was traffic, which annoys Vivian since she had a mood to step on the gas a little more than usual, but at least it had something exploding on the pavement or someone running because they robbed a store or a truck crushing the cars on the road. Ah, Gotham, you never fail to make anyone paranoid wherever they go.

Arriving at the Kent-Lane house, Vivian first saw Clark as the man was just about to head inside with some doughnuts.

"I thought I heard a customized car engine driving impatiently in Metropolis," Clark greeted with a grin.

"Hello to you too, Clark. And hello, Jon!" Vivian lets the boy hug her but not too tight to crush her. Yeah, his super strength was coming. He was just a couple of years younger than Damian but Jon was taller than her boy. It always delighted her to see Jon and Damian’s friendship, it reminds her of Bruce and Clark’s friendship to some degree, and she finds Jon’s influence to be good for Damian. Though Damian tends to call off Jon by telling him to “Wonder Woman up, Kent!” whenever they come to Jon’s sports events.

"Professor Pryor, it's good to see you again!" Jon said.

"You too bud, how's school?" She turned the boy’s baseball hat backwards so she could see his cute little face.

"Nope! Nuh uh," Lois came and started to push her towards the car. "You are not going to spend the day helping another student with their homework. We are going to have a day off that we deserve! We'll meet you and Bruce for dinner, Honey!"

"What about yoga?" Clark asked.

"I thought it was just us for yoga?" Vivian raised a brow.

"He wanted to have yoga with me. But, yeah, see you there. Viv and I are just gonna drive around first."

"See you there!"

"Love you both!"

In the car, Vivian and Lois buckled up and then sighed before Lois said, "drive" and she drove out of the parking space. 

"So, tell me all about what happened to you this week," Lois said.

"We'd be in yoga and I'll still be talking."

"Okay. What about the psycho kidnapper?"

Vivian let out a loud groan and began, "His name is  Lazlo Valentin or Professor Pyg and he's a twisted surgeon obsessed with the myth of Pygmalion and the idea of physical perfection. He’s one of those really dark criminals in Gotham, like really dark. Even I get goosebumps just thinking about it. He wears a pig mask on his face and goes about making people perfect by transforming them to his Dollotrons. He’s been running around Gotham for a while, hard to find, and I became his target one time. He said that he saw my photo on the streets and he wanted to make me perfect.”

“Yikes.”

"Anyway, Bruce and the boys came before I could use my magic, and beat the shit out of him. Bruce enjoyed that."

"And the boys?"

"Damian and Jason went overboard. Cass was a sweetheart and took me out of there. It was fun. Really. Fun. What about you?”

Lois shrugged. “I just got a day off after years of working and working. Not as interesting as your reason for one.”

“Trust me, Lois, you deserve this day-off.”

“Both of us.”

~*~

After parking her car in Wayne Tower in Metropolis – she asked Bruce if she could use it for the day and he said, “I don’t even know why I’m even getting this call when you know my answer would be ‘yes’, Viv.” – she and Lois proceeded on foot wanting to enjoy Metropolis and not get a bad start by a parking ticket or a finding a parking space anywhere. This was a city after all, and parking would be war itself. 

Their first destination for their day off was yoga which was being held in Centennial Park. Vivian was a little conscious to walk around wearing her yoga clothes that she wore one of Tim’s shirts that he left in the car, and used Jason’s jacket to wrap around her waist to cover her leggings. But as soon as they arrived at the venue and they were met by Lois’ friends, Vivian took off the jacket, getting more comfortable that it wasn’t just them in the attire.

“Lois!” Jimmy Olsen called out. With him was Siobhan Smythe – also known as Silverbanshee. 

“You made it! I was worried this would be too early for you,” said Lois.

“No way, we’re morning people!” Jimmy kissed Siobhan’s cheek. Making the woman blush.

“Is that?” Jimmy’s eyes narrowed a bit to get a clearer look. “You brought… holy shit – Vivian Pryor?”

Right. They didn’t know that Vivian and Lois were good friends considering they never really hung out much.

“Yeah, Vivian and I kept in contact after our interview years ago,” Lois shrugged. “You can say we’re good friends.”

“It’s nice to meet you both,” Vivian held out her hand to them in greeting. “Jimmy Olsen and Siobhan Smythe, right?”

“Yeah, yes! I can’t believe that we are going to have yoga with Vivian Pryor – you’re practically Gotham royalty now.”

Vivian laughed awkwardly. “A little over the top.”

“Please, Bruce Wayne has been bringing the title of Prince of Gotham since he was a baby,” Lois scoffed. “But yeah, Vivian had a long week and I thought why not I invite her over to have a day off?”

“Oh, I heard that you were kidnapped by some serial killer – it was on the news,” said Siobhan.

“More reason why I needed this. I just wanna get out of the city for a while.”

“Trade one city for another,” Lois jokes.

“Trust me, Metropolis is a vacation itself. Actually, getting on that ferry is already a vacation. You don’t get costumed criminals running around you… unless they boarded the ferry and placed a bomb – oh, look at that, Gotham paranoia is following me everywhere. And please, off the record.”

Lois laughed. “Don’t worry, we’re all off for the day now… shall we, ladies?” 

Yoga was nice. It was the first time Vivian got to enjoy yoga in the park and not in a studio or at home. In the studio she never got this calm environment with the outdoor breeze, the smell of grass and soil, and the chirping birds; and at home, Bruce usually interrupts her session by locking the door of the room and distracting her with kisses or touches that would lead to another type of exercise. Not that she was complaining about that.

But this was nice. 

A moment of silence.

Just her and the sound of the wind that resonated with her magic –

“Honey! Am I late?!”

And Clark was there.

Opening her eyes, Vivian stifled a laugh when she saw the huge Clark Kent with his glasses and sweat band, a red Smallville jumper and shorts. Whenever Lois would say Clark was a dork but her dork, she always found it hard to believe – even when he shows his dorkiness – but now, now she believes it. 

“What. Are. You. Wearing?” Lois said to him.

“You said it was for yoga?” Clark shrugged.

God, she was lucky Bruce doesn’t do yoga. But if he does, she mostly imagines him wearing the same thing he does when he works out: most of the time topless and a pair of workout shorts. And she never breaks his concentration whenever he does his gym work – which was pretty unfair in her opinion. 

Okay, she does sometimes, not always.

“Hi Clark!” Vivian waved at him with a small grin. “Nice shirt.”

“Thanks,” Clark smiled, then he turned to Lois. “What?”

“Nothing, let’s just enjoy the day,” Lois sighed and went back to her mat. She turned to Vivian and quickly typed on her phone.

Upon seeing Lois’ speed typing, Vivian got her phone out to read: please tell me Bruce has something the same outfit so I’m not the only one with the dork at yoga.

Vivian bit her lip to hide her laugh and replied: Our yoga sessions are not really yoga. So, we’ll be charged with public indecency if he comes over.

Send.

Lois barked a laugh, which made Jimmy, Siobhan, and Clark look at them in confusion, but both women knew that Superman already knew what they were messaging about.

Lois typed back quickly and sent a reply: Breaking News: Gotham’s Billionaire-Philanthropist Couple Spotted Expanding the Family in Centennial Park!

Vivian burst out laughing which had Lois laughing too. While Jimmy and Siobhan were even more confused, Clark sighed and just watched the two women. 

The rest of the yoga session went well, surprisingly, and by the end of it, Vivian and Lois said goodbye to Jimmy and Siobhan as they had their own plans, and to Clark. But before they went to their destination, which was Wayne Enterprise which had a gym in the building and a shower, Clark said to them, “Don’t think I didn’t see the texts.”

Vivian and Lois shared an amused look at one another.

“Don’t worry, Bruce is coming over later and you can show off your masculinity later, honey,” Lois teased him.

With that they were off. After a quick shower in Wayne Tower’s gym facilities, and a hello to the director running the place, the two women went on with their day. Going to the shopping district, getting lunch, sightseeing for Vivian, and all the while not getting one call or text from their children because they got in trouble. Vivian was surprised when she realized none of her kids were actually messaging her an SOS that day that she wanted to check on them but Lois took her phone from her.

“THEY’RE FINE, VIV!” Lois held her phone hostage. “I swear, it’s you who's got freaking separation anxiety.”

~*~

Meanwhile in Gotham. Things weren’t exactly going so well…

Damian was called to the Headmaster���s office because he said something to his teacher that was both witty and rude. But it was Bruce who was called to the meeting as Dick noted his teachers to call Bruce today if anything wrong happens. 

Tim had trouble on the way to class as a certain villain caught Red Robin’s eye. He was late.

Dick and Jason almost forgot about Cass’ dance lessons and actually forgot who was going to pick her up and ended up at her school at the same time. Cass had to remind them it was Jason.

Duke and Cass were probably the only ones who fulfilled their promise of a peaceful day.

~*~

When dinner came, Vivian and Lois met Clark at the bottom of Wayne Tower where Bruce mentioned he will be dropping off via the plane. Clark mentioned he offered to give him a lift, as usual, but Bruce gave a flat out “no” before he could finish the sentence. Waiting at Wayne Tower’s lobby was relaxing and taxing for Vivian. Relaxing since it has comfortable seats and free coffee, tiring since whenever one of the members of the board or anyone sitting at the very top of the Tower passes her, they would engage in some sort of conversation that felt like they were sucking up. 

Vivian had to keep up the practiced smile and – as Lois calls it – the demure-billionaire’s wife facade the entire time. Not the professor who hates how corporate Gotham University is becoming. 

After Vivian said goodbye to the batch of board members that came to say hi, Vivian got out her phone and called Bruce. Two rings and he immediately answered. “Where are you? My face is killing me from all the smiling,” Vivian said as she smiled and waved at another person who waved in her direction. 

Hell, she didn’t even know that person. The only person she knew there was Mr. Pickles – who was the Manager of this building – and Mr. Porter who was the nice maintenance guy who would always greet her with his wife’s homemade biscuits whenever she came over (today he didn’t have one since her visit was a surprise and he told her, “Professor, you should have told me you were coming!” Mr. Porter said, “Sorry, this was just a surprise trip, but I got you a hot coco since your doctor said no more coffee,” she handed him the warm cup). 

The reason why Mr. Porter would always give her biscuits is because of one incident, when Bruce brought her over to Metropolis to visit Wayne Tower before their date, she heard some women in the restroom whispering how Bruce Wayne was way out of her league. At that time, they had only been dating for a month and the comments got to her. After the two women left, Vivian got out of the cubicle she was in and Mr. Porter – who was about to replace the toilet papers – saw her trying to dry her tears. He invited her to the little room where he had his things and offered her a cookie. Bruce found her – after a while of looking – and was surprised when Vivian was laughing with the older man while sharing cookies and a hot beverage. Since then Mr. Porter would always give her cookies whenever she came, and Vivian would always have him and his family in her gift list.

But back at Wayne Tower’s lobby, Vivian jumped at the sudden hand on her waist and the sound of Bruce’s voice by her ear, “Right here.”

“When did you get here?” Vivian ended the call.

“A couple of minutes ago. I was caught up by Loraine from the Science Department. How’s your day?” He leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“Great, relaxing. Please tell me Gotham is still in one piece and the kids are not in the hospital.”

“The kids are fine, and Gotham is still Gotham. They’ll be taking over tonight’s shift. Tonight, Dick’s calling the shots.”

“Good.”

Coming to join them, Lois and Clark greeted Bruce with a little formality. Afterall, Daily Planet is part of Wayne Enterprises’ companies after the acquisition. But once they were out of earshot, they let out a breath of relief and were able to converse properly. 

Leave it to Bruce to get reservations in one of the fancy restaurants in the area and booked a private table for them. They literally have to ring the bell if they need anything.

“We heard what happened to Viv this week, is everything okay?” Clark asked as they ate their meal.

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Bruce answered.

“Why didn’t you just,” Lois used a gesture that was supposed to be Vivian’s magical abilities. “The guy?”

“He drugged me. I couldn’t really do much after that – Cass had to carry me on her shoulder. Imagine, my seventeen-year-old daughter carrying me like a sack of flour,” Vivian answered.

“And the boys?”

“On a murderous rampage. Don’t worry, Damian and Jason didn’t kill him. Dick, Tim, and Duke were somewhere at that time. Handling the other Dollotrons.”

“Ah. And what happened to the guy?”

“He’s in Arkham Asylum,” Bruce answered. 

“You know, I already hated the whole Pygmalion and Galatea myth with its toxic gender role themes – despite others trying to show its romance – Pyg Valentin just made me hate the story even more,” Vivian added. “Like way, way more. I am never going to not think of Pyg Valentin whenever we tackle that in a story in Feminism Lectures.”

“How is he related to Pygmalion and Galatea, exactly?” Clark asked.

“That’s his obsession and inspiration – the idea of perfect beauty.”

“I gotta ask, you basically fight like a hundred criminals a night,” Lois said to Bruce. “You gotta have a favorite one, right?”

As soon as Bruce said, “No,” Vivian answered: “The Riddler.”

“What?” Bruce turned to her.

Vivian winced in guilt. “It’s mostly because he helped us that time to look for you when you disappeared and Ivy was holding you hostage to get some biochemical weapon from Wayne Tower’s vault. It was Oracle’s idea, just so you know, and Tim agreed to it, and so did Dick. Because she really had you hidden really well. And I don’t know. After that incident, the Riddler doesn’t seem so bad? Still a complete asshole –”

“And a criminal.”

“But after that incident – and the times he actually helped you on the field –”

“For his own advantage.”

“He’s not as bad as the others in my personal opinion.”

Bruce sighed. 

“And his Riddles are starting to be really good. I liked the one on the ‘colonizers’ – that was really good,” Vivian chuckled.

(this is a reference to the Spotify series Batman: Unburied and The Riddler: Secrets in the Dark, go check it out. It’s really cool.)

Bruce sighed at that. 

“What about you two? Anything interesting?” Vivian asked Clark and Lois.

The couple turned to each other and shrugged with different answers, such as Jon’s powers expanding, then there’s Superman flying down to greet the people at the stadium, another winning article for Lois, and Clark’s article on some ant research project. 

After their dinner, the two couples decided to go to the pier where a carnival was at the time. 

“Remember the time we rode the ferry’s wheel at the pier?” Lois asked as they came closer to the beach party. “And Clark and I saw your cart moving around despite there being no wind nor were we moving at that time?”

“It was the night Bruce told us that they were both getting married,” said Clark, focusing on the celebration rather than the awkward memory of hearing the creaking card above them at that time.

Entering the fair, they played games – Bruce and Clark winning their wives a Batman and Superman plush from the stand, respectively – and Vivian and Lois winning the archery games.

When Vivian got a bull’s eye, Bruce saw Clark’s surprised look, “Adam taught her all there is to shoot – pistols, rifles, shotguns, and archery.”

“I see,” he said as he saw Vivian make another shot and missed the center by a few inches. Still her form was solid and the way she pulled the string showed someone who has done it before. She wasn’t as good as Green Arrow but it wasn’t what he expected from her at all.

“His words were, he didn’t want his little girl to be easily swayed by a guy brandishing a BB Gun. It paid off.”

“Yeah, what got her is a man juggling knives while wearing a bat costume at night,” Clark teased.

Bruce frowned at him for that, but that frown fell when Vivian gave him the price she won. After winning almost all of the games and getting prizes which Vivian gave to some kids she saw sneaking into the fair and trying to steal some coins, along with extra tickets (but she kept the Batman plush), they decided to go on some rides.

Roller coasters were out of the question since they already have something better than roller coasters with Superman’s flight and Batman’s grappling guns to swing around Gotham, and in Vivian’s case. And Lois and Clark said no to a ferry’s wheel considering the last time they rode one in separate cars, so they opted for the cheesiest ride of all.

The Tunnel of Love.

“I can forgive you for the cheesy prizes and the whole carnival date but not this,” Vivian teased Lois and Clark. “This is just,” she sighed as she entered the ride with Bruce’s help.

“Just enjoy the ride, Vivian!” Lois called out to her as their boat went ahead. 

Sitting on the small boat, Vivian leaned back on Bruce’s arm that was over the backrest and turned to him, “I prefer the gargoyle.”

Bruce chuckled. “It’s their city. This is their version of romance.”

Their boat started to move.

“Man, I miss Gotham. I wonder how things are there… maybe I should check on the kids to see if they’re alright.”

Bruce took her phone and hid it in his pocket. “Just enjoy the ride, Viv. Even when a gargoyle is far better than whatever that is,” he cringed at the sight of the badly painted animatronic that represented Cherub Cupid and –

“That's a little creepy,” Vivian pointed to the animatronic that resembled glass dolls. Dolls, it brought a chill down her spine as she looked at those dolls. “I thought this was a Tunnel of Love?”

“I guess it's supposed to scare couples so they'd cuddle closely… are you okay?” Bruce looked at her as she looked at the dolls in horror. 

The dolls, he realized.

He should have known that the ride would have those kinds of dolls. And Vivian was so close to having become one of Pyg Valentin's Dollotrons just recently. Bruce gently caressed her cheek and led her by the cheek to look at her. “I am so sorry, my love.”

“It's okay. We didn't know.”

“I should have known, though.”

“You can't always know everything, Bruce,” Vivian held the hand that caressed her cheek. “I guess I'll just look at you until the ride ends. It might take a while because I saw how big this is.”

“I don't mind,” Bruce leaned down and kissed her. Then to her surprise, he took her from the seat and placed her on his lap. 

“Bruce,” she whispered in warning. 

“Don't mind the ride, you can ride on something else,” Bruce smirked.

Vivian stifled a laugh and looked around. The boats had a good distance from one another to give couples privacy and feel the moment. Copying his smirk, Vivian tucked back a stray red hair behind her ear and leaned down a kiss but before Bruce could take her lips, she said to him in the most seductive voice that he loved.

“Not too loud, Mr. Wayne.”

“I'll try,” he finally kissed her and pulled her body close to him, and purposely had her grind on his lap. Unbuttoning the first two buttons of her dress, he was able to kiss a part of her breast and hide the groan as Vivian moved her hips on his growing erection. “Fuck, Vivian,” he held her by her ass and squeezed them as he helped her move. “Just look at me, Viv.”

Vivian opened her eyes and looked at him through her lashes. “We need to be fast,” she hastily unfastened his belt.

Bruce chuckled and helped her out and moved her underwear to the side and –

“Fuck,” he groaned at the feeling of her around him. Married for more than ten years, he could say he's memorized what would make her come easily and it would always feel so good whenever he was inside her. “God, just like that, love,” he helped her move her hips, hitting the right spots to get her to finish as fast as they could before the ride ended.

Vivian had to bite her hand as she moved her hips on Bruce and held back the moans. This was the most risky thing they have ever done. More risky than the time they did it in the changing room. Bruce bought all the dresses she tried on that day. Or the time she gave him head while they were driving from a trip, Bruce used his convertible then. Or the many times they had sex on the tower's roof by their favorite gargoyle with the risk of GCPD's helicopters roaming in the skies or any costumed criminal with the means of flight – like Kiteman.

Normally, Bruce wouldn't do something so risky, but with Vivian all logic is thrown out of the window. All that matters was her and for him to see her, feel her, hear her, and taste her. It was hard for him to keep a look out while she rode him there and him trying to stop their moans from getting loud. But Bruce managed to get through the haze of pleasure and love and hear them nearing the exit.

Shit.

He needed to finish this now.

Reaching down between her legs, Bruce pressed on Vivian's clit and hastened her climax. And it worked, he felt her tighten around him and he pulled her to a kiss so she wouldn't moan too loud. Not long after he came. Thankfully it wasn't too much that it made a mess.

Panting, Vivian looked at her husband once again and kissed him to say thank you, before pulling him out of her, making them moan, and then fixed his trousers and belt while Bruce licked his fingers that had some of her release. 

Cleaned and dressed again, Vivian sat back on her seat and snuggled into Bruce's embrace, both acting as if nothing happened. 

“Metropolis has its romantic spots,” Vivian said as they reached the exit.

“You don't say?” Bruce chuckled. “Oh.”

“Why? What's wrong – oh…”

Standing by the exit, Clark and Lois looked at them with narrowed gazes. Right, Clark has super hearing.

Getting off the ride, Vivian and Bruce ran out of the place with Clark and Lois at their tail. At a good distance, Lois said, “Seriously? Again? You don't need super hearing to get a full audio show on that, you know.”

“We tried to stay quiet,” Vivian sheepishly said.

“Not the point.”

As Vivian had Lois to apologize to, Bruce had Clark who couldn't look him in the eye. 

“Can I ask… what even…” Clark began.

“Vivian felt uncomfortable with the dolls. She was almost turned to a Dollotron not long ago,” Bruce explained simply.

“And you couldn't have thought of something else to distract her?”

“What can I say? We like the thrill,” Bruce chuckled as he watched Vivian laughing while Lois told her off for giving them a show that they never wanted to hear in the first place, mentioning that at the first time it was Clark who had to suffer, now she had to go through the whole ride hearing echoes of them having a quickie.

“We should do this again sometime,” Bruce smirked.

Clark turned to him in disbelief, “No!”

[mrsjobarnes]

Not the Only Cowboy - Chapter 5

Summary: Jake had never been the type of guy to fall first, maybe you’ll be the one to change that. 

A/N~ Sorry this took so long guys, I had writer's block, and then uni started and it got put on the back burner! However, I’m back and ready to finish this story! Also a huge Thank you to @angel-0f-verdun for helping me with this!

Jake Sersin x Nurse!reader 

Word count: 1,172

Warning: Abuse, Angst, Violence 

Likes & comments are welcome! 

Please do not steal my work! 

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

2 weeks. It took you two weeks for you to leave the guest room. You requested time off and were granted 2 weeks but after that, you’d have to go back, back to the place that no longer felt safe since Blake had found you. 

He had crossed the country to find you, he didn’t care about the restraining order or that you had only packed the essentials and moved. No, you were still his, his to control, his to break, his to own till death, and even after that. You were his baby, his honey, his sugar, and he needs you back home. Your love hasn't always been like this. He was your college sweetheart, you were his tutor. His smart, kind, patient, and outgoing Y/N/N. After he graduated he went into the Navy to be a navigator and you continued your nursing school. Once you had graduated you became a civilian nurse serving on base. It was picture-perfect if you ignored the screaming matches and the occasional pushing and shoving. It didn't get bad until you were treating some of the naval men and he saw them flirting with you. 

That's when the abuse started, he’d beat you within an inch of your life in places no one could see. He’d even threaten to shoot and kill you if you ran away. No one noticed till you were wearing long sleeves in a Virginia July. That's when your charge nurse Maggie asked you. You tried to lie but the 55-year-old saw right through you. She slipped a paper in your locker later that night with several phone numbers to call for help. You knew that she was just looking out for you but, at the moment you felt hurt and angry. Thankfully, the calm part of you kept that note and hid it in your locker. After six months of plotting with Maggie, the clouds parted and Blake was given orders to be deployed for 2 months. You took that as your chance to run. After saying your goodbyes, you sold your car and changed your phone and phone number, opened up a new bank account and purchased a plane ticket to your new haven.  

It was your haven until he showed up. Destroying all you had built up, all of the work you’d put into making this place feel like a safe place had just been squashed by him. So here you are lying in Phoenix’s guest room, scared he’ll break through the second-story windows or the door.  He’d threatened to kill you before who’s to say he won’t kill Phoenix to get to you? You need to start over again, how far would you go this time? Coast hopping didn’t work, maybe you needed to go to a northern state, he did hate the cold. Maybe in a small town in Montana, get a job at a hospital this time. Yes, that should work. You’ll just choose the smallest town possible, maybe ditch your phone and switch to a pager, they still had those right? You hear a knock at the front door. Your blood runs ice cold, and quickly you run into the ensuite bathroom and lock the door. 

“Hey, Y/N it’s just me,” says Phoenix. “I bought groceries, what do you want for dinner?” she asks from the kitchen. You slowly exit the bathroom and start to head to the door, placing your hand on the handle you stop. Maybe you should just run at night and just take what you had here, grab your car, withdraw most of your money from the bank and run. By not telling anyone it would keep them safe right? Turning around, you text Phoenix that you’re not hungry and ask if she is going out tonight. She replies that she is, unless you want to talk. You tell her to enjoy her night and start researching on a private browser about where to go, maybe Sidney, Montana. It seemed small enough that no one would think to look there, now to look at apartments. After googling for about 30 minutes, Phoenix shouts that she’s leaving. Walking over to the window you peer out waiting till she leaves. Once the coast was clear you quickly started packing a bag and making a mental checklist of what you needed to do. 

Pack 

Shower 

get food

Leave a note 

Call Uber to the base 

Bank and gas 

— 

25 minutes had passed and all you needed to do was get food and gas then stop at the bank, but first, you needed to get your car.  You bring all of your things to the door. When all of a sudden you hear someone knocking at the front door. “Fuck” you whisper under your breath. Quietly you grab a kitchen knife and look through the peephole. When you are met with the most perfect green eyes. It was just Jake, you sigh and put the knife down. “Go away Jake,” you say through the door.

“Phoenix gave me a key, I’m coming in,” he asks. 

“No, go away,” you say. He doesn’t listen and slowly enters the apartment. You grab the knife and point it at him, enraged he didn’t listen. “I said don’t come in Jake,” you say, clenching the knife for dear life. As he crosses the threshold, the two of you make eye contact. He has never seen someone so broken and scared, it breaks his heart.  

“Hey Y/N” he says slowly approaching, you clench the knife trying to push back the fear. It's Jake, he’s not going to hurt you, but you thought the same thing of Blake. How could you have been so stupid? “Y/N Imma need you to put the knife down darling, I just want to talk okay?” he said, itching closer to you. 

“Jake please leave, I don't want to talk. I just want to be left alone” 

“No it looks like you're trying to run” he says pointing to the suitcase and backpack next to the door”. 

“Why does it matter if I do? I have only brought trouble into the team's life. I've taken over Phoenix house and probably have a write-up at work for causing a scene. So just let me go, you’ll be fine without me.” you say hesitantly placing the knife down. 

“No” 

“No? What do you mean, No?” you say looking into his eyes. 

“No, what about me? I know that’s selfish but you can’t leave me. I was an ass before I met you, I didn't care if I died on a mission as long as I went out in a blaze of glory, but now you’ve given me something to care about, someone who wants to come home too. So please stay, we can get you help. Cyclone says he could look into it, he just needs your permission.” Jake hesitantly walked up to you and cupped your face. 

“Can you promise that you won't hurt me? '' You say as your eyes glisten with tears. 

“I promise,” Jake says, pulling you into a hug. 

Taglist-

@alana4610

@taytaylala12

@lonelywitchv2

@junegrey2

@novagreen04

@pookie-cleary

@emma8895eb

@littlebadariell

@djs8891

@loving-and-dreaming

[lonelierthanu]

Penmanship

Satoru Gojo x Gender-neutral Reader

series: incomplete

words: 3.4k

warnings: mentions of smoking; funny; meet-ugly; no mentioned female or male anatomy; no spoilers; no curses; slow build; slow to update; college au

summary: you decided you never want to see this man again and fuck the pen altogether. Well, life has other plans.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 …+

Your coffee splashed dramatically against the concrete wall you tossed it at. You’re pissed, to say the least, and the sugarless coffee —that you asked for extra sugar for— was your tipping point.

You were behind some bleachers that laid against the wall outside the dining hall. You’re not sure why these bleachers are here? They seem old and were probably here way before the school was renovated and they put in a huge football field across campus. The school is old so you wouldn’t be surprised if they just left it here. But right now you’re grateful they did because you’re knee deep in a tantrum, if one wants to consider it one, and this is your only sanctuary at the moment.

“Was that necessary?” Aoi asks you, after he takes a drag from his cigarette.

“I thought you said you were going to quit?” Rikki asks from beside him.

“And I thought you said you would never date Tenji,” he mumbles under his breath as he takes another drag and doesn’t bother blowing away from her direction, a courtesy he would have usually given. Rikki scowls at the side of his face.

“We’re not dating.”

“The pictures on his instagram say something different,” Aoi takes another drag.

“I was… drunk…” Rikki crosses her arms as she kicks a rock towards your direction. It lands back in its spot after bouncing off your shoe. It startled her attention towards you, like she suddenly remembered you were there.

You roll your eyes at both of them and lean against the opposite wall from them. Since you’ve known them they’ve had a weird relationship. At least in your eyes. You’ve known them for a little longer than a year and they’ve had an on and off crush on each other since the three of you met. And the two sides have never been on the same page. One person has a crush on the other, then the other gets feelings when the other person loses feelings . It’s a weird dynamic that you wish they’d get over already.

But a part of you wants it to stay this way, so your friendship never changes. But you know that one day this weird game of tug of war will come to an end and it’ll either end in peace, or someone in the mud.

“To answer your question Aoi, yes. That was completely necessary,” You say to break the silence. Rikki jumps at the opportunity to change the subject and cut through the tension. She comes to lean next to you.

“What’s got your panties in a twist anyway?”

“Remember that creepster that thought I was hitting on him for a week?” Rikki tries to hold back her laugh. She fails. You had told her about what happened the next morning after the incident on Saturday. Despite her hangover she found the misunderstanding hilarious. Laughing while saying ‘oh my god, that is so something he would do!’ And you ended up filling Aoi in during one of your class periods you shared with him a couple hours ago.

“Yeah,” she answers, failing to hide her smile.

“Well my professor paired us up for a group project,” you cross your arms.

“At the end of the semester?” Aoi asks as he stomps on his cigarette to put it out, “How does she expect you to get a project done during the week of exams?”

“No, starting next semester is when we start the project. The worst part is, we’ll be working on it ‘till February,” You groaned into your hands, covering your face with them.

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” Rikki tries to console you by putting a hand on your shoulder. You put your hands down to glare at her.

“Don’t jinx me,” Rikki laughs at you. Aoi smirks, also finding this amusing. “And wipe that smug look off your face,” you point a finger directly in Aoi’s face. He pushes your hand out of the way and rolls his eyes at you, still smug.

You stuff your hands into your jacket pockets, trying to fight off the cold. You’re not looking forward to next semester, to say the least, and when you heard the devastating news of Creepster being your project partner you immediately started thinking of ways to get out of it.

Because since that Saturday you had heard no word of this man until that following Monday. He came in late, like usual, but before he showed up your professor had given the whole spiel about the details of the new project the class would be working on. Everyone picked their own partner but you since there was an odd number of students in the class. Then Creepster walked in.

She told him you’d be his partner and he turned his head to look at you while she vaguely explained the project to him. Your body turned cold when his smirk grew wider. Like he was looking forward to this. The professor dismissed him to his seat saying you could explain in more detail.

When he sat down he faced you, completely ignoring the rest of the professor’s lecture. He leaned his head on his hand, smirk still present on his face. You refused to look at him and continued looking forward.

“Hey partner,” you internally recoiled. He sensed your unease and with the new bout of knowledge that this guy thinks you have some sort of crush on him, or just wanna get in his pants, he probably took your unease for nervousness. The thought alone pissed you off.

He barely got two words out of you in that class, which was yesterday, and today was no better. Though somehow you ended up agreeing to go to his house (his real house) to outline and plan the beginning of the project to finish it faster after the break. It was his idea and it honestly shocked you to hear him suggest a genuine responsible plan. Not gonna lie, you definitely thought the word “ responsible “ didn’t exist within his vocabulary.

You only mildly cared about this idea. You mostly agreed to do so you can finally get that damn pen back before you go on break. You’ll be damned if you go home empty handed when you confidently told your niece you’d bring it back.

“So. What are you gonna do?” Aoi asks, putting his hands into his jacket pockets as well.

“Get my pen back,” you answer, then your phone rings before you can look at his confused expression. It’s your alarm to go to your last class. You leave them to ruminate in their awkward tension.

Creepster told you he’d pick you up after school to take you to his house. You were definitely uncomfortable with the idea of being alone in a car with this man, but you don’t have money for a ride right now, Rikki went to work today, and it beats walking an hour and a half to his place.

You waited at the school's gate for fifteen minutes and was about to text him when you remembered you don't have his number. But before you could stress over that fact, a shiny black Lexus pulled up in front of you. The driver window lowered revealing a strange man at the wheel. He said your name and asked if you were who you were. You didn’t answer at first but then Creepster moved into your line of vision in the passenger seat.

“Get in loser,” he laughed at his own reference, then smiled at you. You rolled your eyes and opened the door to the back seat.

The drive was fairly short, probably a little shorter than ten minutes, and the drive was not silent. But you were glad for that, because if it weren’t for the surprisingly good tunes being blasted through the speakers, you know your awkward uncomfortable air would have permeated through the windows for the other drivers on the road to feel. You’re also glad that you aren’t alone with this guy. That would have been a whole different situation for you.

When you pull up to his house you physically feel the hinges connecting your jaw to your skull unclick. You gawk at the state of his house while you pick your jaw up off the car floor.

His house is fucking huge.

And this is his actual house. You have half a mind to confirm that.

When you head inside you have to put in extra effort to keep your eyes from bulging out of their sockets. It’s just as beautiful on the inside as it is on the outside. The difference between this and the frat house is vast.

For starters, it’s furnished way better. Which makes you think he definitely didn’t do it himself. It’s clean, which you weren’t expecting, and it smells nice. Another thing you weren’t expecting but desperately hoping for.

“So, should we get started?” Creepster says from behind you. It startles you how close he is. You jump at least a foot away before turning to him.

“Yeah,” you say, calmer than your heart is beating. He guides you to his dining room where a large circular table resides next to a beautiful huge island with high bar stools tucked into it and a sink in the middle. The dining area is surrounded by windows, letting copious amounts of natural sunlight in. The room is brightly lit without any lights being on. It’s impressive. This is the type of room you’d save in a pinterest board.

He pulls out a chair for you to sit on, but the way he smiles at you after pisses you off so you sit in the chair next to it. He seems amused by this, and chuckles fondly.

“I’m gonna go grab my laptop, I'll be right back. Don’t go anywhere,” he jokes. You don’t laugh, but he walks away without seeing if you do or not. You see him walk through an alcove in the kitchen and go to the right. Once you know he’s gone you look more thoroughly at your surroundings. You see a set of grandiose stairs in the living room by the entry. And from where you’re seated you can see two halls up there and a third one could exist but it’s too high to tell. You already know you’d get lost trying to walk through here. Your family would have to send a search team to find you.

Your eyes shift over to see grand imposing glass doors that lead to a pool, there could be more land out there but you can’t tell from where you’re sitting. But from how huge the estate is from when you pulled up you already know the backyard is huge. You don’t see any other doors around besides the one in the kitchen, but you just assume that’s a broom closet or a bathroom or something.

Just from looking around you’ve lost a glimmer of hope of finding this pen. It’d be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. You’re already preparing the apology to your niece in your head.

“You want a tour?” You whip your head around to see Houdini putting his laptop and bag onto the table and pulling a chair out across from you.

“No,” you answer immediately because the thought of him knowing you’re impressed by his home makes you wanna scratch at your skin. But after a quick second you realize that that could’ve been your chance to find the pen. You curse at yourself. He sits down and opens his laptop. You take yours out from your bag and place it on the table as well.

You want to just open your mouth and ask for the pen again, but a part of you is scared he’ll think you're trying to hit on him again. You agreed to come to his house so that could definitely send the wrong message in this guy’s delusional brain.

“Can I get your notes on the project so far?” He asks without looking up from his laptop. You take your notebook out of your bag and slide it across the table. He shares a doc with you before opening it. So, he really is going to work on this project. A part of you thought this was another ruse to sleep with you. To say you’re relieved is an understatement.

The next half hour goes by with him asking you yes or no questions, finding resources to cite from, quotes, studies, creating the powerpoint and typing in each slide what each should consist of, and starting a rough draft for the essay you’re meant to write. Everything is going pretty smoothly and you’re proud of the progress you’ve made in such a short time. You’re also pleasantly surprised by Herc-Houdini’s work ethic. You’re starting to think he might not be that bad.

And honestly, when you think about the situation, you can kind of see how he misunderstood. It may seem a little absurd to you that asking for a pen correlates to ‘please sleep with me’, but if there are people doing weirder things to get him to sleep with them, then you kind of understand. You’re still not very keen on him though. His reputation and the crowd he’s associated with just puts you off.

Hercules groans loudly as he stretches his arms. The muscles in them tense and show off the gains he’s worked for. A small part of you thinks that he wore that shirt on purpose, but when he’s relaxed he looks as skinny and lanky as always.

I’ll be right back,” he tells you before getting up and heading for that same alcove, going to the left. You vaguely notice him going in a different direction than before and go back to doing your work. You almost jolt with the realization that you could look around and find the pen while he’s gone.

Frankly, this could be a terrible idea. You don’t know what he’s doing so he could be back any moment. You could say you were looking for a bathroom, but then you could’ve just asked when he got back. You’re already up and walking while thinking of the logistics of this plan. It’s stupid, you know, but what if you find the pen? It seems like a great risk to reward ratio to you.

Knowing Sherlock went to the left you check there first once you’ve met the alcove, then dash to the right and go through the first door you see. Unfortunately, you’re met with a bathroom so your excuse has now flown out the window. You could just play dumb.

Before you exit, you listen to the door, then slowly open it to peek outside. Still nothing, so you leave, closing the door behind you before going to the next one. You do this three more times. You were met with two closets and a study, that you did search just in case. When you see the end of the hall you start to feel disappointed, but then you realize there’s a sharp corner. When you turn it, you see a narrow set of stairs.

At this point, you know that you took entirely too long and that Houdini has most likely gone back to the table and realized you were gone. Taking these stairs will make your search even longer and there’s no plausible explanation you could give that’ll justify you snooping around this guy’s house.

You give yourself three seconds to think it over.

Fuck it.

You’re justifying the irrationality of your actions to yourself as you trudge up the stairs, also pretending that the consequences that will undoubtedly follow won’t be that bad. But really? What’s the worst that could happen? He bans you from his home? No biggie. If you find this pen, you don’t plan on coming back anyway.

Or maybe he’ll hate you and think you’re extremely unmannered. Fine by you, then the feeling of dislike will be mutual and he’ll finally leave you alone forever.

Or maybe he’ll lie to his “clique” that you’re a thief and only agreed to do a project with him so you could slither your way into his house and they all make fun of you for the duration of your college career which will then spiral into more awful rumors and you’ll be branded an outcast and be ridiculed so horrendously that not even your friends will want to be around you…

…Or maybe you’re overthinking it entirely and it’ll all be perfectly fine.

As you come to a stop at the top of the stairs you realize that there were three halls up here. You don’t dare check the view below in fear that Sherlock will see you. So, you creep along the wall that you hope isn’t in view from down stairs and bolt for the nearest hallway. Heart beat pumping a million beats per second.

You open the first door, a closet. A second door, a very small bedroom with nothing but a bed and a lonely side table. A third door, a much bigger room with a pretty sweet gaming setup, though it looks unfinished.

The end of the hall, a large room that’s akin to a master bedroom, a bathroom and balcony included. The room isn’t quite messy, but it does appear to be lived in. The bed unmade, a dresser drawer left open, a couple clothing items on the floor near the hamper, and miscellaneous items strewn about in flat surfaces.

A pair of huge, round, dark sunglasses sitting on top of the dresser tell you exactly whose room you’ve stumbled into.

Once you’ve realized, a moment of doubt passes through you. What if he finds you here? But as quickly as it came, it passed. You’ve made it this far unnoticed, what’s one more minute.

A quick glance tells you that the pen isn’t lying about so you begin your search. You only look in places it could possibly be and refrain from his dressers. You check random bags that were in his extraordinarily large walk-in closet. You check in hoodie and pants pockets even. You leave the closet with a fraction less of hope and check under his bed. Still Nothing. You have half a mind to check his dirty clothes but decide to check his bedside drawers before getting that desperate.

It’s when you’re about to wiggle yourself from under Houdini’s bed that you hear it.

“Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to snoop?”

You jolt so hard you hit your head on the bed frame while trying to frantically wiggle free. When you do, you're met with that same smirk. Like he’s amused to find you this way. He walks towards you from the door frame, you unconsciously backup and bump against the side table. He stops right in front of you and bends down slightly to tower over you, his face slightly shrouded in darkness.

“If you wanted a tour you could have just said so,” he drawls deeply, in a quiet tone that sends a shiver down your spine.

“No, I-“ he chuckles.

“You, what? hm?” he takes one of his hands out of his pockets to reveal your pen, “You we’re looking for this?” Your eyes widen for a fraction of a second before a glare marks its position on your face. Was he making fun of you?

“Give it to me,” you try to reach for it, but he effortlessly dodges out of the way. He patronizingly waves a finger at you.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he taunts, “I can’t just give it to you now,” irritation bubbles within you.

“And why the hell not?”

“Because. You pranced around my house uninvited and invaded my privacy,” You stand up, refusing to be looked down upon, even though standing up he’s still taller than you.

“So? Then what do you want?” He hums to your question and puts the end of the pen on his chin as he contemplates.

“How much are you willing to do for this pen?” You raise a judgmental eyebrow at him. “Of course nothing drastic,” he adds, “but how far are you willing to go?”

“Well, if i’m willing to stifle through a man’s house like some kind of thief then I guess you can gauge it yourself,” He smiles at that. He lowers his glasses and you see his crystal blue eyes in person for the first time. You’re almost enraptured by them until he opens his mouth.

“Date me.”

(･ω<)☆

when i tell you i didn’t know what the fuck to write 💀last chapter i realized that is abt to be a s l o w b u r n and i’m right there along with you guys wondering what’s abt to happen next 😭 hopefully chapter 5 won’t take 4 months this time 🙃

★prev next ☆

[rippeanuts1950-2000]

i hate u, i love u

Prev|

Chapter 4)

The past few weeks have been weird to say the least.

Corey hadn’t bugged her at all. At school, he simply nodded at her in acknowledgement if he saw her and at work he did what she asked him to, no complaints or arguments. She should call him out on his bull shit more often, Laney’s life involving Corey has never been more peaceful.

It’s made her job as the Newmans’ manager a lot easier and a lot less stressful. It made Laney feel pretty confident in the band’s ability to win the Battle Of The Bands, which was she herself insisted that she be the one to hand in the set list to the people who were running the competition. As a way to say “Get ready to lose Riffin.” without actually saying it.

Which is why Laney is currently standing in a ridiculously long line a few days before the competition, zoning out. Finally she gets to the front of the line, only to be met with a look of confusion when the lady looks over the set list.

“Aren’t you with Grojband?” The lady asks. Laney resists the urge to clench her jaw. “No, I used to be but not anymore.” She says, hoping this will appease the lady enough to stamp the okay onto the set list. “Oh, okay then. Set list looks good, take this.” The lady hands her a packet. “It’s your dressing room arrangements.” The lady says, when she sees how confused Laney looks. Laney nods and steps out of line to examine the packet.

All right, let's see. “Due to having more bands than dressing rooms for Peaceville’s First Ever Annual Battle Of The Bands, we will be having two bands per dressing room.” Okay makes sense. “Rules and regulations”, blah blah blah, I know how to act in a dressing room. Okay, we’re in dressing room #15 and we’re sharing with Next Gen, that’s cool, haven’t seen the girls outside of a business context in a while. Wait, why does it say Larry’s with…

*****

“WE’RE SHARING A DRESSING ROOM WITH A NEWMAN?!” Corey shouts, his hands shaking as he rereads the packet in his hands. He had waited till school to fully look at it since the day he picked it up, Kin and Kon were spending the weekend with their grandparents. He really didn’t want to believe it so he hands over the packet to Kin to see if it’s true. It’s also to prevent any further outbursts because everyone is currently staring at him like he’s a mad man right now. 

“That’s what it says.” Kin confirms. “It also says that we’re sharing with Shot In The Dark.” Kon oh so unhelpfully adds.“Which is great, it’s been a while since we’ve hung out with them, but the Newman. In. Our. Dressing. Room.” Corey says through clenched teeth. “We’ll survive. At least it’s not Carrie.” Kin points out.

Corey rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t matter. He’s gonna spy on us and steal our secrets.” He says. Kon scoffs. “If that were true, the same could be said about any band we have to share the room with.” He points out. Corey falters. Damn, Kon has a point. “Just try to think happy thoughts and we’ll be fine.” Kin says. 

“Okay fine, it’s fine. You’re right, we’ll survive and I’ll hide any half written songs so that he won’t steal or read them and we’ll have a fun time hanging out backstage with Shot In The Dark. Then we’ll win so Laney rejoins the band and the Newmans lose.” Corey says, closing his eyes and imagining the event. “There, just think of- Oh my god the devil is at our table.” Kin says. Corey flicks his eyes open to be greeted with the sight of Kim and Carrie standing in front of him. 

“Oh be quiet Kujira, this is strictly for business purposes.” Kim says as Carrie examines her nails. She turns to Corey. “Meet us behind the school at 4:00, today, after school. There’s something we need to talk about.” Carrie says. Corey wants to refuse but he knows she’s being serious by the lack of cursing towards him. He nods. “Fine but if you’re not there when we get there, the boys and I are leaving.” He tells her. 

Carrie merely looks bored. “Alright. See you then.”

*****

Laney hates to admit it but there’s times she misses her sister. 

Mostly when she has to do chores that formerly belonged to her sister. But there were still times when she just missed Chloe rummaging around the kitchen and telling Laney about her day. So she takes their Monday phone calls very seriously and always declines anything that doesn’t involve her sister’s call. 

So Laney is more than surprised when minutes after she gets home, Chloe practically kicks down the front door screaming, “YOU’RE REJOINING GROJBAND?!” Laney blinks owlishly. “One, why are you here? Two, who told you I was rejoining Grojband?” She asks, as Chloe all but drags her to the couch. “Katrina told me.” Chloe says simply, ignoring the other question. 

Laney groans. Never would she have expected for her sister and Trina Riffin of all people to become friends but here they are. According to Chloe, Trina had changed A LOT in the past few years since starting college. She was even going by her real name now and was dating Mina. And somehow had managed to befriend Chloe. But no matter how hard Laney tries to see Trina as a changed woman, she still thinks of her as Corey’s crazy sister. 

“Corey told Trina that I’m rejoining Grojband? Didn’t know they mended their relationship. And for the record Clo, that’s only happening if the Newmans lose the Battle Of The Bands, which will not happen.” Laney grouses. “Nick actually told her.” Chloe says, causing Laney to roll her eyes. “Great, I forget that Nick and Corey still talk. And of course he thinks I’m coming back, I’m not. This whole thing has to do with the bet I told you about. ” Laney explains. 

Chloe hums, pondering Laney’s words. “When‘s the first competition?” Chloe asks, she looks like she’s holding back what she really wants to ask. “This Saturday.” Laney says with a shrug. “Yeah, I’ll be able to see that. How are you feeling about this?” She says.

“I feel good. I don’t care that he thinks his stupid band that I came up with is going to win when the Newmans are obviously going to beat them.” Laney huffs. Chloe raises an eyebrow. “Something else happened.” She says, giving Laney a very pointed look. “He said I held the band back.” Laney says, after a few seconds of Chloe’s gaze piercing into her soul. She had left that detail out when she called her sister about the bet last month. Chloe’s eye twitches. “That idiot. You carried the entire band on your back!” She exclaims. “I know, I told him all of that already. It’s fine Chloe.” Laney assures her sister. This works somewhat. “Alright, fine. I can call Kat and tell her what happened if you want. She’ll talk to him about it.” Chloe offers.

Laney shudders. Trina telling Corey off on her behalf is the last thing she needs. “No, that's okay. At this point the only issue I have with Grojband right now is the fact that Larry has to share their dressing room for this competition.” Laney says. “Why?” Chloe asks, getting up and going to the kitchen. Laney trails after, a sense of nostalgia washing over her from her elementary and middle days, back when Chloe would get a snack for them to share while they talked about what was going on in their lives. She misses it. “Too many bands, not enough dressing rooms. Not that we’re sharing with Grojband, it’s just that Larry’s a boy so he can’t be in there with us. They put him in the room across the hall from ours which will have Grojband and Shot In The Dark in there.” Laney explains, sitting down at the kitchen table as Chloe begins to rummage around the cabinets.

“Mhm, that makes sense. Who are you girls sharing the room with?” She asks, handing her sister a bag of potato chips. It’s sour cream and onion flavored, even though she prefers ketchup chips, causing Laney to be suddenly hit with another wave of nostalgia in the form of missing Kon. “Next Gen.” Laney answers, opening the bag. “Is that the band that you met when you were trying to get a break from Grojband?” Chloe asks, cutting up some fruit. “The very one, it’ll be fun. The girls are great.” Laney confirms as a small bowl of sliced fruit is slid towards her. “Sounds like it’s gonna be something, alright. Just have fun and be safe.” Chloe says, joining Laney at the kitchen table.

Laney grins at her sister. “Don’t worry Clo, you know I always am.”

*****

True to her word, when Corey, Kin, and Kon show up behind the school, the Newmans are already there.

“Wow, you’re actually on time.” Carrie says, sounding genuinely surprised. Corey shrugs. “Wanted to see if you guys would actually show up.” He says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “We’re the ones who set this up.” Carries points out. “Eh, you’ve lied to us in the past to make us look like idiots.” Corey says. “It’s surprisingly easy to do.” Kim pipes up. Kin rolls his eyes. “No one asked you.” He says tersely.

Konnie raises an eyebrow and steps in front of her twin. “No one asked you either.” She points out. This causes Kon to laugh for a split second before he quickly changes it to a cough. Konnie smiles at him, for some reason. Okay this is getting weird and confusing. “Look, why’d you even ask us to come?” Corey says, tearing his eyes away from the staring contest between Kon and Konnie while Kim and Kin make faces at each other. Larry nudges Carrie. “Break it up you two, we got business to take care of!” Carrie exclaims. She turns back to Corey.

“I don’t like you.” She says simply. “That’s it? You tell me that on a daily basis.” Corey says. Carrie glares at him. “Shut up, Riffin, I’m not done. I do not like you or your stupid band, none of us do. But your dumb band is the reason why Laney is our friend and honestly, we love Laney more than we care about the rivalry. Thanks to your dumb bet, Laney’s slightly paranoid we’re gonna leave her because she might have to be around you for a month, technically making her an enemy. Which, thank you for giving her that paranoia by the way, it’s been so fun promising her that we’re not going to leave her behind no matter who she hangs out with. So because of this, us Newmans have come up with a deal. In the highly unlikely event The Newmans lose The Battle Of The Bands, we have a temporary truce between us.” Carrie announces.

Corey raises an eyebrow as Kin starts calculating how beneficial this would be for the band while Kon just taps his chin in thought. “What do you mean temporary truce?” Corey says. Carrie groans. “Kim, explain it to him please. I really don’t want to talk to him any more than I have to.” She says, swapping places with Kim. The other girl adjusts her glasses and clears her throat. “If we lose, which is 100% not going to happen, Grojband and The Newmans will not fight nor compete with each other. Instead we will be civil and get along only for Laney’s sake. Once the month is over, so is the truce. If Laney chooses to stay with your band, our truce is still over but only with the three of you, Laney is exempt from it.” Kim says. Corey nods, this makes sense he supposes.

He turns to Kin and Kon. “What do we think?” He asks as Kin continues wildly scribbling down his calculations. “We need to do a group huddle.” Kon says, grabbing his brother and Corey’s arms and dragging them to a corner out of ear shot from the Newmans. 

“Kin what do your calculations say? Does this work out in our favor?” Kon hurriedly whispers. Usually Corey would try and take back control but Kon seems to know what he’s doing so Corey’s gonna let him take over for a bit. “It would work out in our favor and in fact would make us better rivals. However there is an outlier that says a secret relationship will be revealed. It’s probably nothing though.” Kin says, triple checking his notes. Kon tugs on his shirt awkwardly. “Oh, well that’s probably nothing. Corey, your thoughts?” He says. 

“If they truly think it’ll make Laney more comfortable then I say yes. Maybe if I show her that I’ve changed somewhat in the jealousy department, we’ll be on the track forward.” Corey says. “That last part made no sense but I agree with both of you. This could be good for us. For the band.” Kon says with a nod. They went back to the Newmans. “We accept your terms and agree to the truce.” Corey announces. The Newmans nod and Kim hands Carrie a piece of paper who gives it to Corey along with a pen. “This is just so we have it in writing.” She explains after it’s signed by everyone.

Corey and the twins are almost back on the sidewalk when Konnie stops him. Kin and Kon hover for a minute but Corey shoos them away. If Konnie is the one stopping him, it 100% has to do with Laney. “If you hurt her again, I will make your life a living hell.” She tells him. Corey blinks, resisting the urge to shudder. “I forget you were there that day.” He says quietly. Konnie scoffs. “I was there before that and trust me when I say I know how much you’ve hurt her over the years.” She says, shaking her head in disgust. He waits for her to add more of an explanation but she doesn’t. “Just go and remember, you have been warned.” Konnie says at last and all but shoves him towards the sidewalk.

What did Konnie mean that she knew how he hurt Laney? She only became friends with Laney after the incident. And yet she seemed so confident that she knew what she was talking about. The only conclusion that Corey could come to was that Laney had become friends with Konnie before the incident. But he would have known about that, right? Though even he has to admit that by the time the incident happened, Lanes had been drifting apart from him and the twins.

He just made it worse in the end.

**** I cut the texting part out cause I felt like it dragged on and was kinda repetitive. Next chapter I’m opening it on a flashback so you’ll know what Konnie meant when she said she knew how much Corey has hurt Laney. The plot is also about to start which will be very fun. Battle of the bands is starting! Yay! As always, I hope you enjoyed this, let me know what you thought and I’ll see you in the next chapter! Bye!

[matt-imagines-popcorn]

Hello! I hope you're day's been good, if not I send my condolences that it gets better. Would it be okay if I could get some relationship headcanons for Juri Han? Sorry if it isn't, if you don't want to do them it's perfectly fine! Either way, thanks for taking the time to read this, have a great week!

These two requests are similar so hopefully you fellas don't mind if I mixed the two together!

Being in a relationship with Juri Han [Male! Fighter! Reader]

As much of a flirt as Juri is … she really wasn’t looking for a deep relationship. I imagine being in a relationship like that, no matter how many times she tries to deny it, terrifies her. Juri is a wanted woman. Always on the run. It's easier to do that when you have as little baggage as possible. Not to mention, her enemies. Many of which wouldn’t hesitate on torturing or even killing you to get to her. It stings slightly less since she knows her boyfriend can hold up a good fight but it still worries her deep down.

She doesn’t hold back during sparring … like at all. What's the point of holding back her true potential if you're trying to get better right? That's her excuse anyways but everyone can see right through it. Juri’s a sadist, she likes being the cause of one's pain, even her boyfriend. Though, she won’t hurt him enough to cause any permanent danger and (in her own way} gets concerned if she happened to draw blood during sparring or more suggestive workouts.

Juri is … one way to put it possessive over her partner. She’s the only one who can kick your ass, the only one who can tease you till your face feels like burning off, you belong to her and her only and she’ll be damned to hell before anyone even tries to take you away from her. 

She’s a constant tease, giving no moment to let her boyfriend have a breather. However, she has no patience with being teased herself though. She is tough as steel, damn impossible to fluster. Inpatient as well. If you take too long she will steal the show and take what's hers. The closest you are probably ever going to get to her getting all blushy, is being rougher on her during sparring or other activities 

Juri would probably consider a long quiet motorcycle ride through the city as a date and calls it a day. She isn’t much for the whole, romantic dinner sort of thing. Or anything fancy of the sort.  She tries to avoid moments where she is forced to talk about herself. She is rather secretive about her past, and any conversation about it, especially her eye, is shut down immediately. 

It’s rare to find Juri being in a soft mood. As mentioned before, she tries not to fall in too deep, in case she has to run off again. But it has happened at least once.

 She was quieter, which can be worrying for some but she just seems so much more relaxed, being in the moment, with her eyes closed. You never saw her more at peace before. Laying on the couch next to her, she found her hands on you, soft touches all over your body. 

When she realizes what doing, however, she returns to her normal self. But that night, she runs off. Leaving nothing behind, not answering her calls. You really thought you lost her.

But, you being a fighter and constantly joining tournaments, it wouldn’t be long before you saw her again - perhaps get back together only for the cycle of her leaving to start all over, or maybe, just maybe, she’ll stay [or at least keep in contact the next time she has to book it]

I do apologize for taking so long! As much as I hate making excuses, I've been busy with school + currently really into Darkstalkers due to some pals of mine!

[lynzishell]

~*~The Beginning~*~

*knock* *knock* *knock* [keys jangling, fitting into lock] [muffled voices] Aurelio: Thank you for doing this, I really appreciate it.

Aurelio: Phoenix? You here? Phoenix: *muffled* Go away. Aurelio: He’s here, he’s okay. Thank you again!

Aurelio: Hey man, you gave us quite a scare. You okay? Phoenix: …. Aurelio: No, of course you’re not okay. I heard about Greta. I’m so sorry. I know how much you loved her. Phoenix: … Aurelio: Hey. Talk to me. Phoenix: … Aurelio: Come on. You’ll feel better if you sit up and talk about it. Phoenix: …

Aurelio: Alright. I’ll tell you what. If you don’t talk, then I’ll have to sing. Phoenix: … Aurelio: I will sing to you. Phoenix: … Aurelio: Okay.. [clears throat and begins singing] Sometimes in our lives, we all have pain, we all have sorrow. Phoenix: *groaning* Aurelio: [continues singing] But if we are wise, we know that there’s always tomorrow. Phoenix: Ok Aurelio: [singing louder] Lean on me when you’re not strong, and I’ll be your friend, I’ll help you carry on!

Phoenix: Ok ok I’m up Aurelio: [singing louder still] For it won’t be long, till I’m gonna need somebody to lean on! Phoenix: I said I’m up!

Aurelio: Good… good, now talk to me.

Phoenix: [taking a breath] I fucked up! I fucked everything up! And now everything’s gone to shit. I fucking killed him. Sure, he was a monster, but what am I? I’m a fucking killer now? What am I supposed to do with that? And I lost Greta. Do you know what she said to me? She doesn’t feel safe with me. What the fuck?! I appreciate you all having my back and lying for me… but maybe you shouldn’t have. What do I even do now? I’m alone in this dump of an apartment. I have no job. I only have enough in savings to get through next month. Then what? I can’t even look at myself in the mirror. I don’t know who I am anymore, Aurelio.

He didn’t even notice he had started crying until he had to stop to wipe his nose.

Phoenix: FUCK! Why are you here?!

Aurelio: I’m here because I care about you, because you’re my best friend. I know exactly who you are. You are Phoenix fucking Realta. You are smart, resourceful, determined. All the things you moved here for, they’re all still out there waiting for you. And you’re not alone. I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere. In fact, I got into SMMI. I’m moving into the student housing apartments in the Arts Quarter in a couple months.

Phoenix: Congratulations. Aurelio: Thank you. Look, I know it’s been an awful year so far. Maybe you need someone to talk to, to work through the whole mess, and that’s okay. I've started seeing a therapist, only a couple sessions so far, but it's good. And I think it'd be good for you too, if you're willing. Julian and I will help. Phoenix: Ok. Aurelio: Yeah? Phoenix: Yeah. Aurelio: Good.

Phoenix: Thanks. Aurelio: You’re welcome. Phoenix: … Aurelio: Y’know, we have our whole lives ahead of us. And you are going to do great things. I know it.

Aurelio: This isn’t the end, ok? This is just the beginning.

Prev // Next

Personal story under the cut:

This post is dedicated to two amazing friends I had in high school. At the time, I was suffering from a deep depression, and had stopped speaking (a trauma response that still affects me from time to time). One day my friends pulled me out of bed and took me for a walk to the park on a sunny day. While we were there, they tried to get me to talk to them. But I couldn’t. So, instead, they sang this song to me… at the top of their lungs. And it was amazing. It didn’t solve anything. I didn’t speak for another couple months, and my depression lasted years more. But that moment will forever be a bright spot in a very dark time. To this day, anytime I feel down, I think back to that day and smile. After everything I put Phoenix through this week, I felt like he needed a moment like that… even if it’s super cheesy.

[candywife333]

Endlessly

A short one shot from my blurb bucket list. 

Tears dripped down my face in torrents as I realized what I had to do. I had to leave this man. He didn't love or respect me. He never even wanted to be a friend. This marriage had shown me how much more I didn't belong in his life. I know he thought he was above me. I could tell by how he treated me throughout the entire duration of our sad little marriage.

Our parents were family friends. His parents were business tycoons who wanted to marry their son Park Jimin off to me, a hopeless nobody according to Jimin’s assessment of me throughout our schooling years. He had treated me like dust beneath his shoe when we were both in the same middle school and high school. We ran in the same circles as my parents owned a fancy bakery in the nice part of town. My parents had grown up with his parents and though we were never anywhere as rich as them, my parents provided me a comfortable upbringing. Jimin’s parents were extremely kind people who never acted arrogant, even though they owned a chain of extremely lucrative hotels. 

At the age of 16 Jimin had a Mercedes Benz, Rolex watch, a separate outhouse next to his parent’s estate, and the attention of any girl he wanted. 

At the same age, I had my cat, Sugarplum, my teddy bear, Roosevelt, my parents and our bakery. That was enough to tell you how different we were from one another. For some ridiculous reason, his parents thought that I would be the best girl to marry him to. I remember that day when I was paralyzed by shock when I came back from school one day to find them all in my living room. His mother, Mrs. Park had cracked open a warm smile as she saw me standing in from of the door as I awkwardly greeted them. 

My mom came from the kitchen exclaiming in a voice filled with hidden glee, “ Oh, Y/N. Baby, you are back from school. How was your day? Got any articles published for the school newspaper?” I quietly responded, “Yeah mom, getting ready to finalize some edits.” As I walked into the living room gingerly, thinking it was only Ms. Park and my mom, Jimin came in with my dad and his dad from our back yard. Mr. Park chimed in joyously, “ Y/n , You have grown so much. What a beautiful girl you have become.” Jimin coughed silently, laughing under his breath as I grimly realized that he didn’t share the same sentiment as his dad. 

I couldn’t see what Mr. Park meant either since I had just worn jeans and a long sleeve top to school. But I had not been brought up lacking manners, so I replied, “Thank you Mr. Park. Very kind of you to say so. How have you been doing? Would you like me to get you and Ms. Park some tea and cake?” The brightly smiling older man chuckled in a pleased fashion, “Why don’t you do that sweetheart. We have some good news for you when you come back.” 

I walked into the kitchen puzzled at what he was referring to. I came back with the refreshments and set then down on the table as my mom said, “Why don’t we let Y/N first finish college and then we can plan the wedding?” I almost fell off the couch. I felt like I had been slapped by a fish. What the freaking hell did she mean marriage!?? Were they trying to sell me off like a week old salmon in a fish market? And to who? 

I exclaimed in a rather nervous tone, “Mother, what are you talking about? What is going on here?” Mrs. Park started in a placating tone, “Sweet heart we were just talking about when Jimin and you would be married.” I almost choked as I screamed in terror, “EXCUSE ME?!” Mr. Park smiled as he continued, “Darling don’t frighten Y/N. Sweetheart don’t worry. We will wait till you and Jimin finish your under grad degrees and then we will plan the engagement and get you two hitched. It won’t be immediate. You will have time to get to know him.” Jimin sat there in silence with a neutral mask on his face as my face contorted in terror, making me retreat upstairs in utter shock. 

I could hear my dad say, “What do you say Jimin? Ready to take on your dad’s company?” I could hear as Jimin replied in a resolute manner , “Of course uncle. Once I get my business degree and finish my MBA, I will be able to take care of Y/N properly.” 

Contrary to what everyone thought, Jimin proceeded to treat me like an invisible being throughout the duration of our college years as well. We had ended up at our hometown college which happened to rank pretty highly across the country. Though I didn’t agree with this supposed marriage which both our parents had come up with, I thought we would at least get to know each other as friends. And then maybe eventually as a couple if we suited each other.

Jimin and I had run in different circles all throughout high school and middle school. The same trend continued in college. He hung out with other extremely handsome and privileged guys who would also eventually take over their family businesses as heirs. Just as he did in high School, he had a loyal fan following of beautiful well bred girls whose sole existence in college was to trap rich man in marriage. Anytime I would come across him, I would greet him. 

He would walk past me as though he never heard me. The girls he would hang with would always be teeming around him in a protective pentagon. He sure was satanic. His behavior and the way he acted above all others in school  had not changed. To top all this behavior all off with a cherry, he was known around campus for having a new girl every month. His dipshit friend Jungkook,  had coined the term, “new flavor of the month”, to describe his excessively promiscuous and nonchalant behavior. 

To my utter dismay, this man who I had known to never be husband material, continued to exemplify that he was the farthest thing from husband material the world had ever seen. He was as similar to husband material, as polyester was to silk. I had had some faith in the fact that he may change his behavior initially. As we almost ended our college years, I could tell that he wouldn’t change and he would carry this dismal behavior into a marriage that I never even wanted.

I told my mother numerous times as college ended, “ Please mom. Why do I have to marry him? He has the pick of the lot, so many attractive rich girls. Why me? Can’t he just marry one of those.” I started sobbing in frustration as I bit out in desperation , “He doesn't even greet me mom. He doesn't acknowledge my existence. He hates me. I don’t want to marry someone who hates me. You know me mom. I can’t survive with someone who hates my guts, someone who disrespects me. I am the closest thing to a fiancé he has and he doesn't even want to be friends. Why do you and father insist on ruining my life this way?”

To my shock my mother  started crying as well as she morosely said, “ I am so sorry my baby. I didn't know that he was treating you this way. His parents and I always thought he was a well mannered child so we had betrothed you to him when you were barely 10. His dad has a really bad heart condition. And since his dad and mom were your godparents, they wanted you to marry him because you are such a good girl. His father may pass soon, and he wanted see his son wedded to you before he passed.” 

“His parents really think you are the best person for Jimin. You are solid, trustworthy, loyal, beautiful, loving and a hard worker. Nobody in their circles, no matter how rich or vain they may be, amount to you in worth.” Your mother continued in a serious tone, “But sweetheart, if he is treating you like trash, I will tell his parents that this won’t work. They can find someone else for his ungrateful ass.” 

You laughed for the first time in a long time as your mother started cussing out Jimin for being a turd. But knowing yourself you knew what decision you would take. Your godparents had been there for you since you were born. They had taken care of you and your parents when your parents were initially setting up the bakery. 

You decided it then and there. You would marry Jimin and be with him for a few years. When it would get unbearably hard, when you would feel like dying, you would leave him. Inevitably the marriage would die, it was just a matter of time. And, you would be giving your godfather the gift of a wedding for his son. 

I laughed bitterly as my sob fest ceased. It had been 5 long years since  your marriage to Jimin at the age of 21. His father had been elated to see him married off to you. They treated me better than their own daughter this entire time. It almost made up for how badly Jimin had treated me. But that's the thing, almost was never enough. Every person had their limits. And I had hit mine. 

I started packing away whatever clothes you could fit into the suitcases. It had been enough. His cold behavior towards me, the disrespect of having random women over at the house, the disregard towards me as a partner. The tipping point had been when I was about to visit him at his office and heard moaning coming from inside the room. 

In these five years of being married to him I had developed a prowess as a writer and published so many books that had became a best seller. Under your clandestine alias, Strawberry, I had now accumulated a personal net worth of 50 million dollars USD. This progress had deemed me financially independent. I had never touched Jimin’s money since the beginning of the relationship. Whenever we went to galas with him for the purpose of PR for his company, he had provided me money to buy clothes and accessories. 

I had always been a chubby girl who wore glasses and nondescript clothing. But Jimin and most of the world didn't know that I had a personal sense of fashion and beauty sequestered in my closet ready to unleash to the world once I divorced this ungrateful shit. The plan to leave had been in the works since the day of the wedding. Five years of building, brooding, working hard, and patience had earned me the right to a divorce. Even when I married him, he never tried to get to know me. 

I had tried to be his friend, taking care of him when his dad was sick in the hospital on multiple occasions. There were days Jimin didn't even get out of bed because of the sheer misery of his father’s condition. I had supported him that time, sleeping with him when he was lonely and crying in bed in the middle of the night. We had separate bedrooms, but he had come crying to my bed at midnight one night , sobbing profusely as he crumbled into my arms. “I--I-I can’t do this y/N, I can’t see him die with my own eyes. I love my dad, I can’t imagine life without him.” 

He wretched and sobbed for what seemed like eternity as he lay in my bed, snuggled in my arms as he tried catching his breath. I had stroked him on the head, patting him on his back, rocking him to bed as though he were a baby. At the time he had settled against me exhausted with his arms encompassing my waist. His face had burrowed into my chest as he fell asleep, tired from his crying fit. This incident had repeated itself so many times during the course of our marriage. The worst part was when he would act like a completely different person every morning after his crying tirades. He would seek solace in my arms in the nights and become like a cold, impenetrable version of himself the very next day. I was his emotional support animal, and he was the man I could never call my own.   

Reminiscing all those times made silent tears trail down my face as I faced the whiplash of memories. I had tried making him breakfast, packing his lunches, and had tried my hardest to at least be his friend if I could not be his partner. He would let me do all this for him, without appreciation or gratitude. He would eat my food and treat me like a stranger. Treat me like I had never existed. He never remembered my birthday, never concerned himself with my needs. 

When I had tried to kiss him on his lips, trying to making the first move one time, he had spelled out in no uncertain terms, “ You are only my wife in name. Don’t try to make this relationship anything else than what it should be, a PR relationship. And how could you think I would ever be attracted to you? Do you ever look at yourself in the mirror? Learn to take care of yourself. How could you continue to look like a slob your whole life? You’ve seen who I dated in school since we were kids. Did any of them ever look like you?” 

He walked away like nothing had happened, as I crumbled to the ground crying, injured by the one person I had tried so hard to get close to. That night had led me to understand that he was way above my league, at least according to his standards. If this was a PR relationship, then why did he cry to me at night? Why did he come to me wounded,  expecting me to complete him and in the same breath stab me in the heart for caring? 

I had to leave. I had to leave. I had to.

JIMIN’S POV

As most marriages go, they are usually banal affairs. Unexciting and monotonous. Duties and responsibilities littered my brain as I came home early. As I looked for the wife I would never in a million years have thought would be mine,  I stumbled upon some photos in her room. Nudes of a full figured girl dominated the frame of the polaroid photos scattered around the floor. I choked in utter shock at the slip of a stocking and a flash of her bosom. 

I picked up the photos, shocked at how beautiful they looked. This was my wife? The quiet girl who even in our school days simply seemed like the kind girl next door? She wore these stockings underneath her everyday clothes? My pants felt uncomfortably tight as I ventured further into her room. 

 Why were clothes littered all over her room? She was usually extremely organized. She ran our house as tight as a captain would run their ship. Everything was always cleaned and in its place. As I ventured further into her room, I saw piles of lingerie of shapes and sizes I never imagined on her bed. Where was she ? And what was she doing with all these clothes? If it wasn't for me, then who was she entertaining? Rage filled my gut as I couldn't imagine her betraying me with another man. 

On the bed, I saw official documents. One word caught my eye, filling me with dread, my panic continued to rise as a I clutched papers to my face with latent fury. It read,  “DIVORCE SETTLEMENT DOCUMENTS”.  I yelled in a full blown nervousness, “ Y/N where are you? What are you doing? What are these papers?!? Y/N?!” 

In the utter chaos wreaking havoc upon my mind,  I opened the door to her bathroom, and I almost fainted. Y/N was decorated in a red lace thong with a blood red bra and stockings to match. Her voluptuous stomach gripped the strings of the thong as her thick ass swallowed up the thong string. Stretch marks climbed in spirals along her hips as her bra struggled to house her breasts. Her thick thighs were encased in transparent red thigh high stockings. 

I couldn’t even hear her screaming as I continued to stare at her body in undisguised, mind numbing lust and adoration. I had never seen my wife naked. I had never even touched her or any other woman for the entire duration of our marriage. I may be a bastard, but I was loyal to my wife. And my dick that had been dead from the antidepressants and grief at my father’s condition, came to life. 

Y/N yelled in frustration, waving her hands in front of me to get out of the room. I marched up to her as the cloud of  lust magnified within me. She cowered away from me, placing hands to cover her breasts and pussy. I took hold of her arms easily, wrenching them to the side as I studied her beautiful body up close. If I had known this was how my wife looked like, I would have never made it to work on time every morning. 

What startled me was the sniffling though. I panicked as I looked up to see her crying profusely with the most abject grief in her eyes. I had hurt her somehow. She was usually the most neutral, cold faced girl I had ever come across in my life. Her facial expressions never showed emotion except for the times when I would hurt her, when I was so weighed down by the grief of my father that I would lash out at her.  Little did she know how elated I was to marry her the day of our wedding. 

Growing up an only child without many real friends made me a very unexpressive person, but when I loved someone, I loved them deeply. And my wife was clearly hurt so badly. I had hurt her so badly, that she was considering divorce. As it all clicked into place, I wrapped my arms around her and rocked her in my arms, soothing her, “Tell me what is going on baby? What is happening? What did I do to hurt you? Why are you trying to leave me?”

She tried batting away my arms that settled around her hips and backside. But I wouldn’t let her go. I had messed up so badly and once I saw those papers, my mind whirled with terror. I couldn’t survive without this woman. She was my life source, my rock, and she couldn’t leave me. She shouted out in a cracked voice, “ You don’t love me! YOU DON’T CARE FOR ME. GET AWAY FROM ME!! YOU CAN GO MARRY SOME SKINNY CHIC WHO YOU HAVE BEEN FUCKING IN THE OFFICE DAY AND NIGHT! NOW LET ME GO, YOU TURD!!

I grabbed on to her tighter, confused at her accusations, “Baby what are you talking about? I haven't touched any girl in the five years we have been married.”

She wheezed in disbelief, “Liar, why are you always doing this to me? You are as cold as a stone, you freeze me out when you feel like it. And I heard the moaning coming from your office, and all the women you have been parading around my house, cheating on me with. Well I am done, I have been done for a long time. I am clearly unattractive and ugly and not in shape. I want to leave, I want a divorce. I do not want even a penny from you, but I have to leave. You are not healthy for me. This is not a healthy marriage.” 

All of her words hit my like trucks as I begged with her, “Sweetheart, I never meant to make you believe that I have been disloyal. All those women at our house were my business partner’s sisters and family. That’s why they would greet you when they came in to the house.  They run a family led corporation , and all of them had come here for business meetings.” As she became quiet, I continued, “ The day you came to see me at the office must have been when my PA twisted her ankle. The physical therapist and I were both in the room with her. She was moaning in pain because it was a completely avulsed tendon. I am so sorry I made you believe otherwise, that you are not the only woman in my life.” 

“I know how horribly I conducted my self in school .  You always saw me around girls and so you thought that behavior of sleeping around would continue into our marriage. I would never do that to you. You are the only one who truly cares about me. And I was a shallow piece of shit for making you fell unattractive. The day I put you down for your appearance, was the worst day of my life. Dad was getting his prosthetic heart valve replacement surgery and I was so stressed. Mom was crying and I didn’t know what to do, that I lashed out at you when you had nothing to do with it.”

As her crying ceased, she tried to get out of my embrace, but I wouldn’t let her. “Baby, please give me a chance to make it right. I know I have treated you dismally, less than human. But I love you, I have loved you since the day we got married. I just never knew how to show it to you. You have always been so independent, self sufficient, never relying on me for anything. I almost thought you never needed me. And the grief made me an even worse person than I thought I was capable of being.” 

Y/N took a huge gulp of air as she exclaimed, “I don’t believe that you are attracted to me or that you love me. You have treated me horribly for years, and I never even felt like we were married. I felt like a roommate who you just used for emotional support. Then you would freeze me out and insult me when I tried to help you. Anyways, you like skinny girls who don’ t look like me, why don’t you just go and find one. I will divorce you and you will never hear from me again. And I will find someone who loves me, who thinks that kissing me and showing affection to me is not a chore.” 

I started panicking. I was ridiculously attracted to her from the beginning, but the depression medication had literally made me a sexless creature for the past five years. But now she thought that I was not attracted to her, when in fact it was the medication which I had recently been tapered off of by my doctor. What if I couldn't convince her that it was all the medication? She would leave me, and I would crumble into tiny pieces, because I couldn't live without her. 

I explained in a frantic voice, “Baby, it was the medication. I was on antidepressant medication for so long and it killed my sex drive so badly. I couldn’t even have sex if I wanted to, it killed my erection. How can I show you that you are a goddess to me? I don’t even deserve to be next to you. I loved you since we were in 7th grade. But I got so nervous around you that I couldn't even speak when you greeted me. Whenever you would talk to me, I literally felt like dying of nerves. I wanted to talk to you so much when we were going through school, but my anxiety crippled me.  I never wanted to make you feel undesirable.” 

As she looked at me in indecision, I swooped down to kiss her passionately against her lips, opening up her mouth to receive my tongue. I gripped her exposed butt and squeezed, “Please let me prove to you that you are all I will ever need.” I nuzzled my face against her neck, biting and pecking against it as my hands massaged up her hips, trying to find the string to her thong that I could unravel. Her eyes twinkled with what looked like hope as she whispered, “You can try.”

------Please let me know if I should release the rest of the smut for this one shot. 

[hallowgracie]

Short Story: "I Think I Understand Persephone Now"

Author's Note: Corey Dantes, the main character in my dark academia supernatural wip, Pomegranate Elegy, originated from this short story I wrote for my creative writing classes in Fall 2021.

As it started to look like we were coming out of quarantine for good and yet everything was still different from how it was before, I was still processing my feelings about witnessing what felt like an apocalypse. Now, in Fall 2024, in which my life looks so different from that of 2020 or 2021, I still have feelings that are difficult to reconcile about my experiences.

I don't think it helped that I was still reconciling and processing some of the mental health issues I'd developed and overcame during the course of my high school education.

This short story established a lot of the ideas and motifs I want to use in Pomegranate Elegy, and that story developed from the fact that ultimately, this story suffers for being tied to the pandemic.

I'm not sure yet if this story will remain canon to the backstory of the Corey we meet in Pomegranate Elegy. But I thought all the same that you might like to read it.

I hope you enjoy.

...

“I’m going out to the grocery store.” 

I turned off the camera on my laptop and swiveled around to face my mother. She was wearing her nice sundress, the one with the sunflowers that reminded me of a Van Gogh painting. Before, she would only wear it for brunch with friends she wanted to impress, graduations--the occasions between formal and semi-casual. And now she wore it to the grocery store, because that was as formal as things got at this point. 

“Okay.” I glanced back at the grid of faces staring back at me. “I’ll be in class.” 

“Do you need anything?” Mom lingered in the doorway. “Won’t be able to get it till next week, y’know.”

Because it was safer to only shop once a week, and that had become routine.

I’d forgotten that it was Grocery Day, formerly known as Tuesday. The days all blended together with the hours into an eternity within the four walls of my room, my fortress against the end of the world as I’d known it. 

“I’ll be okay.” I turned back to my class so that I wouldn’t have to see Mom frown, the way she did most of the time when I bothered to speak up. It was the concerned kind of frown, the ‘oh honey’ kind of frown. 

It was a small eternity before the door closed. But I didn’t turn my camera back on. Instead, I left my headphones on my desk and took the opportunity to fall onto my bed, a heap of sheets and pillows thrown about by restless nights. 

I didn’t get much sleep last night.

Or at least, less than usual. 

I kept hearing footsteps in my room, and the faint sounds of giggling, like a bunch of girls at a sleepover. I asked my sister if she called any of her friends last night, but she swore up and down that she didn’t.

I’m not sure I believe her— what other reason could there be, after all?

Although she did point out that a phone call wouldn’t explain all the footsteps. Which, I guess that’s true, although I don’t like the implications of that.

I sighed and rubbed my eyes. I knew I should try to go to class and pay attention. After all, there would come a day when I’d be on the other side of this and I’d have to answer for my laziness and degradation. 

Colleges wouldn’t like it if I had mostly Bs.

I would have to excel for them to take me, as our teachers kept reminding us. Our extracurriculars and volunteering were down the toilet now. All that was left for our applications to cling to was our report cards. 

But how could I plan for a future I couldn’t see? Before the end of the world as I’d known it, people would ask us in beginning-of-the-year speeches and stuff where we would see ourselves in five, ten, twenty years.

I couldn’t even see where I’d be by this time next year. 

My thoughts were interrupted by a loud thud.

I jumped from my bed, praying it wasn’t my laptop--thank God, it wasn’t. 

Instead, it was a photograph, from Before. I was with my best friend, Diana, enjoying the Fourth of July. I was in a pink flowery sundress that kinda looked like a hibiscus print, Diana was in blue. My hair was longer, not jagged. There was a light in my eyes, and no circles underneath. I believed her smile. 

Anger and sorrow surged through my veins and my hands began to shake. The glass had cracked, but not broken. I put it back on the shelf and turned it around, so it wouldn’t fall and I wouldn’t have to see the memory and what could have been. 

I sank on the floor and began to cry. 

That was when I felt a cold, icy hand on my shoulder.

And yet, when I looked, there was no one, no sign of anything in the room but my laptop, with Language Arts continuing on with all the blithe determination of a train. 

All I could do was shrug and decide to find some other distraction in place of the impossibly-exhausting monotony of class. So I took the worn volume of Greek mythology off the shelf, next to the photograph I’d turned around, and opened it to my favorite story in all of it. 

I’d gotten it as a Christmas gift in the height of my middle school-obsession with the topic. That was the thing that had drawn me and Diana so close together in the first place. The beautifully-illustrated pages looked back at me. In particular, the painting of Persephone. The portrait was split in half, showing Persephone on the surface, and then in the Underworld. 

I always wondered what it would be like, to be Persephone returning from the world of the dead every spring. Did she change, between the seasons and the realm of the living and the dead? Did the pomegranate seeds keep a piece of her with Hades forever, in more than just her winter exile?

Would any part of her ever feel the same, after her ordeal? Or was there no going back, something lost with that first descent into the Underworld?

I traced the lines of Persephone���s face. She looked too much like me now for comfort. 

I couldn’t stay here. The walls of my room were too narrow, closing in on me. 

“Hey Mom!” I scrambled to grab a mask and a pair of flip-flops. “Wait up!”

...

In the times Before, a Tuesday mid-morning made a wasteland of the grocery store. Completely and utterly deserted except for the occasional customer and clerk. It was not so in the After. Mainly because Tuesday was when the nearest grocery store restocked with toilet paper. 

We were lucky that our lake house was pretty far from the bigger cities of Michigan. But that still didn’t stop everyone from the township and the surrounding little lakes from arriving in a ravenous zombie-like horde to claim the most valuable prize of these days. 

We arrived just as they descended upon the just-refilled shelf as two employees tried to keep the peace.

“Hang on, we have a limit, only two please—”

“Let’s back away, six feet apart now--”

I darted into the fray and managed to snatch up one of the jumbo packages without coming to harm.

“Great, thanks, Corey.” Mom tapped the checklist on her phone, marking our security in toilet paper for the next week or two. “Let’s see, your dad wanted us to pick up some hot dogs to barbecue outside on Friday night, it’s supposed to be a little warmer then.”

We turned to head toward the deli section. Outside of the battleground for toilet paper, the grocery store was filled with ghosts and wraiths, glaring at us with distrust and suspicion as they picked up what they needed to get through the week. 

Everyone was an enemy and a stranger now. 

On the way to the deli section of the store, we passed the aisle where you could get drinks, right next to the produce.

“If you want to grab something, you can.” Mom nodded at the drinks. “Would you mind picking up kombucha for me, please?”

“Sure.” Next to the kombucha I grabbed was a pomegranate smoothie. I took one off the shelf and nearly dropped the drinks when I caught my reflection in the warped mirror thing at the top.

The girl in the photograph smiled and waved at me, and then she disappeared.

“Are you alright?” Mom asked as I returned to the cart. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Maybe I have.”

...

It was a week later when I finally confided in Diana my concerns.

“I think my house is haunted or something,” I whispered into the microphone of my computer. “Weird shit keeps happening.”

“Ooh, like what?” Diana’s gray eyes gleamed as she leaned forward. 

I couldn’t help but smile. 

“I keep getting all these weird drafts, and sometimes I could swear there’s a hand on my shoulder, tapping it to get my attention.” I bit my lip. “Nothing’s there of course. And then at night, I hear these giggles and footsteps, sometimes voices too, but I can’t find the source.”

“Spooky.” Diana frowned.

“And when I can manage to sleep, I have these dreams.” I curled my hands into fists--this time, they stopped shaking beneath my desk. “I don’t remember all of it, but there’s this girl, following me in all of them.”

“What does she look like?” Diana’s turquoise fingernails drummed against her sloped chin. “Like, what color dress is she wearing? Like, it’s not white or red, is it?”

There were two types of ghostly women in the stories: the lady in red, a spirit of vengeance, and the lady in white, a victim. 

But the girl I saw--she was wearing pink, somewhere in-between. A victim and an avenger. Or perhaps neither. 

“No, no.” I shook my head. “It’s. . . Well, it’s me. But me from like, the Before Times. Y’know, before I went crazy with the scissors.”

I made a snipping motion with my fingers, and Diana laughed.

It was an uneasy laugh, but it was still something.

“I’ve never heard of ghosts like that before.” Diana frowned. “Maybe it’s some shape-shifting ghost or something. I mean, it can’t be you, obviously, because--”

She cut off with a gesture towards me at the camera. 

“I’m not dead yet.” It tumbled out of my mouth, much more serious than I’d intended it. 

“Right.” She met my eyes through the camera before looking away quickly as silence filled the call. 

We didn’t need to speak about how death was with us everywhere, now. Even if there wasn’t a ghost, the Grim Reaper was always standing over our shoulders, the end inevitable if we dared to step outdoors. 

“Well, I’ll see what I can find on shapeshifting ghosts and stuff.” Diana managed a weak smile. “Too bad we couldn’t hunt the ghost together, right? Just like old times?”

“Yeah.” My eyes burned, but I managed somehow to keep them back and smile. “We’d make popcorn and get it all over my room, and we’d go swimming when Mom and Dad went to sleep--”

“Just the two of us, outside in the moonlight, alone in the world.” Diana’s smile grew. “We should do it again, when all of this is over.”

If it’s ever over.

“We should,” I agreed. “I miss you.”

Diana laughed, even though I said nothing funny. “Me too, Corey.”

She glanced over her shoulder, before returning to me. “Hey, Mom’s calling me to dinner, I’ve gotta go. Same time next week?”

“You know it. See you then.” 

The screen went black before me, and I was left only with the void of fear that was ever-present, threatening to consume me. 

What if this is the last time we see each other at all? What if we never see each other in-person again? What if in two weeks, you’ll go where I can’t follow? Will you haunt me too?

I inhaled sharply and pushed myself away from the desk. Not that it did any good, because I would never be able to escape these thoughts, because they were everywhere, hand-in-hand with death, in my own brain. 

...

That night I dreamed that I danced with Hades. A handsome errant of death, clad in black and gold with jet-black wings like the dark mirror of an angel’s, we waltzed together in the River Styx. Ghosts clawed at the flower-clad hem of my skirts, desperate to touch something alive. I was breathing when they had their chance ripped from them. 

My heart beat so fast, and I had to keep dancing, had to keep moving with Hades or else surely the ghosts would pull me into the River Styx too, would drown me with the weight of tragedy and misfortune in the world. 

I woke when I missed a step and my heart beat so fast that it hurt. I sat there in the dark, heart racing for a danger that was invisible and omnipresent. 

That’s when I caught sight of her again--the girl. She disappeared as soon as she came, and I knew I couldn’t avoid it any longer.

The full moon was shining through. The first full moon of September, of early autumn. Two omens of a time when spirits came alive, when the worlds between the living and the dead were one and the same once more. 

I got out of bed. I would face my ghost so I could finally go on living, and not surviving. 

I stepped outside at midnight. The breeze had picked up, raising all the little hairs on my arms and legs, as I hadn’t bothered to shave since I’d first had to hide away from the world. 

I knew I shouldn’t be out here without an adult or anything, but death was already everywhere--what did it matter that he was at the lake at night, too?

I stood in the water with the light of the moon, my arms folded across my chest in some attempt to preserve warmth. I should have brought a hoodie or something, but I couldn’t bring myself to even grab one off a hanger in my closet.

Pathetic. I’m sure I give my parents so much faith for my future. 

I laughed, but it sounded like a sob. 

This wasn’t helping, I’d decided. I wasn’t seeing my ghost. It didn’t even bring back the joy of nostalgia.

All I felt was the overwhelming sorrow I fought so hard to keep at bay. I had seen the lake shift seasons so many times in my exile. Spring, summer, autumn. The world came back to life--but I didn’t. 

I would always be trapped here, with fear and death and sorrow as my only companions.

I felt a hand on my shoulder--and like before, I turned around as I had so many times before. But this time, there was someone standing there. The girl--me--stood before me, her feet in the water, a sympathetic smile on her face. 

“I was wondering when you’d make it.” She kicked at the water. “It took forever for you to finally get the message.”

“I don’t understand.” I tilted my head. “Who are you?”

“I thought that was obvious.” She raised an eyebrow. “I mean, we have the same face. I’m you, Corey.”

I snorted. “Not anymore.”

“I guess that’s true.” She looked away, to the moon’s reflection on the water. “Or else I wouldn’t be here, like this, would I?”

“I wouldn’t know, I’m not exactly the type to believe in ghosts anymore.” I looked her up and down. “Or whatever you are, exactly.”

“Ghost is the right word.” She leaned down to pick up a rock. 

“So what, then?” I could not understand the anger and resentment rising in my chest like a volcano building to eruption. “I’m not dead.”

“I think you know why I exist.” She met my eyes. 

I felt as if my heart had come up into my throat, I struggled to form the words. “A part of me died, then. I don’t remember when.”

She threw the rock--it skipped three times before plummeting into the depths of the water. “It wasn’t one day, or all at once. It was several months, before I went.”

“That was it, then,” I mused aloud. “I was right. I’m never going to be the same after this, am I?”

“How could anyone be?” She shrugged and leaned down to pick up another rock. “It’s not your fault, that I couldn’t survive this.”

I blinked. Once, twice--but it couldn’t stop the burning. All of these emotions that I’d buried and become numb to after months of trying to suppress them came rushing to the surface. 

The tears finally came like rain. My shoulders shook and I was blinded by the salt and the water. 

“It’s alright,” said the ghost of the girl from Before. “I just wanted you to know that. It’s going to be okay.”

I swiped at my tears, finally able to see again. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m not staying here because I want to.” She picked up another rock to skip. “You’re the one that keeps holding on. Or I wouldn’t be here. So I’m telling you that it’s okay. You’ve changed--you can let me go. I know I’m never coming back. It’ll be okay.”

There had been something else, dancing with the fear, the anger, the resentment. 

The guilt, that I wasn’t the girl I was before and would never be again.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. 

“It’s okay,” she repeated. “It will be okay.”

“How can you possibly know that?” 

She shrugged. “I somehow always did. Maybe you’ll know that someday again, too.”

Someday.

Persephone languished at first in the winters with the dead. But it got better, she’d gotten better when she knew that spring would come. 

“I think I will be okay.” It was a promise. One I did not fully believe, not yet. But one that it was critical to make. “Maybe someday this part of me will be something I can leave behind, too.”

The ghost smiled. “I hope to see you then.”

We embraced, and she disappeared upon moonbeams and the cool lake breeze. I loomed down to the water. This time, only my reflection stared back at me. My hair was growing out and there was a light in my eyes again. 

I’d never get back what I lost. I could never spit out the pomegranate seeds that were forced down my throat. Perhaps like Persephone, a part of me would always be trapped here, at the end of the world. 

But spring will come and I too will come back to life. 

[littlecaesar]

There were maybe a total of six people that Caesarion would almost always pick up the phone for. The name flashing at him on the caller ID at the moment was not one of them, although the accompanying Imperial March ringtone was at least faintly amusing as he ignored it.

It had been a Friday, with only one class in the morning, and naturally he’d decided on going to see his best friend. Only to find she’d gone off to Verona, and “Probably staying in some awful little hotel too Caesarion, it’s terrible really,” as he’d been told. Which of course made him terribly indignant as there was no way he was letting that happen, so with a few phonecalls on the way he’d both tracked her down and booked the two biggest suites at the nicest hotel that was there.

“Friends don’t let their friends stay in crappy hotels, even if they’re peasants,” he’d teased as he sauntered into her room behind her. Tria had rolled her eyes and taken her small suitcase into the bedroom to unpack, leaving him lounging on one of the couches in the living room. Sighing as though he was being told to make nice with his cousin Atia’s horrible youngest spawn, he picked the phone up to answer it.

“Father, is this a yell at me call, a you pissed off mother call, or did someone die.”

“Yell at me it is. And no I absolutely did not fuck off with no warning, last time I checked I was 18, in school, and an adult who had no appearances or duties till next week.”

If it were possible to roll his eyes any harder he probably would have, holding the phone away from his ear while his father continued a familiar diatribe against him. He only interrupted him when he heard him say “Enough is enough, you can not be chasing after your little peasant friend all the time. People will talk more than they do already. You’re a Prince for Christ’s sake, I’ve got better hopes for you than someone like that.”

Caesarion was gripping the phone so tight then he nearly broke it, and was trying not to hurl it across the room and shatter it. “You do NOT, ever, talk about my best friend like that. Do you hear me? I’ve told you that before and I won’t say it again........no I don’t particularly care that you’re the damn King right now.....no you listen. Demetria is my closest friend, and one of the only people on this earth that doesn’t give two shits about the fact that I’m a Prince. No one’s allowed to talk about her like that, and especially not you just because you’re pissed off that people genuinely like me not the Prince of Piedmont, unlike you. I’m not going anywhere until Sunday and will be ignoring you from here on out. Good bye malaka.” 

Hanging up he gave into the impulse and tossed the phone onto the other couch where it at least wouldn’t break, settling for chucking a cushion across the room instead. 

[trashbag-baby666]

Eugene Roe VS. The Snow-Baberoe/OC

Summary: just as the title suggests. Gene doesn’t know how to handle living somewhere with four seasons.

WC: 763

C/W: None

BofB Masterlist!

Gene had grown up in the south his whole life. He hadn't really left his respected part of the south. Especially not during the winter months.

So, when he found himself at John Hopkins university during the coming winter, he had no idea what he was in for.

Then there was Babe and Graham. Both of them had grown up in Philly their whole lives and were used to the snow. It was nothing new to them.

Gene had met Graham in his public speaking class.

They sat next to each other and sometimes Gene would help him take notes when he couldn't really use his hands that day.

Then Gene met Graham's partner Babe who had moved with him. He thought his chances were over till he got close with the two and they invited him to join their relationship.

It was perfect and Gene found himself spending more nights at the two's apartment than his dorm.

It was a Saturday at the end of November and the three had plans to get brunch and go to the park. It was getting cold but still it was nice out.

Instead, when Gene was the first to wake up he looked outside and saw the mountains of white snow everywhere.

He had seen snow maybe a handful of times before but this was a lot of snow.

"Hey, Genie." Babe smiled coming out of the bedroom rubbing his eyes tiredly as he saw Gene holding a cup of coffee and staring out the window.

"Morning, Edward." Gene hummed.

"Looking at the snow?" Babe asked, coming up behind Gene and kissing his cheek.

"Yeah," Gene sighed, turning to look at Babe and hugging his boyfriend, "Did you stay warm through the night?"

"Yeah I did, have you ever fallen asleep with Graham basically laying on top of you before?" Babe giggled, it was true Graham always seemed to be a personal heater for the two.

A while later the three of them were finishing up getting ready. Gene was sitting on his knees looking through the clothes he had at their apartment.

"Are we going to have to cancel our day because it snowed?" Gene looked at the two of them.

Babe smirked, "Genie? Are you serious? This is barely any snow."

Gene raised an eyebrow, in the south it was like a national emergency if it snowed. School would be canceled sometimes for only a week.

"I forget we didn't grow up in the same areas." Gene smiled a bit.

"Do you need to borrow some clothes?” Graham asked as he came up behind Gene. Gene sat back on his knees and looked at the curly haired boy.

“Please?” Gene sighed and Graham nodded and opened his dresser drawers.

“Won’t your joints get stiff in the cold?” Gene asked Graham as he took the jeans and long sleeved shirt from him.

“I mean yeah, I’ll just use my motorized wheelchair though.” Graham shrugged looking up at the pale boy. Gene just nodded and went into the bathroom to change.

Graham and Babe shared an amused smiles to each other over Gene seemingly thinking the snow meant the end of the world. “Do you think he’ll be prepared by next winter?”

“Maybe?” Babe chuckled, grabbing his hat out of the top of the closet where they had stowed away all the winter clothes.

Gene came out of the bathroom, “Now do either of you have a jacket I can borrow?”

The three of them were set as they came outside of the apartment building and Gene shivered seeing the fog of his own breath. “I don’t know how you guys do it?”

“You’ll get used to it.” Babe kissed his cheek as he walked down the path towards his car.

“Fuck,” Graham groaned as his wheelchair got stuck in the snow. Babe sighed, turning around to help him out.

Before Babe slipped on a path of snow covered ice. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Babe sighed as he got up brushing the snow off of him. Gene had helped Graham out of being stuck.

Then the three of them had made it to the car. Babe put the keys in the ignition and felt his brake pedal stiff up as his car made a sputtering noise. Babe tried again and the car sputtered again before it stopped.

“Fucking hell,” Babe slapped his steering wheel,

“Well I guess Gene was somewhat right about today.”

Babe sat back in his seat looking at the two of them, “I guess we are going to spend our day inside.”

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #577

Top Ten Transformers to Turn into Lego

I'm back! All the complicated “Best Years for Whatever” are done and dusted (for now? For ever?) and I'm retreating into the safe, warm, yet metallic embrace of those lovely Robots in Disguise. And hopefully the use of the word “embrace” won’t have me slapped with a “mature content” warning like last week’s list did; I've absolutely no idea why, unless Tumblr’s bizarro algorithm look umbrage with the title of the second single the Divine Comedy released in 1998, or maybe the name of the band who sang One Week in the same year. Anyway, I'm sure nothing about Transformers can ever be filthy, so we should be okay.

Another reason – well, okay, the main reason – for talking about Transformers this week is because I'm attending a convention again. When you read this, the TF Nation “Mini-Con” is taking place in Manchester, which is lovely because I don’t need to drive for two hours or book a hotel room. It's always nice to chat to like-minded Transformers fans, browse old toys, or even possibly get a drawing or two done. So it’ll be a fun time, I would imagine.

But having written about those ruddy great warmongers from Cybertron approximately a million times in the eleven years I’ve been doing this daft blog, what else could I possibly have to say? Well, amazingly, I found quite a few things I’ve not talked about! And for today I've narrowed it down to Lego. Because for Christmas I received the frankly rather marvellous Lego Optimus Prime set, a glorious (and quite massive) kit that lets you not only build everyone’s favourite sacrificial mecha-daddy but then transform him from a robot into a truck and back again. A great big brilliant-looking rendition of Prime that is also an actual working Transformer. It's an incredible, exciting, beautiful bit of engineering. It's a great toy – or building set, whatever you wanna call Lego. And as far as I can gather, it’s been quite popular too.

And that got me thinking – surely they’re gonna try to replicate this, yeah? They're going to want to return to that well (of Allsparks) and make another Transformer out of Lego? And if they do – and I'm fairly convinced they will – then who will they pick? See, it’s not quite as easy as you might think, because there are a lot of variables to consider. And so, to celebrate TF Nation parking its Bumblebehind in my own personal stomping ground, I'm going to suggest to both Hasbro and Lego which Transformers characters would be best to turn into yet another fantastic Christmas present for me at some point in the future. Till all are one (thousand bricks)!

Starscream: Optimus Prime is a robot that turns into a vehicle, so the most sensible thing to do – one assumes – is to make another Lego kit that’s also a robot that turns into a vehicle. And if that’s the way to go, then Starscream is a perfect candidate for a number of reasons. Well, at least two: one, picking a jet instead of a truck is a nice differential; and secondly, he’s a Decepticon where Prime is an Autobot. The traditional transformation of Starscream should be (he says as someone most assuredly not any kind of engineer) relatively straightforward to replicate? Maybe? Just as Lego Prime’s transformation is very similar to how it ever was, I think probably Starscream’s could be the same. And like Prime came with some fan-favourite accoutrements, maybe Starscream could come with his cape and crown from The Transformers: The Movie?

Soundwave: another genius move would be to go for one of the other iconic TF characters. Sticking with the Decepticons – to contrast Prime once more – then Soundwave benefits from visually being a good contrast, blue to red. They share similar faces, they’re both quite boxy; it’s a good look, them stood next to each other. And again, Soundwave’s old-school transformation should be more-or-less replicable in Lego form. Except here we have the opportunity for a tremendous gimmick, because Soundwave of course has his cassettes he keeps in his chest; so maybe Lego Soundwave could come with a Lego Ravage and Lego Lazerbeak who turn into little Lego Cassettes and fit in his Lego chest! And maybe a nice big Lego energon cube too.

Grimlock: if you’re gonna pick another Autobot, you need to do something a bit different. Grimlock is, again, one of the most iconic Transformers around. He’s a big grumpy dinosaur and everybody loves him. His historic method of transformation – which has remained mostly consistent across nearly forty years’ worth of toys – is pretty straightforward once again (I guess these eighties toys had to have fairly straightforward methods of transformation, thinking about it), and I think is replicable in Lego. And, I mean, he’s a chuffing robot T-Rex, what more do you want? Oh, okay, his little accessories can be his crown from the comic and his tea tray from that one episode of the cartoon. And maybe – just maybe – we could sneak in Wheelie as an extra bonus.

Bumblebee: one thing I’ve been sort of trying to avoid is just picking a Transformer who turns into a car. I feel like it’s kind of been done already to a certain degree with Optimus, and I think that there are so many big, famous Transformers who this could apply to – Jazz, Prowl, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker; or even the likes of Ratchet and Ironhide, or Hound, or Brawn – that it would basically boil down to “here’s a robot, here’s the car, it’s like the Optimus set but a bit smaller”. However, if you’re gonna do that, then I think Bumblebee is the best choice really. He's super-iconic, almost the face of the franchise at times, so he’d be popular no doubt; and there are quite a few possibilities you could go with for his design. Personally I think it’d be really cool if they gave you slightly different parts so you could either make him a VW Beetle or a Camaro, but I doubt that’d be possible licencing-wise.

Megatron: Megatron, in a lot of respects, would be the obvious choice. After all, he’s the other guy, the rival to Optimus, the big bad of the franchise. Surely if you were going to have two, you’d pick Ops and Megs? Like you’d have Batman and the Joker, right? Well, it’s complicated. I think one of the things that’s so successful with Optimus Prime – which I imagine is a deliberate choice – is how closely it hews to the original 1984 toy. There are lots of references to it, even in the instructions and stuff. With Megatron that’s really hard for a few reasons. I mean, he’s a gun; it’d just be a lot more difficult to engineer it so he turned into a gun but also looked good as a robot. Arguably, they didn’t achieve that in 1984 (or earlier, when the toy was first designed in Japan, etc, etc, etc…). Plus there’s the fact that no one wants Megatron to be a gun anymore; it’s just not the done thing for major characters in children’s properties to actually be firearms. Plus Lego wouldn’t want you running around brandishing a prop gun; think of the headlines. So the solution would surely be to make him a tank; after all, that’s what he usually turns into nowadays anyway. Megatron is a tank now and we have to accept that. So what do you do? Turn him into a tank in a way that reflects contemporary toys? Or do you make him in effect a Lego version of the classic G2 Megatron figure? I’m not sure, but whatever choice you make is intelligent compared to the Optimus Prime figure and is full of compromises. Hence he’s lower in the list. But: I still really want a Lego Megatron.

Optimus Primal: I’m nothing if not magnanimous. Y’see, I was never massively into Beast Wars; it sort of happened after I thought the franchise had “ended” (I should have known it never ends), and when I saw it I felt “that’s not my Transformers”. But I know that loads of people love it, so they deserve some Lego fun too. And – hey! – it would tie into this summer’s Rise of the Beasts movie! So yeah: we’ve got our standard Optimus-adjacent leader-figure, except he turns into a monkey not a truck. That’s all there is to it. I’ll be honest, having never had an Optimus Primal figure, I don’t really know how he actually transforms, so I don’t know if it’s something that’s even doable in Lego, but what the hell.

Hot Rod/Rodimus Prime: Hot Rod was one of the ‘bots I was considering as “let’s just think of one that’s relatively simple and just turns into a car”. But then I thought: can we go bigger? After all, we’ve had Optimus Prime; why not feature his futuristic successor? So you have a smaller Hot Rod figure you can build, which turns into a sexy magenta racing car. But! It also comes with additional bits and bobs, so you can change his legs and arms and – lo and behold – turn li’l ol’ Hot Rod into big, strapping Rodimus Prime. Who, yes indeedy, would transform into a sexy futuristic camper van.

Scorponok: one of the cool things I thought about Grimlock and Optimus Primal is that they don’t turn into vehicles (or “stuff”) but animals. And here we have Scorponok, another much-beloved character from the history of the franchise, who likewise turns into something cool and weird. Namely a dirty great robot scorpion. And that’s more or less that; he’s another one with a fairly simple transformation scheme that’s probably replicable in Lego. However, he does have a gimmick in that he’s a Headmaster; his head turns into a little bloke called Lord Zarak. I think what would be cool here is if his head could unfold into a smaller robotic figure reminiscent of the old toy, but inside that there sits a for-real Lego minifig that looks just like Zarak as he appeared in the cartoon.

Ultra Magnus: now we’re going crazy, but just imagine it. Ultra Magnus is a huge Lego set, the Transformers equivalent of that Rivendell set they released this year, or the really big Millennium Falcon. And, like the 1986 toy, he’s comprised of an entirely-white Optimus Prime – literally the same Prime from the existing set. So you have to build that, but then! He also has his car transporter trailer, just like the old toy. And just like the old toy this trailer combines with his cab (maybe there’s a little bit more Lego jiggery-pokery to make it attach properly), and bob’s your robot-uncle, you’ve got yourself a ruddy great Ultra Magnus figure. It’d be huge, sure. But it’d be so cool.

Devastator: talking about big… I was wondering about doing a Triple Changer like Blitzwing, but this would be much cooler. It’d be a massive set once again but just incredible if they could pull it off. Yes, it would indeed feature six smaller Constructicons – I figure each one about half the size of Optimus Prime, to make this thing in any way feasible – but as well as turning from cement mixers and bulldozers and the like into robots, they also combine to form Devastator. I’m not entirely sure how this would be possible; hopefully, even if you had to remove the odd piece here and there, it could be achieved without entirely disassembling and reassembling the Constructicons, so their shapes were recognisable when Devastator was built. And there you’d have it; one of the most iconic and impressive toys of the eighties rendered in Lego form.

I am now insanely excited about made-up toys that will almost certainly never exist.

[authormahimistry]

Filthy Hot Prince

4

Valeria

Drink this. 

I’ll take care of you.

Sh, it’s okay, Valeria. Fuck, you’re so hot. 

It’s okay, a few more—

I woke up with a gasp. Memories of that night playing in my head. The scent of cheap beers, the stench of smoke, the thick air. Sweat sheeted my body as I sighed, running my hands through my pajamas, feeling the satin bedsheets underneath me. I clutched the pillow and bit my lip when I made sure I had my underwear on. 

Thank God. 

“You are safe, Valeria,” I muttered to myself. “It has been a decade. You are safe. I am safe. I am okay.” 

I laid back on the bed, asking Siri for the time. It was half past midnight. That meant I would meet Khalid in a few hours. Cuddling my pillow, I played his latest interview, falling asleep to his deep voice whispering in my ear, soothing me. 

***

I was a little nervous after sending the text to Brandon. Rejecting his idea to meet up for another date. 

I reminded myself that I had to do it. I wasn’t attracted to him and after the time at his apartment and his smoking, I couldn’t date him. 

The smell of roses wafted in my room, making me smile and relaxing my nerves. Khalid had sent a bouquet of roses that morning, with a letter in Braille for me. I was extremely touched by the gesture, the pads of my fingers moving over the little bumps on the card.

To My Sweet Rose, Valeria,

I hope you are ready to meet me today. If not, don’t worry, I have it all planned. Until then, take care of yourself. 

Your Handsome Date, 

Khalid 

Grinning, I clutched the little card to my chest. I couldn’t wait to meet him. 

Mabel helped me pick out a dress as I changed and took my time applying the makeup. When I turned fifteen, every girl in my school was obsessed with makeup, and I had asked Mabel to help me with it. Since then, I had taught myself to use and apply it. I had marked every product with Braille to know what I was using. 

Fetching the circular tube with a textured droplet on the packaging, I swirled it open and gently applied the mascara. For the final touch, I took a Dyson air wrap to curl my ginger hair in waves. 

“How do I look?” I asked Mabel when she entered my room. 

Her lips pressed on my forehead. “Like an angel. Khalid is going to forget he is a Prince after seeing you.”

I chuckled at her and applied light red lipstick at her suggestion. My finger traced the slight bruise on the upper right of my head. Hopefully, it won’t be noticeable. 

Pinning the two locks of strands on the crown, I donned a comfortable, elegant dress. It hugged my lithe, tall frame, ending just above my knees. Mabel had commented that the navy dress suited me well and Prince Khalid would propose marriage to me just by the looks.

I sprayed my signature perfume and layered it with other subtle one so it would last longer, the scent of roses and freshly cut grass with a hint of spice. 

Now I feel ready.

I felt nerves racking up my body as my driver drove me and Mr Benjamin to Laziz restaurant. It was well known for its luxurious interior and lavish cuisine. The cost of one course dish was more expensive than the heels I wore.

I fidgeted in the car seat, feeling the wooden box. A heavy and very expensive painter set to gift him and apologize for not arriving the day before. 

“Will you be okay? Your cane is with you, right?” 

I nodded at Mr Benjamin when the car stopped to a halt. “Would you please help me find the table?” 

“Of course, my dear.”

Khalid

I glanced around the crowd of the restaurant. Even on a Tuesday evening, it was filled with rich celebrities, employees and couples. I had postponed my visit to Azmia till next week, and although Zain was not happy hearing about the news, he was being extremely nosy. I knew he wanted me to be present and look over the country while he took care of Nasrin, who was five months pregnant. He wanted to spend some time alone with her before the baby shower. Zain and Nasrin deserved it.

I wished to find the deeper love like them, but I knew that no man like me would ever find peace with his demons. 

I thought back to the letter I had written for Valeria and internally cringed at my sweet rose. 

Who the fuck calls their date a sweet rose? 

I was definitely way behind in the dating scene. 

Zara had called me the night before. I was more than delighted to see my little sister having the time of her life in Australia. She had been travelling the world, so it wasn’t a surprise that she flew from Sri Lanka to Australia. Her hair was still a shortish pixie, making her cheekbones and pert nose stand out. She was on a beach, her pale skin sun bathing as she asked me if I was having fun. 

I had shrugged.

“You need to loosen up, Khalid,” she had said, scrunching her nose at me as if she was disappointed with my answer. “You need to live, brother. You are thirty-two so have fun before your hair turns grey. Ask Zayed to help you.”

Zara had said with a mocking grin, the beauty spot on the corner of her lip, looking adorable, with her hazel eyes gleaming in the sun. I missed her. I told her to keep me and Zain updated on her whereabouts and give us an emergency call if anything else happened. 

No one knew where she was except our family. As a royal princess, it was her wish to stay anonymous, travel the world and learn photography. I just hoped she would take care of herself. 

I didn’t have the courage to tell her I couldn’t ask Zayed to have fun. How could I have fun when I had taken someone’s life?

I snapped back to reality when the server asked me if I would like to order a bottle of wine. I dismissed him, still drowning in my thoughts about the past when my eyes pinned on the stunning redhead who entered the restaurant with an air of elegance. Hot blood thrummed in my veins as I shamelessly raked my eyes over her body, covered in navy blue. 

Lust. 

Images of the blue painting flashed in my head the longer I gazed at her. Her long legs were bare beneath the knees, delicate sandal heels donning her ankles. Her glowing skin was as pale as alabaster, her bright copper hair falling in waves around her shoulders, a small smile curving on her pillowy red lips.

My body reacted in a primal way when I noticed someone old, possibly her father, holding her arm. I had never felt that way before.

“Hello, Prince Khalid.”

I stood up, counting the adorable freckles on her nose and cheeks. Cute. I couldn’t wait to kiss them. 

“Hello, Valeria.” 

Angel. Her face was of an angel. 

Even though stunning sunglasses covered her eyes, I could notice her long lashes blinking in my direction. Color red dusting her cheeks as she smiled at me. 

Fuck me.

“This is Mr Benjamin,” she introduced the old man by her side. 

“Of course,” I replied. 

I couldn’t stop staring at her. 

“Should I stay, Valeria?” 

With a great amount of effort, I managed to look away from her and to the man standing beside her. Benjamin. The man who called himself her father, who had asked me for my intentions. Why was he here with her?

Valeria gave Benjamin a smile. I narrowed my eyes. I wanted to be on the receiving end of that smile. I quickly shook off the ridiculous idea. 

I must be going insane. 

“I will be okay, thank you, Mr Benjamin.”

I had the urge to step closer to her and shield her from others’ view, protect her. “I will take care of her and drive her back… if Valeria is okay with it. Or my driver can drive her home.”

She turned towards me, her cheeks pink. I took a deep breath to control myself and glared at my shoes. She was too precious to look at. 

Fuck. Why am I acting like a teenager with a crush? 

“You don’t have to trouble yourself—”

“It’s no trouble at all.” I gave her a brief smile, even though I knew she couldn’t see it. “It would be my honor.”

Benjamin cleared his throat. I glared at him for interrupting us. “I’ll be leaving then. Have a good night, Valeria. Mr Khalid.”

With a nod, he left us alone, standing closer to each other in a crowded restaurant.

Valeria

I forced myself not to lean up and take a long whiff of Khalid’s smoky, woodsy cologne. He smelt nice. Really nice. Something musky and exotic and very male. The kind of nice that would make you nostalgic after a few years and fill you with warmth. It made my stomach churn with an odd feeling. Perhaps it was giddiness. 

“I want to apologize for asking you to meet here,” Khalid said, standing beside me. 

I turned in the direction of his deep voice tinged with a little English accent. 

Hearing an apology from him made me feel weird because his tone told me he wasn’t used to saying sorry to anyone. 

Every inch of my body was aware of the closeness between us, the air charged with static electricity, making my nerves hum with anticipation. I could feel him looming over me. Towering me even though I was fairly tall, even in heels.

Before I could open my mouth, he asked me if he could touch me. 

Blood rushed to my face, my legs tensing at his smooth question. Did he want to touch me in front of so many people? He was truly a player like those articles I had heard—

“What?” I managed to utter, mentally shaking off the dirty visuals repeating in my head with my naked body sprawled across a table for his full course meal. 

I was sure I was red from head to toe. 

Khalid cleared his throat. “My guards have cleared the second floor for us if that’s okay with you?”

His guards? Of course, he would have guards. He is a Prince. But he did what? Did he do that for me? Maybe he wanted privacy during our dinner. 

Not touch me privately, of course.

I lifted my palm. “Here.”

If it was someone else guiding me, I would ask for their elbow, but not with Khalid. I wanted to hold his hand.

Warm, powerful hand engulfed my hand. I could feel the small tingles when his long fingers held my smaller palm in his larger one. I traced the pads of his fingers absentmindedly, noticing the small callouses from where he might grip his paint brushes for long hours. His hands were not soft as I had imagined a painter’s hand would be. They were calloused, roughened. 

I adored it. 

He slowly led me to the stairs, aware of my cane in my right hand. He made sure to tell me about the railing, clutching my hand with each stair I climbed. As if he was afraid to make me fall and staying close to make sure I didn’t. I tried hiding my burning face behind the curtain of my hair, but the strands pinned on my scalp didn’t help. 

After climbing the stairs, I thanked him. 

“No need to thank me. I hope I didn’t trouble you.”

I could sense the hesitation in his rich voice. 

“It’s alright, Khalid. It was just a minor headache but my doctor urged me to take a day off.”

Why am I smiling so much? My cheeks hurt, and I wanted to press my cold hands on my face to calm them down. 

Khalid

I pulled a chair for her, her subtle feminine perfume wafting in my nose as she sat down, gripping the edge of the table. I tried not to take a whiff of her silky copper hair, which smelt like roses. I had to control myself and not creep her out. 

“Can you please bring water for me? Thank you,” Valeria said to the waiter with a warm smile that had his ears turn pink. He poured me a glass of the expensive white wine that I had ordered and excused himself to bring her water. 

“You don’t drink wine?”

Her eyes flickered in my direction as she removed the glasses. “No, I don’t like alcohol.”

I swallowed a big gulp. She was my complete opposite.

I could barely take my eyes off of her. They had given her the menu in Braille, the soft pads of her fingers running across it. 

My right hand still felt tingles from before. Her hand was smaller than mine and I had to force my eyes on the stairs when she had traced my fingers. I knew she did it mindlessly, but it felt intimate to me. Almost erotic for her to caress my fingers like that. 

I wondered how it would feel if she caressed a different, harder part of my anatomy. For the umpteenth time, I had to shuffle in the confines of my pants, remembering her soft touch. 

This was a new low for me. Getting turned on by holding hands. 

After giving our orders, Valeria looked at me, her voice shy. “I have something for you.”

I watched as she leaned down to open her handbag and pull out a big wooden box with a small red bow. 

“This is for not being able to meet you yesterday. I hope these are the ones you like. I didn’t know which one to choose from. I can barely draw a straight stick figure so I apologize beforehand if you don’t like them. So, um, let me know which one to get—”

I took the box from her before she could lose her breath. “Thank you very much, Valeria. But you don’t need to do this for having a medical emergency. I should be the one to get you something.”

She gave me a slow nod, her lips pursed together as she waited expectantly for my reaction. I didn’t want to make her wait and opened the box. My eyes widened when I saw the expensive oil paints in a wooden carved box from a very luxurious brand. It must have cost a pretty penny to gift me this. 

“Thank you, Valeria,” I said, my voice a husky whisper as I awed at the colors. I couldn’t wait to try them and feel the texture smoothen underneath the pressure of the paintbrush. “The colors look so vibrant and rich, I can’t wait to paint using them. It’s very thoughtful of you.”

If it was even possible, her cheeks reddened further, a gorgeous smile curving her lips. “You’re welcome, I am glad you like them.”

We were interrupted when the server brought our food. I didn’t tell her that everything cooked was tested healthy and without any poison by my royal taster. My family and I decided that it was a risk to ignore the event of last year when Nasrin, my brother’s wife, was almost poisoned by the food cooked for her. 

I watched in awe how easily she maneuvered the different types of spoons and forks as if she remembered how and where everything is placed. I was very impressed. 

“You seem close to Benjamin,” I said, wanting to know more about the man who was so protective of her. 

Valeria nodded. “He and Mabel are my guardians. My parents, you could say, as they took me in growing up. I was dropped on their foster home when I was a baby.”

I took a sharp breath. I could never understand why someone would ever do that. 

“If it’s not too much, can I ask what happened to your sight?” I wanted to know if she could see through a fog or darkness.

Zara’s mother, Isabella, was born blind, and she had a foggy vision. I wanted to know if Valeria did, too. 

She took a shaky breath, and I knew it was a hard question. “I lost my sight in a car accident when I was eleven. A truck driver ran past the traffic lights, lost his control and it slammed with our car. The couple who had adopted me a year before that didn’t survive. I hit my head and my world went black. I woke up with corneal blindness.”

I clenched the spoon in my hand, cursing at the circumstances, but I knew better than to blame it all on the circumstances. 

“Shouldn’t you get new corneas to treat it?” I knew about it because I often visited charities involved with treating disabled children. After death, eye donors donate their eyes and the donated corneas helps the children with corneal blindness get their sight back.

“Of course. But I would rather have children get their sight back than me. I… I wouldn’t know what I would do when and if I get my sight back.”

The server came back with the main course. The air around us tense and heavy. It was a serious subject, but I couldn’t imagine living without sight for a day. I had tried painting covering my eyes, but it was a terrible process. Not knowing which colors I am using, which colors I am mixing, which lines I am stroking on the canvas. 

Valeria broke the silence first. “About the paintings. Does the inspiration really come from suffering and…” She waved her hand, her face turning scarlet. 

I smirked, leaning on the table. “Suffering and?” 

“You know… the answer that you gave to the interviewer.”

“I don’t remember, Valeria. Suffering and?” I asked again, innocence lacing my voice while my eyes dared her to say the word she was embarrassed to. 

Fucking. 

“I know you are teasing me,” she grumbled and whispered quickly, “Fucking. Suffering and fucking.”

I grinned, very pleased with her reply. “Not really. I like to make my agent angry and I was bored at the art show, especially with the interview. I said it to piss them off.”

Valeria tilted her head, her red hair sliding over her shoulder and revealing her slender, pale neck. I could see the pulse beating in her neck. Before my filthy thoughts could fill my mind, I looked away. 

“I thought every art came from a little of suffering… and intimacy.” She chose her words carefully. 

I hummed, taking a sip of wine. “It could, but it also means having fun. It is a lengthy process and despite the efforts, whatever that may be in other’s case, most of the artists are happy when they are creating what they want to make.”

I didn’t tell her that I was an exception. I hadn’t made anything while I was having ‘fun’, I only painted after having sex, heady with alcohol or waking up from nightmares, suffering with the demons of my past. 

She bit her lip, my hazel eyes watching the fullness of her bottom lip before she replied. “I understand, Khalid. Like the process of turning a scent into a bottle of glass.”

I took a sharp breath when Valeria gave me a bright smile. If she kept smiling at me like that, I was sure I would fall for her. I placed my hand over my chest, rubbing the material of the shirt to calm my pounding heart underneath. 

Wait, fall for her? Where did that come from? 

I couldn’t fall for her, I won’t.

But I knew, at that moment, I was lying to myself.

Valeria

I clutched his hand when he helped me down the stairs after we had our dessert. I had asked him which painting was the hardest to paint. Walking out of the restaurant together, I breathed in the fresh air of night. 

“Every painting was hardest to do,” he hummed, thinking about his answer. His deep voice making me shiver. “It would be my next painting.” 

Why did I sense a hint of smugness in his voice? 

“Will you tell me what it’s about?” I asked sweetly, my mind full of curiosity. I couldn’t wait for him to finish the painting and hear Benjamin explain it. Or better yet, hear Khalid explain it to me. 

Khalid crooned, his warm breath brushing the shell of my ear. “You would have to try harder than that, Valeria.”

I let out a small laugh and squeezed his hand when he announced his driver was waiting for us. I settled in the warm leather seat of the car and felt Khalid’s presence beside me, closing the door after laying my cane on the side. I told my address to the driver, the car turning on with a smooth purr, and started moving.

“What about Limerence? Was it hard to paint?” It was among his best paintings, after all. 

There was a moment of silence before Khalid answered. “No. I finished sketching it in a day and painted it within next two days.” 

I could sense the hint of hardness in his voice, which was absent when he talked to me before. My question must have evoked some kind of bad memory to him while he painted Limerence. 

Without hesitation, I placed my palm on his hand. Or rather, I wanted to place my palm on his hand to console him but landed on his muscular thigh. Without embarrassing myself further, I said, “I apologize if my question was rude. I was getting too curious.” 

Oh, I am curious, alright.

I scolded myself for being so rude while feeling the hot, strong skin underneath the touch of my hand clad in silk pants. I froze when his thigh muscle tensed, and before I could take my hand away, he covered my palm with his. 

“You weren’t rude.” He asked, “How do you feel—”

“We have arrived at Miss Valeria’s home, your grace,” the driver interrupted us. 

Khalid squeezed my hand. “Come on, I will walk you to your door.”

I led the way, having the path to my house mapped out in my mind. He had asked me about my work, and he seemed impressed when I talked about Delicate Dew. It had a profitable launch two years ago, with doubling profits each month ever since it was launched. 

I had a terrible date night because the fragrance I was wearing made me feel uncomfortable. It was supposed to be the best perfume of that year, with a reputable brand, but it didn’t suit my skin. With my business degree, I decided that I would make my brand of perfume for every gender with simple notes to wear every day. Half of the royalties went to fund the fundraiser and charities for disabled people.

“The rosy, delicate perfume that you are wearing right now, is it from your brand?” He asked, the scent of his cologne in the night air making me want to press my face against his chest. 

Why does he have to smell so good?

“It is. It lasts for hours.”

“My mom used to wear it that’s why I wanted to talk to you about it at the art show,” he said and I could feel the sadness in his voice. Everyone knew about the death of his mothers, the two Sultanas dying in a plane crash. “The notes have changed, but it made me nostalgic.”

I rubbed my thumb on his pulse. “I layer it with other perfume to match with my body. I found the name of the brand when I was a kid and asked a lady and she was kind enough to give me her own travel size bottle.”

“You are wearing the woodsy notes,” I said. “It suits you.” 

“I had to take the suggestion of a beautiful lady,” he said, the vibrations of his voice sending chills over my body. “I would like to invest in your company. Try out some of the perfumes myself.”

I faced him. “You would? But… we just met and you want to offer a partnership to my company?”

When he didn’t reply, I giggled. “You nodded, didn’t you?” 

“I… I am so sorry. Yes, I nodded.” Khalid let out a small chuckle, his warm breath caressing the bare skin of my neck. 

He continued, “Knowing most of the profit goes to the charities, I know my investments will be in excellent hands. Even the beautiful CEO of the company seems very charming and caring.”

I didn’t reply, our feet coming to a halt in front of the main door of my house. I knew he was looking over the gardens that were mainly handled by Mabel and Mr Benjamin. 

“Were you going to ask me about something? Before we arrived?” 

“Yes, but it can wait. Goodnight, Valeria. I will see you soon.”

I was not expecting his hot body pressing against me, a pair of warm lips kissing my cheek. I gaped and pressed my fingers to where Khalid had kissed me. My entire body felt like it was about to melt when I heard him walk away.

Not fair. I wanted to kiss him goodnight, too. 

Kiss his cheek. Not anything else. 

Nothing else.

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