#to be fair i was like feeling uber burnt out

[elderwisp]

finally opening this wip from AUGUST

[spyramy]

When I learned that ZA/UM had a studio in Brighton/Hove, I got thinking about some of the seaside areas on Martinaise, and took some pictures as I walked up the coast to Rottingdean.

Brighton and Martinaise have a fair amount in common (and a lot not in common). There's a Harbour in Shoreham down the coast, a large amount of fading, crumbling infrastructure and one of the largest drug/alcohol problems in the country. What struck me most was Joyce Messier's story about how Martinaise was 'built' by the ruling class as a holiday destination.

Brighton, at earliest recognisability, was a 16th century fishing village known as Brighthelmstone. It grew it's population into the 17th century, but saw economic decline into the 18th, and was then overhauled by the ruling classes as a 'health resort'. A move which brought wealth into the city, and built a grand Victorian seafront, boardwalk and (now burnt down) pleasure pier.

Brighton also has no shortage of memorials to absurd royal figures. Chiefly the Royal Pavilion. Serving as much as a monument to a monarch's profligacy as to their greatness. Much like a certain exploding horse statue.

In the 20th century, due to its fading appeal as a resort, and the effects of the wars, the city became popular with artists, bohemians, communists and anarchists across the economic spectrum. A notable 1930s Anarchist called Harry Cowley still has a mutual aid organisation/bookshop/social space/anarchist club named after him on London Road. It's economic decline dipped lowest in the 1980s (like many places under Thatcherism). The exploitable fashionable nature of its history has now led to it being a hugely expensive place to live in the UK, as well as being service industry based and for those residents who don't work for the one or two global companies with offices here, financially crippling. It's also a mishmash of absurd uber-rich empty developments, studded into a town of rotting buildings, slum landlords, massive homelessness, and stretched to breaking drug and alcohol services.

At my former job at a now sadly liquidated karaoke bar on a troubled street in the gay village, we used to call Brighton a city of lost souls.

As you walk across the cliffs, or look out over the sea towards the offshore wind farm, in the rays of a clouded dusk, you can sometimes feel the tension of the city dissipate. The rough edges between what this place was, what it has been, what it is now, and what it may become seem to soften slightly towards one another, like begrudging neighbors over long decades.

A fishing village. A health resort. An artist's commune. A neoliberal grind.

I know you could draw connections between Revachol and any city in Europe. Possibly the world. That's the beauty and genius of the writing. But I'm grateful for the chance to reflect on my city, re-examining it through this lense has allowed me.

Finally. The Smallest Church in Saint-Saïns is based on the song The Smallest Church in Sussex by Sea Power who were Brighton based for a long time. And describes the Seven Sisters, a nearby chalk cliff formation which I, and most others who live round here, have walked.

I would often go there

To the tiny church there

The Smallest Church in Sussex

Though it once was larger

How the rill may rest there

Down through the mist there

Toward the seven sisters

Toward those white cliffs there

I would often stay there

In the tiny yard there

I have been so glad here

Looking forward to the past here

But now you are all alone

None of this matters at all

[avemstella]

I might edit the bios later, I went over them way too many times debating what to include etc and I just needed to post it or I never would lol. This was supposed to be simple, as u can tell I am not actually capable of such a task pfft

Oh yeah don't read this before chap 29

text typed out below (sorry meant to do this earlier)

Pierro the Jester #1 Cursed during the cataclysm for being Khaenri'ahian. Had ambitions to be a Sage (aka an elected politician) but was unable to achieve it for unknown reasons. Tutored Skirk at some point. In charge of the Harbs and recruited most personally. Colombina is his favorite and he is not afraid to show it. Pyro Delusion. Real name is Loge who is a Loki reference in the Wagner plays.

Capitano the Storm #2 Harbs resident Uber Driver. In charge of the Fatui Navy. Pyro Delusion that stings when he uses it, he likes the reminder. Before joining the Fatui he was from Fontaine and was part of their navy. So he's a bit of a stick in the mud for rules. However when his wife and young daughter died he became a total alcoholic drunk/suicidal. Weapon: Pistol. In his 50s

Pantalone the ??? #3 Money guy and unwilling Palace remodeler. Originally from Perežitok aka fake Siberia. Recruited covered in blood, Married to Signora to avoid gold diggers. They hate each other. Comes off emotionless and has a hard time feeling. But Scara claims under the surface he's filled with wrath. Hates Rich people

Colombina the ??? # 4 Makes the Delusions. Has uncontrollable fire powers, so has a Cryo Delusion. Gardens to calm down. Incredibly moody especially in the winter and has no filter. Burnt down the Palace and Dottore because she hates him. Not born in Snezhnaya. Names birds for dead people. B-day 4/4 because she doesn't know her real one, she doesn't understand time at all. Age Unknown, Loves pigeons.

Pulcinella the Rooster #5 Plans dude, in bureaucracy hell. Hydro Delusion though not a healer despite his desires. For some reason has a messy love life, Nika Volkov wants to marry him and is dating Sandy. Sort of adopts Childe at age 24, he joined the Fatui at age 14 himself by lying he was 16. Gets along well with Scara when Scara isn't self destructing. Grew up on a farm. Likes knives.

Scara the Balladeer #6 Only one whose backstory I mostly got right, so canon. Ignore the Dottore in said backstory lol, also he was created 400 years ago, woke up only 250 years ago. Electro Delusion that backfires on him constantly. Otherwise Catalyst healer. Likes kids so isn't the worst to Ajax, also views Bina as one too, is she one who knows? Dottore has promised to make him a god.

Dottore the Professor #7 Is not a clone, probably. Found in the Sumeru dessert under recommendation. Went to school with young Lisa. Currently 25ish. Causes problems for fun, especially for Scara. Was almost murdered by Bina for wanting to dissect her and other personal reasons. Hydro Delusion. Hand Constellation not Jesus[sidebar, what a line, without context is gibberish lol, I laughed writing this]. Travels about to avoid Bina. Involved in Crepus's death.

Signora the Fair Lady #8 Haven't really gotten into her job yet but its diplomacy/gnosis and some other spoilerly stuff. Cryo Delusion Catalyst canon. Not the Crimson Witch, maybe that will mean she'll live. Though is from Mondstadt and rich. Avoids family and married Pant. Currently has eyes, shame if something were to happen. Tbh she plays a much bigger role later in the fic so not too much to say here that's not a spoiler.

Sandrone the Strings #9 Human Resources, Adventurer's Guild, helps with graduation, takes on too much work because he's a zealot for the Tsaritsa. Also simps for Nella his bf. Born to Snezhnayan wealth and has known several harbs since he was young, not Nella though. Joined the Fatui at 18. Has messy feelings about Ajax and hates the Moth. Dendro Delusion Bow.

??? the Moth #10 The assassin and other under the table duties. Currently large betting pool for when Childe figures out her actual title, she is very dedicated to that bet. Mute and uses signs. Has a lot of snake imagery. Geo Delusion Bow. Has scars she hides. Also plays a larger role later so not much to say lol.

Skirk of the Abyss Did u think this was going to be Childe? he needs no introduction. Double Cursed Khaenri'ahian which allows her to not turn monstery, fights to protect the last city and her people. Was disowned from a high ranking family, used said family to steal the Imunlaukr King's sword before cataclysm. Terrible friends with Kaeya's parents.

Dantalion aka Tsaritsa and Hiyoko Volkov The Tsar is still grieving her dead spouse the last dendro god. She chooses the Harbs titles. Is a recluse after getting almost assassinated too many times. Hiyoko is one of the few to get her out of the Palace. Hiyoko is Kokomi's older cousin and probably killed her husband with her shiny new Cryo Vision. Wants her son Nika to marry Nella

[cudan2]

We’re Only Human

Spring Break Shadowing Part 4

Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Word Count: 2,040

Summary: It’s the last day of shadowing with Dr. Cullen, but you’ve come to realize a little more about how you feel towards him. Cue crushes and a little bit of chaos along the way.

A/N: I finished the semester and can actually dedicate time to writing this again because instead of being on spring break, I’m now on winter break. I also chopped this part in half because it was probably going to be over 6,000 words otherwise and that’s just a lot compared to the previous ones. Bear with me, guys. Another note - I’m thinking about posting this on Ao3 but will rewrite it because I don’t know what I was thinking when I wrote this in present tense lol. 

Anyways, this is #8 on my headcanon list.

Masterlist

XXX

You don’t know how it happened, but time is on your side and you’re running early this morning. The sun has just risen and casts a warm glow across the hospital as you make you way to the Starbucks, determined to be the one to buy Doctor Cullen his drink for once.

Meeting him here every morning has become a tradition, a tradition that involves him getting you breakfast every day you’ve shadowed him this week. The two of you would chat about various topics while walking to where ever he had to be next. Sometimes you would prod his brain with more medical-related questions, occasionally he would tell stories from his past, but regardless, his every word had you captivated.

Alright, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to finally admit that you may or may not have developed a tiny crush on Doctor Cullen. To be fair though, this is your last day shadowing him and it’s not like you’re ever going to see him again anyways. You feel a pang of disappointment at the thought, but it soon disappears when Emily greets you at the counter.  

“Hi, Y/N! Where’s the doctor today?”

“I was running early today, so I figured I’d grab both of our drinks.” You place your order and ask the barista what Doctor Cullen’s “usual” was.

“Oh that?” she laughs. “He gets boiling water. It’s a little weird, but I just assumed he makes tea with it.”

Boiling... water? You think back to the last several days and try to remember what Doctor Cullen even did with his drink. He definitely never made tea with it. In fact, you don’t think he’s ever taken a sip out of the cup before throwing it away.

“Then I’ll be adding a grande boiled water to my order,” you tell Emily and thank her before she moves on to the next person in line.

You wait to the side for your food and see Jaime standing there too. He’s wearing a backpack and a faded college sweatshirt thrown over his scrubs, and you’re reminded of how many years left of school you have before you can even call yourself a doctor. You wave to him, and he pulls an earbud out from his ear with a sleepy smile.

“Hey, what’s up?” he greets you.

“Nothing much, just grabbing something to eat before the day starts. I’m surprised to see you here though. What happened to morning rounds?”

Jaime lets out what you can only discern as a mix between a hollowed laugh and a groan and tells you about forgetting his coffee at home. “Don’t even get me started on this morning. My car died on me, so I had to get an Uber. Lo and behold, there weren’t any Ubers around either, so ya boy eventually took not just a taxi, but a taxi and the train. By the time I got here, I realized my coffee was still on the counter at home, and so now I’m here.”

Damn, and you thought mornings were rough for you.

“Sorry to hear that! Did you get in trouble for being late?”

“I called Doctor Cullen myself and told him what was happening. He was so understanding, god bless, so I’m in the clear for now.

At the mention of the doctor, your thoughts instantly go back to blond tresses and a brilliant smile you already know you’ll miss when you leave the hospital for the last time today.

“Yeah, he’s pretty great, isn’t he?” you say a little too dreamily. Jaime gives you a knowing look and you rein it back in, hoping you haven’t exposed yourself already.

“You know, I think he’s going to miss you the most when you leave.” You don’t even get the chance to react when Jaime continues on, “Don’t get me wrong, Lily and I will definitely miss having you around, but the man really took a liking to you a lot faster than he did with us.”

“What do you mean?”

“He always kept us at an arm’s length before you came around. All of that personal stuff you get out of him would have taken him weeks to tell us before, and that’s if we’re lucky. He just seems more comfortable around you,” Jaime shrugs. His coffee is then called out, cutting off anything he wanted to say next. “That’s my cue. I’ll see you later!”

You take a moment to mull over what Jaime said. From your perspective, Doctor Cullen has treated you exactly the same way he does with everyone else. You don’t dare to over think what Jaime could be saying – over thinking never leads to anything good. And yet, the damage is done. The seed has been planted and now you can’t help but wonder about what made you stand out to the doctor.

Your own order is called, and you’re pulled from your thoughts with the smell of warm food.

Now armed with two beverages and a pastry bag sandwiched between your fingers, you make your way to a nearby table to wait for Doctor Cullen. Your wait is soon cut short though, as you see him walking towards you out of your peripheral vision. The clouds shift and the sun shines through the windows again. Its golden rays pass over the doctor, and for a second, you swear you could see him shimmering in the sunlight.

You squint strangely and blink a few times. Get it together, you tell yourself. Over thinking is clearly playing some weird psychological tricks on your eyes, and you still needed to be on your A-game.

“Hey you,” he flashes that familiar smile once more when reaching the table you are settled at. “You’re early today.”

“I am. It even gave me the chance to get you your water.” You hand him the cup with a smirk, having made sure to put a sleeve on it earlier because unlike Doctor Cullen, you actually have hands that hold the risk of being burnt.

“Ah, I see Emily has divulged one of my secrets with you. Thank you, Y/N, you really didn’t have to.”

“It’s nothing,” you insist. Seriously, water is free at Starbucks. “Think of it as a small thank you present. It’s the least I could do for the amazing surgeon that let me follow him around for the week.”

“Hmm, I think you may have meant the amazing, extremely kind, highly skilled, and not to mention, quite dashing–”

“Okay! No need to flatter yourself,” you laugh, trying your best to refrain from rolling your eyes. In all honesty, you can’t describe him any better. Add in attractive, intelligent, compassionate, way too humble sometimes, and it would be the perfect recipe to recreate another Doctor Cullen.

From there on, your daily routine at the hospital continues without a hitch. It’s a morning filled with back to back surgeries and question after question thrown at you from the doctor. There is no doubt that he is keeping you on your toes – literally and figuratively. You have to admit though, you are pretty proud of yourself for being able to answer the majority of his questions.

Your feet swing aimlessly while you spin around in a padded chair in Doctor Cullen’s office. Your laptop is open on his desk, displaying a blank document that’s meant to be your personal statement. It has been a little over an hour since he left you here to attend a mandatory meeting and you are starting to get antsy.

Aside from several stacks of files and other various papers, the desk lacks the small trinkets you would expect to see. As a matter of fact, the office itself is surprisingly void of anything personal. There aren’t any pictures of family, friends, pets, not even of a possible wife. There are no decorations on the wall either, and if it weren’t for the leather briefcase leaning against the side of the desk, you’d never believe this office belonged to him. No wonder he spends as much time as possible outside of this dismal room.

As you continue spinning in the chair, you bring up a paper fortune teller made earlier from a sticky note. You choose a color, two subsequent numbers, and flip open the flap to reveal the fortune.

Brunch date with Dr. Cullen.

The things you do to kill time. Your friends would never let you live this down if they could see you now.

Just as you’re about to go another round with the fortune teller, the door opens and Doctor Cullen walks in. The fortune teller goes flying out of your hands and onto the floor next to you as you jump in surprise and halt the spinning.

“Sorry about the wait, Y/N. I’m afraid the meeting took longer than expected,” he says, his words laced with a hint of bitterness. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice you nearly jumping out of your skin. Not wanting to draw attention to the fortune teller on the floor, you leave it there for now and start packing up your stuff.

“I presume you found a way to entertain yourself?”

“Kind of? I tried starting my personal statement again. It’s really not coming together,” you laugh dryly. Too preoccupied with turning off your laptop and putting it away, you don’t notice that Doctor Cullen walking around to the head of the desk where you are until it’s too late.

Oh crap, the fortune teller. Of course, he just has to notice it too and picks it up with a curious expression. You look up, and he’s standing there with it in his hand.

“Did you make this?”

You leap up from the chair and snatch it out of his hand before he can examine it any closer. There is no way in hell you’re letting him open it.

“Uh, yeah... It’s just something we used to make in elementary school – nothing special!” You try to play it off as cool as possible and slip the fortune teller into the small trash can underneath his desk. “So what’s next on the schedule?”

He takes a moment before answering you. You see his eyes study the way your fingers nervously fidgets with a loose thread on your shirt. He seemingly brushes off the interaction that occurred and responds, “Pre-op. I believe this one will be much different than the others you’ve observed this week.”

“What’s different about it?” you ask. Doctor Cullen starts to leave and holds the door open for you.

“You’ll see.” You don’t have to look at him to know he’s smirking.

He shuts the door and you start walking towards to the surgical department when a hand abruptly pulls you back just a little too hard. You trip over your own feet in the process and in some miraculous, but also really unlucky, sadistic, cruel-of-the-universe sort of way, land in Doctor Cullen’s arms. Goosebumps form up your arms where he’s holding you, and you can’t tell whether it’s from the temperature difference or the fact that your face is only an inch away from his chest.

You are absolutely mortified to say the least. Heat begins crawling up your cheeks and if there was a witness, they would have seen you quite literally jump out of the doctor’s arms.  

“I’m so sorry, Doctor Cullen! I didn’t mean to trip and fall and–”

“No, no, please, Y/N. It was of no fault of yours. I admit, I wholly underestimated the extent of my strength in that moment.” You stare at him, still dismayed at what happened, but it seems you aren’t the only one feeling like a deer in the headlights. “Can you find it in yourself to forgive me?” he asks, smiling meekly.

“It’s fine, these things happen. We’re only human after all, right?”

“...Right.” There’s a moment of silence that goes on for longer than you prefer, and you can’t help but feel like you’re the punchline of some inside joke. You don’t dwell on it though. There’s really only so much social embarrassment you can handle in one day. “Now, if there aren’t any more near-accidents,” he points in the opposite direction and says, “we’re headed to the children’s hospital.”

Oh.

[raysofcrosby]

NOW THAT I FOUND YOU – M. BARZAL

requested: yes | no

warning(s): cursing, slight mentions of sex, but other than that, nothing.

word count: 5,868

authors note: welcome to my new series :) i have no idea how long this is going to last, but i’m pretty excited for it. so, first things first, considering what i have planned for the character of jeremy, i didn’t want to use a real rangers player. so jeremy is a fictional dude on the team. i think that’s it for now, i’m not really sure what else i can think of about this series. so, oh well, enjoy :)

my masterlist | stuff i have planned | who i’ll write for | requests

"I can't take it anymore!" Tito said, storming into the locker room and stomping his way over to his cubby. "I am literally going to take her to the Brooklyn bridge and throw her into the Hudson."

Mat looked up from his skates and over at his best friend as he plopped down into his cubby, huffing, and puffing as he got undressed. He looked over at Anders, who was looking at Brass...the three of them all sharing confused looks at their locker neighbor. "Uh, you okay over there Tito?" Anders asked, looking at Mat for at least the slightest hint as to what he could be rambling on about.

"No clue," Mat mouthed, shrugging his shoulders and looking back down as he continued to tie his skate.

"No, I'm not okay," Tito tossed his sweatshirt into his cubby and stepped out of his joggers. "Does anyone want a newly 22-year-old female college student? Because I have one and I'm not opposed to passing her off before I result to murder."

"I'm pretty sure that is illegal, buddy," Jordan said, walking by and patting him on the shoulder. "Both are, actually. Like, highly illegal."

"Oh, God Tito," Matt said, coming out from the bathrooms. "What are you bitching about now?"

"She ironed my underwear." Tito tugged on his pants over his compression shorts and sighed, shaking his head.

"What?" Mat laughed, reaching behind him and grabbing his compression shirt.

"Y/N...she ironed my underwear," he stood up and turned towards his cubby, pulling a pair of ironed boxers out of the duffle he had carried in with him and turned back towards the guys. "I went to grab a pair this morning and I was greeted with this! They're stiff, feel powdery and quite frankly smell like shit–"

"Are you sure that's the soap and not just your horrible hygiene?" Matt joked, tossing a water bottle at him.

"Manchuk...Matty," Tito smiled, turning in their direction. "How do you two feel about having a live-in nanny? Her cooking skills are subpar unless even worse if the recipe comes off of Pinterest. She consumes more wine than water– but she's great with kids."

"I'm just finding it hard to believe your only problem with Y/N is the fact she ironed your underwear," Jordan said, shaking his head. "What's the catch?"

"Yeah, there's got to be something else that has you considering pre-meditated murder," Matt chimed in with a loud laugh.

"I NEED TO GET LAID, all right?!" Tito yelled, tossing his ironed pair of boxers back into the duffle bag. "I need to have hot, drunken sex with a stranger who lets herself out in the morning! I need to get laid so fucking bad, but I can't do it with my sister in the room across from mine! It's gross."

The locker room was silent as his teammates just stared at him. Mat wanted to laugh at his best friend but didn't want to do it at his expense. Sure, he'd been there a time or two, what young guy in his 20's hasn't. But never had he yelled about it to his teammates in such an exaggerated fashion. "Have you thought about telling her that?" Mat asked, grabbing his practice jersey and sliding it on over his head. "Y/N's pretty reasonable, I'm sure she'd agree to go to a friends or something for the night."

"Oh yeah, let me just go ahead and tell my little sister, 'hey, do you mind getting out of the apartment for the night? I need to get my dick sucked. Thanks, don't tell mom!'" Tito sat down to put on his skates, giving Mat a sarcastic look. "Does that sound good to you, Barzy?"

"I don't know about Barzy, but that sounds great to me," Matt laughed as he tied his pants. "Why is she staying at your place? I thought she was in Uni? Doesn't she have a dorm?"

"Nope, she followed her doucheface of a boyfriend down here and he convinced her to stay in his apartment instead of getting a dorm." He stood up and reached into his locker, grabbing his practice jersey. "Next thing I know, she shows up at my door crying, saying they broke up and she's been at my place ever since."

Mat remembered that night. He and Tito were pre-gaming, finishing off their drinks, and waiting for the uber to arrive. They were coming off of a high, absolutely destroying the Maple Leafs 5-0 and that high followed them home. Everyone on the team was going out– it was a well called for a celebration, even the guys with families at home. Normally, the team would pregame together before taking ubers over to whatever club or bar they decided to take over for the night. But those who did have kids at home wanted to stop at home and say goodnight to their wives and kids before heading out.

They were talking about whether or not they wanted to wait up here for the uber or wait down on the street when a knock barely made noise about Tito's playlist. Mat thought he had heard something but wasn't sure if he had confused it with the bass or not. So, he brushed it off. It wasn't until a small break in the song when the two of them could hear three rapid knocks, followed by the sound of your voice coming from the other side of the door, did they know that you were there.

Mat was closest to the door, so he was the one who walked over and looked through the peephole. He knew it was you just based on the sound of your voice from when you knocked, but, it didn't hurt to be safe and check to see who was at the door– that way Tito couldn't blame him if he let a random into his apartment. He recognized the hoodie you were wearing, it was the Beauvillier Islanders hoodie that Tito had gotten you for your birthday just this past summer. Mat told him it was a stupid gift, but Tito laughed, saying that it was his way of tricking you into finally wearing something in support of him since you had stopped wearing Islanders gear the moment you started dating Jeremy last fall. A Rangers player you had met on a girls' night out in the city. "A mix of interests" as your excuse, and Tito was bothered that his sister wouldn't wear his team's logo anymore– but instead, the logo on their top rival.

It was a mess, but one that Mat never, ever wanted to get involved with.

But there you were, dripping wet from the thunderstorm that had been hovering over the city from the moment he walked into Barclay to play. You had the hood on your head and you were avoiding eye-contact with the door– but he knew it was you. So, he opened the door with no hesitations, barely getting out a simple hi before you brushed by him and darted down the hallway, a door slamming behind you.

Tito, in true fashion, paused his music and stomped after you, mumbling about how you were just going to stroll into his apartment, that he pays for, and slam his doors without even saying hello. Mat remembered laughing, just because the Beauvillier sibling dynamic was an interesting one. He came back a few moments later, shoving his phone into his pocket and walked over to Mat. He said that he couldn't get much out of you but the fact that you and Jeremy had broken up and he needed to pay the cab driver downstairs $40 for driving you from Manhattan.

Tito was a good brother. He could be a huge pain in the ass, sure. You and he had had more than your fair shares of endless, rigorous chirping fights that most of the time, left Mat standing there just looking between the two of you like he was watching a match. But still to this day, Mat could never understand why Tito didn't seem all that bothered about how abruptly you had walked into his apartment. Tito had you and Francis, and more often than not, always brushed you off as one of the guys thanks to your tomboy upbringing. Mat had a sister and she's dated one too many assholes for his liking, so he could spot it from a mile away.

Your face was swollen and red and he was more than positive that you had cried the entire car ride there.

And you've been living at Tito's ever since.

"I'm serious, I need her to leave," Tito was following behind him as they left the locker room to head out to the rink. "And I can't just kick her out."

"You literally just talked about shoving her into the Hudson," Jordan laughed, shaking his head. "I think you can do something as simple as, 'hey, maybe you should find someone to stay with for a while.'"

Tito just rolled his eyes as he stepped out onto the ice, skating beside Matt. "I'm serious Barzy, I think she's driving me insane."

"It was one incident, Tito," Mat said, shaking his head. "Y/N isn't that bad."

"It wasn't just one incident," they cut the corner, Mat pushing himself ahead. "She almost burnt down my kitchen trying to make breakup cupcakes. She's redecorated my bathroom with bath bombs and make-up, she even got rid of my Shrek shower curtain!"

"To be fair, that's your guest bathroom and that Shrek shower curtain was hideous"

"Regardless! She's slowly taking over my entire apartment and turning it into her...her...her stupid lovesick breakup reno project!" He tossed his arms up in the air, letting them fall back down and almost hitting Brass in the head. "Oops, sorry bud!"

Mat laughed as they cut another corner, shaking his head. "Have you ever tried talking to her?"

"No, because then she'd get her puppy eyes all going and I'd feel like even more of a douche for wanting her out." He huffed, shaking his head. "I need an excuse, something to just...get her out for a few weeks until I can find her someplace to stay for the rest of the year. Then plead with her housing office to find her a dorm."

"I don't know what to tell you, man." Mat said, skating ahead.

"I'll come up with something, I'm sure I can cash in a favor somewhere." Tito sighed, as the two of them joined the rest of their team at center ice for stretching.

Mat just laughed, shaking his head at his best friend. Sure, if he was in the same position, it wouldn't exactly be his ideal living situation to have his sister living across the hall– but he definitely wouldn't be as against it. At least, he didn't think so.

~

"I've figured it out."

Mat felt his foot slip against the wet tile and his heart practically jumped out of his chest as the slipping feeling. He held his right arm out, holding himself steady against the tile before ducking his head beneath the shower head, letting the conditioner rinse from his hair. He looked over his shoulder to see Tito standing at the opening of the shower area, freshly showered with a towel wrapped around his waist. "Yeah, can we not talk about this right now?"

"I'm just letting you know, I figured it out." Tito smiled, nodding before walking away from the shower.

Mat shook his head, spitting out some water before turning off the water and grabbing the towel he had hung up just to the right. He wrapped it around his waist, shaking his head as he ran his fingers through his hair to get all of the excess water out. He almost dreaded making his way back towards the locker room. Tito had been pestering him all practice, trying to make him come up with ways he could kick you out.

Fake an insect infestation? No, then he'd have to leave his apartment too.

Figure out a way to get some flooding in her room? But then he'd have to hire someone to clean up all of the water.

Every outrageous idea possible had crossed his mind and Mat had to listen to it for the entire practice. As if the practice itself hadn't been draining on him, listening to him go on and on was even more.  But, he was playing the best friend role, and did say he would help him on one condition– it didn't involve hurting your feelings.

"Great, you're here, now listen–"

"No to the insects. No to an animal break-in and we already decided that pouring water on her stuff and saying a pipe was leaking wouldn't work," Mat said, sitting down in his locker and looking at Tito. "What in the hell could you have come up with now?"

"Remember how I said I could cash in a favor?"

Mat nodded, standing up and grabbing his street clothes as he turned his back to Tito. "Yeah, did you figure it out?"

"I sure did."

Mat stepped into his boxer briefs and dropped the towel as he picked up his joggers. "All right? And who's the poor sucker?" Tito hadn't replied as fast as he had been and Mat would be lying if he said it wasn't a little concerning. He tugged the waistband of his joggers up before turning to see Tito smiling at him. "What are you looking at?"

"I'm looking at the poor sucker who owes me a favor." He had his classic shit-eating smirk on his face, the kind cameras always zoomed in the moment he checked someone hard.

Mat blinked once, twice, three times before the reality set in. His brain was racing through every recent time he spent with Tito, never once remembering an event where he said that he owed him a favor. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You owe me a–"

"Yeah, yeah, I know what you said," Mat put his arms through his sweatshirt, tugging his down and over his head before running his fingers through his hair again. "But I don't know what you're talking about. When did I ever owe you a favor?"

"When I saved your ass that night at Nest when you were picking up the redhead but that hot tinder girl with blue hair you invited showed up." Tito stood up and walked over to Mat, still smiling. "I performed the perfect, switcharoo maneuver so that the redhead never noticed you took tinder girl home."

"You took the redhead home! How is that helping me?" Mat turned towards his locker and grabbed his phone and Gatorade, shaking his head. "Besides, that was two years ago."

"It was a win for both of us! You didn't get totally bitchslapped in the club and I got laid," Tito followed behind him, staying on his heels. "It may have been two years ago, but you still said, 'Tito, man...I owe you one.'"

"I don't–"

Tito cut him off, standing in front of him as they stood in the hall. He crossed his arms, his smile falling from his face. "And now I'm cashing it in. You're helping me get Y/N out of my apartment."

Mat rolled his eyes, resting his hands on his hips. "And how exactly am I supposed to help you with that? You've literally exhausted every plausible option." When Tito didn't come up with a reply, Mat just shook his head and brushed by him.

"I've got an idea bro, I swear," He jogged up behind him as they walked out of the arena to head towards the parking lot. "But, you're probably not going to like it."

As the crisp fall air greeted them, Mat could hear the voice in the back of his head telling him not to entertain Tito. A gut feeling deep inside that this wasn't going to work out– none of Tito's ideas ever worked out. "What is it?"

Tito hesitated, unsure just how his best friend would reply. Sure, he's had plenty of other crazy ideas before– but this one might just be way out there. But he didn't care, he was a young, physical and thriving man in his early 20's– and at this point, he didn't care about logical reasoning. He just desperately needed to get laid. And if that meant brushing his sister off onto his best friend, he'd do it.

"You're going to pretend you're utterly heartbroken from some break up and can't be alone–"

Mat stopped in his tracks, whipping around to Tito with wide eyes. "Dude what the–"

"Y/N is a total empath and when I tell her all about your emotional turmoil and that I don't know how to help, she'll no doubt step in. Then I'll just figure something out to keep her out of my apartment and boom, problem solved."

"Problem not solved!" Mat yelled, waving his hand at Tito. "Your problem literally has about a million plot holes in it!"

Tito closed his eyes and took a deep breath, sighing before opening them and looking at Mat. "I'm going to need you to hear me out before you say no– which, may I remind you, isn't an option anyway."

Mat took a deep breath and sighed, knowing damn well that somewhere down the line, he'd regret this very moment he even gave Tito the chance to explain. Even his initial explanation seemed so fucking stupid that there was no way it could ever work out. But maybe, if he allowed him to explain, he'd realize just how unrealistic his plan was, and just drop the entire idea then man up and tell Y/N to stay with a friend. "Fine," he stopped at his car, unlocking it so Tito could get into the passenger seat. "But you're buying lunch."

~

This was such a bad idea– he knew it would be. From the moment the suggestion left Tito's mouth the first time, Mat knew it wouldn't work. There's no way it could. Hell, even Liana said it was when he called her for advice after his lunch. And as far as common sense goes, he likes to think that Liana has a lot more

Tito's plan stayed the same– Mat was supposed to play brokenhearted and after lunch, the two of them would go over to his apartment, where you would be home from class. Tito would comment on how Mat 'hasn't been the same' and make a joke about how the two of you should just live together in your misery. You, the empath that you were, would take an interest in Mat's "broken heart" and offer to help in any way. Tito, knowing Mat was actually in the middle of turning the third guest bedroom in his apartment into a man-cave/gaming room and how much you love decorating, I.E. his bathroom, would suggest that maybe you could help him with that too.

It wouldn't work, Mat was convinced of that from the moment the entire idea left Tito's mouth. He'd known you almost as long as he knew Tito, meeting you the summer after the 2015 IIHF World U18 Championship. You were only a year younger than them both and for the three weeks that Mat had stayed with your family, he felt like he got to know you pretty well. You guys weren't best friends by any means, but you were definitely good friends. Your friendship growing when you decided to transfer to Fordham and when you weren't hanging out with Jeremy or your classmates, you were with Tito, Mat, and their teammates.

Needless to say, he was confident walking into the apartment knowing that there was no way that you would fall for this horrible excuse. You wouldn't leave your room in Tito's apartment to come and stay with Mat because he was "too brokenhearted to function." But leave it to Tito to think that you would fall for it. He tried not to break character, he really did. But how the hell was he supposed to pretend to be brokenhearted from a failed relationship, when he's never felt that?

He's had relationships before, sure. Break-ups? Absolutely. But none so bad that he felt like he wanted to drink himself into a slumber or just hide under the covers for the rest of time. He had outlets to get out any negative emotion. He had hockey and he had the boxing classes he attended with Tito every now and again. Besides that, he never had strong feelings for someone to the point where he was feeling what you were feeling.

As predicted, you had agreed to go with Tito and Mat over to Mat's apartment to see just what he had to deal with. He felt a twinge of guilt when you started to ask the simple questions:

How are you feeling?

Do you want to talk about it?

What happened?

He and Tito hadn't gotten that far in the plan– creating a backstory, which should have been another sign that this was never going to end well. So, on the ride to his apartment, he just stuck with short answered replies– "fine" "not yet" "it's still too soon." And he wanted nothing more than to smack Tito in the passenger seat, who was trying his damndest not to laugh.

When they got to the apartment hours later, Mat led you to the third guest room, showing you just everything he had. In a corner on tarps, he had three cans of paint, all unopened and a bunch of painting supplies. In the middle of the room, boxed furniture he'd been too lazy to move. He was barely focused on what you were saying when he felt his phone vibrate and saw Tito nodding at him.

Tito: see? i told u. total diy/renovator. you could get free labor out of this.

Mat: one problem there, bud. she doesn't seem too keen to get out of your apartment. all she's done is offer to take me to lunch for the next week to 'talk about my feelings'

Tito: okay? go talk about your feelings.

Mat: I DON'T HAVE ANY FEELINGS

Mat: I DON'T HAVE A RECENT EX-GIRLFRIEND

"Are you two okay?" You asked, almost scaring the two boys. Mat shoved his phone back into his jacket pocket, staring at you with wide eyes. You had an eyebrow raised and looked awfully suspicious of them both.

"Do you guys want dinner?" Tito asked, already heading towards the door. "I can order some pizzas from down the street."

"That's okay," You said, following him towards the door. "I've got this new enchilada recipe I wanted to try and–"

"No!" Tito couldn't be any less obvious that he didn't want you to follow him, his raised voice causing you to step back and look at him in shock. "I uh, I mean...I already ordered them. Barzy and I talked about it...right?"

Mat glared at Tito, wishing deep down that this plan would fail, but knowing that he couldn't leave his best friend out to dry. "Yeah...we did." He turned to you, crossing his arms. "Hope that's okay."

"No, it's fine," you replied, nodding. "Pizza is good."

Tito clapped his hands together and smiled. "Great, I'll be right back!"

He couldn't have run out of the apartment any faster, leaving you and Mat there standing in the middle of the room. This wasn't part of the plan and Mat was pissed. He stared at the door, contemplating telling you about your brother's ulterior motive to all of this– but it wouldn't hurt Tito...it would hurt you. So he decided against it and turned to you, sighing. "We can go wait in the living room for him to come back."

You nodded and followed him out of the guest room, walking down the hallway. "Can I have something to drink?"

"Water? Wine?" He asked, waving you over to the couch as he stopped in the kitchen. "Tequila?" God, how he wanted a drink. At least it might alleviate the headache Tito's antics were causing.

"It's Monday," you laughed, leaning against the back of the couch. "I guess I could go for some wine."

"White or Red?"

"You have both?"

He laughed, turning around and placing two unopened bottles– one of each. "My mom likes red, I like white. It's her leftover bottle from when she was here a two weeks ago."

"I'll take a glass of white, thank you."

He nodded, putting the bottle of red back into the fridge before moving towards his cabinets and opening the drinking glasses– reaching up to the top and grabbing two wine glasses. When he turned back around, he looked over at you, ready to say something, but he stopped.

You were still leaning against the back of his couch, left arm draped across your stomach as the other held onto your phone. You were chewing on the inside of your cheek, your eyes glued to the screen. He normally wouldn't think anything of it, except for the look on your face. Even from where he was standing, he could notice the frown and the way that your eyebrows were burrowed towards each other. He noticed your fingers on your left hand were fidgeting, plucking at your Fordham long sleeve. Everything about you standing there was just...small, quiet– radiating energy that said, 'I don't want anyone to see me.' Which, in all of the years that he knew you, was the complete opposite of who you were.

He couldn't help but wonder what the hell Jeremy did to screw you up this bad.

He poured your glasses, putting the cork back into the bottle, and made his way to you. You were so lost in your phone, that it wasn't until he cleared his throat, that you realized he was standing there.

"Oh," you stood up a little straighter, putting your phone into your front pocket before taking the wine glass from him. "Sorry, I was just..."

"No need," he said, waving you off. "I don't need an explanation." He walked around the couch and sat down, nodding at you to join him.

You sighed, taking a sip of your wine before sitting down beside him, sinking back against the cushion. "So, Tito hasn't tried taking you to a strip club to help you out of your breakup funk?"

Mat laughed, his head leaning back against the cushion. "No, he hasn't," he took a sip of the wine, tilting his head to the side. "I don't think he'd leave if he did."

"He tried to offer to drop me off at that knockoff Magic Mike, two days ago." He looked at you like you had two heads, his mind spinning in circles at just how long Tito has been trying to get you out of his apartment. "It didn't work, it's not my scene."

"Male strippers?"

"Male strippers that aren't the cast of Magic Mike," you joked, laughing softly as you stared down into your wine. "I don't know, I just haven't really been in the mood to do anything besides go to class and sleep."

He wasn't sure how to reply. Even with Liana, he'd never really been that open with talking to her about his relationships or hers. That was a no-touch topic in their siblingship– only ever talking about it, just to say that they were seeing someone new. Never what happened during or after. Not to mention, he was supposed to be like you, heartbroken. He tried to copy your mannerisms– slumped into the couch, relaxed face– he even went as far as to try and tell himself to copy the tone in your voice.

But all he felt was guilt for playing into Tito's scheme and a genuine need to talk to you about what happened. He just didn't know how to go about it.

Your phone rang before he could ask you the dreaded 'how are you feeling' question, and you sighed, digging your phone out of your pocket and putting your wine glass down on the table. "What, Anthony?"

Mat held back his laughter as he took a sip of his wine. One thing was for sure, your attitude towards your brother hadn't changed from pre-breakup. He looked at you, your eyebrows knitted together as you brought your hand up to your forehead, rubbing it. "What do you mean? Is my stuff–" you sighed, closing your eyes. "No, you won't get electrocuted if you–"

He reached out, bumping his elbow against yours and raising an eyebrow. "Everything okay?"

You looked at him, shaking your head as you pulled your phone away from your ear. "He forgot his wallet at home and went back to the apartment– I guess something leaked and my bathroom and room are flooded."

Mat had to act like he was surprised, but if anything he was pissed. This was the one scenario that they didn't agree on– simply because it wasn't fucking plausible. "Well have you talked to him? Maybe there's–"

Your head fell back against the cushion and you closed your eyes, sighing. "I didn't leave a faucet on, I didn't even go into my bathroom before we– can you stop interrupting me?"

He could hear Tito rambling on through the other side of the phone, no doubt barely giving you time to talk because he didn't want you to fill in the gaps of his fake story. "Well, where am I supposed to go?"

Mat chewed on his bottom lip, bringing the glass up to his lips as he knew this was when Tito was suggesting that you stay with him. He couldn't look at you because the guilt was taking over. He could tell you were stressed and obviously, Tito hadn't been exaggerating at just how bad you were after the breakup with Jeremy. And if he looked at you any longer, the guilt would swallow him up and he'd cave in and tell you everything.

"No, I'm not asking–" you sighed, taking a few deep breaths and exhaling before speaking again. "Because Anthony, it's rude! "

Mat felt like reaching over and grabbing your phone, ending the plan then and there. But again, he knew that the Beauvillier sibling dynamic was a lot different than any other one. Tito knew when to stop pushing, you were his sister after all. So, he sat next to you, sipping on his wine and waited for you to ask the question they'd been pushing you to do all along.

"Can you just...ask, please?" His eyes went wide the moment he heard the emotion in your whispered reply. "I can't just...move everything, I don't even have everything. It's all at Jer–" you stopped yourself, sitting up and hunching over, resting your head in your free hand. "And he said that's all that was available?"

He kept sneaking looks at you from the corner of his eye, trying to gauge whether or not the emotion in your voice was leading to tears. He brought his phone out of his jacket, opening to type a message to Tito.

"Fine, I'll...I'll just ask," he froze as you turned to him, holding your phone away from your ear. "Hey Mat?"

He placed his phone face down and away from your sight of vision you couldn't see that he was about to send a text to Tito. "Yeah?" Yikes, that wasn't casual enough. "What's up?" Better.

You were holding back tears and for the first time, he could see the dark circles beneath your eyes, still peaking out from whatever make-up you had put on that morning. Yeah, this plan wasn't good– this on was definitely a punch in the gut. "Do you think I could stay here? I don't have much and I–"

"Yeah, no," he cleared his throat. "No, I mean yeah...you can. I've got the guest bedroom."

You nodded, looking away from him and brought the phone back up to your ear. "There, happy?"

Oh, you have no idea how happy Tito was, was all that Mat could think as he brought his phone back out. "Can I at least come and get some stuff to– Yeah...okay. Yeah, see you."

You hung up the phone and your head fell back against the cushion, eyes closed. Mat looked at you, wondering whether or not he should dare to see if you were okay. He started to reach a hand out to nudge your arm when his phone vibrated.

Tito: IT WORKED! I'M FREE!

Tito: well...at least for the next week i am. i’ll need to figure out another excuse for the extra week i guess.

Mat: dude...i don't think this is a good idea. y/n's like...really emotional right now.

Tito: AND I'M GOING ON A TWO WEEK DRYSPELL.

Mat: okay, get laid tonight and let her come back.

Tito: nope. i'm using all seven days of this time and look on the bright side, now you'll get the guestroom done faster than you planned.

Mat: are you at least coming back with the pizza?

Tito: no, just her clothes. caroline is coming over in an hour.

He laughed in disbelief, shaking his head as he looked at you– still lying in the same position from when you hung up the phone.

Mat: dude, you so owe me one.

Tito: 👍🏻

Mat put his phone back into his jacket pocket and turned to you. He was sure that the movement on the couch would have been enough to get you to open your eyes– but you didn't budge. He reached out and nudged your arm and you opened your eyes and turned to look at him. "What do you think about Chinese?"

"Let me guess, he's not getting the pizza?" You asked, drained of any energy.

Mat bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head. "No, he said they were packed," the lie was a lot better than telling her the truth. "If you're not feeling Chinese, we can go to Chipotle?"

"I don't know," you sighed, picking up the wine glass and taking a long sip. "Do you think we'd miss him?"

Not in a million years. Even if they did, he'd just drop the bag of belongings in front of Mat's door, no doubt.

"I'll buy you a large guac and a large queso," He smiled, shrugging his shoulders. "Free of charge."

"You had me at large guac." You looked at him and then back at your wine glass, downing the rest before placing it back onto the table and turning towards Mat. "Besides, he's the one who didn't bother to offer me the couch in the new 1 bedroom he'd be staying in until everything is fixed. He can wait a few extra minutes if we're not back in time."

Mat just nodded, standing up with you and playing into your mood. "Yeah, fuck that guy."

You laughed, and for the first time since he walked into yours and Tito’s apartment...he saw you smile. He felt proud of himself for being able to cheer you up in some way. And maybe, he thought, if Tito wasn't going to look out for you...he could.

It was only for seven days, how bad could it be?

[page-doctor-bekker]

Casa de las Flores (transfemme!sarah)

(A/N) so... there is no nsfw in here. nothing that wouldn't be allowed in a pg-13 film, which is typically my policy: if i can see it in a pg-13 film, i can write it and put it on my tumblr :) anyways, enjoy. this takes place right after this.

-

-

Casa de las Flores looked small on the outside, a cute storefront with a few burnt out letters and a neon “OPEN” sign on the door, but the quaint look was merely a facade. On the inside, the dining room was large and lively, with a full-service bar and bright decorations. They were seated almost right away, sandwiched between an elderly couple and a family with a toddler and a baby.

“I’m Rosie, I’m going to be taking care of you two today,” The woman smiled, and set the menus down, “Can I get you started with some drinks?”

Ava glanced over the drink menu, skipping right down to the margaritas section.

“Yeah, can I get a strawberry margarita, frozen?” Ava requested, and Rosie nodded, scribbling down on her pad.

“And for you?”

“Uh…”

Crap, is she paying? Or am I? I should get something cheap, just play it safe… Wait, she said she was going to buy me dinner. She’s definitely paying. God, I don’t want to cost her too much…

“A uh… Err… Sparkling watermelon margarita on the rocks, hold the salt,” She blurted out, and Ava smiled at her, which was totally not helping the nerves.

“I’ll get those right out,” Rosie flipped her pad closed, and left the table.

“Really? No salt?” Ava queried, giving a slight chuckle.

“I always wipe it off when I get the salt,” Sarah admitted, “It just… I don’t know. It’s supposed to enhance the lime or something, but I’m just not into it. The bitterness just ruins the drink for me.”

“Huh,” Ava flipped the page on the menu, “I never knew that about you.”

“I mean, it’s not like I advertise my margarita preferences everywhere I go.”

Ava laughed, “Really? That’s my favorite activity!” She taunted, looking up at the other woman.

“Maybe I should give it a try,” Sarah remarked.

“What are you going to get?” Ava suddenly changed the subject, still flipping through the pages of the laminated menu, “I was looking at that baja grilled fish tacos but…” She winked, “I’m not sure if fish is the right choice on a first date.”

What the fuck. WHAT the fuck. What the FUCK.

Sarah laughed, although the comment took her off guard, “I was thinking of the enchiladas de espinaca, but I haven’t entirely ruled out the al pastor either.”

“Spinach? You’re bolder than I am,” Ava chuckled.

“I’ll only get it if you promise to let me know if I have some on my teeth.”

“Deal.”

A few quiet minutes later, Rosie was back, “How are we doing, ladies? Need another minute?” She asked, as she set the drinks down, “Frozen strawberry margarita, Watermelon margarita on the rocks, no salt.”

“I think we’re all set,” Ava raised an eyebrow at Sarah, who nodded.

Enchiladas de espinaca is cheaper.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“Ladies first,” Ava winked.

“Uh…” Sarah gave a nervous laugh, “I will get the enchiladas de espinaca.”

“Great choice,” Rosie scribbled her order down, “And for you?”

“I will get the steak fajitas with flour tortillas, please,” She closed her menu, “Oh, and can we get a round of Mexican candy shots and a round of tequila shots?”

“Of course, I’ll have that right out.”

“Shots?” Sarah inquired.

“Shots.”

Is she trying to get me drunk? Ava did call an uber to get here, maybe she just wanted a drinking friend…

At the table next to them, the baby started crying. Sarah watched as the mother cooed and shushed, and eventually apologized to her party and left the restaurant with the baby. Ava sipped her drink, before speaking.

“Would you ever have kids?”

Sarah’s heart just about stopped.

She stammered, “I- uh… I don’t know, maybe. I always wanted to be a mom when I was younger,” She smiled, “I even tried to breastfeed my babydolls.”

Ava gave a hearty laugh, the kind of laugh that makes you feel like the lights have just been turned on, and you could finally see in a dark room.

“Didn’t every little girl?” She laughed some more, and Sarah joined in.

Yeah, but little boys didn’t.

“I don’t know,” Ava continued, “Giving birth sounds so painful,” She mused, “I had a pregnancy scare in high school, a false positive from a cheap piece of shit test, and all I could think about was how much it was going to hurt.”

“Oh my God,” Sarah chuckled, “Not even about what you were going to do, how your parents would react?”

“Not even a little bit.”

It was Sarah’s turn to let out a big laugh, imagining the strong, confident surgeon stress over pain, rather than the practical side of a teenage pregnancy.

“How DID your parents find out?”

She snorted, “They didn’t!”

Sarah laughed even harder, and a couple near them turned their heads to stare.

Rosie brought both rounds of shots; The tequila, and whatever a Mexican candy shot was. The tequila shot was a yellow-y caramel color, with salt and a lime on the rim. The Mexican candy shot was a pinkish red shot with what seemed to be Tajin salt around the rim, and a lime as well.

Ava nodded at the shots, “Which first?”

“The pink one,” Sarah reached for it, “What’s in it?” She gave it a sniff.

“It’s watermelon-y,” Ava grinned, “Bottoms up?”

Sarah clinked her shot against Ava’s, and threw it back. The Tajin shocked her taste buds, and the first taste of the actual shot was sweet, like biting into a cool, crisp watermelon on a warm summer day. Almost as soon as she tasted the watermelon, she tasted what seemed like hot sauce, and tart lime juice.

“Ugh, I love those,” Ava dramatically rolled her eyes back, before grinning at Sarah, who gave a smile in return.

“I’m a little scared of the tequila,” Sarah admitted.

“What? Bad night in college?” Ava teased, and Sarah blushed with embarrassment.

“I’ve… Actually never had tequila.”

“So why are you scared? You can wipe the salt off, you know.”

The tequila shot didn’t necessarily disgust her, but she didn’t enjoy it. The salt made her stick her tongue out in disgust, and the alcohol burned on her tongue. She looked up at Ava through watery eyes, and Ava was looking at her with an expression that Sarah couldn’t quite understand.

Ava clapped, and Sarah coughed, and their food arrived. Sarah went tunnel-vision on her food, and Ava’s laughter through their conversations was almost more intoxicating than the alcohol. By the time they finished dinner, Sarah was on her third, maybe fourth margarita. Ava coerced her into another tequila shot, and they shared a plate of churros. Sarah had even tried Ava’s, wiping off the salt from her rim.

The bill was well over a hundred dollars, most of it being alcohol, and Ava paid it with eight twenty-dollar bills without a second thought, and dragged Sarah out by the elbow.

“Y’know,” Sarah slurred, “I thought you hated me.”

Ava’s face fell, “I know.”

“I thau’ you’d neva’ talk t’ me again,” She mumbled, leaning into Ava.

“I know.”

“I was so so sad.”

“I know.”

They were quiet. The only sounds were the Chicago streets. The sounds melted together in Sarah’s head, and she felt miles taller than she was, and miles shorter at the same time. She felt like she might float away, like Ava’s arm was the only thing keeping her on Earth. Sarah was a balloon, but Ava was the string.

“Wanna go back to my place?” Ava whispered, seeming stone cold sober even though they had had the same amount to drink. Sarah was infatuated with her - Everything she did seemed to make her more and more attractive.

Sarah had half a mind to say no, but nodded eagerly.

“You bought me dinner,” Sarah sighed happily, “You’re so nice to me.”

“It was my pleasure.”

“Mmhmm…” Sarah agreed, “Because surgeons make more than psychiatrists.”

Ava laughed loudly, stumbling a bit herself, “How are you going to pay off all your debt if you buy dinner, miss fresh-out-of-medical-school?”

“Maybe I don’t hate the salt,” Sarah blurted out, ignoring Ava’s joke.

The two walked arm in arm, each of them letting out a giggle every few steps. Ava’s sober front slowly fell, leaving her just as messy as Sarah. They each did their fair share of holding each other up, until the doorsteps of the apartment building Ava lived in.

They stopped.

Ava stared into Sarah’s eyes, as if trying to puncture her soul with an IV needle. Ava had brown eyes - The kind that filled your heart with warmth like you’d just downed a hot cup of coffee between patients - And Sarah knew she had noticed it before, but she couldn’t remember when she realized how beautiful they were.

Ava’s breath, that once smelled like her chapstick and chewing gum, now smelled of strawberry margaritas, tequila shots, and salsa. Her mascara was mildly smeared, not from crying, but from God knows what antics the two had gotten up to. Her teeth were starkly white when she smiled, and made Sarah wonder if they were naturally that white, or if she had treated them to get there.

Ava’s lips made contact with Sarah’s before Sarah even knew they were heading that direction, and she simultaneously tensed her whole body and felt like she was melting to the floor.

Someone’s going to see, someone’s going to see us and hurt me, someone’s going to know-

Ava pulled off with a smack, and smiled coyly, “Wanna head upstairs?”

Sarah nodded, eyes wide. She felt short of breath, and anxiety bubbled in her stomach. Does she mean what I think she means?

She tripped twice heading up the stairs - The elevator was out of order. Ava held on to her, drunk but still more coordinated than Sarah could ever hope to be. Sarah saw stars, and a halo around Ava’s head, convincing her drunk mind that the blonde woman beside her was truly an angel.

When they got to Ava’s apartment, they were kissing before they even closed the door. Ava pushed Sarah against the wall, tearing her jacket off first and then Sarah’s. Somehow, with her eyes closed, she still managed to hang them up on the coat hooks beside their heads.

Ava pulled Sarah’s hair tie out, and tangled her hands in the woman’s curly locks. She needed her lips like she needed oxygen to breathe, and neither of them wanted to let go. Sarah felt things shift between her legs, making her attraction to Ava apparent to her, but even in her intoxicated state she still managed to feel the pang of dysphoria, which made her nauseous. Regardless, she didn’t falter, no matter the discomfort deep in the pit of her stomach.

“I’ve never kissed a girl before,” Sarah breathed out between kisses.

Oh God.

“Honored to be your first,” Ava responded, equally as preoccupied.

Ava rested her hands on Sarah’s waist, hiking her shirt up slightly in the process. She shivered as Ava’s cold hands made contact with her skin, and her southern equipment stirred, making her dysphoric yet again and only contributing to the nausea. At this point, she couldn’t tell if she was truly nauseous from the alcohol, or just so dysphoric and anxious that her stomach couldn’t tell the difference. She powered through, distracting herself in the warmth of Ava’s mouth and the light touch from her fingertips.

Ava creeped up Sarah’s ribcage until she could feel the underwire of her bra, and then slipped her hands under. Sarah was suddenly very aware of her lower regions, her gaff, and how thin her scrubs were. She would be screwed if something slipped out.

Note to self:

Ava kissed down her neck.

Write a good review for this gaff later.

Ava started unbuttoning her shirt, kissing the newly bare areas as she went. Once she reached the bottom, her lips darted back up to her collarbone, sucking a hickey into the sensitive area.

Sarah’s job was to keep breathing, and not let the panic get the better of her.

This is fine. Adults do this. I’m an adult. She doesn’t know, and she wont find out because I won’t let this go that far.

Ava’s lips captured Sarah’s again.

I won’t let this go far enough to be a problem.

Ava’s hands trickled down to the button on her pants, and Sarah took in a sharp breath.

Ava looked up quizzically, “Do you want this?”

Yes, but I can’t.

Sarah didn’t respond, hoping her fear was not evident in her eyes.

The surgeon put one hand on Sarah’s cheek, and relaxed her other hand from her waistband, “You don’t have to. I won’t be mad.”

Sarah nodded, then shook her head, “I- uh, I don’t want to.”

The anxiety in her chest fizzled out as Ava stepped away, and as much as she craved intimacy, Sarah knew this was better. Ava gave her a warm smile, and held out her hand.

Sarah took it, receiving a squeeze from her, “I can get an Uber or a Lyft…”

Ava looked taken aback, “Why? You can stay, you know. You think I’m going to kick a drunk girl out at,” She glanced at her phone, “Eleven o’ clock at night?”

Sarah smiled sheepishly, and stood awkwardly for a second, “Uh… Where’s your bathroom?”

“Oh! That door right there,” She pointed to a modern white door, with silver fixtures. Sarah stumbled towards the bathroom, and practically fell into the room.

She closed the door behind her, and leaned against it. She slumped down, pulled her knees to her chest and rested her forehead against them.

After a few minutes of deep breathing exercises, she opened the door and hollered, “Ava?!”

“Yes?” The aforementioned woman looked up from the couch, where she was sipping a glass of water and playing a game on her phone.

“Is it okay if I shower?”

“Yeah! Let me get you something to sleep in, I think we’re similar in size.”

Sarah closed the door as Ava got up, and a few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Sarah opened it, and Ava handed her a stack of folded clothes, with two towels on the bottom, “I didn’t know if there were any towels in there, so if there are, just leave any extras under the sink.”

Sarah nodded, and Ava gave her a tight-lipped smile, and left.

Sarah closed the door.

It seemed that Sarah was given a bright pink muscle tee, with the words “Cardiac care is a work of heart” in all caps, with an anatomical heart image, and a pair of loose black sweatpants. She rolled her eyes at the shirt, surprised that Ava would own it. It seemed silly.

Sarah stripped, turned the water on as cold as it could go, and jumped in.

-

-

(A/N) thx for reading ! lmk what you thought <3

[magnoliasinbloom]

Crash Course Love

Infinite thanks to @lcbeauchampoftarth​ and @anna-swims​ for being awesome betas. 

AO3 :: Previously

3: Surprise [Claire]

Despite the fucked up situation, it was the best I’d felt in a long time. Seeing Frank’s pictures burnt and in the bin was strangely cathartic, even if I didn’t remember setting them on fire. There was probably a lot of Frank’s shit around that I had overlooked that I could also burn.

Jamie and I stood awkwardly in my tiny kitchen for a few minutes, his Viking warrior frame towering over me. I had a hard time meeting his deep blue gaze; it wasn’t uncomfortable, just strangely intimate given our surprise encounter this morning, and possibly last night. Finally, I cleared my throat.

“Um, well. It’s Sunday…” I trailed off. I didn’t have anything to do, but didn’t really want to prolong the morning-after-that-wasn’t.

“Och, aye, I’m sorry.” Jamie looked embarrassed. “I should go. Do ye work on Sundays?” He patted his pockets, probably searching for his phone or keys.

“No, but I should go down to Sainsbury’s for groceries. It’s just a short walk. St. Enoch is a couple of blocks away if you need it.” I began washing the bowl in the sink.

“I usually take the tube, but I do have a car. It’s mainly for driving up to see my family, though. I took an Uber to the pub. Since I’d planned on getting pissed—ifrinn!” he exclaimed suddenly.

“What?” I dropped the bowl, startled. It didn’t break, but it clattered noisily.

“I was supposed to meet my sister Jenny for lunch at St. Judes.” Jamie turned his phone to face me and I saw it was already noon. He ran a hand through his hair in desperation, making it even more tousled.

“No problem. I can take you in the van.”

“The van? Ye just said—”

“I’ve a van, for my flower shop. Beauchamp’s Blooms,” I said, not a little proudly.

“Yer last name’s Beauchamp?” He pronounced it the French way, and it sounded beautiful, but I corrected him.

“Bee-cham. I guess we were French at some point in history, but we’re English now.”

“So what’s a bonny sassenach such as yerself doin’ in Scotland?”

Sassenach. I bristled. “An Englishwoman like myself followed her dickhead boyfriend who had a teaching position at the University of Glasgow. I opened my own flower shop, got dumped, and now, I’ll be staying here for the foreseeable future. Unless it bothers a Scotsman such as yerself.” I imitated his brogue as much as I could, injecting it with a fair amount of venom.

Jamie turned bright red. “Och, Claire, I didna mean any disrespect. Sassenach just means English, or outlander. It’s nice to see ye’ve made a home here, and a business as well, despite yer hardships.” His tone softened. “Have others made ye feel unwelcome here in Glasgow? I apologize on our behalf.”

“A couple.” I sighed. “I Google-translated sassenach the second time it happened. Sorry if I came off touchy about it. When they said it, it didn’t sound very nice, that’s all.”

“I think ye should appropriate the word then. May I call ye sassenach? As a wee nickname?” Jamie smiled impishly.

I laughed. “Alright, why not?” I dried my hands on a tea towel and laid it next to the sink. “Well, let me find my keys and we’ll be off.” I found them in my purse and hoisted it on my shoulder as we left my flat.

We traipsed down the steps of my apartment building slowly, no doubt his head pounding as much as mine. The aspirin had helped some, though.

“Are ye a photographer then, Sassenach?” he asked conversationally.

“Oh, the pictures. No, Frank took those. It is—was—his hobby.  I personally like herbs, flowers, and medicinal plants. I’m a botanist, actually. Hence, the flower shop.”

“Ye kept some on the walls.”

“They were the best ones. And the flowers, those are mine. I think we can spare them a fiery death.”

“I couldna help but notice…” I glanced at Jamie, who was turning all shades of red as he rucked up the hair on the nape of his neck in embarrassment. “Ye have this tattoo on yer back, like…”

“Oh, yes.” It was my turn to go a bit red. “It’s a gladiolus. It means strength.”

“Bonny.” Jamie smiled crookedly at me while he pushed the entrance door to the building and held it open for me. “It’s funny, I dinna even ken where in Glasgow I am. I havena been…” he trailed off as we came down the steps onto the street. The chilly November wind nipped at our exposed faces.

“Is it familiar now?” I laughed, jingling my keys. I sobered up when I saw the look on his face. “Are you alright?”

“Och, aye. I—it’s just that yer apartment building’s right next to my—”

“James?” A high-pitched, accented voice pierced the air.

“—ex’s building,” he finished weakly.

I turned to the source of the voice. A woman about my age walked towards us. She had sleek brown hair—perfectly coiffed—and fashionable matching boots and purse. Her eyes were green, and were trained on Jamie, who stood next to me, pale and silent.

I tried to whisper discreetly, “Jamie, that’s your ex?”

Before he could answer, the woman was upon us. “James! I thought it was you! What are you doing here?” She gave Jamie a kiss on each cheek, hugged him tightly, and pulled back before he could react.

Jamie swallowed visibly. “Hello, Annalise.”

Oh, no. I could sense anxiety rolling off Jamie in waves. He was speechless, while there was something smug about Annalise’s own smile. The cow probably thought he was stalking her; still pining, after all this time. No wonder Jamie looked so panicked.

He was almost shaking, while Annalise waited for him to explain why he was there. And she was pointedly ignoring me completely.

Oh, this wouldn’t do.

“Hello! Did you just move in? I’m Claire, I haven’t seen you around!” I chattered brightly, channeling one of my old friends from university. Keeping it light and bubbly, but still honed like a knife. I practically shoved a hand in her face, forcing her to step away from Jamie.

Finally, Annalise took my proffered hand gingerly with her fingertips, like it was a dead fish. I flashed another insincere smile, even though I wanted to wipe my own hand on my jeans.

“Well, Claire, as it happens, I’ve lived here for quite some time now.” Her tone was condescending and forced. “James and I… we used to go out awhile back.” She glanced at Jamie as she said this, and he stared at his shoes. He looked trapped and desperate.

Admittedly, I had known him less than 24 hours, but he had helped me forget about a hellish night and torch some of Frank’s memories; I was his unconditional ally now.

Fuck her. Let’s do this.

“Oh really? Jamie, darling, you didn’t mention that!” I giggled and pressed myself against Jamie, lacing our fingers together.

Jamie only had time to look at me with wide, stunned eyes before Annalise butted in. “James, you are dating her? Since when?” Her nostrils flared, though she tried not to show her agitation.

I ignored her implied insult. “Hmmm, let’s see… about six months?” I replied. I leaned in and kissed Jamie’s surprised open mouth. “Best six months ever, am I right darling?” He still tasted faintly of booze.

“I, um, I think that…” Jamie stammered.

“So, we have not seen each other in almost a year, have we James?” Annalise crossed her arms over her chest, heel tapping. Where did this bitch come off acting self-righteous? I nuzzled Jamie’s neck lightly and turned to Annalise.

“Well, we’re moving in together. We just clicked, and everything happened so fast and it’s so intense, but just wonderful!” I gushed. I gave Jamie a light pinch on the arm; he shook his head as if to clear it, and I took the opportunity to stand on my tiptoes (damn his Viking height!) to plant another kiss on his cheek this time.

“Moving in?” Annalise’s naturally high-pitched voice went up another octave, sounding strangled.

“Oh, yes, which reminds me, we’re late for the meeting with that realtor, so we should get going.” I nudged Jamie and stepped on his foot.

“Ann—Annalise, it was… good seeing you… again, and I, um…” Jamie gave me a side-long glance, urging me to help us escape.

“James, you never liked for me to call you Jamie,” Annalise said, still ignoring me.

“Actually, I do like it. ‘Twas you who didna care to call me that,” he managed, finding his voice at last.

“So, anyway, nice to meet you, Annalise! Have a good day!” I grasped Jamie’s forearm, locking it with mine and dragging him away.

Annalise stood there for a moment or two, before stomping off on her chunky-heeled boots, coat swinging. I tugged on Jamie, who was still out of it.

“Come on!” I hissed in his ear, and then we rounded the corner. Jamie slumped against the faded brick wall, and I let go of his arm.

“Oh Christ. It’s like I couldna even think, she made me shut down…”

“Breathe, Jamie. She’s gone.” I patted his back gently.

“It’s just… I didna think she still had that effect on me,” he said, wincing.

“The power to make you hurt?” I supplied. A feeling I knew all too well.

“Aye,” Jamie grimaced. He inhaled deeply until some color returned to his face.

“Are you feeling better now?” I asked, stamping my feet in the cold. The wind was still whipping against us.

“I think so. Where are we goin’, by the way? I thought the van was—“

“Well, I wanted to walk away from your ex in the opposite direction, so she wouldn’t know which was my car.”

“Why?” Jamie looked puzzled.

“You know, in case she felt inclined to scratch it with her fingernails or key the paint job, throw eggs or something.”

“Och, exacting revenge on the new girlfriend?” he teased, nudging me with his massive shoulder as we turned back; the coast was clear and blessedly Annalise-free.

It was my turn to stutter and flush red. “By the way, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. You know, with the kissing and hand-holding. Annie there was getting to me too.”

“Nah, ‘tis fine. That was some quick thinking. Thank ye for rescuing me like that.”

“My pleasure.” I stopped in front of the delivery van. “Here we are.”

Beauchamp’s Blooms was printed on the side of the van, in curly script, with purple orchids and violets in the background. Jamie traced his finger over the letters.

“I like it. The purple suits ye.”

“Those flowers are some of my favorites. Orchids mean love, luxury, beauty, strength. The violets symbolize that the giver’s thoughts are occupied with love about the recipient.”

“Ye speak the language of flowers,” Jamie said with a smile.

“It’s an easy one to learn,” I replied simply, before we climbed into the van and drove off. As Jamie fiddled with the radio on the van, I let the sounds wash over me.

For the first time in months, it felt like things would be alright.

[oppa-is-cringy]

Loud and Drunk

Group: Stray Kids

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Genre: Fluff, just fluff :)))

Summary: Jisung dramatically declares the whole world that he’s in love. But it’s unofficial.

Word Count: 1.3k

This is what happens when you have to do something. No one messages you when you’re bored and have nothing else better to do but just as you leave your phone, everything blows up.

‘Why do I have 23 new messages? What’s happening?’

You sighed and set your phone back down. Chae always had a rough relationship and she heavily depended on him. You were glad that she finally got out of that toxic relationship, but you knew that she was badly hurt, and she was going to be a wreck tonight.

————————–

You huffed as you shook Chan awake, and forced him to drink some water. You snatched the lighter from Areum’s hand as she was going to set fire to a poor napkin. Chae was rambling about her ex, and Yeri was petting her head. Jisung was distracted from Areum as he gazed at you and Chan.

“Y/N pay attention to me too.” He was shaking your arms as he pouted at you. You couldn’t help but smile at his childish antics and you gave his hair a little ruffle before turning back to Chan.

“Hey you sobered up a bit?”

“Ugh, Yeah I guess, everything is still a bit wobbly. I need some air.”

“Yeah, we all do. Hey Jisung, what do you say we go get some air?”

“YESSS! I love air!!!”

“Great then grab onto my arm and we’ll get going.”

You reached for your wallet to pay for the drinks as Chan helped the girls off their stools. You mentioned the bartender that you were paying and quickly got out of the bar.

“They’re never going to let us back in are they?”

“Man I really loved that pub.”

“Speaking of nevers, I’M NEVER GETTING BACK WITH JIHOON WOOOHOOO!”

“Chae stopppp!” You let go of Jisung to get to Chae who looked at you with big eyes.

“Are you mad at me?”

“No I’m not mad… Let’s just walk for a bit yeah?”

“YEAH!!!” Yeri started to run while laughing wildly, which caused other girls to do the same.

“I’ll go get them to slow down.”

You laughed at the absurd scene before you when Jisung looped his arm to yours and started walking. He was trying not to slur while talking to you, his face scrunching in concentration. You started to feel a bit relaxed as you took in your surroundings. You were with your friends, and as much as they were a mess, they were at least happy.

“JISUNG!! Are you telling Y/N how much you looooveee her?” Yeri giggled turning while walking backwards. A small blush spread across your cheeks at the thought but you quickly dismissed it.

“Shhh it’s supposed to be a secret- hey that dude looks like Jihoon. Hey you! YEAH YOU! FUCK YOU!” Chae suddenly started to go off at strangers. Even though you were dying from second hand embarrassment, it was quite a sight so you couldn’t help but laugh at it.

“Hey you wanna know a secret?” Jisung whispered while placing his head on your shoulder. It was awkward as you were still walking, but he didn’t seem to mind it.

“Do tell.”

“I’m in love.” He sighed and looked at you. “And I want everyone to know, but even she doesn’t know it.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. Him loving someone this much made you unbelievably sad, but you accepted that Jisung could never look at you the same way that you looked at him. “Yeah? That sounds romantic.”

Jisung perked up at this.

“You think so? HEY EVERYONE!!!” he picked up his pace.

“What are you doing?” you breathed out, bewildered by his sudden actions. Chan looked back from his shoulder and his eyes widened when Jisung started to shout.

“I’M IN LOVE!!! SHE’S PERFECT!!! Y/N, I LOVE YOU!!!”

“Jisung I think that’s enough.”

“Oh Y/N, did you heard that? If you didn’t I can tell you in private.”

“I think everyone heard that Jisung.” Chan replied while trying to help Areum walk straight. Chae and Yeri was a bit back, holding each other close.

“Oh they did? That’s good. Mission accomplished.” He sighed while nuzzling into your neck.

“Alright big guy. Y/N, I’m gonna drop off the girls at Chae’s place then head back home. Can you take care of Jisung? I gotta go, our uber is here”

“Yeah sure thing Chan, be careful and goodnight.”

“BYE Y/N”

“Bye Chae! Bye girls.”

“Can we go home too?” Jisung stared at you with big doe eyes.

“Sure thing bub, I’ll drop you off at your place.”

“NOOO. I said home. I want go to your place. It’s warm, like you. Well, I’d like to go wherever you go. So where are you going?”

“A-Alright. Let’s go home Jisung.”

————————

Jisung opened his eyes just to be met with your bedroom. The place next to him was still warm. He smiled at the thought of you two spending the night together. Even if he’d like to be sober for that, this was enough material for him to daydream about you for another month or so. He took a deep breath, basking in the feeling of being surrounded by you when his eyes shot open. Shit. Did he really said those things yesterday?

“Here you go. You must feel like shit.” You laughed at his pained face as you handed him some painkillers and water.

“Ugh, you’re an angel. I feel like a train wreck. Why am I at your place anyway?”

“Right, you were a bit clingy, and kinda didn’t want to go home.” You felt yourself get shy mentioning his behaviour. When Jisung swallowed his pills, he took in your faint blush.

“Do you- Do you remember anything from last night?” Your head snapped towards him.

“I… Yes, why, I thought you were so drunk that you were spewing bullshit. You can’t possibly remember them all, right?”

“Ah… Y/N about last night. I’m sorry… I didn’t mean-“

“I know it didn’t meant anything to you. You don’t have to worry.” You said quickly while getting off the bed and walking towards the kitchen. Jisung frowned at your abruptness and followed after you.

“Well, it wasn’t how I was planning to do it but…”

“What?”

“Chan is going to kill me. We’ve been working on a song for such a long time. It was supposed to be super romantic. I’ve gone and messed it all up.” Jisung sunk to the chair and hid his head in his face.

“Jisung… what are you talking about? Please, just… I need to hear it directly.” The tone of your voice surprised Jisung as he looked at your hopeful eyes. You looked eager, but also guarded. He walked up to you and placed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I meant everything I said Y/N. I love you. Thank you for bringing me home.” A smile broke out on both of your faces as you buried your head in his chest.

“I love you too.”

“Now you just gotta shout it for us to be even.”

“What if I told the whole world that I love you? Would that make us even?”

“Yeah it would.” You smiled and tiptoed so you’d be able to reach his ear.

“I love you, you’re my whole world.”

“HEY! That’s not fair! That was too cute.”

“You’re cute.”

“STOP IT!” He huffed and you pinched his cheeks.

“No way, I’ve been holding it in for too long.”

“I can’t let you be the greasy one in this relationship. Come here!” He hauled you up and went back to your bed.

“We’re gonna stay here and I’m gonna list everything that I’m in love with about you.” He smiled and caressed your jaw before planting a soft kiss to your lips.

“Hmm, maybe we can change that plan to just kissing.”

Bonus:

Jisung’s arm snaked around your shoulders as he cuddled you to his chest when he perked up.

“Hey do you know why my sleeve is burnt?”

[selfdulgent-selfinsert]

Will of the Wisp (Will o wisp Tracer X Female Reader)

So I got a little distracted by my Waifu for Liafus Halloween 2019 skin and really the Overwatch Halloween event as a whole. Tracer is so valid I would die for her and every time she gets a new skin it only reinforces that fact.

Image source: https://www.dbltap.com/posts/will-o-wisp-tracer-skin-images-price-rarity-overwatch-halloween-terror-2019-01dq8eq6c4mh

The English countryside was stunning. You had been backpacking around England for the past week, taking any escape you could get during summer break; not exactly able to travel home for break due to the high cost for international students and your own housing. Most of your friends had left and returned home, leaving you bored and overworked.

 So when your manager approached you and said you had to take your vacation time, you opted to just grab your backpack and spend your days hiking out across the areas you could afford to explore. So far you’d gained a new appreciation for the country after the stuffy large cities had worn you out. Leaving early and staying often later then you should have; a growing Uber bill nagging at your inability to force yourself from your travels. Just like now. The sun had long fallen from its perch in the sky and the woods around you were bathed in fog. The growing chill seeping into your bones as you had only dressed for the fair heat of the afternoon. The small hand crank flashlight barely parting the shadows as you carefully tread back down the trail you came in on. Thankful for the sparse benches and light posts guiding your way back. The atmosphere felt strange, hollow and foreboding as the fog kissed at your feet while the faint kisses of light were few and far between. The trees seemed to bend around you, seeming to swallow your lonesome self; you felt small.

 Mind-wandering, drifting into Halloween and recent horror movies.  How Junkenstein’s Revenge had opened on a foggy moor and how you felt the same in the theater as you did now. Uneasy. Like something was following you and it could be getting closer; picking up your pace you checked behind you. Nothing but darkness and the last lamp you passed.

The silence was deafening; your ears straining for the snap of a twig or some other cliché horror trope. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck standing in attention as a cold breeze swept past you. You swore you could hear a faint laugh on the wind. Shaking your head, was probably some stupid teenagers hiding out just inside the park entrance. Rolling your eyes; must have been closer to the entrance than you thought. The dark probably made your walk seem much faster. After all, you weren’t stopping to gawk at everything you passed this time. Slowing your walking, careful not to stumble on the stairs you remember were along your path but the stairs never came. Another streetlight growing in your vision, yet the entrance was nowhere. Cursing yourself for being out so late; this was surely becoming a growing issue. How the hell were you going to get back to your car? Checking your holo-pad, there was barely any battery left but you were able to check you’re GPS. You were still a ways away from the entrance. The chill was back now. There were no kids were there. Back to walking you swore you could hear the voice again. Starting to pick up your pace again, checking behind you more frequently. You could hear your heartbeat speed up, the unease you felt before coming back as fear. Stumbling over your own feet a bit as you walk in panic; cursing as you drop your flashlight, the cheap contraption giving up as it hit the dirt and leaving you in almost total darkness. Dropping to where you watched it fall and groping in the darkness as your eyes dilated. Spinning the crank handle in an effort to get the device working again.

 Another breeze though it was against your back, leaving a cold presence behind you though nothing was there as you spun around. Able to see a bit in the dark you decided to get back on your way and you’d figure your flashlight out as you went. The bulb sputtering back to life after a few extra cranks, however, it was much dimmer thanks to a couple bulbs not lighting up but it was better than nothing. If anything it would hopefully make you harder to spot, or at least the sentiment helps calm you down somewhat. Leaning on what light you had left you pressed on. Unwilling to let this become an all-night event.

 Light blew past you, it was teal and smoky. Magical almost. It didn’t quite disappear either, instead fluttering about in front of you like a flame. It was so enticing, feeling drawn to the supernatural flame yet your feeling of dread and fear had not gone away. Your body begging to go past and straight home but there was something you just couldn’t put your finger on. Drawing closer slowly, hand outstretched for the licking flames just centimeters from your flesh before it vanished. Leaving you once again in darkness. A familiar laugh drawing your head to the right. The flame dancing in the distance as if it was beckoning you over. Heeding its call you left the path, checking behind you for any followers. Your ankles tickled by the tall cold grass as you tread, a shiver running up your spine which left your bones frigid. Wrapping your arms around yourself in an effort to retain some body heat. The flame dancing in your vision, seemingly whimsical in nature as it giggled. The closer you came the more the flame seemed to expand. As if the light it shone was taking the vague shape of a person: dancing around and waving to you. Moving back into the trees the closer you came.

“Come on, Love!”

The voice spooked you; making you stop and turn on a dime looking for anyone around you. It was just you and the flame. It couldn’t have spoken, could it? What fucking was this? It waved again at you, its arms gesturing for you to follow again. “This way!” you were frozen in place, it did just speak to you. You couldn’t back up, it felt like you were tethered to the entity in front of you; the distance between you being pulled shorter and shorter as it forces you to move your legs in order to remain upright. So deeper into the forest, you went, the shape growing as it seemed to flush out arms and legs, a head and something bulky where the chest should be. It pulled you through the forest, forcing you over logs and stones. At some point you had lost your flashlight, leaving the specter as your way.

 Eventually pulling you through a line of brush and trees; you could feel your stomach flip as if you were falling while you crashed into an open clearing. The light was gone but the moon overhead afforded you some light. You appeared to have fallen into a forgotten graveyard, thick vines encased the scarce few headstones which stood cracked and crumbling in their fight against time. Standing you looked behind you, the forest dark and immense behind you. With no idea where you were, it was certain you’d only make it worse trying to find your way back from here. You couldn’t hear anything but the forest around you; starting to panic you’d neglected to notice the few pumpkins adorning the graves, Backing over one you toppled to the ground once more, hitting your back against a grave.

 A carved pumpkin in the middle of nowhere stared back at you. Beginning to sob, your frame shook as you tried to remain quiet; the pumpkin roared to life at your feet with a familiar blue flame. The specter which dragged you here sprouting from the vegetation. “Oh Love, look at you!” Through your watery eyes, you could see her now. She was stunning. Her pale blue skin was glowing and appeared to almost evaporate into the air the farther from the pumpkin her extremities were. She looked ethereal. Her cheeks round as her soft lips curved up into a smile. She had no pupils, instead, they were glowing sclera in the same hue of everything else. The flame which lured you sat in a pumpkin cage upon her chest. Strapped to her tiny frame, the expression of the pumpkin taunted you with a grin of malice. Her clothing was old, something you’d see in a history textbook.

 “A cute little thing like you should be careful out here.”

 Floating she began to crawl up your legs. “They say the Witch of the Wilds lives around these parts… She wouldn’t be above cursing a pretty thing like you…” Gripping your chin with her hand; surprisingly having weight behind her touch.  Her touch felt like silk, the warmth of fire seeping through into your skin. “Please, please don’t hurt me…” Your lips trembling in fear as you spoke. She laughed again, her nose scrunching as the sound flooded your ears. She blew a stray chunk of hair from her face. “Oh, I won’t hurt you. Something as pretty as you should be preserved, Love.” She was now hovering over you completely. “Which is exactly what I plan to do.”

 “What do you mean? Please let me go!”

 “Oh, I’m not going to do that. Don’t want ol’ Reapy picking you up now; I’m thinking that old witch has been owing me for a while now but you came by. I guess we have to wait sometimes for something we really want. Wouldn’t cha say, Love?”

 She had floated herself over you like a cage but her free hand traveled to force your legs open. Trying to weasel herself between them and cage you in further. Instinct kicking in you laid an open palm smack against the ghoulish woman. Her head remaining to the side as you squirmed trying to get free. Her expression growing dark as she turned back to you.

 “Cheeky.”

 The grip on your chin hard and bruising. Her face drawing closer and closer; once her lips touched yours it burnt. A warmth you never felt was consuming your body, eating away your strength as you fell weaker and weaker. Just like her skin, her lips were soft as silk; it was getting harder to keep your eyes open. Unable to even lift your arms anymore as she pulled away, a trail of yellow light trailing between you, mixing into her own flesh.

“Don’t worry Love, I’ll get you your own pumpkin. I’m going to keep you forever~”

Her voice taking a sing-song tone as your vision started to fade to black. Her hand rubbing your cheek as you faded into oblivion.

 People searched for the missing hiker; your friends and family searched day and night along the park trail. It took months but they found you. Beyond a line of brush and trees which lay on the edge of a cliff; your bones lay bare at the bottom in an abandoned graveyard. A pumpkin growing from what remained of your rotting flesh.

Local kids then spread rumors of the ‘Will-o-the-wisps’ haunting the trail. Two ghostly women bound together by chin serving the Witch of the Wilds; luring passersby and late-night hikers deep into the woods, never to be seen again. Surely fiction derived from the Halloween classic; an old story written to keep people from going into the forest. There’s no way any of it was real.

[mrs-langley]

Testing the waters

BYRON LANGLEY IMAGINE

MASTERLIST

Request:  anon-  Can you do an imagine where the reader and byron have a little argument and it ends up all cute and stuff? Thank you😍❤️

&

Anon - hey love, can we do something with y/n being a huge science nerd and just cute rambles to byron about class and stuff? ty <3

A/N: these requests worked so well in this and idk why???

Words: 2269 - aye

Warnings: mentions of alcohol  

“Well hurry up before they hear us!” I whisper shouted from the door of Joe’s apartment. Him, Jack and Caspar were filming so Byron decided it was safe for him and I to go out for lunch and spend some time together as we hadn’t told anyone there was something happening between us yet.

“I’m coming, let me just get my shoe on.” He chuckled. “okay,” he announced and stretched out his leg, ‘’come on, let’s go.” He stood up from the stairs and pulled me from the door causing it to close behind us. “How are you?” He smirked and pressed a warm kiss to my temple.

“Good, I got an A for that essay I wrote.” I smiled as I filled him in on all my news.

“And you thought you were going to do badly.” He groaned as he rolled his eyes making me giggle and hug his side. “What do you want to do?” He sighed once we had finished sharing our news with each other ,when we got out the elevator.

“I thought we were just gonna go to my place?” I frowned and took his hand in mine as we stood outside Joe’s flat block contemplating which way to go.

“Mm, I feel like doing something different.” He hummed and tugged me the opposite direction from my flat.

“That sounds a bit dangerous but okay,” I giggled and leaned into him again, “we can go to that place down the street, you know, the one with that pasta? What is it called again?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.” He said smugly and draped an arm around my shoulder.

“I can’t remember the name, but you’ll know it when you see it.” I giggled and directed us towards the restaurant.

“So then I told her, no, you can’t sniff the hydrochloric acid. Then she was like, then how am I supposed to know if it’s water or not then I said, and I quote, "how the hell are you getting your masters if you can’t read a fucking label.” I explained as Byron took another bite of food. “Then she sniffed it like 15 minutes after we had that discussion and she was surprised when it burnt her nose, throat and lungs?”

“I really want to come to class with you one day.” He chuckled as he wiped some pasta sauce off his face.

“No, you don’t.” I retorted before taking a bite of food. “It’s horrible, despite being in such an advanced class, I’m still surrounded by morons.” I said with a mouthful of lasagne.

He put a hand on my thigh reassuringly, “I need to make sure you’re not trying to get high off acid.” He said concerned making me laugh.

“If I promise you I’m not trying to sniff acid will you promise me you’ll never come to class, you’ll be killed either by those idiots.” I said pretending to be serious.

“Deal.” He said between hysterics, holding out his pinky he wrapped his around mine sealing his deal. “Enjoying your lunch?” He asked and squeezed my thigh.

I hummed as I swallowed my last bite, “Mhm, I got my favorite.” I said smiling and looking over at him smugly before I got distracted from someone walking into the restaurant. I choked slightly on my food when I realized it was Joe, Caspar and Jack.

“What? Oh god.” He said once he had looked up. “Please don’t see us.” He mumbled, making me chuckle.

“Am I that ugly?” I said turning slightly so they couldn’t see my face or Byron if they looked towards us.

he grinned widely, “Yeah, I can’t believe I’m even here with you geez.” He smirked and squeezed my thigh again reassuring me that he was only joking.

“I knew it, at least I only wanted you for sex, so no hard feelings?” I questioned playfully and started leaning in to kiss him when someone dropped into the booth opposite us.

“Hey guys!” A dorky South African cheered, too focused on the other two tagging along behind him rather than Byron and I’s almost-kiss.

“Hey bru,” Byron said as I sat back, a deep blush rising onto my cheeks. “I thought you guys were filming?” He questioned once the other two and settled down into the booth.

“And by your text Byron, I thought you were ‘just heading out to get milk’ even though I bought a full bottle last night.” Joe joked and settled down in between Caspar and jack.

“He was, and then I invited him to lunch.” I said quickly trying to cover up for him. “Just tagging along that’s all.”

“So you would have had lunch alone? That’s very unlike you Y/N.” Jack shot back with a cheeky smirk playing on his face.

“Why are you guys interrogating us?” I giggled and looked over at Byron who had the same baffled look washed over his face. “Byron and I are just having lunch.” I stated again hoping they would drop the topic.

“Well we’re just a little confused.” Caspar laughed causing the other two to look at each other knowingly like they knew about our whole plan.

I ignored them and started eating again, which I think threw them off. Joe cleared his throat and picked up a menu, “Can we join you though?” he sighed and looked at our half-eaten meals.

I looked over at Byron who had a smirk plastered on his face as he looked back at me, “Sure bru,” Byron chuckled and took my hand in his under the table. The boys ordered lunch and managed to prevent each other teasing Byron and I. It soon felt as if the other three had not even joined us for lunch, Byron shrugged off the fact that our closest friends were sitting just opposite us and carried on talking like we usually would with out them around. I replied cautiously, trying not to attract attention from the other three but they were all too focused on their lunch or own conversations to be fully aware of ours.

“So wanna go to Winter Wonderland Friday night?” Byron asked nonchalantly  just after he swallowed the last bite of his meal. “Just you and me.” He added.

“You are really testing the waters here Langley.” Something I only ever did call him when I was being serious, he knew he was pushing it but to be honest he did not want our relationship to be a secrete anymore.

He hated the way we had to sneak around our best friends just to get some alone time or how we had to ‘coincidentally’ meet up and to be fair there are only so many times you can ‘coincidently’ meet. I agreed with him, I hated it as much as he did. I hated that I couldn’t yell out to the whole world “Byron Langley is my boyfriend!”, because if I could I would. Even though we both wanted our feelings for each other to be known, we wanted to make sure it was serious and that we could handle the response from all the boys’ fans. At this point we just needed to be there for each other but it was getting more and more difficult to make excuses to see each other and make up reasons as to why were always being seen together.

He sighed heavily, “Maybe I want to test the waters Y/N.” the whole mood had shifted and there was a tension starting to form around us. “Don’t you?” he added bitterly.

The other three boys were starting to listen in to the conflict but Byron and I ignored them as we spat remarks at each other. “I don’t know why you’re in a bad mood with me.” I commented instead of answering his question.

“You were the one who is so concerned about them hearing us, I don’t really care if they hear me talking to you, but it’s fine, I understand if you don’t want to be associated with me.” He said and leaned back away from me.

“Don’t twist my words Byron.” I warned sternly.

“I’m not twisting your words Y/N, I’m just stating what you think of us, this.” He said gesturing between us.

I scoffed and stood up from my seat, “I’m going to go,” I said to Caspar, Joe and Jack. “Byron, when you’re ready do you want to come home so you can carry on telling me how shit I treat this relationship?”  a wave of shock and realization hit the other three sitting opposite Byron. They did not utter a word though, they did not know how to help the situation so they stayed silent as the conflict went back and forth. “So I’ll see you at home, or are you going to go sulk in your music room with a bottle of tequila and a shot glass, because that’s only going to make the situation wors-”

“Y/N call an uber for home, I’ll be there in five.” He interrupted, he was eerily monotonous which sent chills up my spine.

I was left speechless so I took my phone from the table and walked out onto the side walk as I called an uber. I watched through the restaurant’s window as he pulled out his wallet and gave Joe some money to cover the bill. I knew I took the argument too far, there was no way we were going to fix this fight easily, if I were to guess, this fight would probably get worse once we got to my place. I turned to face the road as I waited a few moments for the uber to show up. I jumped when Byron walked up beside me and sighed deeply. We remained silent until the uber pulled up in front of us, Byron stepped forward first and opened the door before stepping back and letting me get in first. He sat beside me brewing his thoughts and feelings, I didn’t dare say anything, I didn’t want to until I knew we were home. When we got to my flat block we got out and went up the elevator to my floor then down the hall to my place. No words were shared between us as we made our way to my flat.

He opened the front door and stood back holding it open for me step inside. I mumbled a thank you then walked over to the kitchen and dropped my bag onto the work top.

“What was that Y/N,” he was not shouting but his voice held a stern and disappointed tone, making it feel worse than being yelled at. I didn’t reply, I just looked down at the work top trying to think of a reasonable answer. “Why didn’t you just go home, you basically told them I’m an alcoholic and don’t tell me that I twisted your words. You make your feelings very evident Y/N and I was only saying what you were thinking.” He started getting angry again. I felt my throat tighten but I refused to let a tear fall. “You are always the one pushing me away for a hug or swatting my hand away. It’s really clear that you don’t want to be seen with me Y/N.”

“No,” I choked, tears were starting to blur my vision and I could feel my nose starting to run. “I want to be with you, I want to tell the world we’re together but it scares me. I mean I’ve seen everything Zoe and Alfie went through, it’s not always pretty Byron.” My voice strained as I tried not to cry but the tears threatened to spill at any moment.

He leaned against the kitchen work top, facing opposite me, he tugged on the ends of his hair in frustration and he let out a deep sigh. “Well isn’t that the point, to go through things together and be there for each other?” He sarcastically chuckled, “What irritates me more Y/N is that you’re trying to hide us from our friends and family too.”

That’s when the tears started to run, when I realized this could be our last conversation and that this could be the end of something beautiful. He turned away from me and walked to the window, he stared out onto the street with his back towards me. I could tell he was furious, he never turned his back to anyone unless he was trying to calm himself.

He chuckled again and stayed silent for a moment or two, “You call the shots now Y/N, say the words and I’ll leav-“

“I love you,” I said cutting him off, he turned around and stared at me. “I love you, Byron.” I said again after a moment of silence.

His face warmed as he stepped forward. He pulled me in and wrapped his arms around me. I cried into his chest, leaving wet marks on his shirt. He shushed me and pulled us toward the couch before collapsing on to it, I curled up into his lap and tried to calm my crying.

“I was scared of losing you,” I said between a sob. “I don’t want to lose you.”

He held me tighter and pressed a kiss on the top of my head, “You’re not losing me, you’ll never lose me. I’m right here, you’re okay.” I looked up at him, he brushed the hair out my face and wiped the tears of my cheeks with his T-shirt. “I love you too, Y/N/N.”

[killapunk]

8 14 23 & 41 (im honestly just asking that one for the middle question JFKDFS) for Guess The Fuck Who ☣️🐸 (oh wow frogs r so fucking valid but the iphone frog emoji Really Is Not)

THE EMOJI I GOT WAS CUTE THO SO ITS OK

FROG POWER!!!!

8. - What do the like best about their partner?

For Goliath, it’s the challenge, I think. The challenge of getting to mentally dissect every little bit of Vene, to try and discover new reactions and outcomes to scenarios. Fair enough that isn’t the best answer ever but... I mean the intellect is there too. And I think that’s probably what Vene likes most. The fact he’s found someone who he can be unrestrained around (for the most part, as Goliath does set SOME ground rules, but he makes pretty good arguments... if you catch my drift...), who he can rely on as an assistant and partner. Like the fact he managed to find someone who won’t belittle him or scoff or try to lock him away. It feels... nice.

14. - Anything they both dread?

Being locked away again lol. Separated this time. Vene could potentially stress himself out to the point of vanishing, but it’s unlikely that he would, and it’s not like he could teleport to Goliath during it like some sort of spooky Uber. And if he could, then they’d still be trapped. And if they found out about Goliath’s mind powers, maybe he’d be stuck in a tiny chamber all tied up. Basically just being in an inescapable situation. The good thing is it’s near impossible for them to be taken down.

Then there’s the other thing. You know, the becoming a monster thing.

23. - How do they hug? Kiss? Tease? Flirt? Comfort?

As we both know, a lot of it is Goliath taking the lead and getting what he wants. Vene is shockingly good at reciprocating, at least when it comes to physical things. Goliath often bugs his assistants for hugs because he thinks it’s cool, and he does things like drape himself across Vene’s lap and pull him down for smooches if he’s feeling it. Vene rarely initiates things, but sometimes certain events trigger his desire (you know what I’m talking about) and he finds himself being rather insistent. Other times, he gets curious, or an inkling of want for affection, and I imagine he plants almost clumsy kisses on Goliath’s lips. 

Teasing and flirting go as you’d expect. Goliath being cheesy or bold and Vene being very logical. I imagine at some point he’s like “so would you like to have sex” because he’d rather get to the point than listen to Goliath’s nonsense, and Goliath thinks he’s being very suave. 

Comfort is... tricky. It’s not very often that either of them will be in any sort of distress, and I think a lot of it happens around Vene’s final days as any sort of mortal being, at which point all he can really think to do is to stroke Goliath’s cheek and silently give him an expression that somehow holds more emotion than he’s shown in his entire life. 

Otherwise, if it’s something like Goliath not liking the end of a movie, Vene just goes like... (touches his shoulder) “Would you like to make something explode.”

It usually works. 

41. - Are they party-goers? What are they like when they’re drunk? Does it happen often?

They aren’t particularly social animals at all. Goliath is a skilled businessman and enjoys being around people (because he enjoys getting money), but ever since Vene he’s been staying inside a lot more, and he’s okay with that. I don’t think the two of them would ever attend any sort of gathering tbh. 

DRUNK... GOD... first of all, it’s more likely for them to get accidentally fucked up on some fume than to get drunk, but when they do... 

Goliath turns like obnoxiously mushy and rambly and will most likely DEMAND that Vene tell him he loves him. Oddly enough he doesn’t get particularly sexual, just cuddly. There’s a chance he might start crying about reptiles and amphibians. Drunk Vene... doesn’t enjoy the experience all that much. His brain slows down and he can’t form sentences as nicely and he hates it, because it makes him feel stupid, even though he knows he isn’t. It also makes him feel extra warm, which he finds uncomfortable (and what’s this? It happens when he looks at Goliath for too long. How absurd...). He tries to experiment but gets easily frustrated and anything that remains from those drunken trials has now been burnt to ash. In the end he resigns himself to resting his head in Goliath’s lap. 

[artificialqueens]

gonna make em scream some day, gonna make it big 1/3 (shalaska) - rosetintedworld

AN: this was originally on ao3 (under the same name!) but ive decided to put it on here also because i love feedback and attention. some sugar mama sharon and sugar baby alaska tinder realness. 

It wasn’t something she ever saw herself doing. Or even thought about doing until Violet mentioned it as a joke while scrolling through her Tinder and Alaska got a text from her manager saying she was booked for significantly fewer hours than before. She’d used dating apps before, yes, she was a Pisces. Alaska was a gentle lover. She was passionate and caring because love was fulfilling and completing. The second half of the circle that was her life. She’d been on Tinder and Bumble and any other “lesbian” dating app that had caught her eye. She’d even been on some dates, some successful, some not. None of them led to the romantic fantasy she dreamed of though, given her settings were to girls her age who most of the times were experimenting in their college days and didn’t want anything more than to drink and fuck and not talk again. Alaska was 21. She was a junior in college, she could go to bars and order booze herself, she could pay her bills (barely) in her run down apartment, and if she wanted to change up her online dating profile a little to target a slightly different audience, she damn well could.

So, that’s how her Tinder was back up and running, bio set to Alaska, 21, my names yours, whats alaska? performance major at pittsburgh u, starbucks barista extraordinaire, pisces (but im more of a snake than a fish), and yes i am naturally a platinum blonde and preferences set to woman ages 30-50. Her manager was left on delivered but her landlord was texted and asked about rent being a few days late. She sent a silent prayer to anyone who was listening before settling into bed on her stomach and opening the aforementioned app.

The glow of her iPhone screen illuminated her face in the now dark room. Pittsburgh was busy outside, which was typical for a Thursday night when you lived in the middle of the city. Not what some would say was the good middle of the city, but middle of the city nonetheless. Middle of the city enough that Alaska was living paycheck to paycheck trying to make rent while her building simultaneously was falling apart. What was good though, was the handful of woman Alaska was willing to swipe right on. Katya, 35, former Russian gymnast and now a hot blonde yoga instructor.  Bianca, 43, a seamstress with dimples for days. Raja, 45, a makeup artist who happened to be drop dead gorgeous too, which wasn’t quite fair in Alaska’s books.

Sharon, 42, writer of indie horror films. Busty, blonde with hints of silver, permanent bedroom eyes and velvet lips. Her Tinder pictures were her with a raggedy looking cat, her with her head thrown back in laughter and a bottle Pabst, her in a silk robe with tortoiseshell glasses perched on her nose and a glass of champagne in her hand. Alaska hovered on the profile for a moment. She tried to take in the tattoos and the dimple in her chin. The high cheekbones and her sultry glare and the way her clothes hung to her curves. Her thumbs hovered and she sucked in a deep breath before super liking and clicking her phone shut. From under her pillow, her phone buzzed but she ignored it and pulled her blanket up to her chin.

—

The first thing Alaska does after she wakes up is check her phone and have a minor heart attack over the messages on her screen. Well, that’s a lie. The first thing she does is de-tangle her hair from the elastic it was in, push herself up from her mattress on the floor and stretch until she can hear her back crack, make herself a coffee, and then almost spill the scalding liquid on herself when she clicks her phone open.

Sharon: Well, aren’t you a sweet little thing?

Sharon: What are you up to doll?

The hot horror babe double her age had super-liked her back and messaged her first.

Alaska: oh shit sorry, i fell asleep last night !

Sharon responds in nearly a minute and they fall into easy conversation. Alaska mentions she’s up to nothing, really, as she’s not booked for work and there was still a good two weeks before she had to start classes again. The other woman mentions just writing and sketching, working on concepts but other than that doing “fuck all”. The conversation turns shallow, as online dating conversations usually do, and Sharon mentions how Alaska’s gorgeous, how her smile could kill and how her hips are mesmerizing. She asks for a picture and Alaska doesn’t know why she’s blushing all the way up her chest. Or why she spends 5 minutes trying to fix herself up to send a photo to impress a woman she doesn’t know.

—

It was only two nights later when Alaska had agreed to meet Sharon for dinner.

She had scoured her closet for something to wear on a date. Going to bars and clubs, sure. She had clothes for that. Clothes for a date with a woman 21 years her senior who showered her in compliments, was extremely blunt, and had a charmingly crude sense of humour? Yeah, can’t say she’s had to dress for that before. But there’s always a first time for everything. She settles eventually on a sparkly black bralette that dips in slightly to show her cleavage and a black pencil skirt. The length of the pencil skirt cancels out the sexuality of the bralette and the way the skirt hugs her hips, obviously. For good measure, she pairs it with a floral blue kimono and what she hopes are her best pair of black fuck me heels.

The restaurant Sharon had picked out was a couple of blocks away. It was some fancy vegetarian place that Alaska had never heard of, but from a quick Google search she concluded that it was definitely out of her price range and somewhere she could never imagine herself stepping into. It’d be like a bull in a china shop, out of the ordinary and a very bad idea. She wasn’tfancy. Sure, one day, when she was a performer making millions maybe she would’ve returned to the city and ate at some fancy vegetarian restaurant. But now, a simple Starbucks barista who had a mattress in the corner of her room and wallpaper made of sketches and drawings? Nope.

It’s only when she got to the restaurant that she realized she was shaking. Why was she so nervous? She had thanked her Uber driver with a nervous smile and rated five stars, watching as he drove away while wringing her hands together nervously.

The inside was beautiful. All velvet upholstery. There was soft music playing and the walls were lined with paintings. It was classy and chic. And it smelt expensive. There was even a maître d who eyed her as she stood, nearly trembling in her heels like a deer caught in the headlights. It was embarrassing and she thought for a moment of just leaving. She was here to have a good night and hopefully get laid by an extremely hot woman and she was in it to win it but right now she wasn’t feeling like a winner.

“Alaska!” A woman called from a booth in the right corner, almost completely out of view and Alaska dipped away from the maître d with a shy smile and scurried over.

She was more gorgeous in person, somehow. Her blonde hair was clipped back from her face and the dim lighting didn’t reveal much, but Alaska could see the glimpses of silver where stray locks of hair fell around her face. Her cheekbones were high and her face was contoured and hollowed out. Her lips were pouty and plush. They’d be nice to kiss. Probably. Hopefully. Her tortoiseshell glasses were perched on her nose and Alaska could see from behind them where Sharon’s eyeshadow was creasing slightly where it fell into her crows feet. She wanted to brush it away, feel Sharon’s soft looking skin under her fingers.

Strong arms were hugging Alaska before she was able to process what was happening. Sharon was warm around her, rubbing her back and squeezing her waist. Her short sleeved blazer and pencil skirt was clinging to her body, the burnt orange contrasting with the black of Sharon’s bra that was spilling from where the buttons didn’t go quite high enough. Alaska trailed her eyes up the long leather gloves she was wearing and over the tattoo of a phone number just where the gloves ended above her elbow.

“Sit, sit! Hi darling, how are you?” Sharon’s eyes twinkled as she sat back down, pouring out two glasses of wine from the bottle already sitting on the table.

“I’m, uh, really well! Thank you! How about yourself?” Alaska smiled, graciously taking the wine. Maybe the alcohol would soothe her nerves. “Also sorry for running a bit late. Traffic. You know.”

“Don’t even worry about it!” Sharon shrugs and smiles before reaching out and resting her hand over Alaska’s on the table.

Sharon is touchy. Her heel clad foot is hooked around Alaska’s ankle and trailing up and down her calf slowly. Goosebumps raise on Alaska’s skin and she wonders if Sharon can feel them, or if she can sense when her breath catches in her throat and her cheeks flush. She’s always reaching across the table and taking Alaska’s hand in her own, bumping hands when passing a menu over or leaning across to grasp at her arm when Alaska says something funny enough to make Sharon throw her head back in laughter.

They talk and eat and drink. Sharon leans forward to feed Alaska bites of her risotto, claiming that her soup simply can’t be enough and she doesn’t care about the price. The waitress comes and goes with another bottle of wine and Alaska pours herself another glass, stains it with her lipstick and Sharon makes her laugh so hard red wine comes out of her nose much to her embarrassment.

Her eyes are bright and intense. Sharon’s asking Alaska about where she works, what she does. Alaska’s cheeks are pink from the attention but she doesn’t mind, really. Sharon listens when she talks about being a performance major, how she loves plays (especially musicals) and how she writes songs (but they’re mostly parodies, because they’re more fun) and how she really wants to make it big some day. She listens as Alaska talks about her brothers, who are either doctors or in the military and the wine talks about how sometimes she feels a little bit ashamed of herself for not being as successful as them. Sharon is intelligent yet ditzy, listening when it’s important, sniping in with comments and questions when necessary, sometimes distracting herself with a related story from her past or a pop-culture reference Alaska raises her eyebrow at. It’s nice.

Sharon’s gloved hands are on her arm and then in her purse to pay the bill and leave a very generous tip. Alaska’s eyes widen at the price but Sharon is already pulling her away and outside with an arm around her waist. Her grip is strong and steadies Alaska where she’s feeling tipsy and clumsy on her feet, heels clacking on the sidewalk. The flick of a lighter brings her back to her senses and she watches, hypnotized, as Sharon lights a cigarette and breathes deeply. Smoking has never been a turn on her for, really. But the way the smoke leaves Sharon’s soft lips and the way her eyes go hazy is enough for Alaska to press a kiss to her jaw so Sharon will hail a cab for the both of them.

The back of the cab is stuffy and hot. Sharon’s hands are on Alaska’s thighs and in her hair and Alaska’s eyes are dark. She shifts to wrap a hand around the back of Sharon’s neck and pull her in for a kiss. Their lips press together in a rush, teeth clinking. It feels so cliche and wrong, making out in the back of a taxi. Sharon’s hand is resting on her thigh and she’s nipping at Alaska’s lip so softly she has to hold back her moans. It’s dirty and wrong how much Alaska wants Sharon to take her right then and there, so luckily Sharon’s building is only a few blocks away and it’s not long until Sharon’s paying and tipping and pulling Alaska out of the vehicle.

They stumble past the doorman with a nod and Alaska forces herself not to think about how often Sharon must do this, stumble in drunkenly with a girl on her arm late at night. They press into the elevator and Sharon corners her as they go up the twenty-six flights to her apartment, peppering kisses on her skin and tugging at the hems of her clothes.

From the elevator down the hall to Sharon’s apartment is a blur. Inside, it’s all minimal decor and chandeliers and art on the walls. The floor is hardwood and the furniture is neat and tidy. In her drunken haze, Sharon manages to give a quick tour. Quick tour meaning pointing out the different rooms in the large apartment while stripping herself of her gloves and heels and Alaska following suit as Sharon drags her forward by the hand.

The master bedroom, somehow, exceeds Alaska’s expectations. But then again this woman was a mystery wrapped in an enigma and she wasn’t sure what to expect in the first place. The far wall is all window and she can see all the lights from the city flickering. A chandelier in front of the window from an apartment across the ways twinkles and Alaska can feel the wine in her bloodstream. The floors are dark, the walls are cream and the furniture is matte black. It’s elegant and chic. Alaska can feel Sharon’s eyes on her and wants the floor to swallow her whole. Against the wall is a king sized bed and the headboard is tall, the bars thin and simple and Alaska needs to be fucked and grasping onto them right now. There’s art on the walls and vintage movie posters and Alaska can spot an open sketchbook on the nightstand. Her eyes flicker back to the window when she hears a plane fly overhead.

“You like the view?” It’s more of a statement than a question. Alaska nods anyways. She can feel Sharon’s smile and flushes all up her chest.

Sharon presses her body up along Alaska’s back. She can feel the fabric of her dress and the softness of her breasts against her spine. Her hair brushes Alaska’s shoulders when it’s released from the clip and she has the urge to touch it. She wants to feel it through her fingers and sort out the greys from the blonds, hear Sharon sigh when she massages her scalp. Sharon’s warm against her and presses her forward softly until they’re standing in front of the window and Alaska can see people on the sidewalk. She wonders if they know what’s going on stories above them.

There’s a tug on the zipper of Alaska’s skirt then the cool air is hitting her thighs and Sharon’s helping her step out of it. The older woman hums. It’s low and soft and she can feel it against her shoulder when Sharon tucks her chin over it. She presses a kiss to Alaska’s neck and watches goosebumps rise where her lipstick leaves a mark.

Any other hook-ups Sharon would get the other girl to strip. Make her put on a show for her and work for it. Or it’d be fast and there’d be a trail of clothes from the front door to the bedroom. Like some X-rated drunken Hansel and Gretel. At least it served its purpose when Sharon pretended to be asleep and willed the other person to find their way out in the morning. But Alaska was different. Sharon undresses her slowly in attempt to take her all in. Her thighs were milky and soft. There were the slightest of pink stretch marks where her hips had filled out and the older woman took her time tracing them if only to feel Alaska shiver under her. The things she would do to keep the younger girl shivering under her hands. She slid her kimono off, followed by her bralette so she could cup her breasts and squeeze before pulling her underwear down her hips.

Sharon’s still humming. Completely nonchalant. Alaska has to wonder how many girls she takes home. How many of them she strips in front of the window. If she presses the pads of her thumbs into the underside of their breasts and pinches their nipples and hips just to hear them squeak. Sharon’s still fully dressed, save for her glasses, heels, and gloves that were shed earlier. She debated on keeping the gloves on, too. If only to see the way Alaska would shiver and blush when a cool leather finger would run through Alaska’s folds only to come out shiny and wet. Next time.

“Sharon…” Alaska’s voice is whiny and Sharon shushes her, tapping her finger on her lips until Alaska takes it into her mouth.

“What do you want, baby?” Sharon’s calm and collected. The opposite of Alaska, whose heart is beating against her ribcage so hard it may break. She groans in reply.

Sharon pinches at her nipple with on hand, slipping another finger from her other hand in Alaska’s mouth when she gasps in response. She stumbles forward slightly and presses her palms against the glass as Sharon wraps an arm around her waist to keep her steady. There’s people below bustling on the sidewalk and she can see the people in apartments over. Her breath comes out hot and the window fogs where it hits.

“I got you, it’s okay. Such a pretty baby.” Sharon pets her hair, it’s long and soft in her palm, “I bet everyone outside loves the view just as much as you do.”

Alaska’s thighs shake as Sharon removes her fingers from her mouth. They’re slick with spit and Alaska watches the trail of saliva between her lips and Sharon’s fingers, dips her tongue forward to lick it up. Suddenly, Sharon’s fingers press up against her clit and she groans. Her head falls back against Sharon’s shoulder and her fingers curl against the glass searching to find purchase. The window feels like ice against her skin. But it may just be from the way her skin is radiating heat and the sweat is sticking to her. Sharon rubs slow circles and watches how Alaska’s hip shakes. Her left thigh twitches when Sharon trails a single finger back and forth over the nerves and her hips jerk forward when she presses the heel of her hand against it in order to rub against her hole with her fingers.

“Tell me what you want. I just want to make you feel good.” Sharon’s voice is warm and she can feel the pout against her ear. She’s teasing. Her fingers skate past Alaska’s clit again and she presses the tip of a finger inside of her. It slips just past the muscle until the younger girl gasps and then it’s gone.

“Fuck me, please. Please mama. God.” Alaska’s whining high in her throat. Her throat catches on the mama and she flushes from embarrassment, all up her chest to her cheeks. Sharon kisses and smiles against her shoulder.

Alaska nearly cries when Sharon slips a finger inside her. Her pussy is warm and wet and Sharon fucks her slow. The sound echoes in the otherwise silent room and Alaska whimpers. Her centre is pink and swollen and Sharon relishes in the sound, slips another finger in without problem and scissors them just to hear Alaska’s embarrassed cry when she comments on how wet she is. Her fingers work slow and Alaska is squirming enough that Sharon has to wrap her arm back around her waist, pressing her naked form against Sharon’s clothed one to keep her still. Alaska’s trailing her hands backwards. Up into Sharon’s hair and down her side, around to her ass and thighs, then back down to try and intertwine their fingers and press Sharon deeper into her.

“Alaska baby, no. You’ll get there. I’ll take care of you.” Sharon tsked, her tone stern.

Alaska whines and curls her fingers into Sharon’s arm. Sharon digs her fingers deeper and crooks them. Alaska’s bowlegged knees buckle and she reaches out again to steady herself against the window and lean back against Sharon. Her eyes are glued shut and her lips are parted and Sharon works her so sweetly, pumping two fingers and swiping her thumb in soft circles around Alaska’s clit.

“You gonna cum? So beautiful. Cum for me baby girl.” Sharon murmurs. Her eyes are dark and downcast, shaded by her eyelashes.

Alaska finishes with a cry and her legs give out. Her small frame is shaking and Sharon holds her close, shifts them until they’re back onto the bed and Alaska is panting. The city light reflects on the sweat on Alaska’s chest. Her breasts are illuminated and Sharon leans down to nip at a nipple and Alaska gasps from the overstimulation.

Quickly, Sharon sheds her clothing, nearly ripping a button from her dress in the process. She shifts Alaska onto her back and moves to straddle her chest. Alaska’s panting. Her breasts fall when she exhales and Sharon watches how they shake, reaches out to pinch the skin around her nipple. Her thumb trails against Alaska’s lips and she opens her mouth for it, suckling it and groaning around the digit. A whine escapes her when Sharon pulls her thumb away and trails spit across her bottom lip to see how they glisten.

Sharon’s hips move of their own accord, shifting upwards until she’s against Alaska’s mouth. Her tongue laps out immediately. She presses the flat of her tongue against Sharon’s clit and hears her groan closed mouth. She prods more then, circling around the nub until Sharon is circling her hips above her and grinding against her mouth. Alaska moves her hands to Sharon’s thighs, gives them a squeeze and presses her nose against the groomed hairs. Her breath is cut off and she can feel herself flushing from the effort but she can’t find it in her to stop. The older woman is shaking above her and Alaska sucks hard on her clit. Wetness covers the bottom of Alaska’s face and Sharon whimpers before lifting herself off.

“So good. So, so good doll.” Sharon shifts until they’re both under the sheets and presses a kiss to Alaska’s lips, chin, jaw, cheek. She sighs out through her nose and pulls the girl close to her, nudging her knee between the other’s thighs and holding her head to her chest until Alaska’s breathing matches the beating of her heart.

—

When Alaska wakes, the spot in bed beside her is cold and there’s a dull ache deep in her skull. Sunlight filters in through the large window and Alaska has to squint to look around the room. The cream sheets are glowing pale yellow in the light. They’re soft against her skin where she feels sweaty and gross, and it takes a moment for Alaska to remember where she is. The framed poster for a campy 80s slasher films jerks her memory. Sharon.

She pads out of bed slowly, shifting over to the dresser where she finds last night’s clothes folded up neatly along with a pair of shorts and shirt that Sharon must’ve left out. It’s weird, almost domestic. Most hook ups don’t do this. But then again, most hook ups weren’t older goth women who spend over $100 at dinner without a blink of an eye then fuck Alaska in front of their gigantic window up on the 26th floor of a high class apartment. Alaska squeezes back into her pencil skirt and slips her bralette over her head while making her way out to the rest of the apartment.

There’s a note on the island in the kitchen, atop the granite.

I’m so sorry, I had to run before you woke up! You look gorgeous even in your sleep .. Is that weird to say?

Feel free to shower and help yourself to breakfast and coffee.

I would love to see you again, doll. <3

Sharon Needles

There’s a mug with little ghosts on it beside the note and it’s all too weird and too much. Alaska orders an Uber with the last of her phone battery, adds the number scribbled at the bottom of the paper into her contacts, then tucks the note into the back of her phone case. The doorman downstairs gives her a nod of acknowledgement when she eaves the building and as she got into her Uber she lets out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

The rest of the day went by in a haze. Alaska took a cold, cold shower and puttered around her apartment making shitty coffee and a bowl of cereal before going to work. Her afternoon shift was full of fake smiles and frappuccinos and she spilled hot coffee on herself in a distracted haze and cursed, her co-workers giving her concerned glances. It wasn’t her fault. It was purely coincidence how she kept getting distracted whenever she noticed the crows feet on a lady sitting in the corner or the grey-blue eyes of the young girl she was taking an order from.

She texted Sharon when she got home.  

—

The next time they meet up it’s during the day in a nice area downtown. It’s a very Liberal area. Rainbow crosswalk and all. It’s chalked full of vegan restaurants and nice little expensive shops and it’s another area that Alaska would love to be able to walk down on a random afternoon and not feel intimidated, but that’s not quite the case right now.

Alaska’s in a white shirt tucked into a black skater skirt with a flannel, and half her hair is pulled up into two buns. She feels cute. And gay. And she hopes Sharon thinks the same enough to like, hold her hand or something, or finger her in the washroom of some mom-and-pop restaurant. Maybe both. She tries not to think too much about it as her Uber parks just down the road from the diner Sharon told her to meet her at.

The restaurant is small and cute, not to mention far less intimidating from the last place. There’re plants hanging from the ceiling and a large fish tank. It’s earthy and warm. Scanning the room, there’s no sign of Sharon but before she goes and sits down to wait she hears a soft ‘boo!’ from behind her. Alaska flushes at how she jumped in response and Sharon laughs, pulling her into a hug. The booths are made of worn down leather and the floor creaks slightly as they make their way to a seat. She feels far more “in her element” here, yet her chest still feels tight as Sharon sits across from her.

Her hair is soft and curled, but her eyes are dark and blown out and her lips are plump and red. It’s a dramatic look for one o’clock on a Tuesday, but Alaska doesn’t mind. Her black mock neck shirt hugs her body and her pants are tight and match her lips. It’s modern and chic and Alaska feels underdressed. But Sharon’s gaze is smouldering and trails down her body with a smile. It feels oddly familiar. Oddly comforting.

Sharon asks the waiter if they have Pabst in bottles, not on tap, (they do), and Alaska orders a lemonade. The menu is handwritten and cute, with tacky pun names and illustrations. A foot brushes up against Alaska’s and Sharon’s hand is on her arm. She’s humming as she reads, her lips pursed. Her cool eyes are squinted slightly from her lack of glasses and her crows feet crease slightly. It’s endearing, really. Her fingers are tracing the blue veins under the skin and Alaska wonders if she can feel the goosebumps raising, or if she even realizes she’s doing it in the first place. She imagines Sharon can feel the blood pulsing under her skin. A steady rhythm. By the time the waiter comes back to take their order Alaska had barely read the menu and stumbles slightly, ordering a salad. Sharon shoots her a knowing smile, curling her fingers around Alaska’s small wrist.

“So what do you do, exactly?” Sharon raises her eyebrows at the question, letting her thumb rub at Alaska’s arm.

“Well…” She pauses to take a sip of her beer, “To put it simply I work on short films. They’re just independent projects, mostly horror. I’ve always loved the genre and I love creating and I had the money so I said fuck it, got a group together and we’ve been working together since. We have a pretty strong fan base too, fucked up if you ask me.” Sharon laughs, big and booming in the otherwise calm restaurant.

Alaska smiles and asks about her projects. Her eyes light up when she talks and Alaska can see how her cheekbones protrude when she smiles that wide. The older woman talks about horror movies she admires, how growing up the weird goth dyke made her truly admire the villains in films who got revenge on the preps and the jocks. Most other people would be terrified to hear how their date relates to the killers in these films, but with Sharon it makes sense. She throws herself entirely into her work. Throws herself into the scripts and the storyboards and all the inspirations. She’s always hovering around people on set and fucking with lighting and costumes then marathoning films she’s seen before and can probably quote word for word. This woman is intelligent and intense but spooky and stupid and Alaska doesn’t quite know what to make of her.  

They eat, and talk, and Sharon drinks a few more PBR. Alaska steals a fry from Sharon’s plate and dips it in the surprisingly good vegan milkshake Sharon had guilted her into ordering, just because she refused a lemonade refill and that just wasn’t happening in Sharon’s books. The older woman threw another fry at her for Alaska’s amusement. She was like a baby. A cute one, not an annoying crying one. She was one that you just wanted to keep cooing and giggling and happy. They ordered cheesecake to share and Sharon fed it to her across the table, watching as Alaska’s lips pursed around the fork.

When they go to pay, Alaska pulls her wallet out of her purse. Sharon tsks and gives her a warning look to put her wallet away, and Alaska tries to ignore the way heat pools in her stomach.

As they leave, Sharon snakes an arm around Alaska’s waist. It fits there, and Alaska doesn’t mind. Her hand dips into the curve of her small waist and settles on her hip. It’s a warm heaviness and Alaska has to walk a little closer to Sharon due to it.

“Y’know, I didn’t realize I was gay until my senior year of high school maybe.” Alaska looks down at the small ceramic ghost in her hand, thinks that Sharon might like it. Her voice startles Sharon from where she’s standing a few feet away looking at a similar ceramic cat.

“Really? You come across as the loud and proud type. Like head cheerleader that all the bi-curious girls go to behind the bleachers to get their lesbian cherry popped.”

“Okay fair enough. Let me guess, little goth bitch who punched out anyone who tried to cuss you out for being a dyke?” Alaska fires back, putting down the small ghost and patting its head.

“I’ve had my fair share of physical encounters . I’ll admit to that. No shame in punching someone’s teeth in when they disrespect you.” Sharon raises her eyebrows in question to Alaska, “Although it did take half of freshman year before I started fighting back. I don’t eat meat but I’ll use ‘em to nurse a black eye if I have to.”

The older woman laughs but Alaska can’t help but imagine her younger, smaller. 14 year old Sharon nursing her wounds because some asshole thought she was a good target. 14 year old Sharon reapplying black lipstick in an abandoned girls’ washroom. 14 year old Sharon being unapologetically herself despite her entire school seemingly working against her because she was a bit eccentric and queer. 14 year old Sharon going home and watching shitty horror movies as a distraction from the shit she had to deal with. It tugged on Alaska’s heart strings.

From antique shops to run down clubs to vintage boho chic clothing stores, they check them all out. Alaska tries on a dress that looks like it’s made of trash bags and spins, laughing as it floats up around her. Sharon hides behind a shelf in a costume store, popping out with fake teeth and a witch hat on to startle Alaska. Alaska tries on a horse mask at the back of the store, recalling how people in school used to call her horse face . It doesn’t bother her anymore though, and she neighs in the mask before ripping it off and laughing.

“If we ever get into a fight I’ll just buy us animal masks. You can’t be pissed off at someone when you’re a fucking horse and they’re a frog” Sharon shifts through the masks, laughing before pulling on Alaska’s arm back to the front of the store.

The next store they go into is pastel and airy. They sell lingerie and chiffon peignoirs, lace slip dresses and thigh high stockings with matching garters. It’s all out of Alaska’s price range. This isn’t just a store that you go to when going out with friends shopping. She knows this. And she knows Sharon knows this. Sharon walks in like she owns the place, one arm still wrapped around Alaska’s waist like she owns her and the other weaving through fabrics.

“What’s your size, baby?” Sharon presses a kiss to her cheek and Alaska can feel her throat close in.

Her fingers clench into a fist. She’s sweating. Why is she sweating?

“Uh, I’m a 36C. Medium for everything else, I guess.”

Sharon hums and shifts through the isles. The bags on her arm dig into the skin, making it pink and white. Alaska wants to kiss it. Sharon purchased some tacky looking Halloween knick-knacks, and anything Alaska looked at for over ten seconds and seemed interested in. It made her blush when Sharon insisted on buying it. They both drift around the store for a while, brushing off the sleepy looking girl who asked if they needed any help.

Eventually, they end up near the back by the empty changing rooms. Sharon pulls Alaska into one, pulling the pale pink door shut behind her and clicking the lock shut. It’s a roomy area, with a large mirror on the back wall. The two walls are lined with benches and there’s a small circle stool in the corner. Alaska can feel the air heating up. Or maybe it’s just her. Sharon’s hanging things up on the hooks and looking back at Alaska expectantly when minutes pass and she’s still fully dressed.

“Don’t be shy, baby.” Sharon’s voice is soft. Her thighs spill outwards from where she’s sitting on the stool and she crosses her legs, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands.

Alaska sucks in a breath before stripping, gauging her actions based on Sharon’s face. She tries on all the pieces Sharon picked out, ranging from sheer bras and thongs to intricate high wasted panties with matching garters and stockings. She tries on all the robes and slips, lets Sharon run her hands over the silk dawning her thighs. She spins her finger and Alaska turns in each outfit to show how her ass peeks out of the underwear and how her hair runs soft down her back. Sharon’s making soft sounds.

When Alaska gets to the last set, black high waisted fucking crotchless panties with the bra and stockings to match, she feels her face go red hot. It was before, definitely, but this ensemble (if you will) was truly the cherry on top of this fucked up sexually frustrating sundae. She changes slowly, folding the last pieces and putting them back on their hangers on the wall.

“Can you be good for me?” Sharon’s voice comes as a surprise and Alaska nods, spinning around to face the woman.  “Sit down pumpkin. Spread your legs.”

Alaska’s head was spinning. She lowered herself onto the bench slowly and pulled at her knees to spread her legs. Sharon’s gaze was red hot and Alaska squirmed.

“You’re so wet.” Alaska could hear Sharon laugh and she twitched, moving her legs back together slightly. “No baby, you’re being so good. I wanna see you.”

Alaska’s lungs were collapsing. Her insides were burning and she felt so dirty and flustered and they were in a damn changing room . Sharon was fully dressed, legs crossed and lighting a cigarette even though it was against the rules because she just didn’t care. Smoke plumed upwards and she took a long drag, ashing her cigarette against the edge of the stool and turning back to where Alaska was squirming, the air conditioned air hitting her cunt.

“Can you touch yourself for me? I want you to fuck yourself with one finger baby, don’t want you to make too much of a mess.”

Sharon’s voice was so soft yet stern and Alaska wanted to cry. She grazed her index finger over her clit and jerked before tracing around her whole. She was wet. Just from trying on the lingerie and modelling for Sharon. Just being around Sharon. Sharon who had such a domineering energy. Sharon with her hand on the small of her back pressing her forward. Sharon feeding her cheesecake even when she thought she was full. Alaska pressed one finger in and gasped, squeezing her eyes shut to avoid the embarrassment of making eye contact with the other woman.

“Nice and slow, or else the whole store will hear how wet you are right now. Or would you like that? If someone walked back right now and could hear how wet you are, how you’re trying to hold back all your pretty little noises as you put on a show for me.” Sharon to try and relieve the pressure between her own thighs, “Touch your clit for me hun, with your other hand. You’re so good. So pretty”

Alaska gasped with the intensity of it all. Her thumb on her clit and her middle finger pressing up inside of her, shooting stars behind her eyelids. She could feel Sharon watching her, how her eyes were raking up and down her body as she thrust her hips into her own hands. The bench underneath her was probably wet but at this point she couldn’t bring herself to care. The dozy girl working up front could walk in on them, unlock the door from the outside and ask what was taking them so long and Alaska wouldn’t be able to find it in herself to care as long as Sharon wanted her to keep going.

“Sharon, I can’t, I’m gonna-”

“Cum for me baby.” Alaska’s hips shook and she clenched her jaw to try and keep her noises in as she thrust, panting as she came down from her high.

Sharon stood then and sucked Alaska’s wet fingers into her mouth. They left with a pop! and Sharon smiled, letting Alaska change in silence before purchasing everything she picked out and pulling Alaska into an Uber back to her apartment building.

—

School starts up again. Alaska’s in her final year of university. Soon, she’ll have her Bachelor’s Degree in Performing Arts. She’ll be able to move out to LA like she wanted and be successful. She can star in films and put out an album and make it big. She can make her parents proud along with her medical and military brother because she can be successful too! They all thought she wouldn’t make anything of herself. Sure, maybe she’d move out to LA like she’d always dreamed of, but make it big? Nah. Her mom was convinced she was just going to become some drug addicted deviant, but hey, isn’t that the superstar lifestyle anyways?

Alaska’s plans may have changed drastically. As the weeks turned into months, she spent less and less time at her own run down apartment. It wasn’t that she moved in with Sharon, per se, it was just that over time she had ended up moving out of her apartment. Not to mention Sharon had seen one text from her landlord saying that her rent was far overdo and got so worried, telling Alaska to not worry about it because she had it covered. (Which was embarrassing on Alaska’s part, considering any time not spent in a lecture hall was probably spent working, but inflation was a bitch, y’know?). So it’s not like it was some big ordeal when two and a half months into whatever they had, Alaska was staying there most of the time. She just needed a place to stay until she could find somewhere she could actually afford, and Sharon was willing to give her a helping hand! It also helped that Sharon had a tongue that made her see God.

The move in was gradual. Alaska had a healthy collection of clothes and lingerie at Sharon’s apartment, just from previous dates where Sharon insisted she buy everything for Alaska because it just looked so cute on her and she had her own bills to pay, so Sharon would buy. Eventually, a toothbrush showed up in the holder beside Sharon’s. And Alaska’s fancy purple shampoo she splurged on to keep her hair platinum. And a collection of socks and pajamas and other clothes that Alaska would just happen to leave there but never return to her apartment. Of course, since so much of her wardrobe and electronics and chargers and, well, everything, somehow ended up at Sharon’s flat, Alaska spent more and more time there. It was just convenient, that was all.

Alaska’s life was good. Different from where she thought she would be at this point in her life, but good. Violet was hounding her about the “friend” she was staying with, and about how she seemed to have that “post-sex glow” (as she liked to call it) 24-fucking-7, but Violet was a bitch and too nosy for her own good.

She spent her afternoons in the living room of the apartment, practicing lines from a production that was worth quite a hefty amount of her grade. Cerrone was her only spectator. He didn’t throw rotten tomatoes or boo her off of the coffee table stage though, so she takes what she can get. Sometimes Sharon would come home early and watch her, give her pointers and then tell her to stop repeating the same damn lines for the 50th time and put her mouth to good use. It was a good break. Sharon brought up the idea a few times, putting Alaska in some of her short films. It’d be fun! The gorgeous ditzy blonde in a gore-y horror short film? Instant blockbuster! People love cliche shit like that. Plus, Sharon would love to have Alaska on set with her all day.

It was nice, truly. Sharon took them out for dinner or made fancy vegetarian meals. She’d wake Alaska up with her head between her thighs, leaving Alaska to shudder awake in a cool sweat and groaning. There’d be small notes with hearts on them when Sharon would disappear before Alaska got up. Sharon would have an Uber waiting outside Alaska’s Starbuckslocation when she was done work, and sometimes Sharon would even pop in herself to visit even though Alaska knows she’d rather support local businesses than the industry coffee shop she worked at. Sharon bought her fancy clothes and shoes and lingerie just to see Alaska blush and squirm. Alaska would get all quiet and call Sharon mommy and curl up on the couch beside her, pressing kisses to her neck to distract her from the movie she was watching. Or, she’d get bratty and call her mama , call Sharon on set when she was in the apartment alone touching herself. Life was good.

—

Alaska more or less moving in only proved to show how needy she was. She was worse than a pet, but Sharon only had Cerrone to compare her to so maybe it wasn’t the fairest comparison. They both bit Sharon, though. Alaska would text Sharon while she was on set, something along the lines of noodles i miss you :( when are you going to be hoooome? sharonnnn i need you. mama please with an image attached of Alaska leaning up against the pillows wearing one of Sharon’s old shirts, with the tip of one thumb in her mouth and two fingers from her other hand knuckle deep in her cunt. Sharon would have to call it a day early and rush home, finger fuck Alaska into the couch cushions until she saw stars and called Sharon mommy despite how embarrassed she got after.

Sharon loved it, how open Alaska was becoming with her. She stopped hiding her phone calls with her brother, instead she would saunter around the kitchen and sit herself upon Sharon’s lap while she listened to Cory talk about the girl he met at the gym. Sharon would tickle her thigh, slip a finger into her panties just to feel how wet she already was and circle her clit until Alaska hung up the phone. Alaska would come back from her lectures and talk about her professors and how her auditions went. She’d write her essays on the leather couch while Sharon painted her toenails baby pink, ate her out while they dried and let Alaska drop her notes and pen onto the hardwood. Sharon liked how Alaska was becoming less shy, how she would pout when she didn’t get her way and call Sharon mama in public just to be a brat and start a scene. Alaska would press kisses to her cheek unprompted, would stop shying away when Sharon payed their dinner bill and bought her fancy lingerie and shoes, would let Sharon give her glasses of wine all day and press on her bladder while fingering her until she cried.

Today was no different. Alaska knew Sharon was out talking to some of her “creative partners” about an idea she had, an idea that she had been sketching and writing for hours after Alaska had fallen asleep on the couch beside her, toes tucked between Sharon’s thighs. She knew Sharon was having some sort of creative breakthrough and was busy. But Alaska was in the apartment alone, and Sharon had left before she woke up. So now she was just lonely and sad and her underwear shifted coldly against her.

lasky <3: noodles when will you be home?

noodles <333: I don’t know baby .. The girl I’m at lunch with is a really talented costume and prop designer. Even if she is a bit stand-offish.

lasky <3: but i neeeeeed you :(

Alaska sent a photo. She was in a sheer pink robe Sharon had bought for her. It was flowy and elegant and trailed behind Alaska on the floor when she walked. It made her feel like an old housewife. She wanted a spiral staircase, wanted to stand at the top of it with a glass of champagne in her hand. Underneath it she wore nothing. She was pouty and annoyed and leaning back on the couch pillows, lips parted and pinching a nipple between two fingers.

noodles <333: I’ll be home in an hour .. Picking up some things. Hope you know how spoiled you are. Brat.

lasky <3: :) :) :) <3

When Sharon gets home, her heart nearly beats out of her chest. She’s had her fair number of romances. Mostly with woman her own age, sometimes younger. Some of them even made it past the six month mark in their relationship. There was something about Alaska though that had Sharon’s head spinning. It was like her entire world had shifted by this girl and was spinning backwards on its axis. Backwards and upside-down. And double time. Whatever. Alaska was curled up on the couch, nude except for the robe, with Cerrone in her lap. She was humming softly to herself and her toes were curled into the couch cushions where her legs were folded underneath her. The natural light made her hair and skin glow and it was so soft and right. Long term didn’t usually work with Sharon. The only long term relationships she had were with cocaine and whiskey and fucking Cerrone the cat, who she didn’t even want in the first place. So why did coming back to her apartment daily to Alaska make it feel more like a home than ever before?

“You’re such a brat, you know that, right?” At the sound of Sharon’s voice Cerrone hops off of Alaska, allowing her to get up to greet Sharon.

“Lies, mama. You’re full of lies.” Alaska laughs and presses a kiss to the dimple in Sharon’s chin. “What’d you get me?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know. Go lie down, pumpkin.” Sharon kisses the side of her hair and gives her ass a tap before Alaska nods and heads to the bedroom.

Alaska’s long and full on the bed. Her hips and breasts filled out more after being with Sharon. Sharon took her out for lunch and dinner, fed her cheesecake and other expensive desserts. She always made sure her baby was cared for. Alaska’s hips were soft and propped up with a long pillow, and her breasts were full and heavy against her chest as she breathed deeply, waiting for Sharon.

The rabbit vibrator Sharon comes into the room with is black. It’s not overly long, but the girth makes up for it. Alaska knows Sharon will have to stretch her, start with two fingers just so Alaska can feel the burn then stuff her with three.

“Mommy please…” Alaska draws it out, flutters her eyelashes.

She’s pouty and wet and Sharon kneels beside her on the bed, pulls one of Alaska’s legs up and out to spread her open.

“So wet already baby? Greedy girl.” Alaska screws her eyes shut at the words. “Open your eyes for me sweetheart. Watch mama.”

Sharon slips two fingers inside of the younger girl and Alaska cries, twisting her hips. Her fingers are thick and strong and they fuck Alaska almost mechanically, avoiding her g-spot but scissoring to stretch her open. It burns slightly and Alaska gasps, heat curling in her stomach. She can hear Sharon’s fingers moving in and out of her, can hear when a third one enters. Alaska tries to clench her thighs together but with Sharon between them she’s stuck spread open. She wants to move and squirm, clamp around Sharon’s hand, but Sharon’s got her hip pinned down and is kneeling above Alaska with so much dominance she’s stuck in position with nowhere else to go.

When Alaska’s stretched and dripping, Sharon presses the vibrator inside until it’s snug against both her g-spot and clit. Alaska’s whining high and nasally. Her eyes are dark and her fingers are tugging at the sheets and she’s watching Sharon desperately. It clicks on and she gasps and cries, her hip twitching at the sudden stimulation.

“I should buy you another one of these. A small one that slips into your panties.” Alaska whines and moves her thumb to her mouth, partly to have something to bite and partly to have something to stifle her pathetic cries. “Could turn it on while you’re out picking up dry cleaning. Or while you’re out with mommy’s credit card. Bet you’d love how everyone would watch you as you whined, unable to stop it.”

Alaska gasped as Sharon started moving the vibrator, slowly pressing it in and out of her slightly. It pressed so tightly against where she was the most sensitive and she cried out, thrusting her hips up into the pressure. Heat was curling in her stomach and she could feel her peak building. Her breasts were shaking above her in time with her panting.

“It’s pathetic, really,” Sharon stopped the vibrator, leaving it still and full in Alaska, “how desperate you are for me. Texting me while I’m out, expecting me to drop everything and come get you off like the greedy little slut you are.”

The twitch of Alaska’s thigh and how her eyes almost roll back remind Sharon of just how much she loves it. Being humiliated like that. She loves when Sharon makes fun of how wet she is, how open and soft she is and how she fucks herself on Sharon’s single finger wanting more, how turned on she gets when Sharon buys her expensive lingerie only to rip it off of her later because money isn’t an issue.

She wonders if Alaska could get off on it alone. Just Sharon’s fingers pinching her nipples, fingering her slowly and avoiding the areas she needed the attention so badly. Sharon would comment on how swollen she was, how it was cute that she thrust up and squirmed as if Sharon was actually going to give her what she wanted. She’d bite on Alaska’s nipple, laughing as she flicked the sensitive bud while leaning over the younger girl, still fully clothed. Sharon thinks she could do it. She’d cum untouched and almost instantly recoil, heat exploding in her lower stomach and her cheeks flushing. Sharon would laugh and watch Alaska’s cunt clench and shake before pressing a kiss to her pubic mound.

But for now Alaska was spread and shaking in front of her, thrusting to try and get the toy to touch her and push her over the edge.

“No, no, no, no mama please. That’s not fair.” Alaska’s voice is whiny and pouty, drawing every syllable out, and Sharon can hear her puffing out air through her nose. Tears gather in the corner of Alaska’s eyes.

“Nothing’s ever fair, baby. And you’re gonna take what I give so maybe I’ll let you cum.” Sharon gives Alaska’s thigh a pat once she’s come down from the edge, then turns the vibrator on low.

This time around Alaska yells out brokenly, hips chasing the feeling so hard Sharon has to pin her down with both hands. Her eyes are screwed shut and Sharon can see where tears start leaking from them. Alaska’s mumbling something incoherent and thrashing her head back and forth, digging her fingertips into the pillow under her head. The cycle repeats itself a few more times, bringing Alaska up to the edge and then ripping it from her. She’s become unable to form any words other than please, no, and mommy and it’s like some sick power move on Sharon’s part. How Alaska’s whole world right now revolves around Sharon, and whether or not Sharon’s going to let her cum.

When Sharon turns the vibrator up instead of off and presses it tight up against Alaska, the younger girl cries and pushes off the bed, thighs trying to close around the toy. Her whines are high pitched and she’s gasping. The wet sounds her pussy is making is obscene and Sharon watches her twitch and clench, all wet and shiny.

Sharon pets Alaska’s hair as she comes down, slips the toy out of her and puts it on the nightstand. She kisses around Alaska’s face and tells her she’s beautiful, that she did so good, mommy’s so proud. The bed dips when she leaves for only a second. She gets a glass of water and a cloth to wipe Alaska off, and grabs her sketchbook from where it sits in her purse. She fingers herself hard as Alaska comes back to her senses and licks around her nipple, trailing her airy hands across Sharon’s body.

Softly, Sharon kisses Alaska’s forehead when she’s sure she’s asleep, and pulls out her sketchbook.

tags - alaska thunderfuck, sharon needles, shalaska, smut, lesbian au, sugar mama au, mommy kink

It wasn’t something she ever saw herself doing. Or even thought about doing until Violet mentioned it as a joke while scrolling through her Tinder and Alaska got a text from her manager saying she was booked for significantly fewer hours than before. She’d used dating apps before, yes, she was a Pisces. Alaska was a gentle lover. She was passionate and caring because love was fulfilling and completing. The second half of the circle that was her life. She’d been on Tinder and Bumble and any other “lesbian” dating app that had caught her eye. She’d even been on some dates, some successful, some not. None of them led to the romantic fantasy she dreamed of though, given her settings were to girls her age who most of the times were experimenting in their college days and didn’t want anything more than to drink and fuck and not talk again. Alaska was 21. She was a junior in college, she could go to bars and order booze herself, she could pay her bills (barely) in her run down apartment, and if she wanted to change up her online dating profile a little to target a slightly different audience, she damn well could.

So, that’s how her Tinder was back up and running, bio set to Alaska, 21, my names yours, whats alaska? performance major at pittsburgh u, starbucks barista extraordinaire, pisces (but im more of a snake than a fish), and yes i am naturally a platinum blonde and preferences set to woman ages 30-50. Her manager was left on delivered but her landlord was texted and asked about rent being a few days late. She sent a silent prayer to anyone who was listening before settling into bed on her stomach and opening the aforementioned app.

The glow of her iPhone screen illuminated her face in the now dark room. Pittsburgh was busy outside, which was typical for a Thursday night when you lived in the middle of the city. Not what some would say was the good middle of the city, but middle of the city nonetheless. Middle of the city enough that Alaska was living paycheck to paycheck trying to make rent while her building simultaneously was falling apart. What was good though, was the handful of woman Alaska was willing to swipe right on. Katya, 35, former Russian gymnast and now a hot blonde yoga instructor.  Bianca, 43, a seamstress with dimples for days. Raja, 45, a makeup artist who happened to be drop dead gorgeous too, which wasn’t quite fair in Alaska’s books.

Sharon, 42, writer of indie horror films. Busty, blonde with hints of silver, permanent bedroom eyes and velvet lips. Her Tinder pictures were her with a raggedy looking cat, her with her head thrown back in laughter and a bottle Pabst, her in a silk robe with tortoiseshell glasses perched on her nose and a glass of champagne in her hand. Alaska hovered on the profile for a moment. She tried to take in the tattoos and the dimple in her chin. The high cheekbones and her sultry glare and the way her clothes hung to her curves. Her thumbs hovered and she sucked in a deep breath before super liking and clicking her phone shut. From under her pillow, her phone buzzed but she ignored it and pulled her blanket up to her chin.

—

The first thing Alaska does after she wakes up is check her phone and have a minor heart attack over the messages on her screen. Well, that’s a lie. The first thing she does is de-tangle her hair from the elastic it was in, push herself up from her mattress on the floor and stretch until she can hear her back crack, make herself a coffee, and then almost spill the scalding liquid on herself when she clicks her phone open.

Sharon: Well, aren’t you a sweet little thing?

Sharon: What are you up to doll?

The hot horror babe double her age had super-liked her back and messaged her first.

Alaska: oh shit sorry, i fell asleep last night !

Sharon responds in nearly a minute and they fall into easy conversation. Alaska mentions she’s up to nothing, really, as she’s not booked for work and there was still a good two weeks before she had to start classes again. The other woman mentions just writing and sketching, working on concepts but other than that doing “fuck all”. The conversation turns shallow, as online dating conversations usually do, and Sharon mentions how Alaska’s gorgeous, how her smile could kill and how her hips are mesmerizing. She asks for a picture and Alaska doesn’t know why she’s blushing all the way up her chest. Or why she spends 5 minutes trying to fix herself up to send a photo to impress a woman she doesn’t know.

—

It was only two nights later when Alaska had agreed to meet Sharon for dinner.

She had scoured her closet for something to wear on a date. Going to bars and clubs, sure. She had clothes for that. Clothes for a date with a woman 21 years her senior who showered her in compliments, was extremely blunt, and had a charmingly crude sense of humour? Yeah, can’t say she’s had to dress for that before. But there’s always a first time for everything. She settles eventually on a sparkly black bralette that dips in slightly to show her cleavage and a black pencil skirt. The length of the pencil skirt cancels out the sexuality of the bralette and the way the skirt hugs her hips, obviously. For good measure, she pairs it with a floral blue kimono and what she hopes are her best pair of black fuck me heels.

The restaurant Sharon had picked out was a couple of blocks away. It was some fancy vegetarian place that Alaska had never heard of, but from a quick Google search she concluded that it was definitely out of her price range and somewhere she could never imagine herself stepping into. It’d be like a bull in a china shop, out of the ordinary and a very bad idea. She wasn’t fancy. Sure, one day, when she was a performer making millions maybe she would’ve returned to the city and ate at some fancy vegetarian restaurant. But now, a simple Starbucks barista who had a mattress in the corner of her room and wallpaper made of sketches and drawings? Nope.

It’s only when she got to the restaurant that she realized she was shaking. Why was she so nervous? She had thanked her Uber driver with a nervous smile and rated five stars, watching as he drove away while wringing her hands together nervously.

The inside was beautiful. All velvet upholstery. There was soft music playing and the walls were lined with paintings. It was classy and chic. And it smelt expensive. There was even a maître d who eyed her as she stood, nearly trembling in her heels like a deer caught in the headlights. It was embarrassing and she thought for a moment of just leaving. She was here to have a good night and hopefully get laid by an extremely hot woman and she was in it to win it but right now she wasn’t feeling like a winner.

“Alaska!” A woman called from a booth in the right corner, almost completely out of view and Alaska dipped away from the maître d with a shy smile and scurried over.

She was more gorgeous in person, somehow. Her blonde hair was clipped back from her face and the dim lighting didn’t reveal much, but Alaska could see the glimpses of silver where stray locks of hair fell around her face. Her cheekbones were high and her face was contoured and hollowed out. Her lips were pouty and plush. They’d be nice to kiss. Probably. Hopefully. Her tortoiseshell glasses were perched on her nose and Alaska could see from behind them where Sharon’s eyeshadow was creasing slightly where it fell into her crows feet. She wanted to brush it away, feel Sharon’s soft looking skin under her fingers.

Strong arms were hugging Alaska before she was able to process what was happening. Sharon was warm around her, rubbing her back and squeezing her waist. Her short sleeved blazer and pencil skirt was clinging to her body, the burnt orange contrasting with the black of Sharon’s bra that was spilling from where the buttons didn’t go quite high enough. Alaska trailed her eyes up the long leather gloves she was wearing and over the tattoo of a phone number just where the gloves ended above her elbow.

“Sit, sit! Hi darling, how are you?” Sharon’s eyes twinkled as she sat back down, pouring out two glasses of wine from the bottle already sitting on the table.

“I’m, uh, really well! Thank you! How about yourself?” Alaska smiled, graciously taking the wine. Maybe the alcohol would soothe her nerves. “Also sorry for running a bit late. Traffic. You know.”

“Don’t even worry about it!” Sharon shrugs and smiles before reaching out and resting her hand over Alaska’s on the table.

Sharon is touchy. Her heel clad foot is hooked around Alaska’s ankle and trailing up and down her calf slowly. Goosebumps raise on Alaska’s skin and she wonders if Sharon can feel them, or if she can sense when her breath catches in her throat and her cheeks flush. She’s always reaching across the table and taking Alaska’s hand in her own, bumping hands when passing a menu over or leaning across to grasp at her arm when Alaska says something funny enough to make Sharon throw her head back in laughter.

They talk and eat and drink. Sharon leans forward to feed Alaska bites of her risotto, claiming that her soup simply can’t be enough and she doesn’t care about the price. The waitress comes and goes with another bottle of wine and Alaska pours herself another glass, stains it with her lipstick and Sharon makes her laugh so hard red wine comes out of her nose much to her embarrassment.

Her eyes are bright and intense. Sharon’s asking Alaska about where she works, what she does. Alaska’s cheeks are pink from the attention but she doesn’t mind, really. Sharon listens when she talks about being a performance major, how she loves plays (especially musicals) and how she writes songs (but they’re mostly parodies, because they’re more fun) and how she really wants to make it big some day. She listens as Alaska talks about her brothers, who are either doctors or in the military and the wine talks about how sometimes she feels a little bit ashamed of herself for not being as successful as them. Sharon is intelligent yet ditzy, listening when it’s important, sniping in with comments and questions when necessary, sometimes distracting herself with a related story from her past or a pop-culture reference Alaska raises her eyebrow at. It’s nice.

Sharon’s gloved hands are on her arm and then in her purse to pay the bill and leave a very generous tip. Alaska’s eyes widen at the price but Sharon is already pulling her away and outside with an arm around her waist. Her grip is strong and steadies Alaska where she’s feeling tipsy and clumsy on her feet, heels clacking on the sidewalk. The flick of a lighter brings her back to her senses and she watches, hypnotized, as Sharon lights a cigarette and breathes deeply. Smoking has never been a turn on her for, really. But the way the smoke leaves Sharon’s soft lips and the way her eyes go hazy is enough for Alaska to press a kiss to her jaw so Sharon will hail a cab for the both of them.

The back of the cab is stuffy and hot. Sharon’s hands are on Alaska’s thighs and in her hair and Alaska’s eyes are dark. She shifts to wrap a hand around the back of Sharon’s neck and pull her in for a kiss. Their lips press together in a rush, teeth clinking. It feels so cliche and wrong, making out in the back of a taxi. Sharon’s hand is resting on her thigh and she’s nipping at Alaska’s lip so softly she has to hold back her moans. It’s dirty and wrong how much Alaska wants Sharon to take her right then and there, so luckily Sharon’s building is only a few blocks away and it’s not long until Sharon’s paying and tipping and pulling Alaska out of the vehicle.

They stumble past the doorman with a nod and Alaska forces herself not to think about how often Sharon must do this, stumble in drunkenly with a girl on her arm late at night. They press into the elevator and Sharon corners her as they go up the twenty-six flights to her apartment, peppering kisses on her skin and tugging at the hems of her clothes.

From the elevator down the hall to Sharon’s apartment is a blur. Inside, it’s all minimal decor and chandeliers and art on the walls. The floor is hardwood and the furniture is neat and tidy. In her drunken haze, Sharon manages to give a quick tour. Quick tour meaning pointing out the different rooms in the large apartment while stripping herself of her gloves and heels and Alaska following suit as Sharon drags her forward by the hand.

The master bedroom, somehow, exceeds Alaska’s expectations. But then again this woman was a mystery wrapped in an enigma and she wasn’t sure what to expect in the first place. The far wall is all window and she can see all the lights from the city flickering. A chandelier in front of the window from an apartment across the ways twinkles and Alaska can feel the wine in her bloodstream. The floors are dark, the walls are cream and the furniture is matte black. It’s elegant and chic. Alaska can feel Sharon’s eyes on her and wants the floor to swallow her whole. Against the wall is a king sized bed and the headboard is tall, the bars thin and simple and Alaska needs to be fucked and grasping onto them right now. There’s art on the walls and vintage movie posters and Alaska can spot an open sketchbook on the nightstand. Her eyes flicker back to the window when she hears a plane fly overhead.

“You like the view?” It’s more of a statement than a question. Alaska nods anyways. She can feel Sharon’s smile and flushes all up her chest.

Sharon presses her body up along Alaska’s back. She can feel the fabric of her dress and the softness of her breasts against her spine. Her hair brushes Alaska’s shoulders when it’s released from the clip and she has the urge to touch it. She wants to feel it through her fingers and sort out the greys from the blonds, hear Sharon sigh when she massages her scalp. Sharon’s warm against her and presses her forward softly until they’re standing in front of the window and Alaska can see people on the sidewalk. She wonders if they know what’s going on stories above them.

There’s a tug on the zipper of Alaska’s skirt then the cool air is hitting her thighs and Sharon’s helping her step out of it. The older woman hums. It’s low and soft and she can feel it against her shoulder when Sharon tucks her chin over it. She presses a kiss to Alaska’s neck and watches goosebumps rise where her lipstick leaves a mark.

Any other hook-ups Sharon would get the other girl to strip. Make her put on a show for her and work for it. Or it’d be fast and there’d be a trail of clothes from the front door to the bedroom. Like some X-rated drunken Hansel and Gretel. At least it served its purpose when Sharon pretended to be asleep and willed the other person to find their way out in the morning. But Alaska was different. Sharon undresses her slowly in attempt to take her all in. Her thighs were milky and soft. There were the slightest of pink stretch marks where her hips had filled out and the older woman took her time tracing them if only to feel Alaska shiver under her. The things she would do to keep the younger girl shivering under her hands. She slid her kimono off, followed by her bralette so she could cup her breasts and squeeze before pulling her underwear down her hips.

Sharon’s still humming. Completely nonchalant. Alaska has to wonder how many girls she takes home. How many of them she strips in front of the window. If she presses the pads of her thumbs into the underside of their breasts and pinches their nipples and hips just to hear them squeak. Sharon’s still fully dressed, save for her glasses, heels, and gloves that were shed earlier. She debated on keeping the gloves on, too. If only to see the way Alaska would shiver and blush when a cool leather finger would run through Alaska’s folds only to come out shiny and wet. Next time.

“Sharon…” Alaska’s voice is whiny and Sharon shushes her, tapping her finger on her lips until Alaska takes it into her mouth.

“What do you want, baby?” Sharon’s calm and collected. The opposite of Alaska, whose heart is beating against her ribcage so hard it may break. She groans in reply.

Sharon pinches at her nipple with on hand, slipping another finger from her other hand in Alaska’s mouth when she gasps in response. She stumbles forward slightly and presses her palms against the glass as Sharon wraps an arm around her waist to keep her steady. There’s people below bustling on the sidewalk and she can see the people in apartments over. Her breath comes out hot and the window fogs where it hits.

“I got you, it’s okay. Such a pretty baby.” Sharon pets her hair, it’s long and soft in her palm, “I bet everyone outside loves the view just as much as you do.”

Alaska’s thighs shake as Sharon removes her fingers from her mouth. They’re slick with spit and Alaska watches the trail of saliva between her lips and Sharon’s fingers, dips her tongue forward to lick it up. Suddenly, Sharon’s fingers press up against her clit and she groans. Her head falls back against Sharon’s shoulder and her fingers curl against the glass searching to find purchase. The window feels like ice against her skin. But it may just be from the way her skin is radiating heat and the sweat is sticking to her. Sharon rubs slow circles and watches how Alaska’s hip shakes. Her left thigh twitches when Sharon trails a single finger back and forth over the nerves and her hips jerk forward when she presses the heel of her hand against it in order to rub against her hole with her fingers.

“Tell me what you want. I just want to make you feel good.” Sharon’s voice is warm and she can feel the pout against her ear. She’s teasing. Her fingers skate past Alaska’s clit again and she presses the tip of a finger inside of her. It slips just past the muscle until the younger girl gasps and then it’s gone.

“Fuck me, please. Please mama. God.” Alaska’s whining high in her throat. Her throat catches on the mama and she flushes from embarrassment, all up her chest to her cheeks. Sharon kisses and smiles against her shoulder.

Alaska nearly cries when Sharon slips a finger inside her. Her pussy is warm and wet and Sharon fucks her slow. The sound echoes in the otherwise silent room and Alaska whimpers. Her centre is pink and swollen and Sharon relishes in the sound, slips another finger in without problem and scissors them just to hear Alaska’s embarrassed cry when she comments on how wet she is. Her fingers work slow and Alaska is squirming enough that Sharon has to wrap her arm back around her waist, pressing her naked form against Sharon’s clothed one to keep her still. Alaska’s trailing her hands backwards. Up into Sharon’s hair and down her side, around to her ass and thighs, then back down to try and intertwine their fingers and press Sharon deeper into her.

“Alaska baby, no. You’ll get there. I’ll take care of you.” Sharon tsked, her tone stern.

Alaska whines and curls her fingers into Sharon’s arm. Sharon digs her fingers deeper and crooks them. Alaska’s bowlegged knees buckle and she reaches out again to steady herself against the window and lean back against Sharon. Her eyes are glued shut and her lips are parted and Sharon works her so sweetly, pumping two fingers and swiping her thumb in soft circles around Alaska’s clit.

“You gonna cum? So beautiful. Cum for me baby girl.” Sharon murmurs. Her eyes are dark and downcast, shaded by her eyelashes.

Alaska finishes with a cry and her legs give out. Her small frame is shaking and Sharon holds her close, shifts them until they’re back onto the bed and Alaska is panting. The city light reflects on the sweat on Alaska’s chest. Her breasts are illuminated and Sharon leans down to nip at a nipple and Alaska gasps from the overstimulation.

Quickly, Sharon sheds her clothing, nearly ripping a button from her dress in the process. She shifts Alaska onto her back and moves to straddle her chest. Alaska’s panting. Her breasts fall when she exhales and Sharon watches how they shake, reaches out to pinch the skin around her nipple. Her thumb trails against Alaska’s lips and she opens her mouth for it, suckling it and groaning around the digit. A whine escapes her when Sharon pulls her thumb away and trails spit across her bottom lip to see how they glisten.

Sharon’s hips move of their own accord, shifting upwards until she’s against Alaska’s mouth. Her tongue laps out immediately. She presses the flat of her tongue against Sharon’s clit and hears her groan closed mouth. She prods more then, circling around the nub until Sharon is circling her hips above her and grinding against her mouth. Alaska moves her hands to Sharon’s thighs, gives them a squeeze and presses her nose against the groomed hairs. Her breath is cut off and she can feel herself flushing from the effort but she can’t find it in her to stop. The older woman is shaking above her and Alaska sucks hard on her clit. Wetness covers the bottom of Alaska’s face and Sharon whimpers before lifting herself off.

“So good. So, so good doll.” Sharon shifts until they’re both under the sheets and presses a kiss to Alaska’s lips, chin, jaw, cheek. She sighs out through her nose and pulls the girl close to her, nudging her knee between the other’s thighs and holding her head to her chest until Alaska’s breathing matches the beating of her heart.

—

When Alaska wakes, the spot in bed beside her is cold and there’s a dull ache deep in her skull. Sunlight filters in through the large window and Alaska has to squint to look around the room. The cream sheets are glowing pale yellow in the light. They’re soft against her skin where she feels sweaty and gross, and it takes a moment for Alaska to remember where she is. The framed poster for a campy 80s slasher films jerks her memory. Sharon.

She pads out of bed slowly, shifting over to the dresser where she finds last night’s clothes folded up neatly along with a pair of shorts and shirt that Sharon must’ve left out. It’s weird, almost domestic. Most hook ups don’t do this. But then again, most hook ups weren’t older goth women who spend over $100 at dinner without a blink of an eye then fuck Alaska in front of their gigantic window up on the 26th floor of a high class apartment. Alaska squeezes back into her pencil skirt and slips her bralette over her head while making her way out to the rest of the apartment.

There’s a note on the island in the kitchen, atop the granite.

I’m so sorry, I had to run before you woke up! You look gorgeous even in your sleep .. Is that weird to say?

Feel free to shower and help yourself to breakfast and coffee.

I would love to see you again, doll. <3

Sharon Needles

There’s a mug with little ghosts on it beside the note and it’s all too weird and too much. Alaska orders an Uber with the last of her phone battery, adds the number scribbled at the bottom of the paper into her contacts, then tucks the note into the back of her phone case. The doorman downstairs gives her a nod of acknowledgement when she eaves the building and as she got into her Uber she lets out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

The rest of the day went by in a haze. Alaska took a cold, cold shower and puttered around her apartment making shitty coffee and a bowl of cereal before going to work. Her afternoon shift was full of fake smiles and frappuccinos and she spilled hot coffee on herself in a distracted haze and cursed, her co-workers giving her concerned glances. It wasn’t her fault. It was purely coincidence how she kept getting distracted whenever she noticed the crows feet on a lady sitting in the corner or the grey-blue eyes of the young girl she was taking an order from.

She texted Sharon when she got home.  

—

The next time they meet up it’s during the day in a nice area downtown. It’s a very Liberal area. Rainbow crosswalk and all. It’s chalked full of vegan restaurants and nice little expensive shops and it’s another area that Alaska would love to be able to walk down on a random afternoon and not feel intimidated, but that’s not quite the case right now.

Alaska’s in a white shirt tucked into a black skater skirt with a flannel, and half her hair is pulled up into two buns. She feels cute. And gay. And she hopes Sharon thinks the same enough to like, hold her hand or something, or finger her in the washroom of some mom-and-pop restaurant. Maybe both. She tries not to think too much about it as her Uber parks just down the road from the diner Sharon told her to meet her at.

The restaurant is small and cute, not to mention far less intimidating from the last place. There’re plants hanging from the ceiling and a large fish tank. It’s earthy and warm. Scanning the room, there’s no sign of Sharon but before she goes and sits down to wait she hears a soft ‘boo!’ from behind her. Alaska flushes at how she jumped in response and Sharon laughs, pulling her into a hug. The booths are made of worn down leather and the floor creaks slightly as they make their way to a seat. She feels far more “in her element” here, yet her chest still feels tight as Sharon sits across from her.

Her hair is soft and curled, but her eyes are dark and blown out and her lips are plump and red. It’s a dramatic look for one o’clock on a Tuesday, but Alaska doesn’t mind. Her black mock neck shirt hugs her body and her pants are tight and match her lips. It’s modern and chic and Alaska feels underdressed. But Sharon’s gaze is smouldering and trails down her body with a smile. It feels oddly familiar. Oddly comforting.

Sharon asks the waiter if they have Pabst in bottles, not on tap, (they do), and Alaska orders a lemonade. The menu is handwritten and cute, with tacky pun names and illustrations. A foot brushes up against Alaska’s and Sharon’s hand is on her arm. She’s humming as she reads, her lips pursed. Her cool eyes are squinted slightly from her lack of glasses and her crows feet crease slightly. It’s endearing, really. Her fingers are tracing the blue veins under the skin and Alaska wonders if she can feel the goosebumps raising, or if she even realizes she’s doing it in the first place. She imagines Sharon can feel the blood pulsing under her skin. A steady rhythm. By the time the waiter comes back to take their order Alaska had barely read the menu and stumbles slightly, ordering a salad. Sharon shoots her a knowing smile, curling her fingers around Alaska’s small wrist.

“So what do you do, exactly?” Sharon raises her eyebrows at the question, letting her thumb rub at Alaska’s arm.

“Well…” She pauses to take a sip of her beer, “To put it simply I work on short films. They’re just independent projects, mostly horror. I’ve always loved the genre and I love creating and I had the money so I said fuck it, got a group together and we’ve been working together since. We have a pretty strong fan base too, fucked up if you ask me.” Sharon laughs, big and booming in the otherwise calm restaurant.

Alaska smiles and asks about her projects. Her eyes light up when she talks and Alaska can see how her cheekbones protrude when she smiles that wide. The older woman talks about horror movies she admires, how growing up the weird goth dyke made her truly admire the villains in films who got revenge on the preps and the jocks. Most other people would be terrified to hear how their date relates to the killers in these films, but with Sharon it makes sense. She throws herself entirely into her work. Throws herself into the scripts and the storyboards and all the inspirations. She’s always hovering around people on set and fucking with lighting and costumes then marathoning films she’s seen before and can probably quote word for word. This woman is intelligent and intense but spooky and stupid and Alaska doesn’t quite know what to make of her.  

They eat, and talk, and Sharon drinks a few more PBR. Alaska steals a fry from Sharon’s plate and dips it in the surprisingly good vegan milkshake Sharon had guilted her into ordering, just because she refused a lemonade refill and that just wasn’t happening in Sharon’s books. The older woman threw another fry at her for Alaska’s amusement. She was like a baby. A cute one, not an annoying crying one. She was one that you just wanted to keep cooing and giggling and happy. They ordered cheesecake to share and Sharon fed it to her across the table, watching as Alaska’s lips pursed around the fork.

When they go to pay, Alaska pulls her wallet out of her purse. Sharon tsks and gives her a warning look to put her wallet away, and Alaska tries to ignore the way heat pools in her stomach.

As they leave, Sharon snakes an arm around Alaska’s waist. It fits there, and Alaska doesn’t mind. Her hand dips into the curve of her small waist and settles on her hip. It’s a warm heaviness and Alaska has to walk a little closer to Sharon due to it.

“Y’know, I didn’t realize I was gay until my senior year of high school maybe.” Alaska looks down at the small ceramic ghost in her hand, thinks that Sharon might like it. Her voice startles Sharon from where she’s standing a few feet away looking at a similar ceramic cat.

“Really? You come across as the loud and proud type. Like head cheerleader that all the bi-curious girls go to behind the bleachers to get their lesbian cherry popped.”

“Okay fair enough. Let me guess, little goth bitch who punched out anyone who tried to cuss you out for being a dyke?” Alaska fires back, putting down the small ghost and patting its head.

“I’ve had my fair share of physical encounters . I’ll admit to that. No shame in punching someone’s teeth in when they disrespect you.” Sharon raises her eyebrows in question to Alaska, “Although it did take half of freshman year before I started fighting back. I don’t eat meat but I’ll use ‘em to nurse a black eye if I have to.”

The older woman laughs but Alaska can’t help but imagine her younger, smaller. 14 year old Sharon nursing her wounds because some asshole thought she was a good target. 14 year old Sharon reapplying black lipstick in an abandoned girls’ washroom. 14 year old Sharon being unapologetically herself despite her entire school seemingly working against her because she was a bit eccentric and queer. 14 year old Sharon going home and watching shitty horror movies as a distraction from the shit she had to deal with. It tugged on Alaska’s heart strings.

From antique shops to run down clubs to vintage boho chic clothing stores, they check them all out. Alaska tries on a dress that looks like it’s made of trash bags and spins, laughing as it floats up around her. Sharon hides behind a shelf in a costume store, popping out with fake teeth and a witch hat on to startle Alaska. Alaska tries on a horse mask at the back of the store, recalling how people in school used to call her horse face . It doesn’t bother her anymore though, and she neighs in the mask before ripping it off and laughing.

“If we ever get into a fight I’ll just buy us animal masks. You can’t be pissed off at someone when you’re a fucking horse and they’re a frog” Sharon shifts through the masks, laughing before pulling on Alaska’s arm back to the front of the store.

The next store they go into is pastel and airy. They sell lingerie and chiffon peignoirs, lace slip dresses and thigh high stockings with matching garters. It’s all out of Alaska’s price range. This isn’t just a store that you go to when going out with friends shopping. She knows this. And she knows Sharon knows this. Sharon walks in like she owns the place, one arm still wrapped around Alaska’s waist like she owns her and the other weaving through fabrics.

“What’s your size, baby?” Sharon presses a kiss to her cheek and Alaska can feel her throat close in.

Her fingers clench into a fist. She’s sweating. Why is she sweating?

“Uh, I’m a 36C. Medium for everything else, I guess.”

Sharon hums and shifts through the isles. The bags on her arm dig into the skin, making it pink and white. Alaska wants to kiss it. Sharon purchased some tacky looking Halloween knick-knacks, and anything Alaska looked at for over ten seconds and seemed interested in. It made her blush when Sharon insisted on buying it. They both drift around the store for a while, brushing off the sleepy looking girl who asked if they needed any help.

Eventually, they end up near the back by the empty changing rooms. Sharon pulls Alaska into one, pulling the pale pink door shut behind her and clicking the lock shut. It’s a roomy area, with a large mirror on the back wall. The two walls are lined with benches and there’s a small circle stool in the corner. Alaska can feel the air heating up. Or maybe it’s just her. Sharon’s hanging things up on the hooks and looking back at Alaska expectantly when minutes pass and she’s still fully dressed.

“Don’t be shy, baby.” Sharon’s voice is soft. Her thighs spill outwards from where she’s sitting on the stool and she crosses her legs, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands.

Alaska sucks in a breath before stripping, gauging her actions based on Sharon’s face. She tries on all the pieces Sharon picked out, ranging from sheer bras and thongs to intricate high wasted panties with matching garters and stockings. She tries on all the robes and slips, lets Sharon run her hands over the silk dawning her thighs. She spins her finger and Alaska turns in each outfit to show how her ass peeks out of the underwear and how her hair runs soft down her back. Sharon’s making soft sounds.

When Alaska gets to the last set, black high waisted fucking crotchless panties with the bra and stockings to match, she feels her face go red hot. It was before, definitely, but this ensemble (if you will) was truly the cherry on top of this fucked up sexually frustrating sundae. She changes slowly, folding the last pieces and putting them back on their hangers on the wall.

“Can you be good for me?” Sharon’s voice comes as a surprise and Alaska nods, spinning around to face the woman.  “Sit down pumpkin. Spread your legs.”

Alaska’s head was spinning. She lowered herself onto the bench slowly and pulled at her knees to spread her legs. Sharon’s gaze was red hot and Alaska squirmed.

“You’re so wet.” Alaska could hear Sharon laugh and she twitched, moving her legs back together slightly. “No baby, you’re being so good. I wanna see you.”

Alaska’s lungs were collapsing. Her insides were burning and she felt so dirty and flustered and they were in a damn changing room . Sharon was fully dressed, legs crossed and lighting a cigarette even though it was against the rules because she just didn’t care. Smoke plumed upwards and she took a long drag, ashing her cigarette against the edge of the stool and turning back to where Alaska was squirming, the air conditioned air hitting her cunt.

“Can you touch yourself for me? I want you to fuck yourself with one finger baby, don’t want you to make too much of a mess.”

Sharon’s voice was so soft yet stern and Alaska wanted to cry. She grazed her index finger over her clit and jerked before tracing around her whole. She was wet. Just from trying on the lingerie and modelling for Sharon. Just being around Sharon. Sharon who had such a domineering energy. Sharon with her hand on the small of her back pressing her forward. Sharon feeding her cheesecake even when she thought she was full. Alaska pressed one finger in and gasped, squeezing her eyes shut to avoid the embarrassment of making eye contact with the other woman.

“Nice and slow, or else the whole store will hear how wet you are right now. Or would you like that? If someone walked back right now and could hear how wet you are, how you’re trying to hold back all your pretty little noises as you put on a show for me.” Sharon to try and relieve the pressure between her own thighs, “Touch your clit for me hun, with your other hand. You’re so good. So pretty”

Alaska gasped with the intensity of it all. Her thumb on her clit and her middle finger pressing up inside of her, shooting stars behind her eyelids. She could feel Sharon watching her, how her eyes were raking up and down her body as she thrust her hips into her own hands. The bench underneath her was probably wet but at this point she couldn’t bring herself to care. The dozy girl working up front could walk in on them, unlock the door from the outside and ask what was taking them so long and Alaska wouldn’t be able to find it in herself to care as long as Sharon wanted her to keep going.

“Sharon, I can’t, I’m gonna-”

“Cum for me baby.” Alaska’s hips shook and she clenched her jaw to try and keep her noises in as she thrust, panting as she came down from her high.

Sharon stood then and sucked Alaska’s wet fingers into her mouth. They left with a pop! and Sharon smiled, letting Alaska change in silence before purchasing everything she picked out and pulling Alaska into an Uber back to her apartment building.

—

School starts up again. Alaska’s in her final year of university. Soon, she’ll have her Bachelor’s Degree in Performing Arts. She’ll be able to move out to LA like she wanted and be successful. She can star in films and put out an album and make it big. She can make her parents proud along with her medical and military brother because she can be successful too! They all thought she wouldn’t make anything of herself. Sure, maybe she’d move out to LA like she’d always dreamed of, but make it big? Nah. Her mom was convinced she was just going to become some drug addicted deviant, but hey, isn’t that the superstar lifestyle anyways?

Alaska’s plans may have changed drastically. As the weeks turned into months, she spent less and less time at her own run down apartment. It wasn’t that she moved in with Sharon, per se, it was just that over time she had ended up moving out of her apartment. Not to mention Sharon had seen one text from her landlord saying that her rent was far overdo and got so worried, telling Alaska to not worry about it because she had it covered. (Which was embarrassing on Alaska’s part, considering any time not spent in a lecture hall was probably spent working, but inflation was a bitch, y’know?). So it’s not like it was some big ordeal when two and a half months into whatever they had, Alaska was staying there most of the time. She just needed a place to stay until she could find somewhere she could actually afford, and Sharon was willing to give her a helping hand! It also helped that Sharon had a tongue that made her see God.

The move in was gradual. Alaska had a healthy collection of clothes and lingerie at Sharon’s apartment, just from previous dates where Sharon insisted she buy everything for Alaska because it just looked so cute on her and she had her own bills to pay, so Sharon would buy. Eventually, a toothbrush showed up in the holder beside Sharon’s. And Alaska’s fancy purple shampoo she splurged on to keep her hair platinum. And a collection of socks and pajamas and other clothes that Alaska would just happen to leave there but never return to her apartment. Of course, since so much of her wardrobe and electronics and chargers and, well, everything, somehow ended up at Sharon’s flat, Alaska spent more and more time there. It was just convenient, that was all.

Alaska’s life was good. Different from where she thought she would be at this point in her life, but good. Violet was hounding her about the “friend” she was staying with, and about how she seemed to have that “post-sex glow” (as she liked to call it) 24-fucking-7, but Violet was a bitch and too nosy for her own good.

She spent her afternoons in the living room of the apartment, practicing lines from a production that was worth quite a hefty amount of her grade. Cerrone was her only spectator. He didn’t throw rotten tomatoes or boo her off of the coffee table stage though, so she takes what she can get. Sometimes Sharon would come home early and watch her, give her pointers and then tell her to stop repeating the same damn lines for the 50th time and put her mouth to good use. It was a good break. Sharon brought up the idea a few times, putting Alaska in some of her short films. It’d be fun! The gorgeous ditzy blonde in a gore-y horror short film? Instant blockbuster! People love cliche shit like that. Plus, Sharon would love to have Alaska on set with her all day.

It was nice, truly. Sharon took them out for dinner or made fancy vegetarian meals. She’d wake Alaska up with her head between her thighs, leaving Alaska to shudder awake in a cool sweat and groaning. There’d be small notes with hearts on them when Sharon would disappear before Alaska got up. Sharon would have an Uber waiting outside Alaska’s Starbucks location when she was done work, and sometimes Sharon would even pop in herself to visit even though Alaska knows she’d rather support local businesses than the industry coffee shop she worked at. Sharon bought her fancy clothes and shoes and lingerie just to see Alaska blush and squirm. Alaska would get all quiet and call Sharon mommy and curl up on the couch beside her, pressing kisses to her neck to distract her from the movie she was watching. Or, she’d get bratty and call her mama , call Sharon on set when she was in the apartment alone touching herself. Life was good.

—

Alaska more or less moving in only proved to show how needy she was. She was worse than a pet, but Sharon only had Cerrone to compare her to so maybe it wasn’t the fairest comparison. They both bit Sharon, though. Alaska would text Sharon while she was on set, something along the lines of noodles i miss you :( when are you going to be hoooome? sharonnnn i need you. mama please with an image attached of Alaska leaning up against the pillows wearing one of Sharon’s old shirts, with the tip of one thumb in her mouth and two fingers from her other hand knuckle deep in her cunt. Sharon would have to call it a day early and rush home, finger fuck Alaska into the couch cushions until she saw stars and called Sharon mommy despite how embarrassed she got after.

Sharon loved it, how open Alaska was becoming with her. She stopped hiding her phone calls with her brother, instead she would saunter around the kitchen and sit herself upon Sharon’s lap while she listened to Cory talk about the girl he met at the gym. Sharon would tickle her thigh, slip a finger into her panties just to feel how wet she already was and circle her clit until Alaska hung up the phone. Alaska would come back from her lectures and talk about her professors and how her auditions went. She’d write her essays on the leather couch while Sharon painted her toenails baby pink, ate her out while they dried and let Alaska drop her notes and pen onto the hardwood. Sharon liked how Alaska was becoming less shy, how she would pout when she didn’t get her way and call Sharon mama in public just to be a brat and start a scene. Alaska would press kisses to her cheek unprompted, would stop shying away when Sharon payed their dinner bill and bought her fancy lingerie and shoes, would let Sharon give her glasses of wine all day and press on her bladder while fingering her until she cried.

Today was no different. Alaska knew Sharon was out talking to some of her “creative partners” about an idea she had, an idea that she had been sketching and writing for hours after Alaska had fallen asleep on the couch beside her, toes tucked between Sharon’s thighs. She knew Sharon was having some sort of creative breakthrough and was busy. But Alaska was in the apartment alone, and Sharon had left before she woke up. So now she was just lonely and sad and her underwear shifted coldly against her.

lasky <3: noodles when will you be home?

noodles <333: I don’t know baby .. The girl I’m at lunch with is a really talented costume and prop designer. Even if she is a bit stand-offish.

lasky <3: but i neeeeeed you :(

Alaska sent a photo. She was in a sheer pink robe Sharon had bought for her. It was flowy and elegant and trailed behind Alaska on the floor when she walked. It made her feel like an old housewife. She wanted a spiral staircase, wanted to stand at the top of it with a glass of champagne in her hand. Underneath it she wore nothing. She was pouty and annoyed and leaning back on the couch pillows, lips parted and pinching a nipple between two fingers.

noodles <333: I’ll be home in an hour .. Picking up some things. Hope you know how spoiled you are. Brat.

lasky <3: :) :) :) <3

When Sharon gets home, her heart nearly beats out of her chest. She’s had her fair number of romances. Mostly with woman her own age, sometimes younger. Some of them even made it past the six month mark in their relationship. There was something about Alaska though that had Sharon’s head spinning. It was like her entire world had shifted by this girl and was spinning backwards on its axis. Backwards and upside-down. And double time. Whatever. Alaska was curled up on the couch, nude except for the robe, with Cerrone in her lap. She was humming softly to herself and her toes were curled into the couch cushions where her legs were folded underneath her. The natural light made her hair and skin glow and it was so soft and right. Long term didn’t usually work with Sharon. The only long term relationships she had were with cocaine and whiskey and fucking Cerrone the cat, who she didn’t even want in the first place. So why did coming back to her apartment daily to Alaska make it feel more like a home than ever before?

“You’re such a brat, you know that, right?” At the sound of Sharon’s voice Cerrone hops off of Alaska, allowing her to get up to greet Sharon.

“Lies, mama. You’re full of lies.” Alaska laughs and presses a kiss to the dimple in Sharon’s chin. “What’d you get me?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know. Go lie down, pumpkin.” Sharon kisses the side of her hair and gives her ass a tap before Alaska nods and heads to the bedroom.

Alaska’s long and full on the bed. Her hips and breasts filled out more after being with Sharon. Sharon took her out for lunch and dinner, fed her cheesecake and other expensive desserts. She always made sure her baby was cared for. Alaska’s hips were soft and propped up with a long pillow, and her breasts were full and heavy against her chest as she breathed deeply, waiting for Sharon.

The rabbit vibrator Sharon comes into the room with is black. It’s not overly long, but the girth makes up for it. Alaska knows Sharon will have to stretch her, start with two fingers just so Alaska can feel the burn then stuff her with three.

“Mommy please…” Alaska draws it out, flutters her eyelashes.

She’s pouty and wet and Sharon kneels beside her on the bed, pulls one of Alaska’s legs up and out to spread her open.

“So wet already baby? Greedy girl.” Alaska screws her eyes shut at the words. “Open your eyes for me sweetheart. Watch mama.”

Sharon slips two fingers inside of the younger girl and Alaska cries, twisting her hips. Her fingers are thick and strong and they fuck Alaska almost mechanically, avoiding her g-spot but scissoring to stretch her open. It burns slightly and Alaska gasps, heat curling in her stomach. She can hear Sharon’s fingers moving in and out of her, can hear when a third one enters. Alaska tries to clench her thighs together but with Sharon between them she’s stuck spread open. She wants to move and squirm, clamp around Sharon’s hand, but Sharon’s got her hip pinned down and is kneeling above Alaska with so much dominance she’s stuck in position with nowhere else to go.

When Alaska’s stretched and dripping, Sharon presses the vibrator inside until it’s snug against both her g-spot and clit. Alaska’s whining high and nasally. Her eyes are dark and her fingers are tugging at the sheets and she’s watching Sharon desperately. It clicks on and she gasps and cries, her hip twitching at the sudden stimulation.

“I should buy you another one of these. A small one that slips into your panties.” Alaska whines and moves her thumb to her mouth, partly to have something to bite and partly to have something to stifle her pathetic cries. “Could turn it on while you’re out picking up dry cleaning. Or while you’re out with mommy’s credit card. Bet you’d love how everyone would watch you as you whined, unable to stop it.”

Alaska gasped as Sharon started moving the vibrator, slowly pressing it in and out of her slightly. It pressed so tightly against where she was the most sensitive and she cried out, thrusting her hips up into the pressure. Heat was curling in her stomach and she could feel her peak building. Her breasts were shaking above her in time with her panting.

“It’s pathetic, really,” Sharon stopped the vibrator, leaving it still and full in Alaska, “how desperate you are for me. Texting me while I’m out, expecting me to drop everything and come get you off like the greedy little slut you are.”

The twitch of Alaska’s thigh and how her eyes almost roll back remind Sharon of just how much she loves it. Being humiliated like that. She loves when Sharon makes fun of how wet she is, how open and soft she is and how she fucks herself on Sharon’s single finger wanting more, how turned on she gets when Sharon buys her expensive lingerie only to rip it off of her later because money isn’t an issue.

She wonders if Alaska could get off on it alone. Just Sharon’s fingers pinching her nipples, fingering her slowly and avoiding the areas she needed the attention so badly. Sharon would comment on how swollen she was, how it was cute that she thrust up and squirmed as if Sharon was actually going to give her what she wanted. She’d bite on Alaska’s nipple, laughing as she flicked the sensitive bud while leaning over the younger girl, still fully clothed. Sharon thinks she could do it. She’d cum untouched and almost instantly recoil, heat exploding in her lower stomach and her cheeks flushing. Sharon would laugh and watch Alaska’s cunt clench and shake before pressing a kiss to her pubic mound.

But for now Alaska was spread and shaking in front of her, thrusting to try and get the toy to touch her and push her over the edge.

“No, no, no, no mama please. That’s not fair.” Alaska’s voice is whiny and pouty, drawing every syllable out, and Sharon can hear her puffing out air through her nose. Tears gather in the corner of Alaska’s eyes.

“Nothing’s ever fair, baby. And you’re gonna take what I give so maybe I’ll let you cum.” Sharon gives Alaska’s thigh a pat once she’s come down from the edge, then turns the vibrator on low.

This time around Alaska yells out brokenly, hips chasing the feeling so hard Sharon has to pin her down with both hands. Her eyes are screwed shut and Sharon can see where tears start leaking from them. Alaska’s mumbling something incoherent and thrashing her head back and forth, digging her fingertips into the pillow under her head. The cycle repeats itself a few more times, bringing Alaska up to the edge and then ripping it from her. She’s become unable to form any words other than please, no, and mommy and it’s like some sick power move on Sharon’s part. How Alaska’s whole world right now revolves around Sharon, and whether or not Sharon’s going to let her cum.

When Sharon turns the vibrator up instead of off and presses it tight up against Alaska, the younger girl cries and pushes off the bed, thighs trying to close around the toy. Her whines are high pitched and she’s gasping. The wet sounds her pussy is making is obscene and Sharon watches her twitch and clench, all wet and shiny.

Sharon pets Alaska’s hair as she comes down, slips the toy out of her and puts it on the nightstand. She kisses around Alaska’s face and tells her she’s beautiful, that she did so good, mommy’s so proud. The bed dips when she leaves for only a second. She gets a glass of water and a cloth to wipe Alaska off, and grabs her sketchbook from where it sits in her purse. She fingers herself hard as Alaska comes back to her senses and licks around her nipple, trailing her airy hands across Sharon’s body.

Softly, Sharon kisses Alaska’s forehead when she’s sure she’s asleep, and pulls out her sketchbook.

[rosyredlipstick]

Do you ever think that conner prayed to his dad like "i need to get to cali asap, to smooch a son of aphrodite, any help??" And then bam he gets to be at mitchell's side in like less than an hour

“I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

Connor clenched his jaw, focusing on the task before him. “You’ve done it.”

Travis leaned against the doorway, the screen door between the balcony and the inside of their apartment separating them. He raised an eyebrow as he stared down at his younger brother. “Katie was in the hospital for appendicitis. It was an emergency.”

Connor clicked his lighter once again - it was his favorite, a gold and black metal one he’d pickpocketed in Time Square - but it was running low. He’d need to acquire a new one soon.

Connor’s tongue poked out between his teeth as he concentrated. He shifted the black stones into a position to let them breathe better.

“This is an emergency.”

“Really,” Travis’s voice was colored with disbelief, “this is an emergency?”

Connor finally broke his focus, throwing his hands to the air. “It is, okay! It’s really important that I get there, and there’s no last minute flights out there. This is my only option, okay?”

Travis observed him for a long moment before sighing, sliding the screen door back. He rolled his sleeves up, closing the door behind him, and peered over Connor’s shoulder.

“What are you burning?”

Connor nearly fell with relief at his brother’s help. Prayer was stronger when it was together. “Some prime cut from the butcher’s shop, I know he likes it.”

“Did you get -”

“Some Reese’s Cups, yeah.”

Both boys nodded at each other, satisfied. It was a good offering.

Travis used a metal rod to poke at the charcoal, waving at his face to keep the smoke from it. The small grill they kept on their baloney was hardly used to something other than the best bits at the beginning of meals - it would hardly hold the expensive cut of meat Connor had picked up.

Travis tended to the fire as Connor began to peel the plastic back from the meat, the shiny wrappers from the chocolate. Their father, as the entire cabin knew by now, had a certain weakness for the peanut butter cups.

Travis gestured for him to toss in the offerings once the fire was decent, and Connor followed the instruction without question. He wiped his hands off, some of the chocolate already having melted to his fingertips, and grabbed Travis’s extended hand.

And they prayed.

They - Connor in particular - prayed hard, hand-in-hand, chocolate and meat blackening in front of them, filling the hopeful air with burning fragrance.  

“Really,” a new voice rang out, and Connor’s breath caught. “This is an emergency?”

Their father stood in front of them, their small balcony having hardly enough room to fit them all. His arms were crossed, his eyebrow raised, and was giving him the same judgement filled eyes his older brother had turning on him.

Connor threw his hands up, Travis’s own falling from his grip, but couldn’t deny the bubble of relief building inside of him. He gave Connor an amused smirk as the younger boy declared, “It is an emergency!”

“Son,” Hermes rolled his eyes, turning to walk in the apartment. The screen gave him no resistance as he passed through it. “You called me for this?”

Connor huffed out a breath, him and Travis both following him in, actually pulling back the screen door this time. Travis - the smart one of them - remembered to cover the fire, lest burning down their apartment building.

Again.

Hermes was surveying their living space as they came in, inspecting a mold spot with a slightly interested look.

“I think this might be a new species you’ve formed here.” He remarked.

“Nah, that’s just an old PBJ.”

“Delightful.”

“Where’re George and Martha?” Travis asked, perking up. He had a certain fondness for them.

Hermes turned towards their small kitchen, peering into their fridge, opening the cabins. Nosy.

Hermes waved his question off, “Taking a spa day - apparently the stress is getting to them.” His voice was amused as he explained this, reaching out a hand to poke at something in one of their cabinets. The old bag of bread probably. Connor was hoping to base his science fair project off of it.

Travis looked pleased. George and Martha deserved it, honestly.

Hermes finally looked to be finished looking through their apartment, only a single quick look thrown to their mother’s empty room. She would be in…Miami, right now. Or at least in the air above it.

Hermes turned back to him, “You prayed for my precise, what do you need?” Hermes asked, despite already knowing. He probably needed to them ask clearly - godly magic was tricky like that.

Connor let out a breath. “I need you to get me to California. San Francisco, to be precise. I can call an Uber once I’m there just - I need to get there.”

Hermes raised an eyebrow, “And this has to do with Aphrodite’s boy?”

Connor nodded, a bit desperately. “Mitchell. He won some kind of archery award and he was - he was just sad last time we talked that no one could make it to the ceremony for him because Sebastian’s parents are out of town, and Seb himself is sick and -” Connor cut himself off, staring at his hands. “I want to be there for him.”  

There was a beat of silence as Hermes stared at him.

“This isn’t an emergency.” Hermes told him, flipping out his phone, hundreds of notifications already flooding the screen.

Connor sighed, “It’s not in the most traditional sense,” he allowed his father, “but it’s really important. To me.”

There was a long moment of silence as Hermes was turned towards his phone. He gave Travis a desperate look, who shrugged.

Connor tried again, “Please, dad. I - I wouldn’t be asking if this was something I could do on my own.”

The silence fell over them again. Connor began to deflate.

“It’s done,” Hermes suddenly announced, attaching a black block to his phone - something like a square reader but bigger - in a quick, smooth movement. He waited a few moments before a long ticket began printing itself. He ripped the paper off, holding out to Connor.

Connor stumbled forward to take it, staring down at it. “What - what is it?”

“Your tickets,” Hermes focused back on his smartphone, sliding through a few apps. “Simply write your destination - be descriptive, we don’t need another Paris, Texas incident - on the front, black or blue pen, no pencil it confuses the magic - and light it on fire. Use one half to get there, the other half to get home.” Hermes gave him a stern look, “I expect you to be in school by Wednesday.”

“We have school on Monday and Tuesday.” Connor told him, a bit numb.

“I know,” Hermes shrugged, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “You’re young. You’re not going to miss anything life changing by missing a few days of school.”

Connor stumbled forward again, this time throwing his arms around the taller man’s shoulders. Hermes tensed, unsure for a moment, before relaxing, his hand coming up to pat his back.

Hermes had been trying, since the war. Since Luke.

It was ridiculous how grateful Connor could feel about that.

“Thanks, dad.” He muttered into his father’s suit, probably wrinkling the no doubt expensive fabric. Silk, maybe. Armani, definitely.

Hermes was nodding as Connor pulled away, his own eyes probably red. Hermes cleared his throat, still nodding, and pulled out his phone. Connor looked back, and Travis was grinning proudly.

“I have to be going,” Hermes told them, tapping out something on his phone. He gave them another look, “Don’t get into trouble you can’t get out of, you two. I can only manipulate so many police records before your mother gets suspicious.”

Travis finger-gunned at the older man, “No promises.”

“Thanks, dad.” Connor swallowed against the tightening of his throat.

He held up his hand in a quick gesture of goodbye, and that was it.

And, in moment to the next, he was gone. There was no theatrical display of smoke or light, just a slight shifting of air as mass that was previously occupied began empty, and the air adjusted accordingly so.

Travis clasped his hand over his shoulder, “Gonna surprise him?”

Connor was already nodding - they both had a probably worrying love for surprises. Travis accepted this, grinning, and headed towards the kitchen. Outside, the fire had burnt out the moment Hermes had disappeared.

“Oh, sweet.” Travis grinned, bending down to look closer inside their fridge. “Dad got us groceries.”

“Hot cheetos?” Connor asked hopefully, staring down at the ticket in his hands.

“Like, five bags. Oh, and my favorite pringles. Nice.”

“Nice,” He agreed, holding the ticket to his chest for another moment.

Looks like he had to pack.

-

Hermes does the exact thing my mother does when she visits my brother and I - meaning, opening every single cabinet, looking in the fridge, opening all the drawers. Idk mom. Idk. also i live with a gross adult boy. he’s disgusting and the moldy bag of bread is a nightmare i have weekly. 

Also I just really want Hermes to be a good dad ok. ok. let me have this. 

Mitchell cried when he saw his boyfriend in the front row, nearly taking the whole thing up with the filled chairs of gifts beside him. it was cute as hell. 

[lindseyluvsdrag]

Knocked Up Ch. 9

TW: Smut, Transphobia, Violence, Angst and Tomfoolery 

I was much too lazy to edit so blame my low rent beta @xximagoddamnmermaidxx for any typos :)

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 , 7, 8

Violet secured her arms around Matt and giggled against his neck as the man carried her out of the hospital.

 When she saw them, Farrah’s expression instantly morphed into a scowl.  She hopped out of the car. “What in the name of Twilight Sparkle is going on here?!”

 “Nothing,” Matt said as he eased the pregnant woman to her feet.

 The petite blonde folded her arms and stomped her foot. “It doesn't look like nothing.”

 Violet knew that she had to work smart and not hard when it came to disposing her competitor. She gave a smug side smirk before turning to Matt. “Aww, now I see why you're dating her. You're getting all the practice you can by babysitting toddlers before your son is born.”

 Matt chuckled and Farrah gasped dramatically​. “That's not funnyyyyy! I'm not a toddlerrrrrr!”

 “Of course not, baby,” Matt assured. “The way you move is alllllll adult.”

 Farrah grinned.

 Two can play this game, Violet thought prior to turning on her heel and sauntering away.

 “Hey,” Matt said as he followed her. “What's up?”

 “Nothing. I'm going to walk to my hotel and order room service.”

 The man scoffed. “You'll do no such thing.”

 “Why not? I'm obviously the third wheel here and I don't want to intrude anymore. I'm cranky, I'm hungry and frankly, I'm tired of being blinded by your girlfriend's​ cheeks. She looks like she fell into a vat of glitter during arts and crafts time.”

 “Aww, I think she looks cute,” Matt defended. “Like a little sugar plum fairy or something.”

 Violet rolled her eyes. “I'm going to my hotel now, Matthew.” She began to walk away and was happy that her act was going as planned when he grabbed her hand to stop her.

 “Violet, no. You're not about to walk the LA streets in the middle of the night alone.”

 “So, walk with me,” she said with a shrug. “Remember that you said you would.”

 “I remember. But Farrah-”

 Violet snatched her hand away. “I don't give a fuck about Farrah! Your child and I are hungry, now!” She began to storm down the street leaving Matt torn in which direction to go.

 “Babyyyyyyy,” Farrah whined. “Am I just like Matilda or somethinggggg?”

 “What does that even mean?” Matt groaned in exasperation.

 Farrah burst into tears and it made the man's heart sink but when he saw Violet making her way towards a shady neighborhood​, it made his heart race. Matt quickly pulled his wallet from his pocket, retrieved a $20 bill and rushed it over to his girlfriend.

 “What's this forrrrrr?”

 “An Uber. Just go home for now.”

 “Are you kidding me?!” she sobbed.

 “Babe, come on. Just until I can appease Violet.”

 The woman buried her face into her palms and continued​ to weep.

 Matt pulled her into his arms. “Farrah, please don't cry.”

 “You're really hurting my feelingsssss. You're casting me off like I'm the side chick or something.”

“I'm sorry, but you knew how important Violet was to me before we even started dating. She's pregnant with my kid so ​I just have to make sure that she's safe and happy. Besides, it's only for tonight and after that, it'll just be us again, okay?” Farrah was still crying into her hands when Matt kissed her head. “Babe, I'll buy you more shiny powder if you stop crying.”

 The woman sniffled and looked up at him. “Highlighter?”

 “Yeahhh, that stuff that makes​ you all sparkly. I like it and I'll buy you as much as you want as long as you stop crying.”

 Farrah smiled and wiped her eyes. “I want the Unicorn Skin Rainbow palette from Anastasia Beverly Hills.”

 “Ooo, sounds pretty. I can't wait to see what it looks like on you.” Matt gave the woman a $100 bill and kissed her. “I'll see you later, okay?”

 She pouted. “Okay.”

 “Be safe.” The man kissed her again and sprinted after the pregnant woman. When he rounded the corner, he was relieved to see Violet perched on a low cement fence with a paper toilet seat cover protecting her dress from snags and dirt. She bit into her granola bar and sighed.

 Matt smiled. “You look like a perched bird.”

 Violet flipped the man off. He chuckled and sat next to her.

 “Where's Princess Bubblegum?” she asked.

 “I told her to go home.”

 The grin that spread across Violet's face was comparable to the Grinch. “Good.”

 “She's really not that bad.”

 “Oh, she's defintely adorable. I love children.”

 “She'd make a great stepmom,” he taunted.

 Violet scowled, pushed herself of the fence and began to storm off, leaving Matt to cackle at the toilet paper cozy that was still stuck to her butt.

 She turned around. “What's so funny?!”

 He stood and grabbed the paper. When his hand groped Violet's ass, chills shot down her spine.

 “What bathroom did you steal this out of?” Matt asked as he laughed before noticing the woman's expression. “You okay?”

 “Mhm,” she hummed.

 “Alright then. Let's eat.”

 “Really?” she exhaled. “I mean, in public? I'm  usually not into that but I'm ready.”

 “Huh?”

 “Wait...eat?”

 “Yeah...food. I thought you were hungry.”

 “Ohhh... I am. Are we going back to your place?”

 “If that's what you want.”

 She bit down on her bottom lip and nodded.

 “Okay. I'm sure my- fuck! I forgot to turn off my lasagna!”

---

Violet couldn't believe how turned on she was as she watched Matt frantically weave through traffic. The man burnt rubber when be whipped into his driveway, helping the frisky woman out of the car before rushing into the house to find the empty lasagna pan on the coffee table.

 Jake was the obvious culprit with glossy red eyes and parmesan crumbs all over his lap. “Sup, bro?” he lazily greeted from the couch.

 “Dude, did you eat that entire lasagna?!”

 “Yeahhhh. It was good.”

 “Ugh, that was supposed to be for everyone!”

 “Well, 'everyone’ wasn't here. Besides, without me, it would've burned to a crisp.”

 Matt groaned and turned to Violet. “Is there anything else you're craving?”

 “Yes,” she practically moaned.

 “What?”

 She glanced at Jake before leaning in to whisper in Matt's ear. “I'll tell you in your bedroom.”

 The man raised an eyebrow. “Um...okay. You actually might lose your appetite in there.” He turned and the woman followed him out of the living room, down the hallway and into a small bedroom that made Violet wrinkle her nose.

 “You don't make your bed before you leave the house?”

 “No? Should I?”

 “Yes. It's​ just therapeutic to come home to.”

 “Noted.”

 Violet cautiously​ stepped further into the room, being careful not to touch the clothing strewn about. “Have you ever considered painting?”

 “No... why?”

 “This color makes me think of snot.”

 “Nice! You know, I actually liked it because it reminded me of the Green Goblin who-” he stopped abruptly when Violet's expression made him feel like he was speaking a foreign language. “Well, I like it.”

 “It's a pistachio nightmare. And what are these bobbles?” she asked as she pointed across the room to the figurines that topped the man's television.

 “Oh, those are action figures. I've had them since I was a kid. Maybe they can be passed down to the baby.”

 Violet wrinkled​ her nose. “They look like a choking hazard.”

 “Well, they-”

 “Oh my God, is that what I think it is?”

 Matt followed her gaze to the My Little Pony nightlight. It was currently turned off, but the emasculating effect was just the same. “Um, yeah... that's a nightlight. It's Farrah's.”

 Violet gave him a look and Matt quickly elaborated.

 “She turns it on when she spends the night because she's scared of the dark.”

 “Are you hearing yourself right now? You're seriously dating a child. No mature, sophisticated woman would ever need a nightlight, let alone a My Little Pony nightlight.”

 “I never said she was mature or sophisticated. Not everyone can be like you, Violet.”

 Violet didn't know if it was a compliment or a read, but the words made the woman's heart skip a beat. “True.” She smiled as she approached the man. “There's no one like me.” She gazed into Matt's clear blue eyes​ before securing his face in her hands as she firmly pressed their lips together.

For second, Matt lost himself, melting into her touch, but he quickly remembered​ Farrah and pulled away.

 “Violet,” he panted. “What are you doing?”

 “What do you think?” she purred, pulling him close again, but the man jumped back.

 “I have a girlfriend. I'm not cheater.”

 Violet folded her arms. “So, let's clear the air on a few things. Do you think it's fair that you get to have a girlfriend while I'm pregnant?” When Matt opened his mouth to answer the question, she raised a finger to silence him. “It's not like I can go out, get a boyfriend and fuck him into oblivion.”

 “Okay? So, what are you saying?”

 “You've trapped me for nine months. No guy is going to want to have sex with a pregnant woman...unless he's the one who got her pregnant in the first place. So I think it's only fair that whenever I get horny, it's your obligation to fix it.”

 If someone would've held a tomato next to the man's face, they probably wouldn't have been able to tell the difference between the shades of red. Matt cleared his throat. “Violet... I can't.”

 “Because of Rainbow Brite? Matthew, you have dolls older than her. Get over it.”

 “First of all, I don't have dolls. They're action figures. And if you would've given her a chance, you would've seen how sweet she is.”

 “I don't give a fuck how sweet she is, she's not the pregnant one! I have needs, Matthew!”

 “Aren’t rubber penises a thing? Why don't you get one of those?”

 “I don't want a rubber penis, I want your penis!”

 Normally, the man would've been flattered but coming from an aggressive pregnant woman, the demand just wasn't the same. “Violet, I can't do that to Farrah.”

 “Give me your phone.”

 “What?”

 “Give me your phone. I'm going to call her.”

 “Why?”

 “Just give me your phone, Matthew!”

 The man was terrified of what the woman was capable of but refused to show it as he huffed, rolled his eyes and handed over the iPhone.

 “Ooo, you've upgraded.”

 “I needed a front facing camera for video chat purposes.”

 Violet made a face before turning her attention to the man's four contacts. “Work, Mom, Jake and Babe...why am I not saved?”

 “Because you're the only person who calls from a New York area code.”

 “But I want to be saved too.”

 “Fine, Violet. Because being saved in a phone is such a being deal,” he said sarcastically​.

 “It is!”

 Matt scoffed and watched as Violet selected Farrah's number. He couldn't believe that he was even allowing this to happen so he gnawed on his bottom lip to combat the anxiety over what the woman was going to say. The phone rang a few times before the blonde answered.

 “Hi, baby!” she chirped.

 “Hello, Farrah? It's Violet.”

 There was an awkward pause. “Ohh...um, yes? Is everything okay? Where is Matty?”

 “He's here and everything is fine. Listen, I'm calling you because as you may or may not know, pregnant women are notoriously​ horny. Since I'm in no condition to go out and find a man to fuck me silly, I wanted to collect your thoughts on Matthew and I having platonic sex.”

 Matt attempted to snatch the phone away, but the woman swatted at him.

 “Is this a joke?” Farrah asked.

 “No, I'm very serious, I'd never lie on my cooch. All I want is one night with him and I promise to make it worth your while. I'll take you on a shopping spree at Toys-R-Us.”

 “Farrah, don't liste-” Matt got out before Violet pinched his lips shut.

 “It's nothing personal, Bubbles. I just want sex.”

 “And I guess that's understandable,” she said in a broken voice. “Matt has really good sex.”

 The confirmation sent tingles through Violet's body.

 “Well, if Matt wants to keep you happy, I don't have a choice, do I?” Farrah sniffled. “But if we're going to do this, I want to negotiate.”

 Violet put the woman on speaker. “I'm listening.”

 “I want two Guerlain Meteorites Voyage compacts. They're really high end highlighters.”

 Matt took a step back. “Wait, what's going on?”

 “She's renting you out,” Violet casually informed.

 The man was shocked. “No! I'm not doing this! Farrah how could you even accept me being with someone else?!”

 “I don't knowww,” she whimpered. “How am I supposed to know what to say in this situation? You said that you wanted to keep her happyyyy.”

 “Yeah, by feeding her! I'm not going to fuck her so that she can buy you glitter!”

 Farrah burst into tears. “Why are you yelling at meeee? I'm not the bad guy here.”

 “You just put my dick up for auction! How strong is our relationship when all it takes is makeup​ to come between us?!”

 “I don't knowwww,” she sobbed.

 “Clearly! Find a fucking clue and then come talk to me! Hang that shit up,” he demanded as he snatched his phone away from Violet and ended the call.

 “Damn, Matthew. Did you really have to yell at Lisa Frank like that?”

 “She has clearly lost her damn mind.”

 “I'm confused, do I get her the highlighter or nah?” Violet asked.

 “No! I'm not for sell!”

 “Well, obviously​ not anymore since you just cursed her out. Now you just have to do me for free. No strings attached.”

 Matt scoffed. “I don't have to do anything. Especially not that.”

 “But I'm horny, Matthew!”

 “That's not my fault.”

 “It is your fault! This whole thing is your fault, Mr. I don't know how to use a condom!”

 The man had no idea how to respond to the accusation so he simply sighed. “Violet, I can't have sex with you. One, I-”

 The woman palmed her face with both hands and began to bawl.

 “Violet,” he sighed. “Please don't cry. It really puts me in a spot to see women cry.”

 “You don't careee,” she sobbed. “I can't help how my body reacts to this pregnancy and you don't even care. You don't want to help me.”

 Matt rubbed the back of his neck. “I do want to help you but... ugh- okay. What do you want me to do?”

 “I just want to feel good, Matthew,” Violet sniffled. “Is that too much to ask?”

 The man exhaled as he took Violet's face between his hands and gently pressed their lips together​. The woman's knees buckled but she didn't hesitate to stick her tongue in Matt's mouth. He was reluctant to return the bold gesture, but the urgency behind her kiss left him with no choice.

 Matt's hands moved from her face to her hair then to her face again, so Violet put an end to the childish moves when she guided his hands to her ass. The man gave it a firm squeeze causing her to moan into his mouth. She pulled him closer, yearning for more of his touch, but when Matt felt her belly against his stomach, he pulled away.

 “Violet, I can't,” he panted.

 “Shut upppp,” she groaned as she forced him onto the bed.

 When the woman kicked off her heels and straddled him, Matt yelped. “Why are you so strong?!”

 “I've been horny for the past month!”

 “Okay, but don't abuse me!”

 “I don't want to abuse you, I want you to abuse meee.”

 “Please don't​ say such things.”

 “Fine. Just do the deed.”

 Matt gently rolled her onto her back. “I’m not having sex with you.”

 “Matthewwww,” Violet whined before the man positioned himself between her legs.

 “Just accept what I'm willing to give you or nothing at all.”

 “Okay,” she sighed with a pout.

 The man slowly lifted the hem of the woman's dress until her thong was revealed. He couldn't​ believe​ how saturated the black lace was. “Whoa.”

 “What?” Violet asked, slightly self-conscious.

 “Is it Niagra Falls down here or are you just happy to see me?” he teased.

 “I'm definitely happy to see you. Especially between these thighs,” the woman said as she placed her ankles on his shoulders.

 Matt traced the edge of her lace panties. Violet didn't hesitate to lift her hips so that he could remove the thong, which he did slowly, letting the lace brush against her skin. It gave Violet goosebumps.

 The man grinned as he tossed the panties to the side. He wrapped his arms around the woman’s legs and pulled her closer. Matt left a trail of kisses along the woman's inner thighs, that made her shiver in anticipation.

 “Stop teasing meeee.”

 “Hey, you can't rush these things.”

 “Do you even know what you're doing?”

 In retaliation for the question, Matt gave the woman's inner​ thigh a firm bite.

  “Oww,” Violet whimpered so Matt accompanied the nip with gentle kisses; slowly working his lips from her inner thigh to her entrance before he wrapped his mouth around her love button.

 Violet let out a soft gasp and Matt did his best to ignore the fact that he was pleasuring someone other than his girlfriend. He took his time working his tongue over the sensitive spot while his index finger teased her eager entrance. The man was reluctant to enter so he settled on rubbing her vagina lips while he continued to massage her bundle of nerves with his tongue.

 “Oh my God,” the woman panted. She had been teetering on an orgasm all day and when Matt began to alternate from licking and gently sucking her sensitive clit, her​ back arched as she felt her body ignite in pleasure.

 “Fuckkk, Matthew,” Violet moaned loudly as she intertwined​ her fingers through the man's hair. “Matthewwww.”

 Matt smirked at the sound of the Violet moaning his name. And you didn't think I knew what I was doing, he chuckled internally. The woman's delicious sounds of pleasure encouraged him to keep going until she was writhing under his touch.

 “Oh...my...God,” Violet whimpered as she attempted to pull away but Matt clasped down on her hips and refused to let her go as his mouth gently latched onto her clit while his tongue practically traced designs on the sensitive spot. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my Godddd,” rapidly tumbled on of her mouth before she squealed and tapped out.

 Matt finally released her. “How was that?” he asked smugly.

 “Amazing,” Violet exhaled.

 Before Matt could say 'duh’ his bedroom door flung open. He was prepared to curse Jake out for the lack of privacy, but when he saw Farrah, the man froze.

 “Matty!” the woman screeched. “How could youuuuu?!”

 “Farrah, it- I-”

 “You get mad at me for suggesting that you do what you thought you had to do and yet you do it anyways?! How is that fairrrrrr?!”

 “I don't know, babe. I'm really sorry.”

 “Don't call me babe! You have broken the rainbow unicorn code!”

 “No! I didn't mean to break the rainbow unicorn code!”

 Violet didn't have any popcorn, but she was highly entertained by the argument. She sat up and pushed herself off of the bed to retrieve her shoes while continuing to listen to the banter.

 “Rainbow unicorn scouts are loyal, honest and as pure as gold glitterrrrr,” Farrah sobbed. “And you are neither of those things!”

 “Babe, please. Tell me what I need to do to fix this! Do you want​​ makeup? I'll buy you makeup. Oo! Target is having a My Little Pony blowout sale! You can stock up on Twilight Sparkle merch!”

 “Don't you dare bring Twilight Sparkle into this!” Farrah snarled. “You don't deserve to even mention her name!” The woman stomped her rainbow jelly sandals over to her nightlight and snatched it out of wall. “You don't deserve to have her shine illuminate your room! And you don't deserve those cupcakes that I made yesterday!” Farrah​ stormed out of the room towards the kitchen.

 “Nooo, not the cupcakes!” Matt pleaded as he rushed after her.

 Violet cackled. “This is like the worst soap opera I've ever seen. It would be called, 'This Rainbow Ain't Big Enough for the Three of Us.’” She laughed again as she pulled on her heels. The woman thought about grabbing her panties, but she simply tucked them underneath Matt's pillow in hopes that they'd eventually start another argument between the couple. Violet adjusted her appearance in the mirror, smoothing her skirt and pulling her hair into a high bun prior to humming as she sauntered out of the room.

 “And you don't deserve to have matching unicorn onesies with me!” Farrah shouted​.

 Violet covered her mouth to smother her laugh as she tiptoed out of the house.

---

When Violet made it back to New York, her friends were there waiting for her.

 “Matthew is such an idiot. He let's that toddler bitch boss him around​ and it's really pathetic.”

 “Pfff, don't talk shit now,” Naomi chuckled. “The other day, you were literally crying because you missed him so much.”

 Violet rolled her eyes. “I was just horny and emotional.”

 “So what are you going to do when you get horny again?” Raven asked.

 “Like right now?” she groaned. “I have no idea.”

 “Are you stuck on Matthew being the only guy you're with?”

 “It's not that I'm stuck, what guy would want to fuck a pregnant girl?”

 “I may know someone,” Raven said.

 “Okay, let me reiterate,” she chuckled. “What normal guy would want to fuck a pregnant girl?”

 “He's just as normal as Matthew.”

 Violet wrinkled her nose before the three of them burst into laughter. The baby responded with two swift kicks and a jab.

 “Oh my Goddd. This kid is fighting me!” Violet grabbed Naomi's hand, placed it over her stomach and waited for another thump.

 “I don't feel anything.”

 Violet frowned. “You fickle little boy you. Just like Matthew.”

 The baby kicked and Naomi gasped. “That's so amazingggg​.”

 “I have a theory,” Raven said as she scooted closed and placed her hand on Violet's belly. “Matthew is gross.”

 They waited for a few seconds and but there was no movement.

 Violet exhaled in relief. “I was about to be creeped out if this kid reacted every time someone talked shit about Matthew.”

 “That would be crazy. Then I would be able to accurately say that you're impregnated with Satan's spawn.”

 The woman laughed. “I know right. Little boy, your father is not special enough to be that worked up about,” she loudly announced. The kicks and punches went into overdrive causing Violet to groan. “Fine! Fine! He's special!”

 The baby relinquished​ two more kicks before stopping.

 “What a bully,” Naomi chuckled.

 “Sssssh, don't talk shit,” Violet whispered as if she was a battered woman. “He'll hit me.”

 “Okay, we keep referring to the baby as a him, but when are we going to pick out names?” Raven asked.

 “I love the name Alister,” Violet admitted.

 “Oh my God, that sounds so olddd.”

 “Name him after your favorite fabric,” Naomi joked. “Chiffon.”

 Violet laughed. “That sounds like a hood name! Heyyyy, Chiffon. How you doing, boy?”

 Naomi laughed so hard that she snorted.

 “Would you consider naming him after Matthew?”

 Violet wrinkled her nose. “Never.” The baby gave her a firm​ punch. “Do you like that name, little one?” There was a long pause before there was another punch. The woman pouted. “Aww.” With all of the commotion surrounding the feisty fetus, Violet began to miss Matt all over again.

---

Raven and Naomi walked side by side to the parking garage.

 “Do you have any plans for tonight?” Raven asked.

 “Yeah, I'm going to the movies.”

 “With Bob?” she asked in a tone that Naomi was growing to loathe.

 “Yes,” she snapped back. “With Bob. What's your problem with him?”

 “He’s just a creep!”

 “Oh my God, come on Raven!” Naomi replied in exasperation. “You do this with every guy that shows interest in me! You're always pointing out the most ridiculous flaws and now that I've found a guy that owns fucking a pizza shop and you think he's weird. I'm honestly starting to think you're jealous!”

“Am not!” she said defensively. “I just think that you can do better!”

 “He's a successful entrepreneur! How does it get better than that?!”

 “Maybe it's not about money! Maybe love should be enough.”

 “I just met him! I don't expect him to love me.”

 “I'm not talking about him,” Raven exhaled.

 “Rave,” she sighed. “What are you talking about?”

 “I love you, Naomi,” she finally admitted. “Of course I'm jealous of Bob. He gets to wake up next to you and take you out whenever he wants. Of course I'm jealous! And I don't​ think he can make you happy like I'd be able to make you happy!”

 “I didn't know you felt that way. Raven, I'm not a lesbian.”

 “I don't label myself as a lesbian either, but I just know that I'm head over heels in love with you.”

 Naomi frowned and was snarky to combat becoming emotional. “If I wanted to be with women, I would've at least kept my penis.”

 “But if gender can be fluid, why can't sexuality?”

 “But my gender isn't fluid. I'm a woman.”

 “I know​ you are. As you transitioned, you became the most beautiful woman in the world to me. And I just want you to give me a chance.”

 Naomi could feel herself tearing up.

 “All I need is one chance,” Raven pleaded. “And if I can't make you happy then I'll leave it alone. But I know I can​, Naomi, please.”

 The woman bit down on her bottom lip. “I have to go.”

 “Naomi-”

 “Raven, no. I can't talk about this right now,” she sniffled as she made her way to her car but the other woman followed her.

 “Naomi, please don't be mad at me.”

 “Too late! You've been talking shit about all of my relationships for all these years because 'you’re in love with me’. How selfish! If you really loved me, you'd leave me alone.”

 “Naomi, no! I'm sorry! Naomi, please-”

 The woman slammed her car door and sped off, leaving Raven to sob in the parking lot.

---

By the time Naomi made it to Bob, she had composed herself enough to sit through​ Beauty and the Beast. They shared a large popcorn while the man snuck in kisses and sweet remarks until the infamous scene where one of the mobbing villagers out to kill Beast gets sucked into Belle's wardrobe only to be spit out, now dressed in drag. He wasn't disappointed with what he saw and batted his eyelashes at his reflection.

 “Ughhh,” Bob groaned. “Why are the queers infiltrating everything?!”

 Naomi was taken aback. “Excuse me?”

 “This is fucking children's movie. Why do we need a man in a fucking dress on the screen?”

 “Preach, brother,” the man behind him said.

 “Exactlyyyyy.”

 “So, what? You don't like gay people?” Naomi whispered.

 “No, I'm fine with gay people. I just don't think that children's movies should be subject to characters​ with a sexuality to begin with.”

 “Oh... I guess that makes sense.”

 The man stole a kiss from her tense lips before turning his attention back to the screen. “Kill the Beast!”

---

Not wanting to be judged by her friends just yet, Violet waited until the duo left to climb into bed with her cellphone pressed to her ear.

 “Hello?” Matt answered in a drab voice.

 “Hi, Matthew,” she chirped. “Are you okay?”

 “Kinda.”

 “What do you mean kinda? What's the matter?”

 “Farrah dumped me. I'm 'no longer a Rainbow Unicorn Scout and I never will be again’.”

 “Is that necessarily a bad thing?”

 “No not at all.”

 They both laughed.

 “How are you?” he asked.

 “I’m okay.”

 “Just okay?”

 “Yeah, I'm pretty sure you're going to be the baby's favorite. He kicks at the slightest mention of your name.”

 The man gasped. “You're kidding.”

 “I wish I was. He's a little​ jerk.”

 “Aw, don't talk about him like that. He's clearly displaying intelligence.”

 Violet scoffed. “Soooo...what are you doing?”

 “Watching The Dark Knight. You?”

 The woman was reluctant to say it, but she did. “Thinking about you.”

 “Oh, yeah? Cargo pants and all?”

 She cringed. “Okay, nevermind. You just annihilated my boner.”

 Matt cackled. “Sorryyyy.”

 “You should visit me sometime next week,” she slyly suggested.

 “I have to work all next week.”

 “What about the week after that?”

 “Work, work, work.”

 Violet frowned. “But you're missing out on crucial moments in the baby's developmentttt.”

 “Well after kicking, there isn't much that we'll be able to notice. But he'll be able to play peek-a-boo with a flashlight soon enough.”

 “How do you​ know?”

 “I read baby books​.”

 Violet resembled the heart eyes emoji as she pouted. “Awww, Matthew that's adorable.”

 “It's not adorable. It's research. I need to be prepared.”

 “That makes me happyyyy.”

 “Good, I'm glad. And Violet, I really do want to be there but I finally have a good job and I'm able to provide for you guys.”

 “Matthew, I want you here.”

 The man couldn't believe what he was hearing. Just a few weeks ago, the woman hated his guts. “Well, that's really good to hear, Violet. And I'll be out there as soon as I get enough money saved.”

 “Money saved for whattt?”

 “My own place.”

 “You can stay with me, Matthew. You know thatttt.”

 “But you are too pickyyy,” he mimicked in her voice.

 Violet gasped. “Am nottttt.”

 “You are though. If I wanna leave my dirty clothes on the floor overnight I should​ be able to without fear that you'll smother me in my sleep.”

 She laughed. “Oh my God, you're so dramatic!”

 “Not even. That night that I forgot to put the cap on the toothpaste, you gave me the most evil look- you would've thought that you were a mafia princess out to get revenge on a rival family or something, it was scary.”

 Violet cackled. “I'm sorryyyy. I just like things to be a certain way.”

 “I know! But it's cute.”

 “Aww, you think I'm cute?” she asked as she twirled her hair, goofy grin plastered on her face as if she was 15 again.

 Matt scoffed. “No. I said that your OCD was cute, not you.”

 She gasped. “Jerk.”

 “Whoaaa, you didn't even let me finish! Your OCD is cute but you're beautiful.”

 Violet bashfully buried head underneath​ her silk sheets. “Thank you.”

 “Huh? You're muffled.”

 She removed the blankets and sat all the way up. “Thank you, Matthew.”

 “Oh, you're welcome. But you already knew that.”

 “Did I?”

 “Pfff, yes. And you abuse it.”

 “Abuse knowing that I'm beautiful?”

 “Yes! You abuse the power of being beautiful by making people do whatever you want.”

 “What woman doesn't?”

 “Oh, true.”

 “Mhmm,” she said stifling a yawn.

 “Tired?”

 “Only a little.”

 “Then you should get some rest.”

 “But I’m talking to youuuu.”

 “So? I'm not that special. I'll be here tomorrow.”

 “Promise?”

 “Yes.”

 The woman smiled. “Okay.”

 “Goodnight, Violet Chachki.”

 “Goodnight, Matthew Lent.”

 The man hung up and Violet let out a giddy squeal as she collapsed back onto her silk sheets.

---

Naomi nervously​ sipped on her wine while Bob cut into his steak. She'd been seeing​ the man for a little over two months now and hadn't figured out a way to tell him that she was a transwoman. And ever since their movie date, the woman had felt on edge.

 “How is your steak?” she asked.

 “Succulent and divine.”

 She giggled before sighing.

 “What's wrong?”

 “Um.. I have something to tell you.”

 He froze. “Are you pregnant?”

 The woman raised her glass of wine as a reminder. “No.”

 “I don't know now, you're from the South. You guys probably drink until the baby falls into toilet,” he joked.

 Naomi wanted to be amused but her stomach was churning. “Bob, I really have to tell you something.”

 “I'm listening.”

 “I...I...I'm trans.”

 He gave her a blank stare. “What does that mean?”

 “I was...born male.”

 The man's expression didn't change for a few seconds before he laughed. “You're funnyyy.”

 “I'm not joking.”

 He placed his fork and knife on the table and stared her directly into her eyes. “Are you forgetting that I've seen you naked? And not only have I seen your vagina, it feels pretty damn good too.”

 Naomi couldn't believe how ignorant the man was. She frowned. “Haven't you ever heard of estrogen and plastic surgery? Look what it did for Kylie Jenner, or better yet Caitlyn.”

 Bob clenched his jaw. “You're completely serious…”

 She nodddd. “I'm sorry that I didn't tell you sooner. I was just too scared.” The silence that followed as the man stared at her instantly became overwhelming. “Please say something.”

 He smirked. “It's okay, Naomi.”

 The woman's​ eyebrows furrowed. “Really?”

 “Yeah,” Bob chirped. “Finish your pasta,” he said as he returned to cutting into his steak.

 Naomi exhaled in relief and took a big bite of her meal, saving her excitement for when she climbed into the passenger seat of the man's car. “Babe, you have no idea how happy I ammm,” she squealed as Bob followed suit. “Thank you for accepting me and I pr-” the woman was cut off by Bob's fist hitting her in the face. He punched her again. Then again, then again; relentlessly pounding his fist into her as she cried and attempted to defend herself which only enraged the man even more.

 “You fucking queer freak! How fucking dare you trick me?!”

 “I'm sorry! I'm sorry!” she sobbed. “Just please, st-st-st-” she wheezed and gasped when the man alternated between choking her and pummeling her face.

 “I fucked you how many times?! How many times?! You should've said something before! I'd never associate myself with tranny freaks like you! I'd never- fuck!” he groaned in agony when Naomi kicked him in the groin.

 She took the opportunity to claw for the door handle, desperately climbing out of the car and away from her attacker. Bloodied and bruised, the injured woman limped away as fast as she could, and when she heard Bob's car roar to life, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. When the bright headlights beamed from behind her, Naomi began to run for her life. The screech of the tires made her heart race and time seemed to stand still as she rushed into a nearby alley, seconds before the grill of Bob's car swerved past.

 Naomi sank to the grimy concrete, sobbing and panting as she grabbed her cell phone to call the first number that she saw.

 “Hello?”

 “Raven,” she bawled. “I need your help.”

 It's all Raven needed to hear before rushing out of her house. She made Naomi stay on the phone until she found the shell of a woman crumpled on the alley floor.

 “Oh my God, what happened?! Who did this to you?!” as she spoke, Raven attempted to cradle the woman but Naomi winced and whimpered. “I'm sorry. Are you able to stand?”

 She nodded. As Raven helped her friend to her feet, someone across the street started their car and Naomi flinched so hard that the other woman had to catch her so that she wouldn't fall. “Naomi, please tell me what's going on,” she sniffled. “Do you know you did this to you?”

 “Bob,” she sobbed. “He's transphobic.”

 “Are you fucking kidding me?! I'll kill him! I-”

 “Raven, no. Please don't involve yourself. It's over now and I won't see him anymore.”

 “Naomi,” she said sternly.

 “Raven,” the woman retorted.

 Raven stomped her foot. “That's not fair!”

 “Life's not fair.” Raven opened her mouth to reply but Naomi stopped her. “Let it go. For me. Please.”

The woman huffed. “Fine. Let's get you home.” Raven safety got the woman into the passenger seat of her car.

 “Raven, can I ask you for one more favor?”

 “Anything.”

 “Don't tell Violet. She's pregnant and doesn't need anymore stress.”

---

“Ka-pow!” Violet exclaimed as she read the Chachki Mutant Ninja Baby comic for the fourth time that night. After Matt had gotten off the phone, instead of going to sleep, the woman dove into everything that reminded her of the man. “I vanquish thee with my disinfectant! Ahhhh! Phhssshh!” She pouted. “Matthew just has to come back to New York ASAP. And I think I know how I'll get him here.”

[steamishot]

Not homeless

I’m pretty burnt out at work at this point ~4pm. I felt sick this week, I think due to having a lot going on and the weather changes. I also think I’m pmsing so I’m more tired than usual. It’ll be interesting to see when my period will come this month and if I will return to having a regular cycle.

It was match week last week. On Monday Matt found out that for the second time, he did not match. During this period, I spent the most time with him- saw him like 10 days in the last 12/13 days. Which now that I’m typing it out, is a LOT and the most I’ve ever seen him. I think because he was so vulnerable, he confided in me a lot. During that week, there was a soap process/scramble where unmatched candidates can try to find an open slot. He told me that only his family and I know that he was doing that and he didn’t tell his friends about it. He felt the chances of getting into a program through soap was so low that he pretty much gave up/didn’t try his hardest. Which is a shame because he got one in person interview and one phone interview. Anyway, I did my best to be supportive. On the day he didn’t match, I sent him lunch through uber eats. I bought him a stuffed animal the weekend prior for good luck and in case he got bad news. I hung out with him and provided comfort. I enjoyed doing all that with him but it was also pretty draining in retrospect lol. Now he’s bouncing back and I hope he can do better this time around.

Last Saturday, my uncle came to pick my grandma up to take her out to eat breakfast and bring her to his place for dinner. My mom and dad had plans to go to a party that day and therefore my grandma traveled alone with my uncle. Normally my grandma clings onto my mom. My dad hates that and wishes my grandma would rotate around her other 6 six kids places instead of staying at our home all the time. When my grandma left, my dad was so happy to not have to be responsible for her for a few hours and allow my mom the freedom of not having my grandma to babysit. I think my mom was happy to have some space as well. She ended up going to yoga with me and my friend for the first time. Afterwards, I took her to thread eyebrows (for myself, but eventually she was curious and I pushed her to do it). She was always afraid of eyebrow hair falling out or becoming too thin, so she never allowed people to wax or thread her brows, but she actually really liked how it turned out. We also had lunch together in Monterey park with my friend before I brought her home. She was really grateful for me taking her out and had a joyous time. This makes me think that I should spend more time with my family and less with my partner during the weekends lol.

Last night I saw matt again spontaneously. His parents had just bought a new car for him. He called me while I was driving home from work and then asked me to hang out when I was approaching downtown. I said no it’s okay let’s just stay home, but he resisted (to try to be cute) and I don’t understand these cues so I’m just like okay make it happen then. The biggest stressor about being with him is our differences in time management and planning. He’s more free flowing, spontaneous and relaxed. I’m normally very punctual and considerate of other people’s times and pretty good at judging how much time so and so takes. He said he would go get dressed and head out to my house to pick me up. I was a little annoyed already because I knew that he’s kinda slow in getting ready and I’ll probably have to wait like 20 min for him. In hindsight it’s really not a big deal. I could have gone home and relaxed for a bit. But I think I’m just more anxious overall because he’s a secret from my family and I get stressed out anytime he comes to my house. I want to avoid my mom asking me where I’m going/who I’m going with. And avoid them finding out about him. So instead of going home, I told him we can meet up somewhere along the way. We ended up doing that and because I was annoyed and hangry and possibly PMSing, I started scolding him for not respecting my time. Last week, we had agreed to meet for dinner at 5:45, and he didn’t show up til 6:15. Over the weekend he got a phone call related to his career while we were having lunch and I ended up just waiting alone for like 45 minutes. Also, we stayed at an Airbnb a mile away from his house. He forgot to bring his hair product so I offered to take him home to do his hair. I waited in the car for like 10 min for him to do that. I guess on the surface I try to appear supportive, but the selfish part of me does not like waiting around and these incidents plus others added up.

I scolded him more through text in the morning as well, saying that he comes off as not very reliable. That if he shows up on time 4/5 times that’s still 1/5 times that he’s late. I told him that he gives himself too much credit for doing the minimum and he gets complacent easily. And I connected it to how he acts in his career, which is why I think he didn’t match. I was pretty emotional in sending the texts (I think I’m PMSing) but I felt his response was direct and comforting. I like that he doesn’t give in to the emotional turmoil (because I don’t think he has the capacity to) lol which is good because in my last relationship, both of us would be emotional during these “fights” and it would take longer to move on from it. Honestly, it’s not a big deal. Because if this is the biggest problem between us then I think that’s okay. I won’t expect him to change, but I hope that we can work together to make our shared experiences better and more fair.

Anyway, over the weekend he said that I make him happy and that he wants to make me happy too. And he told me to choose a restaurant for dinner. I first said hot pot, but he’s like is there anything new you want to try? So I hit him with SUGARFISH LOL. We ended up going and the bill was like $96.

During one of our talks a few weeks ago about him not matching and going to have a $20/hr job… he said he will save some money for applications and spend the rest on hanging out with me. I think he was joking but he said that’s around $400 a week we can spend on fun. When he asked me how much I’d put into this “fun pool” I said that he can pay and I’ll do the labor i.e. planning, bookkeeping, etc. I don’t know if I’m shooting myself in the foot but I do feel that I do more of the “laborious” activities and he just pays which is a simple act that doesn’t require much thought- and that I’m technically working harder for our relationship. 

However, I don’t think I should think about it in that sense. Naturally, women are more nurturing and care more about their relationships. Men are dependent on these relationships but don’t necessarily understand what the women need (in hetero relationships) from them. He is working hard in his career to provide for me and his future family. So i’ll try to think of it as we’re using our strengths as a team. I’m good at and enjoy planning, and should plan for our enjoyment, not to expect him to mirror me. The last time I saw my indian mama, she gave me some relationship advice - i told her how my sister in law was complaining to me about my brother being spoiled and lazy. she said it takes asian men like 8 years to learn how to do things/clean up around the house because they just don’t know!! she noted how asian men, compared to western men, have lower EQs and she repeated this a lot- they just don’t know. and she said it’s okay that they don’t know because it means they don’t have bad intentions. however, she said if they do know and they continue causing harm, then that’s bad. and i totally agree with that. 

[thesportssoundoff]

July 3rd time killing: What sort of UFC veteran fights can we expect for DWTCS?

Joey

July 3rd

So by now word has reached MOST fine folks about the UFC's Tuesday night show; Tuesday Night Contenders. Thus far it's...a thing. It seems like a modest attempt to at the very least take a swing at developing and churning the bottom of the roster over somewhat. Five fights every Tuesday with prospects and proven regional veterans trying to crawl their way into the UFC. We've got commentary confirmed (one will be legit, the other one is going to be a Bananarama tape with no case with Snoop and Urijah Faber goofing around). As of now some REALLY great fights are being put on (Manny Vasquez vs Joby Sanchez, Matt Bessette vs Kurt Holobaugh to name a few) and even if it's JUST five fights on a Tuesday, it's something for the people who subscribe to Fight Pass to get excited about during the week.

NOW having said that, Dana White and the UFC have both hinted that guys on the cusp of getting cut COULD in theory get the opportunity to maybe earn themselves a longer leash in the org through fights. Whether that's veteran vs veteran or veteran vs prospect outside of the UFC remains to be seen. It looked like they would be doing away with that BUT Dana mentioned it recently and so I'm assuming it's still in the works. In any event, I want to just try and conjure up 15 fights that would absolutely fit the Tuesday Night Contenders format for current UFC veterans who could use the opportunity to get some fights. Plus JUST for fun, I've thrown in some non UFC guy fights that would make sense too. Everybody loves bonus MMA. In trying to keep with the spirit of the show thus far, I didn't go too far in terms of regional overseas guys. Just a lot of local fighters OR fighters who fight out primarily in the states.

1- MW Oluwale Bamgbose vs Eryk Anders

A genuinely enjoyable wacky ball of energy, Bamgbose has had a really tough go of it recently in the UFC. He debuted on short notice vs Uriah Hall and lost in the first round. He took another short notice fight and KO'd Daniel Sarafian before racking up two straight losses vs Brazilian fighters Cezar Mutante and Paulo Borrachinha. He's too fun to not be in the UFC BUT it'd be totally reasonable if the decision was made to pull the plug on him. How about giving him a chance vs Eryk Anders? Anders is a Bama linebacker turned MMA fighter who is raw but uber talented and has just captured LFA's middleweight championship. At the very least, this could be the kind of fight that promises to be JUST wacky enough to be worth watching on a Tuesday night.

2- LW Ross Pearson vs Freddy Assuncao

Ross Pearson is an awesome fighter, one of those guys that it's not too hard to get behind. He's been at this a good long time and the recent results are less than ideal, I think we could all agree. Still if Pearson wants one more crack at it (and you don't want to see him slumming it up on Bellator undercards), then a fight on Tuesday Night Contenders might make sense. Freddy Assuncao is one of those guys people have expected to join the UFC for quite some time but injuries and inactivity have hurt him. He's a good fit for this kind of show as a Titan FC champ.

3- LW Marcin Held vs Takanori Gomi

So obviously financially this makes zero fucking sense. That said, if you ignore the amount of money burnt putting this one together, I think this fight could be all kinds of amusing. Gomi is on what feels like an eight fight losing streak while Held has lost every UFC fight he's had so far; decision to Diego Sanchez, decision to Joe Lauzon and KO vs Damir Hadzovic. He could in theory be 2-1 since he was dominating Hadzovic and IMO beat Joe Lauzon. This fight could at the very least be an awesome little deal for FP subscribers.

4- MW Alex Nicholson vs Chris Camozzi

Nicholson's claim to fame INSIDE the cage (!) is a kind of questionable win over Devin Clark at 205 lbs. Clark's a fine win but outside of that, Nicholson has been finished twice and beat by Sam Alvey. Now I thought he beat Sam Alvey but still. Sporting a nifty 1-3 record, Nicholson might be on his way out. A fair "loser gets axed" fight would be a guy like Chris Camozzi! Camozzi is coming off three straight decision losses and you get the feeling that the bloom is off the comeback rose. This is the sort of fight that's buried as likee the third Fight Pass prelim on the show or whatever so hey! Might as well give em a little shine.

5- WW Jake Ellenberger vs James Nakashima

The Matt Brown KO gave Ellenberger a chance to jolt some life into his somewhat shaky caeer. It was a short lived glimmer of hope ultimately as Ellenberger has lost two straight. He showed some improved striking vs Mike Perry BUT alas alack! It was not meant to be. James Nakashima is an MMA Lab prodigy getting a slow burn through the regional circuit who might be due for a shot soon.

6- WW James Moontasri vs Erick Montano

Moontasri is a fun fighter who just seems to be consistently struggling to find any sort of weight in the UFC. Even having said that, his losses are to some damn good fighters like Alex Oliveira and Kevin Lee. Erick Montano is one of the TUF LAM winners who should, in theory be given extra rope to see if they can cut it. As such rather than just cut your losses and rather than abandon any hope in Mexico, why not do Moontasri vs Erick Montano?

7- WW Jim Wallhead vs Rodrigo Vargas

Jim Wallhead is a longtime veteran who finally got his UFC opportunity and unfortunately ha scome up short twice. Wallhead is capable, competent and probably on the fringe of being UFC quality. As such, how about he faces a guy like Rodrigo Vargas? Vargas has been fighting primarily out in Combate Americas

8- WW Hayder Hassan vs Derrick Krantz

The UFC has been trying to make Hayder Hassan a thing for a while now and it totally makes sense. Hassan was the MVP of the season where the Blackzillians and ATT feuded, complete with him taking three fights in like a months time. Hassan was even invited back for the redemption season where he lost AND THEN got another chance to take a fight. He's just a fun fighter they seem sensitive to---and so giving him a decent regional vet like Derrick Krantz I GUESS makes a lot of sense. Maybe Krantz can have a Gerald Meeaschaert type run.

9- LW Andrew Holbrook vs Hakeem Dawodu

Holbrook has already proven himself to be capable of an upset when he knocked off Jake Matthews in Australia. Holbrook tends to get wiped out violently in his fights and while I'd just, ya know, SIGN Hakeem Dawodu, if I HAD to get cray cray, giving him Holbrook is a perfect test for his skills. Then again I mean I'd just sign the fucking guy.

10- LW Reza Madadi vs Alexander Jacobsen

The Mad Dog has taken some fights on short notice and taken some flat out undesirable fights recently. At 1-3 since his UFC return, Reza might be on his last licks. Alexander Jacobsen is the sort of dude Madadi would be fighting if relegated to the regional circuit; a hyped up European who has competed primarily in Cage Warriors and boasts an 8-1 record.

11- BW Justin Scoggins vs Mark De La Rosa

The mova back down to 125 lbs was a bust for Scoggins as he slipped up and had a booboo at the worst time possible vs Ulka Sasaki. Rather than let a very talented yet flawed fighter go, give him one more chance vs an undefeated Mexican prospect. De La Rosa is best known as the dude who Mark Schiavello tried to shame for turning down a fight over concerns that his opponent wasn't going to make weight, opting to simply stay in his hotel room. He's parlayed THAT into a decent run at Combate Americas. It'd be a good test for both guys.

12- BW Kwan Ho Kwak vs John Castaneda  

Keeping up with the theme of Singapore card failures vs Combate guys, let's pit Kwan Ho Kwak vs Combate Americas champ John Castaneda. Kwak is 0-2 in the UFC but has been apart of two enjoyable fights while Castaneda has been one of the real rising stars of Combate Americas since its inception.

13- LHW Josh Stansbury vs Anton Berzin

ALL the TUF 19 guys! Berzin sports an undefeated record and holds gold in CFFC, the same org that gave us the likes of Lyman Good, Jimmie Rivera and Nick Gordon. Not to mention Paul Felder and some of the other DWTCS guys. Josh Stansbury is on his 9th UFC life so you might as well see what happens if you give him one more chance vs an undefeated guy.

14- MW Uriah Hall vs Brett Cooper

While it started on a bit of a rough patch, I'm not even sure Baloo could get Hall's career out of this current talespin it's in. He's also been fighting inarguably some of the world's toughest competition with Mousasi twice, Robert Whittaker and Derek Brunson all thrown into the mix. On the other hand, Brett Cooper has been a busy dude overseas since Bellator basically got rid of him. It's a fine fight and a decent potential bounceback challenge for Hall. Worst case scenario Cooper guarantees you a few tough fights.

15- HW Anthony Hamilton vs Karl Roberson

Anthony Hamilton's "win one then lose one" streak finally came to an end as he's racked up two losses in a row; both by early finish. He's a pretty reliable HW in terms of getting to fight night and he's clearly capable of beating some guys so hey! One more shot seems fair. How about lanky CFFC LHW Karl Roberson?