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sunshineseung · 3 years

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Journal Part 3 // Jeongin

🍄 | genre: smut ☁️ | pairing: Yang Jeongin x female!reader 🌿 | wc: 4.3k 🌸 | includes: milf!reader x babysitter!college student!jeongin, “mommy”, shower/morning sex, handjob (m!receiving), cum swallowing, smut within smut [mentions of punishment, spanking, pegging, free use, “mistress”, flogging, chastity], masturbation, brief phone sex, bratty jeongin, punishment, spanking with hand, grinding, overstimulation (m!receiving), PIV (riding, cowgirl/reverse cowgirl), unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare… phew good luck

🌊 | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Finale |

The morning sun blinds Jeongin through the curtains, and he lazily rubs his eyes to see steam coming from under the bathroom door. You’ve already gotten up to get a shower, but you so rudely forgot to invite the sweet college boy blissfully sleeping next to you. Jeongin springs out of bed with a little too much energy and sneaks into your bathroom, being as quiet as possible.

“Jeongin, I know you’re there.” You fold your arms as you face the clear shower door Jeongin’s silhouette was on. He freezes, shrugs, and opens the shower door just enough so you could see only half of his body.

“May I come in?”

You sigh and swing open the door fully, making sure no water can get out. “Sure, baby.”

Jeongin gets giddy and hops in, smiling brightly as you continue to lather soap on your body. Suddenly, he hugs you from behind, pulling you as close to his body as possible. You feel his semi-erection on your back, but that’s not your focus right now. You just want to be clean for your day off.

“Thank you for letting me stay over.” Jeongin nuzzles his head in the back of your neck, cuddling you under the running water. “I really enjoyed last night. Did you?”

“Yes, sweetheart. I enjoyed it a lot.” Your reassurance makes him blush, and he’s happy you can’t see the flustered expression on his face. He doesn’t know what to do next. Luckily, you have plans. “Hey, Jeongin, do you write… fantasies about us in class?”

“Oh, uh, sometimes. I make sure no one sees, though.” He backs away, leaning on the far shower wall. “I mostly write in my composition class.”

“Who’s the professor?” You turn around, facing him fully, pinning him to the wall with your eyes.

“Mr. Lee?”

“Lee what?”

“Lee… Minho?”

Damnit. Of course. Of course it was going to be your ex husband. Admittedly, this wasn’t the best time to interrogate Jeongin, but it’s still early, and the kids aren’t up yet, so you have time to turn this around.

“Mommy, can you put shampoo in my hair?” Jeongin’s cute little voice almost makes your heart burst, and it’s practically impossible for you to say no now. Jeongin turns around and kneels, patiently waiting for you to wash his hair. You squeeze some shampoo into your hand and spread it through Jeongin’s wet hair, making sure it suds on his scalp. He hums in content, loving the feeling of your hands through his hair. “Thank you.”

“No problem, baby.” You kiss the back of his neck, making a shiver run down his spine. You hear the light sounds of Jeongin touching himself, slowly and quietly enough that he hopes you don’t notice, but you obviously do considering you see his right shoulder moving.

Once the shampoo is finally rinsed out of his hair, you pull him onto you, his back falling against your chest and stomach. You run your hands over his abs before taking a hold of his cock, wrapping your fingers around it gently before slowly jerking him back and forth. Jeongin weakly bucks his hips into your hand, dazed and clouded with neediness.

“You like when mommy touches you like this, huh?” The water sprinkles down onto Jeongin’s cock, creating a weak lubricant for your hand. He doesn’t answer you; he can only whimper, too far gone to even form a thought. He slipped into this headspace so fast, and it kind of shocks you. Jeongin rustles in your arms, seeming to wish to break free from your hold. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“W-want to see you.” Jeongin squeaks out, prompting you to turn around and pin him against the wall so the water hits your back. You get on your knees, looking up at him as his face is bright red and his eyes are half-lidded. “You’re so pretty, mommy.”

“Aw, is my little boy trying to compliment me so he can cum?” You go back to stroking his cock, licking the tip once to remind him of how your mouth feels. His sensitive cock begins to twitch, begging to release. Another lick, this time from his balls to his tip, and he’s cumming on your face, shooting his load across your features, mostly in your mouth.

You wipe the cum from your face to your mouth, swallowing every last bit of his tasty release. Jeongin only watches, eyes glued to your mouth, but he doesn’t know if he can kiss you considering you just ate his cum.

“Mommy, can I kiss you?” You look up and him and groan as you stand up, your knees feeling the repercussions of kneeling on the hard shower floor. He raises his chin as you grasp his face, pulling his soft lips to yours, kissing you sweetly. You press your body against his, your tits coming in contact with his chest, and he has to fight every thought to snap his neck down to look at your chest. Still, your lips were made for each other, perfectly in sync with every ministration. He’d be a fool to break this kiss right now.

Nothing in Jeongin’s wildest dreams could have prepared him for being with you, even if it isn’t anything serious. He loved just being in your presence, focused on your every word and every action, mentally taking notes so his memories of his time with you could be as vivid as possible.

On the other hand, nothing in your wildest dreams could prepare you for your ex-husband rudely coming back into your life only to shame you for possibly having a relationship with another consenting adult. When he called you last night, you had no idea Jeongin was one of your students, but somehow, Minho saw what he was writing in his little notebook, and it all seemed too descriptive to be fake. Jeongin was younger when he saw Minho the most, and there was no way Jeongin could recognize him as his ex-neighbor now. It was all an innocent mistake that cost you a lot of sleep last night.

You weren’t thinking about that now. All you could think about was what time it was, because your daughters would be awake any minute and you always make them breakfast on your days off. You break the kiss and get out of the shower with Jeongin, graciously helping each other dry off, and you go out to begin making waffles for your kids.

“I didn’t know you could cook!” Jeongin sits at the dining table, full of glee just like a child would be. “Can I stay for breakfast?”

“Jeongin, you can stay as long as you’d like.” You press the waffle iron closed, beginning to cook the first of three. “But no funny business. I don’t want the girls to know what’s going on between us.”

“Oh, that’s okay! I just know there’s no fresh breakfast at my house.” He laughs a little, lounging back in the wooden chair. “I’ll leave after I eat so you have a day with your kids, and I also have homework to do.”

“They give you kids homework on the weekends?” You sound almost offended by the thought of doing any type of schoolwork on your days off. “From what I can remember, we never got homework on the weekends, or if we did, I certainly didn’t do it!”

You both laugh, then go back to a comfortable silence. It felt right. Having another adult in the house, someone to talk to who isn’t only talking to you because of work. This is what you’ve been missing.

When your daughters wake up, they’re shocked to see Jeongin sitting at the table, but they’re also happy to see him. They drag him out of his seat at the table so he can play with them before you tell them to behave.

“Jeongin is a guest this morning. Treat him nice!”

Jeongin’s embarrassed to admit that he almost said yes mommy, but the glorious taste of the syrup-covered waffles takes his mind off that. You just lean against the counter and watch them eat, sipping your coffee as the sun continues to rise.

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

“Jeongin, where were you last night?” Felix says through his headset, waiting for his game to load. “We need a team of four!”

“I thought Hyunjin would have been on.” Jeongin yawns, tired after having you wake him so early. “I was busy, sorry.”

“Busy doesn’t mean writing in your diary, Yang.” Jisung chimes in, calling Jeongin by his family name as if it’s an insult.

“First of all, it’s not a diary, and second of all, I was busy with a… girl.” Jeongin hesitates to give away too much information, but he folds the seconds he’s brought back to where he was last night: under you.

“Aw, our baby Innie has a girlfriend?” The group fills with oohs and ahhs as Jeongin groans and rolls his eyes, adjusting his headset out of frustration. “Let us meet her! C'mon man!”

“You can’t meet her. We aren’t dating.” Jeongin threatens to leave before they drop the topic, but he can’t stop thinking about you, being already semi-hard by the end of their first match. The team berates him for his poor playing, but they can’t even fathom the thoughts going through Jeongin’s head that he can’t wait to put into his journal.

I want mommy to punish me. Punish me for these thoughts, punish me for touching myself without her, punish me for anything she pleases. Her perverted little boy wants to be ruined, and yet she’s so gentle with me. I don’t care if the sound of her spanking me wakes up her kids. It’ll be worth it just to feel her treat me like I’m her servant who lives to please, because I am. I’m nothing but a vessel she should be free to use at her will. I’m her toy. All hers.

Jeongin’s phone pings from the other side of his desk. It’s a text message from his favorite neighbor, and what perfect timing too. In your little text conversation, you and Jeongin discuss the babysitting times for the week, and don’t even manage to mention anything about sex. As upsetting as this is, while he waits for your answers, he’s diligently jotting down all of his twisted fantasies.

“You take my strap so well, honey.” She thrusts into my ass again, this time going even deeper than before. I hold my legs up with my hands around my tights, spreading my ass for her to fuck. My cock is leaking with precum while she strokes it with one hand and plays with my nipples with her other. “Dumb little boy’s being so good for me now.”

When you finally say goodbye over text, Jeongin shoots back a short “can we call?” As strange as you thought this text was, you press his number, soon to be greeted with the heavy breaths of the young boy. Luckily, the girls were asleep and you were alone in your bedroom, so you could say anything.

“Aw, is my boy all needy while he’s alone?” You tease him across the line, although you could just yell this out your window to his. Jeongin slips his pants down his thighs to release his cock, playfully touching his tip before gripping his shaft and stroking himself slowly. “Are you thinking about mommy?”

“Y-yes, I’m thinking about you, mommy.” How he got so excited so quickly is beyond his own understanding, but just from hearing your lustful voice, Jeongin’s already brainless, hardly able to utter a simple sentence.

“Good boy. You’re always such a good boy, huh?”

“Only for you, mommy.”

“Then why does my good boy want to be punished?” Jeongin’s breath hitches, suddenly remembering the short, revealing conversation with you about wanting to be used. “I wouldn’t want to punish you without a reason, my little prince.”

“Wh-what can I do?” He heaves out, quickening his pace on his dick. “Give me rules, mommy. I want to break them.”

“Oh, pretty boy wants rules now?” You take a moment to ponder, hearing the light sound of skin slapping from the other side of the phone. “Stop jerking off. No masturbating without my permission.”

Jeongin freezes, taking his hand off his cock slowly, writhing from the ruined orgasm he was so close to having. He sighs to catch his breath, pulling the phone away so you couldn’t hear how desperate he was to be touched. “What else?”

“Hm,” you scratch your chin in thought, “you have to show me everything you write in your little journal, got it?” “E-everything?”

“Everything.” Jeongin’s focus goes to the journal, looking at the depraved words he scratched onto the page. If he wants to get what he wants, he has to show you just so you know how much he wants this. “Yes ma’am.”

“One more thing, baby.” Jeongin’s worn out just from the first two rules. One more might break him. “Promise to take care of yourself. Brush your teeth, eat your meals, drink water, ya’know, things like that. I don’t want this rule broken.”

The sudden overflowing of care and wholesomeness makes Jeongin’s face turn red, partially because you’re so sweet and partially because he forgot to eat dinner today. He nods before realizing this was a phone call and squeaking out a meek “of course”.

“Don’t break these rules, okay sweetheart? Or else you’ll be punished… unless you break the last rule. Then I’ll give you a stern talking to. Got it?”

“Yes, mommy. I understand.” Jeongin pulls his pants up, cock now fully limp. “See you tomorrow!”

“Yup, good night.” You both hang up, setting your phones down for the night. Jeongin sits back in his desk chair, feeling victorious after finally cementing a sure-fire way to get his ass spanked. Before he goes to bed, he has to eat dinner. No way he’s getting a stern talking to!

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

When you come home from work on Monday, Jeongin’s watching TV (scrolling through his phone) while the girls were most likely asleep. You come sit next to him, tossing your bag next to the couch and figuratively letting your hair down, unbuttoning a few buttons on your work shirt.

“Hey, Y/n! The girls were great today.” Jeongin smiles, folding his hands in his lap. “They went to bed like two hours ago. It was an early night for them I guess.”

“Yeah, they were up early this morning, even before me.” You both laugh, finally being able to get down to business, at least in Jeongin’s mind.

“I ate three meals today, I drank three bottles of water, and I brushed my teeth this morning.” Jeongin sounds oddly proud of himself for doing what most people think is the bare minimum. “I showered, I took my meds, and most importantly, I didn’t jerk off.”

“Good boy.” You kiss him on the cheek and pull his head into your chest so he’s leaning on one of your tits. “My Jeonginnie is always so good for me.”

“Can I get a reward?” His puppy eyes look up at you, warming your heart from the long day at work. He looked so sweet and innocent, just pretty enough for you to destroy.

“Hold on, baby. You didn’t forget the second rule, did you?” You tap the side of his head and point to his bookbag. “Show me your journal.”

“B-but mommy, that’s embarrassing.” He whines, turning off your chest and to his bag, leaning away before unzipping his bag. “Do you have to?”

“Don’t be bratty with me. I just called you my good boy!” You reach for the bag, but Jeongin pulls it back to him. He hides it behind his back, putting his nose up at you. “Jeongin…”

“No!”

“Give me the j-“

“Make me.”

You lean into him, suffocating the younger boy with your shadow. Now standing over him, you put your hands on his face, cupping his cheeks before one hand pulls back and harshly slaps him across his handsome face. He doesn’t whine in pain, though, he just moans.

“M-more.”

“What was that, baby?”

He begins to repeat himself, but you slap him again before he can finish the word. His face is red as a tomato, and you don’t care whether that’s from your hand or his blushing. Looking down, you can clearly see how hard he is in his pants. You remove your hands from his face and press one down onto his bulge, making his face contort into a wince.

“Does my little boy want me to touch his cock?” You taunt, tilting your head as if the answer isn’t obvious. “Or more importantly, does he deserve it?”

“I’m n-not letting you read my journal.”

You huff and straighten your posture, taking his wrist in your hand and making him stand up with you, leading him to your bedroom. You slam the door behind you just quiet enough not to wake the kids. When you turn around, Jeongin is bent over the bed with his pants down to his ankles. He’s shaking. You like that.

“Take your clothes off, bitch.” He kicks his pants away while tossing his shirt off and pulling down his underwear at lighting speed. You sit on the bed and pat your lap, signaling Jeongin to bend over you, which he obediently does. “My little boy’s being bad today. Why?”

“I don’t want you reading what’s in my journal.” He sounds angry when you know it’s all for show.

“You don’t think I already know what perverted filth is in there?” You spank him, quickly making a red mark on his pale ass. He groans, bucking his hips into your leg for some friction. “You just want mommy to treat you like this, don’t you?”

“Yes mommy.” Another spank hits his ass, causing him to jolt forward. You bite your lip looking down at him, just now noticing how muscular he is.

“Count for me.” You spank him again, and again, and again, as he pliantly counts and whines, his cock dangling below him fully erect. By the end, he’s out of breath, and he isn’t even doing any of the work.

“Ten.” You pet his back while his ass is red as ever, looking like it can’t take any more hits of your palm. You kiss him on the shoulder, an especially soft moment after what just occurred. “Mommy?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I’ll show you my journal now.” He can’t move, but the journal is still out in his bag.

“I’ll go get it, baby boy. Lay down on the pillows. I want to read your slutty little stories to you.” He gets off your lap and lays back while you go out to the living room to get the journal. You sift through his bag, looking back and forth between binders and folders, but you don’t see it anywhere. You bring the bag into the bedroom, tossing it on the bed. “Where is it?”

Jeongin does the same as you, sifting through the bag with no sight of his precious journal. His heart stops for a minute, beginning to break into a cold sweat.

“Where did you see it last?”

“I was writing in it during my comp class.”

Lee Minho teaches that class. Your ex-husband teaches that class. This feels like the end of the world, and unlike earlier, you’re now genuinely angry. Your face begins to boil as you throw the bookbag off the bed and undress down to your panties. Climbing on top of Jeongin, you press your cunt down onto his cock, applying just enough pressure to make you both moan.

“Dumb little boy wants to ruin me, don’t you?” You wrap your hands around his neck, not choking him, but rather threatening him. “You want Lee Minho to know about us. You want him to have your stupid fucking diary so he can read all of your slutty fantasies.” Your grip tightens around his neck slightly, and Jeongin looks like he’s in pure bliss. He can’t even defend himself. He loves this too much.

“I love you, mommy.” He hums, leaning back into the bed as you begin to tease his cock with your slick panties, grinding against him.

“You don’t love me, Jeongin. You just love when I treat you like my little toy.” You lean down to make a dark hickey on his neck, something his friends will surely tease him for the next day. “All mine. You’re only mine.”

“Y-yes mommy. All yours. Only yours.” He moans loudly, suddenly nearing his high just from your grinding. The cloth of your panties feel like heaven. He can’t help it!

You look down to see him shoot his load on himself, spurts of his hot cum covering his abs and chest. He looks so pathetic, but at least he’s yours.

Pushing your panties aside, you slip him inside you, overstimulating him with your tight cunt. You bounce a few times on him before stopping your movements completely, bending over to put your tits in his face. He grabs your tits and sucks them, jumping back and forth between them every couple of seconds. Your hands are still around his neck, keeping him down on the mattress, unable to move.

“You love being mommy’s toy, huh?” You start to choke him more as you pull your tits out of his face, starting to ride him again. “Ah~ and mommy loves your cock, babydoll.”

Jeongin’s overwhelmed. He just came but he feels his second orgasm rapidly approaching. He can’t think or speak. All he can do is moan and whine “mommy” over and over again.

“Let me try something, my little prince.” That was always his favorite pet name you gave him. He thought he was about to cum, but you pull off of him, rotating your body so Jeongin has a perfect view of your ass. You sink back down onto him, his cock filling up your pussy again.

He felt so relieved being inside your warm cunt again, but now you start riding him harder and faster, his cock hitting so deep inside you with each thrust. He can’t hold it anymore. Jeongin’s cum fills you up, dripping down out of your pussy and onto the base of his cock.

He feels so weak under you. He’s in pain from the overstimulation, but he can’t deny that he adores feeling like this. The safe word isn’t even in his mind. He just wants you.

“Mommy’s gonna cum, alright?” You start to tighten around him, your movements getting sloppy and labored. “Hold my hips like a good boy. I want you to fuck me just like this.”

Jeongin’s hands hesitantly move to your hips, holding you up while his hips begin to stutter and thrust into you, fucking his cum deeper inside you. The convulsions of your dripping pussy is making his head spin. If he cums again, he’ll be so embarrassed, but the more he fucks you, the more his cock twitches.

“Good little boy. Such a nice cock, baby. Mm, so good.” Words mindlessly fly out of your mouth as you slam your ass against him, forcing him to bottom out. Neither of you move as you cum on him, your cunt tightening its grip on his length. Jeongin shuts his eyes as he ruts into you, cumming the same time as you. It feels euphoric to both of you. Jeongin’s hands move from your hips to your ass, massaging the skin as you come down from your highs.

“Thank you, mommy.” Jeongin whines as you get off of him, cum dripping out of you onto Jeongin. You hold it in as best you can as you lay down next to him, your legs feeling too fuzzy to get you anywhere. Jeongin nuzzles into your chest, holding you as close to him as possible.

You kiss his forehead before getting up to clean the mess you two made, mostly the mess between your legs. Coming back with water for your pretty little submissive, you lay back down to cuddle with your sweet boy.

“You need to get that journal back, Jeongin.”

“I will, Y/n. Don’t worry. No one will read it.”

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

His finger wraps around the thin paper to flip the page, only getting a fourth of the way through the messy journal. Everything is vile, and more importantly, everything is about his ex-wife.

Lee Minho’s cock is hard in his hand as he strokes himself back and forth, biting down on his lip so he doesn’t moan too loudly to alert his girlfriend in the other room. He can’t believe the raunchy smut he’s reading can turn him on this much.

“F-fuck, Y/n. My cock is so much better than this college boy’s.”

Minho gets vivid flashbacks to him dominating you, tying you up and spanking you with his paddle. Your teary eyes were always his favorite, especially when the tears were mixed with his cum.

He looks back at the page after returning from his haze of days gone by. His cock starts to twitch as his eyes skim the page, focusing on the parts with your name.

Y/n’s arm enters my peripheral as she hits me again with her flogger, the leather straps leaving red marks against my back. I lose balance, unable to catch myself on the hands that are cuffed behind me. I fall onto my face, and Y/n laughs at my pathetic form. “Dumb slut can’t even stay on his knees for his mistress.” Her heel presses against my spine, arching my back with force. “Ten more, then I’ll remove the cage, got it?”

Minho tosses the book aside as his pace quickens, cumming all over his lap. He looks down at the mess he made, his sweatpants covered in the reminder that he’s still head-over-heels for his ex-wife.

taglist: @milkym00n @sparklysung @fanchengsgf @sailorhyunjinz @gothicstay if you wanna be tagged in part four, send me an ask :)

#skz smut #stray kids smut #jeongin smut #yang jeongin smut #i.n smut #kpop smut

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prurientpuddlejumper · 3 years

Text

You’re a Mean One, Mr. Kneef (Part 3)

<- Part 2 | Part 4 ->

For @thatesqcrush’s Naughty or Nice Holiday Bingo! Filling the Mistletoe square

Bryan Kneef x Female Reader

Warnings: NSFW. Rough-ish hate-sex, mild degradation. Enthusiastic but dubious consent! They both want what’s happening but Bryan is reader’s boss who coerced her into the date and reader is now (half-jokingly?) blackmailing him. It’s super healthy 🙃

5,400 words

Bryan wished he were drunk.

He reclined in a leather armchair, a warm weight in his lap. He stared intently and with disinterest at the embroidery on the edge of a red Christmas stocking hung above the fireplace in his parents’ living room while his tiny nieces and nephews giggled at holiday movies.

If he had been drunk, he would at least have an excuse for his behavior tonight.

No, not for making a dozen paralegal nobodies miss Christmas, leveraging his authority to coerce you into doing a personal favor, or introducing NC-17 language to a family dinner. Those were all par for the course for the most ruthless litigator at STR Laurie.

It was the particular favor he had coerced you into—asking you to pose as the MILF he’d been banging when she dumped him via text on Christmas Eve.

Just so he wouldn’t have to explain why Sydney wasn’t with him.

Just so he wouldn’t be alone for the long drive.

Fucking brilliant.

Now his most obstinate, irritating, antagonistic employee knew about Sydney, knew how attached he’d gotten, had met his mother, and seen photos of him getting a bubble bath in the sink. (He loved his mom, but sometimes he wondered about murder.) Making you do such a humiliating favor seemed like a good way to finally control you. But his upper hand was quickly reversed.

You were right. The whole thing was pathetic.

Still, you were playing along better than he could have expected.

The strangest part was, you fit in with his family so much better than Sydney would have. She was hot, but honestly, dumb as a brick, and as difficult as Bryan himself. He had a better time with you. The way you gently teased him, commiserating with his family over what a pain in the ass he could be. The way you smiled so naturally… he saw how things could have been with Syd. With someone who called out his bullshit, but cared about him anyway.

It was a shame you were just pretending.

Try opening your heart sometime.

Fuck that.

He didn’t need to open up more. He needed to get back to the Bryan Kneef he used to be before some bitch fucked with his heart. He needed to get Syd out of his fucking mind and replace her with someone else. Anyone else.

He needed to fuck someone.

And you…

His attention turned to the weight in his lap.

You were there.

*****

When did the pretend little gestures start getting to you? Start feeling enough like real affection that there was a lonely ache in your stomach?

You fucking hated Bryan Kneef.

But there you were, your fingers tangled in his beard when no one was even watching.

You’d been sitting on Bryan’s lap for what felt like hours—you could probably figure out how many based on the number of Christmas movies that had played and how many of the children had gone off to bed in various guestrooms.

Now the fire in the hearth was burning low, and only the adults remained hanging around in the living room.

His hands were wrapped around your waist, and you had gotten so comfortable, you were practically nodding off to sleep against his chest. Bryan was getting more comfortable, too. You idly stroked his beard, and he didn’t disguise the way he nuzzled into your hand.

The private whispers you shared started as touchy warnings not to screw up your “Sydney” act and counter-threats to expose him if he crossed a line. But that invisible line kept moving, and the whispers became more like the sweet nothings between lovers they were meant to resemble.

He even started stroking your hair. Bryan Kneef, gently running his fingers over your scalp. It was a Christmas miracle.

You might have drifted off in his arms, except for one major distraction—the bulge pressing against your ass.

“What the hell is that?” you asked, close to his ear.

“My dick.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Stupid question, then.”

“Fuck you.”

“Want to?”

You accidentally let out a heady sigh instead of an offended gasp, and his hand moved a little higher, slipping under your knit sweater, grazing over your belly. You meant to tell him to fuck off. Really. You should have told him to cut it out. But the problem was, you didn’t want him to.

“My offer’s still on the table,” he murmured. “Since you’ve been such a good girl tonight. You deserve a reward.”

Being called a good girl did something to you, even though it was—or maybe because it was—somewhat demeaning. Your skin prickled. You swallowed the dryness in your throat. Your skin felt too hot… much too hot, and his thick cock was still trapped firmly between his hips and your ass. His offered reward.

“Y-yeah, I deserve a medal of honor.”

For what, again? For helping out your coworkers? They were already home with their families—you didn’t have to stay this long.

Maybe continuing the charade was just more fun than sitting in your apartment eating Chinese takeout. You accused Bryan of being lonely, but the truth was, you were the one who had nowhere to be tonight—everyone you cared about was half a country away. And your horny, irrational side wanted to feel that cock without so much clothing in the way. Wanted to feel exactly how a selfish asshole like Bryan would ravage you with it.

He would devour you like the big bad wolf…

“That wasn’t a no,” he observed, his beard tickling your ear.

“Shut up!” you hissed back, loud enough to draw attention.

He chuckled, and you felt the vibrations of his chest at your back. “Yes, kitten.”

To his credit, Bryan didn’t try anything further. His hands behaved themselves, chastely stroking your hair, and eventually his erection returned to its pre-arousal size. You had been on his lap for a long time, your ass grinding against his groin whenever you shifted. It was a natural, physical reaction… That was all.

The fact that it felt so good you were soaking through your panties was just natural biology, as well.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Bryan Kneef was the worst boss you ever had. He had no respect for his subordinates (or for anybody—you recalled the deposition in which he’d told a name partner of Reddick, Boseman & Lockhart to “call her own ass”). The fact that he was handsome just made you hate him more.

But god, his lap was warm. The smell of his cologne, and the steady rhythm of his breath…

You got to see a human side to him tonight. The way he acted with people he couldn’t treat like shit. A private side no one who knew him professionally—and you doubted any of the fifty-two other women he hooked up with per year—ever got to see. You were peeking behind the curtain of his life, and it made Bryan squirm. It was kind of cute. And your wild, horny side was clawing at the inside of your brain to give in to all the lewd promises he kept whispering.

Fuck, fuck, FUCK!

*****

Martha yawned and patted her husband’s knee. “Well, us old folks are going to bed. Feel free to stay as late as you like, just turn the TV off when you go. No one’s in your bedroom if you do decide to stay over,” she added. “I’m making waffles in the morning.”

You swiveled your head around at the empty couches and realized it was just you, Bryan, and his parents left in the living room. Everyone else had gone home or gone up to bed. Bryan had been so cranky about wanting to leave right after dinner, but after you settled onto his lap, neither of you had found a reason to move.

Bryan stood and dumped you unceremoniously off his lap—you barely stuck the landing. He stretched.

“Nah, we’d better head out, too. Thanks for dinner, ma.” He kissed her cheek and hugged her and his dad goodbye. “Get your things, Syd,” he snapped.

Sounded like girlfriend-duty was over. Good. You could stop pretending to like him.

Good.

“Be nice,” Martha chided, batting him on the arm. “Go help her find her coat; she doesn’t know the way around.”

Bryan put his hand on the small of your back and led you through an archway to the entrance hall.

His father cackled as you passed through it. “Look up!”

Mistletoe.

Bryan glanced up at the bundle of mistletoe without moving his head, so it looked like he was rolling his eyes. Then he looked at you and quirked a brow. You let out an awkward laugh, which he took to mean kissing was not part of the deal.

“It’s depraved that you want to make your children kiss,” he said dryly. “You do this to Tim and Steve, too?”

“We did, and it was adorable.”

“It’s tradition! Kiss. Kiss!”

“We are not going to kiss for you like trained monkeys,” said Bryan.

His parents passed under the arch and pecked each other’s lips.

“I love you, dear,” said his mom to his dad.

“Love you, too,” said his dad to his mom.

“No,” said Bryan.

“’ Night, peanut.” Martha pinched his cheek, and she and her husband took their perfectly hideous matching holiday sweaters upstairs.

“There,” Bryan sighed as his parents’ bedroom door clicked shut. “That wraps it up. Good work tonight.” Genuine praise from Mr. Kneef was rare, and sent a strange flush of heat between your legs. He turned toward the closet to fetch your coat, but you caught his wrist. He turned back to you.

“It is tradition…”

“Is it now?” His eyes narrowed, and a confident smirk turned the corners of his lips. He stepped closer, dangerously into your space, pushing you back against the corridor wall. “We wouldn’t want to defy tradition...”

Fuck, fuck—what were you doing?

His scent was overpowering and masculine, his presence overwhelming your senses, making him seem so much taller than he was as he shadowed you from the overhead light. You grabbed the front of his cashmere sweater and pulled. His lips crashed into yours, as hungry and fierce as you dreamed they’d be. There was no slow mounting of intensity—the moment his mouth was on yours it was fighting for dominance, wet and hot, his tongue forcing your lips open, not giving you a second to catch your breath. He tasted like cocoa and peppermint. A low growl rumbled from his throat, and you felt it in yours, his tongue was buried so deeply down it. You wrapped your arms behind his neck, tangling your fingers in his salt-and-pepper hair, drawing his weight down on you, letting him trap you against the wall. Someone was making a pathetic high-pitched whimper, and you realized it was you, desperately clawing at his sweater to grab more of him, rocking your hips forward until he reciprocated and his erection pushed against the aching heat between your legs.

When he finally pulled away, you were panting, lips drenched and throbbing from his aggressive technique. His hand was unabashedly cupping your ass, rolling the fat of it in his palm.

Oh, fuck.

No. No, no, no. He’s an asshole. A shallow jerk, and you hate him. You were not supposed to give him the satisfaction of seducing you.

He brought a hand to your face, holding it firm to keep you looking at him. His green eyes were dark with lust and energetic with desire. He lowered his face to yours and licked the saliva off your mouth. You shuddered, hips twitching forward into his cock.

Then again, it wasn’t like this meant you had feelings for him. He certainly didn’t have any for you. This was about sex. About your satisfaction. What was so wrong about fucking your boss?

The same dominating, shameless personality that made him a nightmare to work for would be right up your alley in bed. You wanted those big hands all over you, holding you down. That filthy mouth degrading you. You wanted him to call you kitten and sweetheart while he had his way with you.

His big hand was still holding your face, his lips still breathing your air as they hovered over yours.

That was it. The floodgates were open, and there was no closing them again. The wild, wanton part of you won out and took control. There would be no more rational decisions tonight.

“Can I have my reward now… Mr. Kneef?”

“Yeah?” he breathed against your lips, still pinning you. “You want the medal of honor?”

“Fuck you.”

“Since you asked nicely.” He grabbed your hand and dragged you up the master staircase, down a hallway, and pushed you into a bedroom.

As soon as the door was closed behind you, his demeanor shifted slightly. His strong hands were pawing at your ass, roving under your clothing, but he pulled his head back when you tried to kiss him. “You sure you want to do this? To be clear, this is not part of our arrangement—I don’t want to hear from HR later that I forced you to fuck me.”

“I plan to leave this part out of the complaint I’m filing.”

“Good to know you’re still filing it.” He pinched one of your nipples through your bra to punctuate the thought. You tried not to melt in his hands.

“Maybe that depends on your performance,” you purred, letting a slow, wicked smile spread over your lips. “You’d better fuck me like your job depends on it, Mr. Kneef.”

“Treacherous little bitch,” he growled. “I like this side of you. You just tell daddy exactly how you want it...” His teeth grazed your ear. A flight of goosebumps broke out over the back of your neck.

“Oh, fuck… I want that nasty fucking attitude of yours. You never hold back, never have any respect for anyone—I bet you like giving it hard, don’t you?” You pulled his hips toward you and snapped yours against them.

“Is that what you want? You like it rough?” His fingers tangled in your hair and pulled your head back, exposing your neck. His lips were hot and his beard scratchy as he sucked a mark onto the soft skin of your throat while you moaned.

“Yeah. I want you to use me. Think you can do that?” you challenged, only a slight hitch to your breath betraying what his mouth was making you feel.

Despite the soft domesticity of your performed cuddling earlier, you could only imagine Bryan one way. And soft wasn’t it. One tolerable night didn’t mean you liked him… but it was kind of hotter if you didn’t. You had your own frustrations to work out.

The big bad wolf could fuck you hard enough to forget you were alone on Christmas.

“I think I can handle it.” He pulled harder and sucked another mark, this time enough to leave a bruise.

You let a moan slip out, grateful it was the time of year you could get away with wearing a scarf all week until those faded… because you wanted more—a whole little collection from Bryan Kneef’s filthy mouth.

“I knew you were a slut deep down…” He found the hem of your sweater and yanked it off over your head in one motion. “Having such filthy thoughts about your boss is naughty behavior,” he tutted. “Santa’s going to bring you coal.”

“And what about sexually harassing your employee?” You cocked an eyebrow, using the temporary space between you to posture with your hands on your hips defiantly.

“You’ve got no case for that one, sweetheart,” he chuckled darkly, stroking your cheek with unsettling fondness. “You barged into my private office and asked me out for drinks. Sounds like you’re just a slut.”

You glowered at him incredulously because… he wasn’t… wrong.

“It’s OK. I like sluts.” He smirked. The thumb stroking your cheek worked its way over your chin, brushed your pouted lips, and slipped between them. Your tongue instinctively darted out to taste the salty pad, and his eyes darkened with desire. “That’s right… take it, you filthy little—” He hissed when you nipped him hard enough to get his attention.

“And you’re lucky naughty boys are fun to play with.” You ran your tongue over his thumb soothingly.

His chest reverberated with a predatory grumble. You were going to pay for that. Within seconds he had your top off, and then your bra—his hands were everywhere, rough and demanding, not waiting for permission.

He wrapped one strong arm around your back to brace you and lowered his face to your breasts and started sucking on them, hard. His free hand kneaded your other breast, rolling the hardened peak under his thumb. Lightning shot through your body, making your back arch, your chest rising into his mouth. “Oh, Mr. Kneef…” you moaned, curling your fingers into his thick hair.

He was so ravenous his beard burned your skin, his tongue leaving wet trails of saliva along your abused breasts. Your nails dug into the back of his head as you pulled him deeper against you, encouraging every dangerous graze of his teeth and every mark he left on your skin that turned your lower body into molten lava.

“Fuck… yes, Mr. Kneef,” you panted. Always “Mr. Kneef.” It did something frenzied and primal to remember you were fucking your boss. Bryan wasn’t the kind of man you would fuck unless he was your boss. He wasn’t a lover, he was a kink.

Just when your raw nipples couldn’t take anymore, his mouth was on your lips again, assaulting your tongue with his, deep and persistent. There was a blur of movement. Your stomach lurched, the room spun, and suddenly you were on your back, on a mattress with Bryan on top of you.

Then he was sitting back, pulling his cashmere sweater off and unbuttoning his dress shirt while your fingers grasped at his belt, fumbling to unbuckle it. The tent straining the fabric beneath it was considerable, and that melting heat in your core was desperate for it.

You could see the dark need in Bryan’s eyes, but he managed a little more restraint than you were capable of in the moment. “Ground rules,” he said. “If you want to go through with this, there’s none of that fake lovey-dovey shit, understand? You are not my pretend-girlfriend. I am not going to be tender. There’s no cuddling.” His white undershirt fell open and revealed a broad chest covered in a forest of greying hair you wanted to get lost in. He followed the path of your eyes, and one corner of his lips twitched into a greedy smirk. “I am going to fuck you. Hard,” he growled, lowering his body on top of you, so close you could feel the heat of his skin on yours, the tickle of his chest hair on your sore breasts. His half-undone belt hung down and dragged on your hips. “I am fucking pissed about being dumped, and you are just a replacement. A body for me to fuck. That’s the deal—do you understand? Don’t come running to me Monday expecting any special attention.”

“Deal. On one condition.” You grabbed his beard and pulled his face down so his eyes were locked with yours. “You don’t fucking tell anybody about this. No one at work hears a word. No disgusting locking room talk. I am not one of your conquests. You want to tell anyone you got laid? It was Sydney.”

“Deal, Syd. Now shut the fuck up.”

You released his beard and pat his face condescendingly. He caught your wrist with an annoyed grunt, fingers circling it effortlessly, and pinned it beside your head on the mattress. Then he was stealing your breath with another fierce kiss, all teeth and tongue and snarling into your mouth. You felt dizzy when he finally broke it to pull his shirt the rest of the way off and toss it aside.

“Oh fuck, Mr. Kneef… you really are attractive,” you commented, running your free hand over his muscular chest and arms. God, those arms were the size of your head, with thick veins running their length.

He glanced down at you but barely took note of the way you were salivating over his body. He knew how hot he was. It wasn’t news. What interested him was you.

He slid your skirt and panties down over your hips, stripping you completely naked on the bed, and looked you over appreciatively. For someone who dressed so conservatively all the time at work, you were sexier than the real fucking Syd. He was starting to think it was a good thing the bitch dumped him—look at all he was missing out on being chained to one pussy.

“You OK?” you asked. You noticed him pause after getting your clothes off, and he had that strange sort of sad look again.

He blinked, and his eyes hardened.

His pants dropped to the floor so he was standing just in his boxers. Then he was on top of you, pushing you back down into the mattress, using his knees to spread your thighs apart. That wild, needy heat flared up within you, anticipating it.

You reached between his legs to cup his bulge through his underwear, his heavy balls, the stiff erection above it. His cock was so thick you gasped as your fingers surrounded it to take in its size, and couldn’t wrap all the way around.

“Fuck. Oh wow, fuck. That’s huge,” you husked, voice slurred with desire. “I guess when you strut around like you’ve got a huge dick, it’s for a good reason. I always thought you were compensating for something.”

He growled and thrust his hips between your spread legs so you could feel that massive cock grind against your pussy.

“Ohh—fuck!” you groaned. You considered the monster between Bryan’s legs, and suddenly the idea of him fucking you with it as hard as you asked for made your throat go dry. “I don’t know if I can take this all at once.”

“You won’t be able to walk right on Monday. Everyone’s going to know what a great holiday you had,” he promised sinfully. “I’m going to rip you in half.” He rocked his hips again, rubbing your clit with the pressure of it, and you felt yourself getting wetter.

“I fucking mean it, Bryan. You are actually going to hurt me with that thing.”

His face grew serious. “You want me to stop, say stop—any time. Say no. Slow down. I’m not going to fucking hurt you.”

That was entirely relieving, actually. You’d kind of jumped into this hoping he’d ride you hard and push you around, but the fantasy didn’t work if you weren’t in control if he pushed too far. You were actually putting a lot of trust in a man you hated because you were horny.

He felt like shit that you’d think he would actually hurt you like that. But he could hardly blame you. “If you can’t speak, tap out. Can you do that? Show me you know what I’m fucking talking about and you’re not just nodding along.”

You scowled indignantly and tapped three times on his arm.

“Good girl.” His beard was tickling the soft skin of your chest as he made a path of bites and kisses down your body. “Don’t worry, kitten. When I’m done, you’ll be begging for me.”

He lifted your legs over his shoulders and sucked a long, teasing mark into one of your thighs, pinching the flesh in his teeth, determined to leave a lasting impression with this one—so anyone else who might fuck you in the next few weeks would know he was there. Then he moved his attention to your already-drenched heat. He dipped one of his long, thick fingers in first, and you gasped, flinching as it plunged its full length up to the knuckle into you, and he chuckled at your reaction.

“You’re tight even around one finger,” he said. “Am I making you nervous?”

You looked down your body at Mr. Kneef, your asshole boss, between your legs, slowly pumping a finger inside you. “Fuck you.”

“Trying, but I’ve got my work cut out. What a beautiful pussy, though…”

Without warning, his tongue darted out and licked your clit. You felt yourself clench around his probing finger and relax again, flooding with warmth. He grinned against your heat and began eating you out relentlessly, filling the room with filthy wet sucking and lapping sounds. Your soft, whimpering cries filled the air, too—you tried not to make too much noise with his family in the house, but you couldn’t stop a few from slipping out. You yelped as he added fingers with just as little warning, stretching you open a little at a time. He changed up the pattern and speed of his tongue on your clit, always backing away just as the molten heat of your orgasm began to build to its delicious, irresistible heights. He didn’t stop until his beard was soaked, and your pussy was practically sucking his fingers in with the need to be satisfied—until you were begging for it.

“Please… Mr. Kneef—ah! Please let me come?”

“Now, now. You’re going to come on daddy’s cock.”

“Yes!” you gasped, clawing at his hair, “Yes—fuck me. Oh god, fill me up with that perfect cock.”

He stripped his boxers off, and his red cock sprang free, already glistening with arousal, the smooth head pulled out of his foreskin. Veins snaked up the sides of it just like his arms and the backs of his hands. It was every bit as big and solid.

Kneeling between your legs, he gave his cock a few strokes and rubbed it through your dripping wet folds. The blunt, hot pressure of it sent waves of arousal up your spine. Your legs opened a little wider without your bidding them to.

“Wait!” you choked out, coming to your senses. “Condom.”

Bryan grumbled. “I’ve only been with one partner for the last three months. I’m clean.”

“Put a fucking condom on—”

“Or you’ll tell HR?”

“And your mom, too.”

“Bitch.” He smiled, the corners of his bright eyes wrinkling. Nobody ever called you that like it was a compliment before.

“Asshole.”

There were condoms in his business card case, as if he had rather expected the night to go this way.

When he finally entered you, he was studying your face almost tenderly for signs of pain or hesitation. He worked you open in a steady movement—not rough as promised, but not patiently waiting. His blunt head stretched you more than his fingers, but you were so sensitive already—so close—your walls eagerly gripped him, reshaping for his size, and the sore, burning sensation of being stuffed past your limit was one you relished as much as the pleasure.

Your legs hooked around the back of his thighs and guided him in until he was buried in your tight warmth.

Slowly at first, he rolled his hips fluidly until he was sure you could take it. When he felt you relax around his cock, your eyes on his with lust-blown desire, he snapped his hips against you once, the smack of flesh echoing through the quiet dark of the bedroom. A deep, startled moan followed it, torn out of your chest.

You were already at the limit of pressure your body could take just being filled by Bryan’s cock. The hard thrust went even deeper—too deep. You had never felt such a fullness before, and—fuck—he was hitting something so deep inside. Something that made your whole body start to melt. It didn’t matter if you could take it or not.

You wanted every inch of this bastard.

“Yes… That’s it… More. Give it to me.”

Bryan lifted your legs up onto his shoulders and leaned over you, pushing them toward your head. The new angle made him feel impossibly large, and when he found just the right angle for leverage, he started fucking you harder and deeper than you’d ever experienced. Every ruthless snap of his hips hit so deep it knocked the air from your lungs and drew a wailing moan from low in your throat.

He clamped a hand over your mouth, eyes a warning. “Quiet. Don’t wake the house.”

“Oh god… oh fuck, Bryan, you’re so… big.” Your voice shook as you tried to speak and hold back another moan.

Unlike the high, breathy gasps you usually gave, Bryan’s massive cock was pulling a new level of moan out of you, as penetrating as his thrusts. Another tore from your throat. You couldn’t hold it back if you wanted to, when his cock slammed into that spot that made you melt. It came from so deep within it shook your bones.

His hand covered your mouth again, and a fire kicked up in your stomach. The warmth of his salty palm pressing over your lips, pushing your head down into the mattress as he jackhammered into you—you were lost and aroused at the dominance of it. This time you grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand over your mouth tighter.

He tipped his head at you curiously, and you shot him a defiant look, grinning against his palm as he realized how much you liked being gagged.

“You like that, you little slut?”

You moaned even louder, letting him muffle you. You didn’t have to hold back now—the harder he rutted, the louder you wailed into the weight of his hand, which meant he didn’t have to hold back either.

The entire bed shook, legs scraping the floor with every powerful thrust as he fucked you into the mattress.

“Take that cock,” he grunted. “That tight pussy feels so good.”

Every stroke bottomed out, hitting depths you never thought possible, and hitting something that ached exquisitely and sent tendrils of molten heat out to your fingertips and down the base of your spine.

It came on so gradually you almost didn’t notice the warm tension building up in every part of your body until it was breaking over you like a wave. Bryan tightened his grip to silence your climax, sobbing into his hand, kissing it, but mostly just letting yourself cry out louder as wave after powerful wave shook you from toes to fingertips, making the world lose focus. All you could feel was him filling you so completely, fucking you through it as your walls convulsed around his cock, and the weight of his hand on your mouth holding you down, anchoring you.

He grunted, pumping faster, shallower as your walls clenched too tight to penetrate, then just as you were starting to come down from your high, his hips jerked, stuttering in their rhythm, and he heaved an exhausted, satisfied sigh as his hot release filled the condom.

His hips stilled. He slowly released your mouth, and you kept moaning, “Fuck… fuck… oh my god, fuck. That was so good.” Your skin was still prickling with warm needles, and you felt… vulnerable.

You felt him start to pull out and grabbed his thick ass, pulling him flush against you.

“Don’t...” you panted. “I want to feel you inside me a little longer.”

“I told you none of this clingy shit,” he frowned. His brow was beading with sweat, and a sheen covered his chest muscles. His pink nipples were hardened peaks in his greying chest hair.

“Shut the fuck up,” you sighed, head falling back on the pillows. You relaxed your legs off his shoulders and crossed them around his back, holding him in place. “I just love your cock. You’re still an asshole. Just shut up and pretend you’re someone nice for a second while I catch my breath.”

It wouldn’t last long before he grumbled about needing to shower and dispose of the condom. But for a few minutes, the callous Mr. Kneef did as he was told and held you as the stars faded behind your eyelids, and your breath stopped trembling. When he was quiet like that, his solid presence was comforting—an anchor when you felt like you might float away.

When he wasn’t taunting and condescending—being himself, in other words—you could imagine he was the kind of person you would want to hold you.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tagged: @beccabarba / @caked-crusader / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @welcometothemadxxhouse / @stardust-fray / @dreila03 / @the-baby-bookworm / @ireadfanfictionontheweekends @storiesofsvu @xixxiixx

#Bryan Kneef #Brian Kneef #bryan kneef x reader #Raúl Esparza #thatesqcrush holiday bingo #moodboard #my writing

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therectoress · 3 years

Note

yennaia + gamer au

This was supposed to be three sentences and definitely not crack but I just had to... sksjsjssksjjs.

Yennaia prompt: Gamer AU.

LINK TO ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN IN THE REPLIES.

Word count: 1.8k+ Pairing: Yennaia. Rating: T.

Tissaia really had no idea why she was doing this. Perhaps to appease Rita. Perhaps because her addiction to nicotine had worsened over the course of one year of a bloody Continent-wide pandemic and she was loath to use her credit card every time she needed a new pack of cigarettes. Perhaps she was going through a midlife crisis to cope with the fact that being the Chancellor of Aretuza College was already stressful enough without half the generations there trying to fool her subordinates into thinking cardboard replicas or even mannequins counted as attendance or simply because the rest of the Board of Governors (Stregobor) couldn't differentiate between what could be said through an email and what required her to clean her entire house so the background of her call was pristine.

Her controller vibrated in her hands, (Why, for the love of the Gods, couldn't that setting be turned off?) her knuckles turning white from gripping it so strongly. "Oh, for fu- heaven's sake." There, she had been ambushed. Again. A funny and wholly unexpected thing happened, though, one of the users turned on her companions, offing the lot of them with clean headshots the brunette definitely couldn't pull off in the span of twenty seconds.

"Uhh..." What does one say when your virtual saviour just betrayed her entire party on a whim and was being cursed at obnoxiously loudly and vulgarly for it?

Yennefer ignored Sabrina calling her names that absolutely applied to her and her hormonal reaction to a lovely blue-eyed MILF the likes of which she had only seen in her dreams. "No thanks needed, love. I was getting tired of seeing you frown like someone had keyed your car every time you got killed. A pretty thing like you should only have cause to smile." Oh, Gods, now she sounded like a creepy old man that lived in his mum's basement. Great. Good job. Her Social Studies major was an absolute hit. Fuck her life. Fuck Oxenfurt College. And fuck Sabrina's witch-like cackling while she was at it. "Name’s Yennefer." She choked out miserably.

Tissaia scowled at her laptop. Hackers. Amazing. This was the best day of her new normal life. "Mind telling me how you broke through the most expensive antivirus in the Continent, dear? Because now I really need a refund." Now she also needed to contact Aretuza’s IT team on a Saturday night, because she was not about to mess any further with these blasphemous machines, thank you very much.

Wait, what? "That wasn't me... You left your camera on." The woman legitimately squealed at that, her oversized jumper sliding down her left shoulder and exposing just a glimpse of her collarbone as she pinned up her hair into a bun with... were those pens fashioned as swords? Oh, bugger, this was so not the time to get turned on! "Are you alright?" Mercifully Sabrina, Renfri and Phillipa were already accosting someone else, else she was sure the brunette would've completely lost it, more than she already was doing, anyways. "Hello?" No answer.

Tissaia was fishing for her boots when she started ranting, “Oh, don’t you worry! I’m fine! Just dandy! This is exactly how I wanted my life to go.” She motioned with her hand to the space around her. “I wished for nothing more than dealing with complete morons from nine to six, five days a week, whilst trying to make sure my sanity doesn't desert me.” Biting her lower lip for a moment she began checking that the ends of the laces were the same length when she pulled them up. “Running right after to my local grocery store to buy more instant meals that are probably going to give me cancer in five years if the bullshit articles my mother keeps sending me-”

Yennefer had told herself she wasn’t going to allow this wasn’t going to get any creepier than her misguided comment but she still had a gift code for that nice liquor store which conveniently had retailers popping up every six blocks everywhere for the last few months, especially in Thanned isle, only Gods knew why. “This bloody succubus of a twat that is my best friend has been forcing me to constantly use this cursed game by changing the password for my email and then Aretuza’s server and then-” Bingo. One text to Philippa and they had her IP address, with a mortified Triss already calling Jaskier since she was the only one that had managed to get a decent scholarship at that posh college.

This was her future wife who was about to jump from a bridge from the looks of her and they just had to do humanity a great service by saving her from herself and from sobriety.

“Can you believe that tosser? I am a lesbian! I spent my teenage years clad in flannel until my girlfriends staged an intervention kind of lesbian! Yes, Vilgefortz, I will sue you for harassment in the workplace and I will blacklist you. No, Vilgefortz, I don’t want to break quarantine to go on a date with you and I definitely do not want your disgusting cologne anywhere near my-” Tissaia’s head shot up, her doorbell was ringing and she pinched the bridge of her nose, reaching for a new, disposable, mask.

“You stay right there.” She threatened the girl, who had the most beautiful violet… Perhaps she really ought to let Coral get her a therapist. It rang again. “Gods-damn-it.” She thought.

Her plan was going marvellously. She would only have to sleep with a knife under her pillow for a few weeks for blackmailing Sabrina (Who honestly hadn’t the slightest talent to pass off plagiarism as a sudden stroke of genius in her final project without her aid.) into going along with this. The blonde was lighting the candles around the monitor without trying to burn her hair off and had given away her best bottle of cheap but still good wine for the cause. Thanks to Renfri and her frankly psychotic, owl obsessed, girlfriend she already knew what she would be replacing her trauma-ridden last name with! Splendid!

The brunette shut the door on Jaskier’s face after taking the brown paper bag from his hands, spraying the bottle of vodka inside it with so much disinfectant that it dripped down onto her carpet. Taking off her gloves and disposing of them, she grabbed a knife from the counter and ignoring the annoying blue light that came from the kitchen table, “Oh, shit. You’re soulmates. I’ll tell the rest of the girls we’re all fucked.” Tissaia cut off the upper part of the glass in one smooth hit, like Calanthe had taught her when the then teacher could still be considered fun by her groups of friends.

“Shut up, tiddybug!” She heard Yennefer sing-song.

Feeling like being crass the blue-eyed woman took a rather large swing directly from the bottle. Sitting back down, she sighed. Yennefer took a dignified sip from her wine; she could do balanced when her significant other to-be needed to let loose. “Did you like the bottle? It has good reviews from… wait a minute… apparently several alcoholics who don’t know what a budget is.”

Tissaia’s face paled. “I thought you weren’t a hacker.” The woman muttered. She didn’t fancy getting kidnapped and… No, no, no. Fucking Rita. What was the cost of moving, again? If she slept four hours less a day and split her cleaning time in two she could probably trade this house for Stregobor's in-

“I am not!” Yennefer cried. Bloody hell. “You just mentioned that you worked at Aretuza and-” Sabrina had probably started a group call and Phillipa was indeed hacking into her computer to save her arse. The Redanian was currently writing a script for her to follow. “Your username in the game is your surname. My friends and I tried to get into that school a few years back and I do remember that the Chancellor is a woman and that her last name is de Vries.” Her username wasn’t her last name, it was actually something that suggested she was an Ice Queen of the highest order. Queen Elsa from the movie Frozen would be intimidated kind of Ice Queen.

“Everyone is aware the highest-ranking members of the faculty live in chalets near the castle, pardon, the building.” True. According to Triss, that was a part of their contract that if unfulfilled prohibited them from working there ever again. To Yennefer that seemed borderline cruel, forcing them to be available at all hours like circus animals for juniors that didn’t deserve their spots.

“My best friend is a student there and she knows which one is your home because she wants to eventually be a teacher.” Partially true. Until that day came, Triss, like any rational individual, avoided the Chapter’s Village like the plague lingered inside, and wouldn’t be caught dead there unless she had to stop Sabrina from doing something stupid because of the anarchist phase she was going through. Jaskier was an acquaintance of hers of sorts because Triss had tutored his boyfriend Geralt in Biology and being daddy’s boy, he knew which one was Tissaia’s house because he had almost gotten expelled like fifteen times.

“I honestly just wanted to do something nice for you, you sounded like you needed it and… I know quarantine hasn’t been lifted once in Temeria since it all started.” Philippa wrote then that she would probably make for a decent actor without flashing her breasts to the audience every five minutes. She pursed her lips and replied in the mock post-it note to fuck off.

“I… I… Thank you. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed- I’m sorry, darling.” Her pale cheeks flushed at the term of endearment that slipped her tongue and Tissaia bowed down her head, red-painted nails caressing the glass bottle almost reverently. “Say, why don’t you tell me what your email address is and I send you my mobile via chat? The explosions in the background aren’t that, uhm, comforting to listen to when I’d much rather be hearing your voice.” Should she have looked up she would have seen the smile that threatened to split Yennefer’s face. “Only if you want to, of course! I- what am I even saying? Never mi-”

“No! Wait!” She placated. Sabrina squeezed her shoulder as she went to retrieve her phone charger, offering her a genuine smile. “I’d love to.”

“Okay.” Said Tissaia, an awed sound leaving her throat when blue finally meet with lilac. Gods, she was drop-dead gorgeous. Rita could have whichever bottle, all the liquor she wanted from the school’s cellar for indirectly enabling this.

Was one week a proper enough courting period to then buy the engagement ring? Or should she just have Philippa get her the best, costliest one from that jewellery eshop they all liked through some minor fraud that would take her like half an hour at most, today? “Good.” Yennefer de Vries had such a nice ring to it.

#yennaia #tissaia de vries #post: ask #ship: yennaia #writing*#sityiatwru*

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favberrys · 4 years

Text

No one asked this and no one cares, but here’s my personal opinions about every glee ship:

Finchel: they had their cute moments, but in general I really dislike them as couple. They brought the worst out of each other when they were together, Finn made Rachel insecure and was also incredibly possessive of her (not in a cute way) and Rachel pressured Finn too much. She wanted to control him and often tried change him, they’re too different and not compatible. I think Rachel needs someone more simalar to her or someone who can understand her, because Finn really didn’t get Rachel.

Klaine: I’m neutral about klaine, I don’t hate them, but simply I’m not invested into this ship. They aren’t toxic, but I think their relationship has many issues and is a little unhealthy sometimes.They had a good start, but as the show went on they got worse. I love Blaine, he’s my gay son, but he was too jealous and controlling about Kurt. Kudos for the gay representation, i acknowledge their huge impact on the lgbt community

Brittana: wow what can I say about them ? They’re everything, best friends to lovers excellence. Brittana had a rough start, but their dynamic became a beautiful and mature relationship in which they always supported and loved each other. Even when they dated other people, Santana and Brittany respected each other. It had and still has a huge importance for the sapphic community, it is good representation and one of the first big teen wlw couples. Brittana are the definition of soulmates

Quick: absolute trash, Puck got Quinn drunk on wine coolers and then had sex with her while she was still drunk. There was nothing consensual about that. The fact that rib never acknowledged this is disgusting. They had very little interactions, their relationship was not developed. Puck and Quinn have literally nothing in common, they’re not compatible in any way and them getting together at the end always irked me because in s3 Quinn said she didn’t care about all the boys she dated in the past. If you ship them idc it’s fine, but I hate this pairing. It’s a huge no from me, I think Puck liked Quinn only because she was hot.

Faberry: THEY’RE MY RIDE OR DIE YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW IMPORTANT THEY ARE TO ME. Enemies to lovers excellence, I know faberry was queerbaiting, but I still ship them after all these years. They have chemistry, lots of yearning and sexual tension, impossibly high angst level. This is the only pairing in which I will accept the trope “homophobic jock falls in love with the person they bully”. At first they were terrible to each other, but they managed to built a nice relationship and I seriously think Rachel was the only one for Quinn because she was the only person who always showed Quinn love and support even when they were enemies. I also think that Rachel felt something more than platonic for Quinn at some point (always ranting about how beautiful Quinn is ? That’s gay)

St berry: I like them, I know they had little screen time and they weren’t even supposed to be a thing according to rib (bc they planned on making finchel endgame), but I think they’re compatible, Jesse is probably the only person who could keep up with Rachel. They have many things in common and even though he was shitty to her at first, he redeemed himself. Rachel and Jesse have good romantic chemistry and excellent musical chemistry, their duets are amazing. I’m happy they got together in the end.

Pezberry: oh boy they’re so hot together, lots of sexual chemistry, they could have been enemies to friends to lovers excellence or at least friends with benefits, but ryan murphy is a coward. I enjoy their scenes, they’re hilarious together and always make me laugh. I think they’re a pretty explosive duo, pezberry has great musical chemistry, all their duets are iconic and there’s a lot of sexual tension between them, they’re definitely compatible in bed but idk if they would last in a long term relationship.

Quinntana: this pairing was very random in my opinion because Quinn and Santana lowkey hated each other and always wanted to destroy each other, BUT they are very hot together, they’re probably the most gorgeous couple on glee because both dianna and naya are insanely attractive. Quinntana gave me my sapphic!quinn rights and I’ll be forever thankful about that, they’re compatible in bed, but I like them only as friends with benefits. I don’t see any romantic chemistry between them, mostly because they were always competing about who was the hbic of the school. I don’t think they would last as a stable couple. I wanted to see more of quinntana though.

Fabrevans: if Quinn had to end up with a man, the only heterosexual Quinn ship I tolerate is fabrevans because Sam was really kind, sweet and good to her. Sadly she wasn’t very interested in him, he was just the hot new guy soon to become quarterback and I think she dated him for popularity. I don’t think they would have lasted in a long term relationship, they were cute together romantically speaking but I don’t ship them.

Samcedes: should have been endgame, definition of wasted potential

Tike: should have been endgame, even though I don’t care about Mike and Tina they were really good together, the love was genuine. Tike is one of the few heterosexual couple I don’t mind

Artittany: is a huge no from me, they had zero chemistry and he treated her like trash, artie deserved to be cheated on lol (I’m joking no one deserves that but I really don’t like artie because he’s sexist, misogynistic and he also treated all his gfs like crap)

Seblaine: I honestly don’t see it, Sebastian was definitely interested in Blaine, but Blaine always only had eyes for Kurt. Still I think they should have dated in s6, it would have been fun to see Kurt jealous about his nemesis dating his ex bf. I like the idea of Seblaine having a one night stand, but I don’t ship them as a couple. I also don’t like Sebastian very much, sorry.

Fuinn: A HUGE NO, they were aesthetically pleasing together, but that’s it. They didn’t have sexual tension, they just had tension. Fuinn is a little dysfunctional in my opinion, they get together, they break up and then start dating again just like finchel. I honestly don’t think they were in love, but they cared about each other in a platonic way. Finn wasn’t a good boyfriend to Quinn and Quinn constantly manipulated him. I don’t like them as a couple, they’re too messy.

Blam: best friends to lovers excellence, lots of wasted potential. I’m not saying they should have been endgame, but Sam and Blaine should have dated. I like the idea of Sam discovering he’s bi or pan and exploring his sexuality with someone who cares about him. They have chemistry and I like their dynamic. I also fancy their duets and I think they could have fallen in love with each other.

Hevans: ok if I squint I can see it, they had potential, Kurt was definitely attracted to Sam and Sam was kind of curious about him, I’m sure he admires Kurt and cares about him, but I don’t ship them together

Sebtana, Finntana, Pucktana: ABSOLUTE TRASH DON’T SHIP CANON LESBIAN CHARACTERS WITH MEN, IT’S INCREDIBLY HARMFUL AND INVALIDATING. There are so many heterosexual ships, why do you have to take away from the gays the few lgbt characters we have ?

Quinncedes: i don’t ship them romantically, but I ship them as best friends. I wished their friendship was more developed, Quinn and Mercedes were so good to each other.

Quinntina: have they even interacted with each other ? (Lmao I’m joking again don’t get pressed, you can ship what you what). I don’t ship it, they’re cute and I lowkey like Tina, but it’s not my cup of tea. Still it’s a wlw ship, so I don’t have anything against it.

Wemma: no

Artie x Tina: I don’t even know their ship name, imagine how much irrelevant they are to me. Again I don’t like how artie treats women, I don’t ship them and Tina deserves better than him.

Samchel: underrated af, i’m not saying they should have been endgame because they wouldn’t have lasted in a long term relationship, BUT they were cute together. Sam was really good for Rachel, he made her more humble and helped her to heal after Finn died. They deserved more development and had a lot of potential. I don’t remember what happened in s6, but I liked samchel dating, I don’t mind them as a romantic couple, even though they’re not very compatible.

Brochel: it was not as bad as rib tried to make us believe. I don’t ship them but they have sexual/romantic chemistry and also musical chemistry. I’m neutral about Brody and Rachel, he was hot, but he was also incredibly boring and one dimensional

Julyberry: the sexual tension between them is so high, i loved it when they did all that jazz, I think they should have been fuck buddies or had a one night stand. Lots of sexual and musical chemistry, i lowkey ship them bc milf!kate hudson rights. Maybe after Rachel graduates at nyda, they could date

#these are just my thoughts #my personal opinion #don’t attack me #pls I’m just expressing my thoughts #and I haven’t said anything offensive #so don’t be a dick #glee #tv show #glee ships #glee characters #glee meta #non canon ships #canon ships #wlw ships #mlm ships #straight ships #otps #notps

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getreadytosmash · 4 years

Note

][All questions for the otp meme for Jen + Rhys!][

@blind-mutant

Coffee shop AU: Who is the barista, and who frequents the coffee shop?

Jen's favourite coffee place is the only place that has strong enough chairs to hold her weight and who puts far more caffeine into her drink than any Starbucks should allow. She's grateful for this, more so to the little barista who always stares with wide eyes and smiles brightly when she comes in. Jen can smell the crush (and admittedly lust) off him and he's cute, but she doesn't want to scare him off. And lose her coffee place.

Rhys? God, he wishes that he could see and write a phone number down at least. Jesus, he wishes that he wasn't a worker so he could ask her out. For a date or a fun night. Things change though when Rhys trips one day and goes face first into Jen's chest while spilling coffee all over her. He's upset and worried that he's hurt and embarrassed Jen, but she just reassures him that coffee can't burn her...and he can always take her out to help buy a new shirt along with some dinner to make up for it.

Highschool/College AU: Who is the straight-A student, and who’s the backrow slacker?

Jen tries hard. Like, really hard. She needs good grades to get into the top law school and even with the worries and strains of her home life, it becomes easier to get lost in her work than think about how her aunt is dead and how Bruce is still left without answers and how her family did nothing. So it's easier to get lost in work and to try and stay out of the way of parties. If only that annoying boy Rhys would drop it and leave.

Rhys...he knows that he's a stupid guy and that he's only here because a fancy college is better than being kept at home with parents that don't want you around. Jen is pretty, but most importantly, she's smart. Rhys keeps hoping that at some point she might offer tutoring, but she just...doesn't? He wants to try and ask for help but Rhys doesn't want to spill that he's a mutant, not to mention the fact that Jen...always looks a little scary when someone talks to her.

Rivals to loves AU: Who takes their rivalry seriously, and who is half in it just to push the other’s buttons?

Rhys knows that he's part of the Brotherhood of Evil mutants and that means that anyone who isn't a mutant shouldn't be...well, he shouldn't feel attraction to them. But its HARD when said enemy is 7'5 and knocked the Blob out in one punch. God, Rhys can's survive this when he's faced with being lifted with ease and the moments where Jen flirts as she fights and teases him!

Even worse is the fact that Jen is fully aware of Rhys's little crush and likes to take full advantage of "Little Nighty". Most of the time it's to help win a fight and to not hurt Rhys, but maybe on occasion Jen flirts with honesty. Rhys is cute and yeah, he's a criminal but like, he's a cute and easy criminal!

Enemies to lovers AU: Which one switches sides?

The world fears the hulks ever since every gamma mutate banded together against the world. If Krakoa could do it, then so could they. Jen loves finally being free with people just like her without any worry from humans or other heroes judging them all the time or worrying that the hulks will kill everyone in their rage. It's a good time, to simply just be with the others until Jen realises one day in an attack that other heroes have decided to turn on hulks too. Of course, some people have decided that it's easier to leave the human world and to join over with hulks instead.

Of course, Jen worries about that. Some humans don't survive being turned into hulks but if it's what they want...not many have specific gamma forms, but a particular mutant, Rhys, definitely stands out to her. He has big wars, dark skin and glowing eyes as he towers above mostly everyone. Samuel still complains about Rhys being a dumbass and letting anyone walk into that giant tuff of fur. But Jen still spares him a lot of sweet smiles and words.

Soulmate AU: Who is eager to meet their soulmate? Who absolutely does not want to meet their soulmate?

Rhys is...nervous about meeting his soulmate, but excited. He wouldn't have a soulmate that loved him, but he kinda at least wants to see what they're like. He isn't expecting the goddamn She-hulk to be bis apparent other half and boy oh boy does that send his heart into terrified palpitations. How can he be good for someone like her? He didn't even think it would be another woman and yet here he was, trading Blue for Green.

Jen's thrilled but worried herself about meeting the other half of her heart. She had always been worried about not being good enough and now she had to worry about being green or too freakish for someone. Rhys is small and cute and the rudest man she has met so of course Jen is purring, absolutely delighted that her soulmate is someone not creepy or someone who can't control her mind and feelings again. Rhys is shy but Jen is willing to wait and spoil him until he melts and accept that she wants him forvever.

Single parent AU: Which one is the single parent? (Alt. if they’re both single parents: Which one is open to starting a new relationship from the start? Which one is never planning on finding love again… Until they meet the other and are instantly smitten?)

Lyra isn't technically her daughter. But Thundra had been interested enough in Jen that it was kinda a romance? Lyra doesn't exactly want a father anyway and that's how she ends up with a teenage hulk in her care. That still doesn't explain how Jen also ended up with her niece snarling and holding up a small man and something about thieving. Rhys didn't mean to get caught, but he isn't exactly arguing when Lyra's hot aunt comes to sigh and stop him from being killed.

Jen is...gosh, big lady who is protective of her niece? Is there a word for aunt milfs? Rhys definitely wants to try and uh, apologise to Jen for causing such a ruckus and really! He isn't always such a bad guy! Jen finds it pretty amusing and what the hell, agrees to go out with him while Lyra asks whether they just let criminals go now. Rhys has earned the joys of a big green woman adoring him but....he's going to suffer a LOT of shovel talks from a teenage hulk who doesn't understand the human world.

Doctor AU: Which one is the longsuffering doctor? Which one is the patient?

O K. Rhys,,,in the hospital the same time as when Jen first hulks out??? Baby boy nervous about being there and god, the giant green woman doesn't help-

Hold on.

Rhys needs to follow whatever the hells going on and, well, any excuse to get out of the hospital, right? The giant woman is fucking incredible and it's a shock to see her turn into a small regular woman but Rhys isn't too bothered. He's still starstruck, even through helping her change into something more modest as Jen dazedly asks who Rhys is and what's been going on.

They get coffee later because even as a no one mutant, Rhys thinks that Jen is new to the powered world and needs some help navigating it. He's right and Jen is more grateful for it than he'd ever know.

Bodyguard AU: Who is the bodyguard? Who are they protecting? Which one is secretly pining for the other?

Rhys's powers come in handy for being a bodyguard. He's practically unknowable, his shadows can help hide people and god knows they make a good offence up close. His client is some fancy little lawyer and originally Rhys tuts at having to follow around some human woman, even if he is being paid rather well. Jen on her hand seems to think its hilarious that she's been told she has Rhys to guard her, which doesn't help the internal insecurity.

It isn't until the week is almost up that an hit is attempted on Jen and yeah, Rhys stops it, that that human lawyer, but it isn't until he turns around that he finds himself faced with a 7'5 green woman and it only now hits him why Jen found the idea of being guarded so funny. She says it's alright and that if he wants, maybe he could...talk about guarding her heart?

It's a terrible pickup line and god does Rhys agree to it.

Pirate AU: Who is the pirate? Who is the member of the royal family who did not sign up for this?

Jen is polite and sweet mannered on land, but the moment she steps onto her ship, Jen can finally return to the wild ways of curly hair, high waisted pants and cloth shirts that show off her clevelege. Rhys is a beautiful prince who she plainly and outwardly flirts with happily, even with the anger of his parents. It gets even better when such a beautiful little prince flushes so prettily.

Rhys himself can't help but admire the strong and beautiful pirate. He wants adventure! He wants to get out of the tight suits and to wear tight pants and free flowing shirts...but alas he has been fated to a horrible castle where he isn't even the heir to the throne. So what then if he decides to flee in the middle of the night and try to pay the hot pirate woman off to have her take him with her and the rest of her crew? A boy can live!

It isn't...the best plan. What with a bounty being placed to return Rhys back, but for now, all he really cares about it Jen's strong arms around his waist, teaching him the tricks of the sea.

Childhood best friends AU: Which one was super obviously in love with the other the whole time? Who was oblivious until they were older?

Rhys and Jen are friends to the end. It's a cute rhyme that they come up with that makes all the adults laugh, even Jen's older cousin Bruce who is always quiet around anyone who isn't his mom or cousin. They're friends for years until Rhys practically drops off the face of the earth one day and his parents don't say anything at all. Jen's dad doesn't say or do anything either, even though her dad is a sheriff and should be able to do anything.

He didn't do anything when Uncle Brian killed Aunt Rebecca either though. So Jen pushes it down deep enough until hears later, where she's green and wild and strong, her feelings of rage and grief don't come back out until one day where she sees Rys again, remembers him down to her veins and bones as he picks a fight in the bar. After that it gets a little fuzzy.

Rhys uh, he remembers beaming and blushing back when Jen would share cookies with him. But he's pretty sure she wasn't a mutant so that doesn't quite explain why the asshole he was pissing off had gotten tossed into the air with a primal scream. Jen is mortified that she reacted in such a way and made an entrance like that, but Rhys is enamoured! He's touched that someone wanted to protect his dignity like that...and it was hot as fuck. He's up to see her toss more people as they begin to reconnect from years apart.

#ask #blind-mutant #green goddess (jen)#headcanon

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trinidother · 3 years

Text

Mommy Minerva's Blacked Afternoon

For single house-mom Minerva Grimsly, life was a damn constant battle between boredom and bliss. Nothing really satisfied her. She became pregnant at 17, then later took to raising what ended up being two daughters all on her own. Was she going to settle though? Hell no. If there was one thing Minerva knew she wanted, it was everything.

She wanted everything. She wanted a good job, a nice house, and happy, healthy children. That was easy, and something she always flaunted. She was a successful, refined, classy, self-made woman in all respects. Miss Grimsly, at the tender age of 35, owned her own house, 4 cars (two for her daughters, one grocery-getter, and one for fun), and had the best dress sense of any woman in the neighborhood. Some even said the city.

Her curves, a lot like her rich, raven hair and endless ocean mist-gray eyes, were what some might call excessive. She had a huge, round, and perfectly form-fitting ass. The same could be said for her perfect breasts, which sat round, bouncy, and 100% real on her toned torso with a visible rib cage and soft tummy. If it wasn’t for those curves, her striking eyes and fashion sense would’ve landed her on catwalks for billion-dollar italian luxury brands. But it seemed she was much happier with her life now.

Because she got everything she wanted.

And that wasn’t like most people in her upper-class neighborhood, who’s external success hid some secret pain inside. Oh, Minerva had secrets, sure, but not the painful kind.

Her main secret to success? Along with being an absolute bombshell with enough explosive punch inside to flatten a good city block, she was also a massive hypocrite.

Minerva Grimsly was an outspoken moral woman. Her business would donate plenty of it’s ample revenue to charities, she always made her daughters promise to never date a guy they wouldn’t marry, and, likewise, to promise not to flaunt their wealth at school. And she did a great job at all that. As for when she was alone, in secret?

Let’s not mince words; perfect mom Minerva Grimsly was also a whore who liked getting fucking railed by massive cocks. The bigger, the better. The blacker? The way better.

That’s what she was doing right now, in fact. Well, that’s not true; she was actually in her bathroom, wearing some lingerie black as her hair, throwing away a pack of condoms. It was full. Was she throwing it away because she knew the mandingo stud she had waiting in her bedroom was way too big for those little condoms, or because she wanted the feeling of his gargantuan black cock erupting against her cervix? We may never know.

But what we can know is that Minerva wasn’t stupid. She never bought condoms that weren’t XXL. Of course, this is a black guy we’re talking about. Even if the condoms were max size, that doesn’t exactly give credence to either possibility. Minerva sure knew how to pick ‘em though.

She looked at herself in the mirror. She looked lovely, of course, but that much could be said about her 24/7/365. Minerva had no delusions about her appearance, even when she wasn’t in perfect makeup, with her glasses perfectly even, black opal earrings on, pearl necklace around her neck as tight as a teenage girl with daddy issues’ choker, and of course, that lingerie. She looked nicer now, to fuck some random black guy in her bed, than she did for 90% of business functions. Why shouldn’t she? This was the most important part of her day.

The time when she got to feel satisfied.

And make no mistake. Just as Minerva knew as she puckered up her red-lipsticked lips, you should know that ‘part of her day’ wasn’t figurative. She brought home a new fuckbuddy every day almost. Sneaking around her daughters was stressful, sure. It would be horrible if she was caught fucking a man she barely knew, especially a black one. She would be totally exposed as a hypocrite, and her relationship with her daughters that she worked so hard to perfect would be ruined.

But on the other hand, big, hard, nigger cocks drilling deep into her soft, pliable, white MILF holes? Yes fucking please.

So she indulged. She got her daughters on their merry way, leading the active, healthy lives of physically fit white suburban teenagers, while she got her pussy impaled by some oversized black man she picked up while zipping around in her convertible. A hypocrite and a liar. And a happy one.

Today, her daughter, Maddie, was out on a date with her boyfriend. He was a sweetheart, a nerdy, academic little white kid. He also ran track, did extracurriculars, and was generally liked. The perfect little white boy for Maddie to date. The sort who bought a 10 year old economy car with his own money for a summer job. The sort who asked for books for christmas. The exact sort of unassuming boy Minerva would like her daughter to marry and be happy with.

Minerva, of course, could never do that. That sort of boy was what she called a wimp, the sort of loser who she wouldn’t look twice at, ever. Not just because he was white, but because he was so bookish, so polite. It was rude of her to admit, but white guys like him? All they did to Minerva was make her panties dry right up. And Minerva never liked feeling dry panties.

Still, Maddie liked him, so Minerva genuinely wished them the best. Just like she genuinely couldn’t wait for the hung black stud she had waiting for her to make her fucking sore in the morning, only to have her do this again next afternoon.

“Alright,” she breathed, looking herself over in the mirror. She spun around and pushed a finger up against the underside of her soft, round butt. Barely a jiggle. “Good!” she breathed. Her body was more than good. It was fucking perfect. She was sure her daughters were happy she didn’t wear revealing clothes in public (much), or every boy in school would be drooling after her bountiful tits and plump rump.

She slid open the sliding door connecting the master bedroom and the bathroom. And struck a pose too, with her arm on the doorframe, hips cocked to the side, and of course, chest hanging out. “Sorry to keep you waiting, stud,” she said, able to fucking taste her thick, cherry-red lipstick.

On her overpriced, over decorated, TempurPedic-matteresed bed was her ‘friend’ Tyrone, totally naked, relaxing back without a care in the world. If there was a word to describe him, it’d be ‘full’.

Minerva was curvy, with a tiny waist (though not as tiny as it used to be…) and pillowy assets, but all of her was fucking dwarfed by Tyrone. If that was even his real name.

He had big, full pecs, with equally rounded shoulders. His thighs? Just as massive, along with that big belly, a sign of a good diet and hard work. It even had defined abs. Everything about him looked stuffed to the brim. To call Minerva’s ass plump next to this superior man would be criminal. She was happy she had enough to please him. There was a reason she only fucked black.

“Took you long enough babe. I was almost thinking you were trying to trick me.” He said. His lips were just as full and plump, with the sort of cruel sneer that made every white boy shrink in fear and every white girl’s panties wet. As you know, Minerva lived to feel her inner thighs get soaked.

And we didn’t even describe his cock.

Flaccid; or, as flaccid as that thick, sturdy hunk of dark brown meat could get, it was still a tough slab of flesh that was halfway as long as his thigh, and fittingly fat. “Sorry babe, I just wanted to make sure I looked perfect for you. After all, you already do.”

“Hah!” he grinned with large, white teeth. Even if he was a toothless hobo, Minerva would have still probably fucked him. She’d tell herself she wouldn’t, but when there was a stream flowing out of her panties, she couldn’t resist. “Well, I’m happy to look so perfect for a beautiful lady like yo-self,” he boomed. He looked over his prize proudly.

“You flatter me,” she said smuggle. Of course, she also bobbed her shoulders up and down, just so Tyrone got a view of those double-d’s bouncing. With a poofy sound on the fluffed covers, Minerva got to her work fluffing this bulls massive cock. Sure, it was as big and fat as her head, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t try to blow it.

“Ahh fuck yea,” he moaned as her lips went around his cockhead. He pushed her head down on that massive cock. She drooled all over it, which made his dark, ashy cock gleam with the afternoon light from her windows. “I was waiting so long this thing got cold.”

She pulled up. She was used to cocks being so big she gagged on them, but this one was so thick that she couldn’t even get his head to touch her uvula. The big veiny shaft got real fat real fast. Too fat to actually fit past her lips. It hurt her cheeks to even try and stretch that much.

“What’s wrong? Can’t deepthroat it?”

She pulled off with a loud, wet gasp. “Ah- heh- I’d give twenty grand to any girl you can find that can fit this fucking moooonster down her throat,” she laughed crazily with her head by its side. She sucked her juices of his veiny shaft loudly. The big black cock lived up to its name and was far longer than the length between her ears.

Tyrone laughed boomingly. “Hah, no, not really. But I like to think one day some bitch’ll managed.”

After a long, loud, slurrrrrrrrrrp!, Minerva managed to tear her hungry lips off his cock. “Fuck it’s huge,” she whispered. She honestly couldn’t blame some white girls for not acting attracted to black guys. This was a chore to get off, even if she loved it. “Well, sorry honey, but that girl isn’t me.”

“Yeah, I know bitch. But you’re going good, just keep sucking.”

“Yes, sir,” she smiled with that devilish grin of a bad mommy before going right back down to serve her man for today’s black dick. She sucked down the head good, like it was one of those massive lollipops way too big for a little kid’s mouth. Though she was a tall, busy business woman, just trying to suck this black dick, even with all the experience she knew she had, made her feel like an amateur. A little girl against a real man.

At least her tongue still knew what to do. She gave him the massage of his life right on his cockhead, sure to tease the most sensitive zone on a man’s body while she looked up at him with those sharp gray eyes. She got on her knees, sticking up her curvy ass for him to see all of.

A few minutes of that felt like an eternity. She wanted it to last longer.

“Fuck baby- aw fuck yeah bitch, I’m gonna cum.”

“Yethhhh,” Minerva gasped with lust that did not fit her name. Her tongue was still glued to the tip of his tongue, tasting the precum he leaked. She forced herself to put it back in her mouth. It felt strange there; like it belonged on a black dick. “I’ll fucking swallow it all, babe.”

“Naw, naw,” the black bull huffed. He grabbed a fistful of Minerva’s raven hair, pulling her face right below his stone-hard cock. “Imma but all over your whore face.”

Those words made her ears tingle and her cunt gush. She was a whore. Respected businesswoman, mother, and neighborhood association member, was really meant to be here. She was a slut, a whore, a hole to please big black cocks. What else could Minerva Grimsly need?

She stared up at his god cock, her ass still sticking up. It began flowing. That beautiful, thick, pungent cum poured out of his dick. Fat spurts and twitches sent it flying. He cummed on her face, coating her red cheeks with his seed. His filthy, sexy semen could’ve drowned her and she would die happy. It smeared her makeup and got in her glasses. Fuck, that was hard to clean. Maybe she wouldn’t even.

“Fuck,” he huffed, dropping his head back down into the pillow, “you like that, bitch?”

“Yessir,” she breathed. Minerva licked the dripping cum off her lips as she thought of how she’d threaten to call the cops if anyone called her a bitch in public. She’d probably make a scene, like your typical spoiled suburban white work mom.

Of course, cock like this was what she really spoiled herself with.

She rested her head on his thigh, stretching her tired neck and jaw. All that work, and she barely got that monster cock into her mouth; and it was still so amazing to look at. With her face on his thigh, through just a little bit of his thick, manly hair, she got to smell that beautiful, hot aroma from his sweaty, churning balls. When she raised her eyes, she could see his black dick standing like a monolith. She wanted to get it inside of her. No way it wouldn’t turn her into a screamer.

“It’s still hard,” she muttered, more in awe than actually thinking about it. Minerva always turned her brain off when she melted into the throes of interracial pleasure.

“Yeah bitch, it is,” snorted her man, “All y’all white bitches can’t believe it,” he reached down and ruffled Minerva’s sleek hair. She accepted. “Prolly ‘cause y’all’s men can’t muster that shit, huh?”

“Please,” scoffed Minerva with a wicked grin she knew her daughters never, ever saw, “I haven’t been with a white guy in years. I went black and I’m never, ever,” she rolled over to take a long, pregnant lick at his balls, “going back.”

“So I was right?” he cocked an eyebrow. Cocky bastard. Huge-cocked too. Minerva would kill herself if her daughters brought home a man like this. She was about to cream herself.

“Wanna keep going?” she asked. The bed creaked as she climbed up onto it. She was rather desperate to distract her body, or she’d start fucking squiritng without even touching herself. How embarrassing. It happened more often than you’d expect, thanks to black guys.

“Fuck yeah bitch, you know I’m up n’ ready.” He bared his teeth. It looked like a grin, but Minerva saw it as an animalistic display of power. To tell her that he was about to rut into her and strip away what made her her. After all, she really didn’t act like she cared about it. Her money? Her career? Her family? If she really cared about that all, she wouldn’t be fucking a hung black bull every day of the week. And here she was.

“Yes, yesss,” Minerva muttered under her breath as she tossed her leg over his pelvis and straddled his dark, sweaty body. She grinded against him with enough force to strip a lesser cock to the bone. To squirt all she had to do was hump her needy pussy, shaved for ease of use, against his godcock. She did. “F-fuck- ah- ahh, fuck-”

“Shit babe, you fucking-”

“Fuck- yes I’m fucking cumming- aw!” She tossed her head back and her black hair swung. Her breasts and huge tits heaved as she panted. Was she shuddering? Probably. This guy’s name was fucking Tyrone, of course he gave her good orgasms.

“Damn, that fast?”

“Fuck,” she swore again and dropped forward over him. She stretched her neck and her arms. “I mean- yeah? But don’t let it stop you, big boy. No refractory period for us ladies, remember? I’m expecting eight or nine orgasms before the sun goes down.”

“No rubbers?”

“Hell no!” she smiled a little wildly, “I through those stupid things away!”

“Aight, you crazy bitch,” he grinned again and lifted his huge, two-toned hand to push his fat cock up against her. It pushed just a little into her slight tummy fat. “Let’s fuckin start.”

Minerva’s face grew into a crazed smile. A whole 24 hours without riding black cock, and a white woman was bound to go crazy. She bit her lower lip, held on to his strong belly, pushed up, and eased her white pussy onto that black dick.

Except she didn’t ease it. She was so slippery and wet, and her pussy had been so stretched out by constant hookups with horse-hung black strangers, that Tyrone barely had to push to shove his BBC balls deep into her cunt.

“Fuck!” they said, in perfect unison. Black career woman, ghetto thug? Perfect combo. Their hips rotated and moved. Sometimes they bounced up and down and against each other. That black dick in her white MILF body made a noticeable bulge from inside of her. She drooled, with fat glops of her saliva hitting his body the same time her thighs did. Her feet, still in heels, were on the bed, and her knees were up. Much more of this, and she would go limp, and he’d just have to thrust it into her until she had enough orgasms. His cock stretched her pussy out as far as it could go. Yeah, by tomorrow, her hole would return to its normal state for some other black man to satisfy himself in. And her, of course. She was always satisfied.

“I’m cumming!” She yelled. Thank god the house was empty. “I’m cummmmmmingggg I’m cumming I’m cumming!” From behind his girthy dick, her asscheeks clenched as tight as her pussy as she finally orgasmed. Again.

He slowed, courteous. When he fucked white women in neighborhoods like this, they were usually nervous, cheating on their good husbands and taking huge dick for the first time. He had to be kind to them, reassure them, make sure not to hurt them. Minerva was a different breed. She had none of that.

“Don’t fucking stop, are you fucking stupid?!”

Without hesitating, Tyrone raised his hand and slapped her right across the face. “Don’t you fuckin say that shit to me, white bitch. I don’t tolerate that.” He scolded as he held her face roughly.

“Yes sir,” Minerva squeaked through her pinched cheeks and puckered mouth. “Y-you can punish me for it, stud. You should- gulp- do that right now.” Her eyes were wide. Her pupils were dilated.

“Mm… I think I will bitch.” He relaxed again. Her legs slid down to the bed with her knees facing him. Easy access to slap her thigh; or spank her ass. And spank he did. That big, strong, black arm reached over, with Minerva just as scared of it as any other woman in the neighborhood. He brought his hand down again with a powerful SLAP!

“Owwww,” whined Minerva. Unbecoming for such a woman. Reduced to a horny little kid for big black cock, as usual.

“Fucking take it,” he slapped her again. Her back stiffened. SLAP. SLAP. With those, as her thick ass rippled, she started moving back. And forth.

Back and Forth. SLAP. She winced, but her juicing pussy showed how she really felt about the pain. As she went forward she lifted up a little. Her red ass now clapped on his dick again.

10 seconds later, they were going at it like animals. “FUCK YEAH FUCK YEAH FUCK YEAH” reverberated throughout Minerva’s Hobby Lobby-decorated house. She was so fucking happy to have her insides rearranged by that massive black dick. Maybe she’d bring Tyrone over for a second playdate, she almost never did that. She didn’t have time to think though. Only time to get fucked.

But then, there was what you call the twist.

She couldn’t hear it over the sounds of herself getting railed, but, downstairs and to the left, the Grimsly house’s front door was unlocked. A half a second later, as it opened, her overpriced security system sent a BEEP BEEP BEEP. Throughout the house. That she heard.

Part of living a double life was changing personas fast. When you were the most respectable woman and the biggest whore on the planet, you got good at that. So sure, Minerva Grimsly did just drop down a whole foot to take in Tryone’s BBC, but the second she heard that alarm in her ears, she jumped up, and all the chemicals in her brain triggered by their hot sex seemed like they were gone. And she didn’t like it.

“What is it?” asked Tyrone, “Someone home?”

“You heard it too, right?” Minerva was standing on her heels on her TempurPedic. Her back was hunched over to not hit her head on the ceiling fan. Her hair was a mess. Her pussy was still dripping. It wasn’t a great look.

“Yeah?” he said.

“Aw fuck, she wasn’t supposed to be home this early!” Minerva jumped on the bed and landed unsteadily on her heels to hobble over to the door, all the way praying to herself please don’t be Maddie please don’t be Maddie please don’t be Maddie; and Minerva wasn’t even a religious woman.

She opened the door and looked. Thankfully, ish, the hallway gave her a clear view straight down to the front door. And, there clear as day, was cute, well-raised, polite little Maddie Grimsly, with her perfectly milquetoast boyfriend.

And Minerva still wanted to orgasm 7 more times today.

That was gonna be an issue.

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kazumahashimoto · 4 years

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cheer danshi gender and sexuality master list. i went over the genders in my trans kazu analysis but :) well. so i will just make a whole post. some of these will be expanded upon and some won't🤷‍♀️

kazu - gay trans guy. undoubtedly the gayest character in cheer danshi. i don't think he neccesarily knew he was TRANS when his parents were still alive but i think he definitely made it a point to not want to be in dresses and such and his parents were more than happy to allow that. kazu loves his mom so so much and he named himself after her once he was ready to pick a new name :) i imagine him and haru writing a list of names and circling things and crossing them out and what not. i also just adore the idea of kazu being trans and the captain of an all men's cheer club. it would be so liberating and scary at the same time. it gives even more reason fur him wanting haru to join so bad. him being trans and his relationship with saku also makes me very happy :) saku seeing another trans guy on the cheer squad (the CAPTAIN even) and especially being a FLIER..... i mean we saw how happy he was. i can (AND DID LOL) do a wholeeeee analysis on trans kazu though so i'll leave it at that.

saku - gay trans guy. GENUINELY gay not even coded. i don't care. like saku has THE MOST EXPLICIT CRUSH on kazu. he is not coded. the only thing they could have done to make it more obvious is just have him fucking say i'm gay. he's gay. genuinely canon gay character in cheer danshi. explictly. he's also absolutely trans coded. the amount of times someone has asked "are you sure you aren't a girl" is unbearable. in the manga we see him like actually getting harassed over it not just shitty gen being an asshole fur Funsies. HOWEVER it's not all bad!!! saku likes wearing cute things and even though he's a little insecure sometimes he never let's that stop him from doing what he loves!! and of course at the end of the show we get his line about how he was worried about how "little and girlish" he was until he met kazu. i relate to saku a lot especially with not being passing so yeah little trans boy.

sho - gay nb. i imagine his gender IS that he's gay yknow. very much he loves men and also not having a gender. his clothes are hideous. i think it's very very very funny to say he's gay coded just because of his clothes and even if that's not what coding means this is MY show. i decide which characters are canonically gay. and shou is the second gayest.

hisashi - gay trans guy. the final gay of the four gay men. he had his little "i don't talk to girls" moment and he has an enemies to lovers with takeru. kinda gay. takeru is shown walking hisashi's dog in one of the box set covers soooooo i assume things are going well. i'm saying he's trans not only because i want takeru to be the token cis between him hisashi and saku but ALSO because i want saku to have another trans person that he's close to and NOT madly in love with.

haru - bi and cis. i think haru being cis is 1 funny and 2 reallyyyy adds to kazu's mental illness. i don't think kazu would idolize him being CIS but i DO think he'd idolize things like his voice getting deeper and having a flat chest. i felt like that a LOT when i was friends with cis boys but i never wanted to BE cis so i imagine kazu going through that as well. when him and kazu were in judo together he made it clear to his parents that kazu was gonna be on the boys team with him and him and haruko made sure no one gave him any problems. also he's bi because protag of course he's bi.

wataru - bi and cis. sometimes he says gay things and he gets flustered over girls.

ton - bi and cis. very nice :) his gf chihiro is so sweet and nice and they have matching phone cases which is so cute!!!! they are just so cute with each other i love them sm....

gen - cishet. rot

ichiro - cishet. rot

takeru - bi and cis. token cis as a said and his little enemies to lovers with hisashi.

chen - gay and cis. him and saku talk about cute boys together and they go to the mall. little fruity friends call that twink alliance.

kin - bi trans guy. i want him to be trans really really badly especially because of his friendship with saku in the manga but also because idk he's just very tall and intimidating and i want him to be trans. ALSO dou and natsuki look up to him SO much and i imagine they've known each other since FUREVER and i want kin to have that support. also kin has a big crush on coach takegi and it very much gives woman picking up man vibes like i don't think she's interested but he is very respectful and i think big intimidating man just wants to be cared fur.....

dou - bi trans guy. he looks up to kin SO much and kin being trans as well just makes him so much happy and they support each other a lot :)

natsuki - bi and cis. i want the little cis boy to look up to the big trans man. also natsuki and dou are dating. also the three of them are a little bi trio

takumi - gay and cis. something about him man. gay.

takuya - bi and cis. something about him man. bi. i think him and kin probably make out at LEAST once a week. "oh we've just been job hunting together" EVERYDAY? so often you're missing practice? smells fruity to me.

haruko - bi and cis. and gnc. she had the line "sometimes i wish i had just been born a boy so things would be easier" because she was frustrated that haru didn't need to work as hard as she did to be good at judo so that's partially why i hc them both as cis. i do think she's gnc though just cos that's the vibe. they never met in the anime but i think her and sakura could be cute together <3 also her and haru bi siblings.

sakura - lesbian and cis. her and sho are very much gay best friends. she was a jock femme, he was a jock twink. they are good friends :)

chihiro - bi trans girl!!!!! she is so cute and sweet and kinda clumsy and i just love her so much. her and ton are so cute. they're just so cute.

takegi - bi and cis. idk who her previous partner was but she has a son and she is a very good mom and coach 😌 milf

and yeah that's everyone i think 👍

#weeee #cheer danshi

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hopesiick · 4 years

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𝐉𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐃 // vice detective, thirty-three, red ridge native.

— unflinching, grudging, brainy, irreverent, plucky, mulish. loosely inspired by dominique dipierro (mr robot), laurie blake (watchmen hbo), eve polastri (killing eve), wendy byrde (ozark), and allie pressman (the society). this vine, too.

howdy, folks! i’m dev. 🤠 this is my dearest brain babie, jordan. normally, this is where i’d get all mushy-gushy on y’all, but the rest of this introduction is already too long as it is, and i’d rather not add insult to injury hehe. just know i’m happy to be here & even more excited to get to know you all + your brain babies, too! 🥳 @redridgeimp

— pinterest, stats + connections page.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑: bullet points marked with three asterisks (***) feature mentions of domestic abuse and unfit parenting. reader discretion is advised.

the toussards are old money. her mother’s side of the family have made their fortune off of hay farms scattered across the state of nevada, and her father’s side of the family have mostly been cattle and dairy farmers. together, they decided to venture into real estate, too, by buying up farm land plots and selling them at a higher price, along with residential plots, too.

they’re not showy people, but they definitely make good use of their money. jordan’s childhood home is a plantation-style house on a big ole plot of land situated on the outskirts of town. they had healthy green grass with sprinklers and a full garden. inside, everything was real wood, ivory, and silver. they had a maid and gardeners and the whole nine yards. still, if you hadn’t seen that or recognized their family name, you might have expected them to be any other family belonging to red ridge.

to many, they gave off the image of a picture-perfect, all-american nuclear family. it’s easy to pretend, seeing as they live so far away from all the glitz and none of them -- no matter how they feel -- are willing to shatter that golden reputation, but it isn’t real. elise, her mother, wanted a doll more than she wanted an actual child, and it was society’s pressure on women to give birth that forced her hand, not any sense of innate desire for expanding the family. joseph, her father, was too caught up in his wife’s every wish and whim to really pay attention to jordan in a deep way. he never turned his back on her, but jordan never felt any deep belonging to him either -- if anything, he felt more like a 2d stand in for the father she wished she’d had.

*** that meant there was only one adult left to really pick up her parent’s slack, and that was corinne, her aunt. corinne, who had an awful habit of bringing terrible men home. corinne, who was bipolar and unmedicated, and often in charge of taking care of jordan from the moment she was in diapers to the moment she graduated college. corinne, who was manipulated by her own sister. corinne, who was helpless to protect jordan against her mother’s attacks, and unable to shield her from the rage her boyfriends spat. corinne is like a mother to jordan. she was the hand that rubbed her back when she was sick. she was the open arms that held her when one of jordan’s teenage dates went sour. she was the one to cover for her when she snuck out and the one to teach her everything her mother considered too immoral and dirty. corinne is her mother in the way elise never could be, but still .. jordan can’t help but feel anger towards her.

*** jordan’s known how to use, fire, and clean a gun from the age of eight. she learned how to hunt at the age of ten. she knew and helped her father field dress a handful of animals by the age of twelve. you may think this was just a bit of heavy-handed bonding between a father and daughter, but it wasn’t. elise and joseph used to go away a lot, both for pleasure and business, which left jordan in corinne’s sole care. that wouldn’t be a problem, if it weren’t for the fact that a grand majority of corinne’s relationships were abusive, specifically physically. jordan was a child, but she was a child with a duty -- a duty to protect her caretaker if necessary. at the time, jordan didn’t think much of it. she liked feeling like she had an in with her father, liked feeling important. it was only when she got older that she realized how fucked up everything had been, and how that’s the driving factor behind the feeling of fear she just can’t drop, and the mistrust she has in others. the anger she feels towards corinne is rooted in that. she can’t help but feel like it’s corinne’s fault and she hates that her aunt -- a fully grown adult -- was the center of her childhood, instead of her own self.

skipping forward a bit, jordan went to college right after high school to major in criminal science. her lifelong exposure to such abuse left her with a taste for vengeance. see, jordan wanted to be a police officer to protect her hometown, sure, but she also wanted the badge so that she could finally dish out the punishment that so many of the officers she’d seen were unwilling to. the only way to stop that culture of turning a blind eye was to do it from the inside, and that’s exactly what she did.

jordan’s been a cop for twelve years now. she started her career doing patrol and eventually working with the gangs and narcotics team for five years. after a lot of pestering and brown-nosing, jordan became a g&n detective. she was mostly in charge of surveillance, carrying out raids, and the planning of both. ( she had an opportunity early in her career to go undercover, but jordan’s too obvious for that. ) eventually, jordan switched departments over to the special victims unit, but that stint really only served as a segue into where she is now: the vice and support department. she used to specialize in community outreach, helping bridge the gap between the community and the precinct. she worked with groups focused on helping those affected by drugs and sex workers who have been abused. when one of the detectives assigned to missing persons cases left, jordan was quick to apply for it. needless to say, she got the job and has been doing that since.

she’s got the nose for it -- all the digging and reviewing and passion for the relentless pursuit. she doesn’t particularly like dealing with the families of those affected, but it’s part of the job. on most days, she genuinely enjoys it, but with the rise in crime and the amount of deaths at their feet, jordan can’t help but rethink her choices. she’s competitive by nature; she can’t handle these losing games.

jordan’s a very cutthroat cop -- especially in her g&n days, when it was all heat, all pressure, all the time. she’s got an eye for weakness and isn’t afraid to exploit that on the job. she’s not above making threats -- promises, really -- and has always been the type to gather as much evidence as humanly possible, because she wants prosecutors to see justice through. she’s just really efficient. she wouldn’t be where she was at only thirty-three if she wasn’t. most of the time, you can catch her putting in overtime hours.

that being said... jordan has a big heart. she doesn’t believe in institutions as a whole, but she does believe in people. the law is the law and rules are vital for a functioning society, but .. she may be willing to look the other way sometimes, if you’re close enough. ( i mean, she was married to a valencia member at one point, so. ) she may not agree with what some people do, but she’ll really only go after you if what you’re doing is truly heinous. ( but don’t tell her supervisors! 🥺 and don’t mention the hypocrisy to her face. )

outside of work, though, jordan’s pretty chill. she used to be a loudmouthed firecracker in her youth, but she’s calmed down significantly since then. really, she’s not so bad! maybe it's because she can't handle being alone, but she thrives from being in groups + will strike up a conversation with anyone and everyone. if she likes your shoes, she'll tell you. if you need a ride home then she’ll walk with you because she’s most likely equally as inebriated. kind of the person that you’re hesitant to approach, but when you do she treats you like you’re old friends -- even if you're not. you know that drunk girl in the bathroom that gives you sagely advice or tells you she loves your hair? that’s jordan, except she’s not drunk.

when jordan makes her mind up on something, it’s almost impossible to get her to budge. it doesn’t matter if she’s in the wrong, she’ll trudge on no matter what. her flippancy in the face of danger – a prized act at this point – has landed her in trouble before, and it most certainly will again. she’s unyielding and unapologetic; not willing to change herself for anyone. getting her to talk about her emotions is like pulling teeth, except even that would probably be easier. she’s incredibly honest about some things as a way to hide behind it; it’s a farce that distracts people into thinking she’s being honest with them, when really she’s not -- not entirely, anyway.

loves love, but she’s rotten at it. her anxiety gets in the way, tells her that she’ll mess it up somehow until she finally does, like a self-fulfilling prophecy. ( something-something abt the fact that she can’t comprehend someone loving her if not even her own parents could ). she’s a much better friend, and jordan thinks that’s more important anyhow. genuinely, if you’re her friend then she loves you endlessly and earnestly.

𝒇𝒖𝒏 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒓 !

jordan is that friend that gets a little bit too into car karaoke.

she’s also the type to order a screwdriver during an 11a brunch.

it’s a wonder that she doesn’t have tinnitus, considering she always blasts heavy metal music in her car.

makes jokes about getting married and divorced, because if you can’t laugh at your pain then you’re fucked.

if you ever visit her unannounced, you’ll spot her in t-shirts that say “milf in training”, “god looks like me”, and more.

if you’re mean to her she’ll give you a parking ticket.

she plays dirty in fights. used to bite a lot as a child and she still does. all is fair in love and war, babie! enjoy getting that tetanus shot and lovely hospital bill! 💋

pantsuits from monday to friday, and overalls without a bra on the weekend because fuck that shit. also extremely partial to shirts with low plunges. a lil bit of side titty for everyone.

if you’re leaving a drink behind she’ll finish it for you because daddy didn’t raise no quitters.

has a lot of self-worth issues, but she’d sooner die than ever tell anyone about them or even confront them herself.

don’t let the pantsuit fool you! there’s pure muscle underneath that two-piece, babie.

𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒄. 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔:

“i am the shape you made me. filth teaches filth.”

"can i be blamed for my efforts? all men are drawn to the sea, perilous though it may be."

"there is a place, deep in the heart of fear, where you trap yourself and claim that is safety."

"still, a great deal of light falls on everything."

"i hold a stalk in my hand. i am the stalk. my roots go down to the depth of the world."

“i always figured when i got older, god would sorta come into my life somehow. and he didn’t. i don’t blame him. if i was him i would have the same opinion of me that he does.”

“nothing washes off.”

“you cannot be stolen, ransacked, looted like an emptied bank account or a burgled house. you are the tough old tissues, the exquisite scars. you are the thing that would not die.”

𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚, 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒔 ! ( open to any gender )

jordan can’t function without a best friend, so.. gimme, please! 🥺🤲

i once read a passage talking about how the friendships you make in your childhood can never be mimicked in your adulthood, and you know what.. #true. where’s jordan’s childhood friends at? do they still keep in touch? did they have a massive fallout as teenagers where jordan told them to get hit by a truck because she was a very dramatic 16 yr old? were they frenemies? do they still have one of jordan’s things because she was terrible at remembering everything after a sleepover? did jordan’s parents help your muse’s family out? idc, just gimme!

exes / almost exes. remember what i said about jordan being a shit when it comes to love? they could’ve been serious at some point whether as adults or in their youth, maybe it was short-lived, maybe jordan never even let it get off the ground. could be on good terms or bad terms or no terms at all.

neighbors!! jordan pulls some odd hours n sometimes plays her music a little too loud and burns her food more often than she should at 33 yrs old. she may or may not be the best neighbor to have is all i’m saying, but she tries!!

friends!! platonic love is the most purest form of love there is and she’s got a lot of it to give!! come and get ya some!

enemies / hateships because sometimes .. it just be like that. whether this has to do with a falling out of some sort, just straight up hate at first sight, or something to do with an encounter on the job, or something else entirely i’m here for it!

one night stands / [old] fwb. i’m gonna be honest with y’all: if jordan likes you, then she can’t sleep with you. now, i’m gonna be honest with y’all again: jordan’s very much a yes-girl. she says and does things just to get a reaction sometimes or see what’ll happen ( something-something "sometimes if you let people do things to you, you're really doing it to them" ). that being said, she’ll sleep with just about anyone. maybe they don’t talk about it ever, maybe they only ever talk when they want something, maybe they regret it, maybe it’s all gucci, and maybe it was good until it wasn’t. idk!

jordan has been shot twice in her career thus far. the first time was during a noise disturbance call and the second time was during a narc raid. if your muse wants in on that we can discuss the deets!

and also literally whatever else your heart desires because i’m both here for the fluffiest deepest connections ever and also the angstiest makes-me-wanna-die type shit. i literally don’t say no to anything so if you have any ideas you think jordan can be a good fit for, i’m all ears!!

#redridgeintro #did i really have to write all of tht? no. but did i do it anyway bc i love jordan with my whole entire heart? yes. yes i unfortunately did.#tldr is that she's just a messy ole scaredy cat with a big marshmallow heart !!!!#domestic violence tw #domestic abuse tw

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meshugana1 · 6 years

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Could you turn me into an attractive maid? My friends keep making fun of me about how I'm single because of my looks, my shy and timid personality. Plus, I need a job to pay off a bunch of debts.

My breath grew cold and heavy in my lungs like I had inhaled a block of ice. The center of the room felt like it was dangerous all of a sudden and every cell in my body screamed for me to avoid it. I couldn’t though, this was about personal growth. I wanted to slap myself but that would look really weird. Come on, come on, you can do this Jack. You’re the man, this is easy as pie. The scene played out before me. I had unconsciously crossed my arms as a woman asked a seated man about airfare to the Bermuda triangle. “What do ya want air rates for? We don’t even know if there’s no airports there anyway,” the travel agent said.“Well yes but ships always go missing in there,” she said.“Yeah, but we at least know there’s a couple docks so it’s probably safer.”“Probably? How often do ships go missing there?”“All the time. Every ship we send never comes back.” Come on Jack, jump in.“If no ships ever come back how does your company have such positive reviews?”“Well, no one’s come back to give us a bad one.” The crowd surrounding the pair chuckle and laugh, all but me. I’m still too nervous, a million lines and ideas are all competing in my head and it’s all too much. I’m sure a vein is throbbing somewhere in my head.

“Hey man, I thought you said you’d get up there tonight? I’m bummed I didn’t get to see you freeze up in front of everybody,” Alan said. He was the lovable asshole that first suggested I come with him to his improve class to ‘break out of my shell’. I was perfectly fine in it, but it still got lonely. It was over nine years since my last girlfriend, and I’m not even sure how that one happened. “Sorry, I just got a little sidetracked thinking of what to say,” I said as I popped two Tylenol to squash the headache I gave myself. “That’s the fuckin problem dude, you don’t have to think in improve. You just do, ya know?” I didn’t know in fact. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t take a weekend off to plan out all the conversations I was going to have the following week. I was always just so scared of saying the wrong thing. “I’ll try better next time, I need to get to my night job or that dick boss of mine is gonna fire me.”“Ya know, I’ve heard you call him dick, asshole, fuckhead, motherfucker, cocksucker, pissant, and douce, but I don’t think I heard his name yet.”“Yeah, I may not like it but I really need the money. I have those student loans I took out remember?” This made Alan laugh, way harder than I thought was necessary. “Oh yeah, you were all set for a law degree and you got kicked out like the first day cause you called some woman ‘the most fuckable MILF you ever saw’.”“Yeah.”“And who did she turn out to be, again?”“The dean, alright? She was the dean.” Alan laughed so hard I thought he was actually choking. Part of me wished he would.

I waited for Alan to recompose himself, he was the only one of us who could afford a car. I scanned the dimly lit hallway of the rec center. Looking for anything that could take my mind off my friend’s enjoyment of my situation. I saw a worn out cork board on the opposite wall lined with various ads. Better than listening to him choke on my misery. One said there was a snowmobile trailer in like new condition for sale, only $8500. Another advertised an old woman’s piano class, three times a week for only ten dollars a lesson. That was actually pretty good. A bright pink one hidden beneath a wanted poster from 1993 proclaimed the need for a groundskeeper at a country estate and offered to pay a hundred dollars an hour plus room and board. “What!?”

A hundred friggin dollars an hour? I work a total eighteen hours a day between both my jobs and I barely bring home three hundred a week! “What’s wrong?” Alan said.“This lady want’s to pay someone a hundred dollars an hour to mow her lawn and stuff!”“No way, let me see,” Alan said grabbing the flyer from me. “Oh dude, that’s that old Haderly place like five miles outside town.”“So?”“Dude, she like a shut-in. But from what I hear she’s a total babe and makes all her money from doing cam shows online. No way you can work for a woman like that.”“Wow, I’m not used to hearing you so mature Alan.”“What? No, you can’t work for her cause you’re shy, short, and um, a homely guy. She’s not gonna want to hire you. She probably wants some super stud around to ogle at and get her in the mood. Sounds like a job for me!” Now it was my turn to laugh. He might have had a little nugget of a point, but he wasn’t exactly much better looking than me.“Don’t you dare. If anyone needs this job I do. You make plenty of money at your job.”“Not a hundred fucking dollars an hour. Don’t worry, when I’m loaded and she and I start dating we’ll let you live in the attic or something,” he said with a smile.

It was an expensive Uber ride out to the property, but one hours wages from this lady would pay it back and more. It was early, the sunrise only just began to blind me as I walked down the path to the house. My fingers traced along the flyer as I walk, I would have called but there was no phone number on it, just this address. The air was so clean and filled with moisture I could hardly believe it. And the yard was nothing less than colossal. I had no idea there were even yards like this in the area. It looked like you had to measure it in acres. It took me nearly thirty minutes to walk it straight down the middle, no wonder the salary was so high, this was a full-time job. I was finally close enough to make out the detail on the ornate wooden doors when I saw another door at the side of the house open wide and a man stepped out. He was huge, built like a brick house and wore a really tight white shirt and jeans combo. He raised a Panama hat to his head and looked over the property with a steely gaze. Was this guy the lady’s husband? Not a second later did he reach back and grab a shovel and rake from the same doorway. Oh shit, was he a groundskeeper? Am I too late? Fuck, no wait. This place is huge, maybe she needs two? Oh please god need two, the ride back is gonna kill my wallet.

The closer I get the more beautiful the house looks. This might actually be an old plantation home. That would make sense given the size of the yard. I can tell it’s solidly built as I step on the porch. Not a single creak or grown from the wood at all. I take a second before I knock on the door to check my appearance. My shirt is tucked, my shoes are clean, and my hair feels good. Ok, you’ve reversed this a hundred times since last night. Knock on the door, she answers. I say hello and offer a handshake, not too firm. We exchange names, I ask about the job. She asks my qualifications, can’t be too complicated for yard work. She either says yes or no, shake hands again and say thank you. Then I go home and wait for the call. Easy. I turn to knock on the door only find it already open, with a very beautiful woman laying against the doorframe.

“And how can I help you young man?” she said. Her hair was a light brown color, accented with thin streaks of white. Her face looked beautiful despite light evidence of aging. He skin was still tight, but there was the odd wrinkle here and there. She wore a burgundy silk robe that failed completely at masking her impressive figure. Her hips made waves in her robe as they rested on the bawdy flesh. She looked like an ex-playboy bunny. “Young man? How can I help you?” she said. I hadn’t realized but her sudden appearance had thrown me off. “Oh, um, well,” I said. I fumbled with my hands trying to produce the slip for her. “I, well I was hoping that you could maybe hire me as a gardener. I mean the groundskeeper job,” oh god. I totally fucked this up. She had a questioning look on her face as she grabbed the flyer. “Well first off if you’re begging for a job you should probably lead with your name.”“Right, it’s Jack. I mean I’m Jack,” goddamnit Jack, you totally fucked up.“Thank you, Jack, my name is Irene Haderly. Secondly, I’m sorry to say that I filled that position over two years ago. This is just an old flyer, you probably already saw my groundskeeper, Samson, this morning. He’s more than enough for the property. What I really need right now is a maid. My last one quit about a month ago and it kills my knees cleaning this place by myself. So unless you want that job I can’t really help you.”

I knew it was too good to be true. I never catch any breaks, I’m gonna be in debt for the rest of my goddamn life. But as she turned her back to me I felt this little ball of white-hot anger in my stomach grow. I was pissed at everything. My shitty apartment, my negative bank account, my stupid shyness, and it just sort of exploded. “Does the maid job pay just as well?!” I said. God, even angry I’m pathetic. But my whiny ejaculation seemed to peak her interest. “It does, actually. Even better, one-fifty an hour plus room and board. You would be expected to live here while you’re employed by me, and there is an appearance code that needs to be followed, are you up for that?” It was even better than I hoped, except for the appearance code. “Um, you’re not going to make me crossdress, are you?” Hell for that much money I wouldn’t even mind. “No, no. Nothing like that. You would, of course, need to sign an agreement, I lose maids so often I would just feel better if you made a commitment to working and living here. Would six months be alright with you?” Six months? At one-fifty an hour? With no expenses? “Could we make it a year? That sounds great!”

I followed her inside and boy it looked awesome. It was the first time in my life I had an occasion to use the word opulence. I followed her down a naturally lit hallway, the sunlight blinding me on more than one occasion until we reached her office. She removed a simple looking brass key from her robe, it looked kinda heavy but I don’t remember seeing its outline in her clothing. “Now, other than tending to your duties, the only rule of the house is that you are never allowed in this office unless accompanied by me. Is that clear?”“Yes, ma’am.” That’s a pretty easy rule to follow. She handed me a fairly wordy looking piece of paper and told him where to sign. I had finally dotted the last I and crossed the last T, “Alright, ma’am, I think I’m done.” She smiled in a very loving way. “Perfect, now we just need to get your appearance up to snuff, follow me,” she said. This was the most nerve-wracking part. Was she actually going to make me crossdress? She said no but the thought was still chipping away at me.

I was both happy and confused when she lead me instead of her closet to a side room in her office. It looked like a pantry filled with mason jars. It looked like they were filled with various spices, maybe she made her money with some artisanal spice company. But why bring me here? She looked like she carefully considered each jar, then she reached up and grabbed a small one and dumped the contents into her hand. She brought her hands together and rubbed the spice into her hands repeatedly. She brought her hands close to her mouth as she rubbed and it seemed like she was whispering into it. “Now, this is going to feel a little weird but don’t worry, it won’t hurt a bit.”

What? She lifted her palm to my face and blew the dusty spice in my face before I could ask what she meant. I coughed violently as the powder flew down my throat and into my eyes. “What the hell was that!?” I said trying to rub the powder from my face, oddly enough though, she was right in that it didn’t hurt at all. “Sorry, I thought you read the contract? This was all explicitly stated.” I was about to tell her that nothing in there said anything about getting sand blown in my face, but all that came out was slurred speech. My knees were getting weak too. I didn’t feel any pain at all. But it was like I could feel the little bits of powder burrowing into my body. My vision got really fuzzy but I could feel everything so much clearer. I could feel really big, powerful hands grab my shoulder and cradle me in even more powerful arms. I knew we were walking but I didn’t know where until I was placed on a bed. It felt like little tacks all over my body just scratching the surface of my skin. It was heavenly.

My whole body felt like the head of my dick when I masturbated. I tried to reach down for my cock but my whole body felt like jelly. Then after what felt like an eternity, it started to die down. I could finally feel how heavy I was breathing and it was like a had weights on my chest. My back was arched somewhat awkwardly too, but overall I just felt a bit out of sorts. My vision was still cloudy, like my contact lenses had fallen out. Without them, I could barely see a foot in front of my face, but I could make out the shapes of two people on the opposite side of the room. One was Ms. Haderly, but the other one took a little thinking before I could recognize Samson’s broad shoulders. “Finally awake I see, well good. You woke up a lot faster than some of the others.”“Woke up? Did you drug me or something? This isn’t some kinda kinky snuff thing you have right? Please tell me it’s not.”“Don’t be silly, you just had to be altered to fit the appearance requirement, and you turned out pretty great too If I do say so myself.” What was she talking about, turned out great? Oh shit, this was totally like the human centipede. In a moment of cinema-induced paranoia, I reached a hand behind me and, for a brief moment, fully expected to feel the face of some other poor guy who got caught in her trap. I did end up grabbing a lot more flesh than I usually did, but it wasn’t someone else’s face.

It was my own ass, but it felt gigantic. My bottom was, at its apex, a boney little thing that only by the most generous definitions could be called an ass. This thing I had my hand digging into though, this was a real ass. It was curved, meaty, springy and pretty responsive to touch. I could feel the blood rushing all sorts of places as I fondled my way to understanding. Unconsciously my thighs rubbed together, and when they did I noticed a distinct lack of testicular pressure when I did that though. I wasn’t alone in the room but I really had to be sure. With my free hand I reach to my crotch I closed my eyes and uttered one last prayer and tried to grab my dick. Instead, my palm slaps into a flat, slick, cleft.

I’m not some super macho guy, so being emasculated wasn’t exactly earth-shattering to me but who wouldn’t start freaking out after losing something so important? Other than my ass and my chest my body felt so light and wispy. I felt a rising nervous energy in my toes and I started bouncing on my heels. Ms. Haderly moved to my side quickly. “Now I know this is a shock, I would be pretty flustered too. But let me just explain what’s going on, okay? Samson, why don’t you leave us to some girl time?” He didn’t say anything as he turned around and left. I still teetered on the edge of a meltdown, but if she did this to me she was the only one who could undo it. So I just listened.

“You have probably guessed already but I’m something like a witch. And you may not believe me but this was all spelled out in that contract, and I wasn’t kidding about the pay scale. Every hour you live here you’ll make one-hundred and fifty dollars, now a young guy like you probably needs cash like that. And this is only for a year. Now do the math, 24 hours a day at one-fifty an hour, you’ll be a millionaire by then.” That stopped me in my tracks. That was so much money it was crazy. “Why do I have to be a girl though?” “That’s just the way the magic works. Aside from the looks, which are much improved by the way, it also comes with the knowledge of how to execute your duties. That and, well let’s just say the job comes with some really great benefits,” she said. Her nails glided along my thigh, and her hand reached and grabbed what I assumed to be one of my breasts. I hope that’s what it was because I still couldn’t see well, and they felt amazing to be held. She moved in closer and kissed me. Her much larger chest pressed into mine and her tongue darted around my mouth. When she separated I didn’t need my glasses to make out the sultry face she was giving me as she licked her lips. “So, what do you think?”

She led me to my room a half an hour later, it was towards the front of the house on its left side. The room was directly beside Samson’s it seemed. When I stepped in, from what little I could make out, it was huge. It looked bigger than my crappy studio by three times. She guided me over to a bed and for a second I thought we were going to resume what she started upstairs, but instead, she told me to get dressed and start going through the list of chores. I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised by the uniform she wanted me to wear. It looked like a sexy french maid’s costume, but the thing I was excited about was the glasses on top of the pile of silky clothes. I wasted no time or thought in putting them on, and oddly enough they were my exact prescription. The room instantly became clear and I took in its full rustic splendor. A room like this in the city would cost no less than six thousand a month, and it was mine for just the cost of my cock and balls.

I was nervous as I crept into the hallway in my new uniform, but not nearly as much as I expected or was accustomed to. This was the most flesh I had ever had exposed while still being dressed. My legs were encased in the thinnest white fabric stockings I could have imagined. The air passed right through and stroked my legs as if they were naked. My heels actually confused me in his easy I took to walking in them. They were over five inches tall, and at first glance, I had no idea how I could walk in them without undergoing training. But as my feet slipped into them it felt just like riding a bicycle, and not once did I even buckle in the slightest. The bra and panties went on in much the same way, but the feel of the silk underwear still caused a blush across my body. They were tight and the panties clung to my new sex, creating a slight camel toe. The bra seemed like it was intended to make my, really rather impressive, chest pop and call attention to itself. There I stood, dressed only in my new underwear and heels, like a lot of porn I had watched, with a chest that begged to be touched. I really wanted to, like really really. But Ms. Haderly had given me a list of chores to get to, and if she could do this to me to help my work go easier, then I really didn’t want to picture what she could do when she was mad.

My incredibly short skirt bounced as I walked the halls and cleaned the rooms, with a feather duster no less. The house was kept mostly immaculate and only required light upkeep. Still, the house was large and the sun was setting by the time I had finished. I had been required to make Ms. Haderly both lunch and dinner, now I hadn’t made much more than Kraft mac n’ cheese for the last few years, but as I entered the kitchen I flitted about like a master chef. Before I knew it I had made her a hearty seafood salad for lunch, and that evening I made her a two-course meal, a simple Caprese salad and a roast beef for the main course. She even praised the meal, saying it was simply delicious. I had no idea magic could make someone so effective at something so complicated.

Not only the cooking was different, but I seemed to have an intimate knowledge of the layout of the house, and my own timetable, and well…I seemed to just do everything in the sexiest possible way. I don’t think I ever bent my knees once the whole day, always at the waist and displaying my round ass to whoever was lucky enough to be behind me. My walk was punctuated with a side to side thrust of my hips with every step. Whenever I was in Ms. Haderly’s presence I always had my hands clasped in front of my stomach, which squeezed my breasts together making them look even larger. Honestly, I didn’t mind as much as I would’ve as a guy. I wasn’t good looking, not hardly, but now I was hot. Like really hot, and I kinda loved flaunting it. The sun was finally gone and as I returned to my sizable room, I ran into the groundskeeper Samson as he returned to his.

I had never actually been introduced to him. A few times I saw him through the windows as I cleaned them, he mostly didn’t wear a shirt all day. That was concerning me. Normally I would be jealous of his intense physical fitness, he was as big as Schwarzenegger and as toned as Bruce Lee. I was jealous that I didn’t have his body, just not in the way I normally would be. He still didn’t have a shirt on and his body glistened with sweat and his tanned chest and face were planted with small, light patches of dirt and dust. “Oh, nice to see you awake. I’m Samson. So I guess you’re staying then?” he says. His rock solid arm reaches up and rubs the back of his neck. His body is so toned I can see each individual muscle move when he shifts his weight. “Y..yeah, it’s really good money, ya know?” My thighs rubbed together absentmindedly, feeling much hotter than I thought they should. “Yeah, that’s what drew me here a few years ago. What was your name again?” he said.“It’s Jack, but you can call me Jaclyn if you think it sounds better,” I said, blushing harder than I had for a long time. “That’s a pretty name, suits you much better now. It’ll take some getting used to though believe me,” he said.“Wait, did she…?” I said.“Yup, two years ago. My name was Samantha, if you can believe it,” he said. I very easily could. I moved my hands behind my back and took a few steps forward, hips rolling with each step. “So, did she change everything on you too?”

Not five minutes later I was thrown on my bed as he used his powerful muscles to strip me bare. I undid his denim jeans with my teeth and his hard cock slapped against my face, the heat of his solid manhood made my glasses fog up. We were just about to get into it when we heard a that clear near the door. It was Ms. Haderly, dressed in the same robe from this morning. I was horny as hell but nervous, terrified I had broken some unknown rule. “You naughty, little servants should know better. You need to wait for your mistress before getting started.” She stepped forward and her robe slid off revealing her still tight and erotic naked body. She joined me on the bed and began to lick and tease Samson’s cock. Her hand was pawing at my supple ass. It was then that I had made up my mind, this was the best job ever.

The end. Hope Y’all like it!

#gender-bender #male to female #MTF #maid tf #request

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juniperusashei · 2 years

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Love and Freindship: And Other Youthful Writings by Jane Austen

Lady Susan - 5/5

At first I didn't like the epistolary format of this book, it's hard to read, I don't really read that many epistolary novel's so I'm not used to it. I even drew out a little family tree on my bookmark to keep track of all the characters! But once I got the gist of who's who, this was really great. I hadn't read Austen since my freshman year where we read all 6 main novels, but I had never read any of the unreleased works so this felt very familiar. It has everything I like about Austen, the wit and sarcasm and social satire, but it would be hard for any adapters to confuse it for a romance, which is the mistake most of the film versions make. I actually saw the movie version of this when it came out in 2016 but I didn't remember enough so the story still did surprise me and make me laugh out loud. I think a lot of the comedy actually comes from the epistolary format, because the comedy lies in what happens in between the letters. She's a master of using dramatic irony this way. I also loved the character of Lady Susan because she's so unabashedly duplicitous... thank you Jane for the milf representation. Anyway, I guess I'd recommend this to people who's beef with Austen is that her books focus too much on marriage, because this is very much what happens after one of the trademark happy endings.

Juvenilia - 3/5

Reading the bad and the good alike of Austen’s Juvenilia was an emotional experience for me, completionist that I am. Austen is obviously a prototypical example of a literary genius who’s life was too short, so as a devoted fan I’m desperate for more beyond the main 6 novels. This collection is everything she wrote before those, some dating back to her teenage years… and it shows. Even Jane Austen had to start somewhere! The Juvenilia range from the very dull to the delightfully juvenile. My favorite stories in this collection were “Henry and Eliza”, “Love and Freindship”, and “The History of England”… Early Austen was at her strongest when writing pure pastiche, these had me actually laughing at loud! I found some of the later works like “Catharine, or The Bower” pretty dense and hard to get through, representing an unhewn primitive version of Austen’s style. Either way, reading these gave me a deeper appreciation for Austen’s mature works, because I feel like I got to know her as a person better through reading these.

Something that surprised me reading these was the amount of casual acceptance of gay people, though not by name.

From “Love and Freindship”:  “A soft languor spread over her lovely features, but increased their Beauty—. It was the Charectarestic of her Mind—. She was all sensibility and Feeling. We flew into each others arms and after having exchanged vows of mutual Freindship for the rest of our Lives, instantly unfolded to each other the most inward secrets of our Hearts—. We were interrupted in the delightfull Employment by the entrance of Augustus, (Edward's freind) who was just returned from a solitary ramble. Never did I see such an affecting Scene as was the meeting of Edward and Augustus. “My Life! my Soul!” (exclaimed the former) “My adorable angel!” (replied the latter) as they flew into each other's arms. It was too pathetic for the feelings of Sophia and myself—We fainted alternately on a sofa. Adeiu Laura.” From “A Collection of Letters”: “I was delighted with her, the moment she entered the house, and she appeared equally pleased with me, attaching herself to me during the remainder of the day. There is something so sweet, so mild in her Countenance, that she seems more than Mortal. Her Conversation is as bewitching as her appearance; I could not help telling her how much she engaged my admiration—. “Oh! Miss Jane (said I)—and stopped from an inability at the moment of expressing myself as I could wish—Oh! Miss Jane—(I repeated)—I could not think of words to suit my feelings—She seemed waiting for my speech—. I was confused—distressed—my thoughts were bewildered—and I could only add—“How do you do?”” “I have only to add my dear Sophia, that my Henry's elder Brother dieing about the same time, Lady Bridget became a Widow like myself, and as we had always loved each other in idea from the high Character in which we had ever been spoken of, though we had never met, we determined to live together. We wrote to one another on the same subject by the same post, so exactly did our feeling and our actions coincide! We both eagerly embraced the proposals we gave and received of becoming one family, and have from that time lived together in the greatest affection.” From: “Lesley Castle” “I own indeed that had I been inclined to fall in love with any woman, I should not have made choice of Matilda Lesley for the object of my passion; for there is nothing I hate so much as a tall Woman”

#jane austen #love and freindship #lady susan #juvenilia #lgbt #5 #3 #2021 #january 2021 #november 2021 #epistolary

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onceuponanolicity · 7 years

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Hello, everyone. I’m still out on vacation and I am loving it. It feels nice to get out and rest up. However, I had wanted to send this out to all of you as a Halloween gift before I left and I never had the chance. Today I did, so here it is. A special Halloween one-shot. I will be trying to have a Thanksgiving one for next month and a Christmas/Chanakuh one for December.

A Halloween one-shot. Halloween brings a lot of parties to college campuses. It also allows Oliver Queen to meet Gothic Felicity Smoak. Now they need to see if they can make it together despite all the differences between them.

College parties. Felicity hated them. Halloween parties were even worse. It gave everyone leave to hide behind their masks and act as inappropriately as possible.

“Who are you, sweet cheeks?”

Felicity turned to find a brilliant genius of a frat boy standing next to her. And she was being beyond sarcastic with that assessment. He was dressed as a Roman. Wow. She had never seen that before. Not. Felicity rolled her eyes at the concept that one of these boys might actually use their brain. “Elvira.”

The guy made a motion to her chest. “Doesn’t she show more cleavage?”

“That’s my mother,” Felicity deadpanned. Though it was true. It was her mother who tended to dress more provocatively.

“Oh.” For a moment the guy looked crestfallen. She had ruined his dreams. Too bad. But, the guy quickly recovered and looked around for another potential target. “Is she at the party?”

Felicity sighed. Obviously this guy was further gone than he seemed. Did he really think her mother would be here? Sure, Felicity was younger than some of the other college kids, but that did not mean that her mother would be here. Though, if given the chance, Donna Smoak, certainly would have been. Felicity lifted a hand and pointed off to the far corner of the frat house where a group of kids were chugging beer. “Yeah. Over there.”

The guy scurried away in search of the elusive Elvira while Felicity leaned back against the wall wondering why she even came here. She knew why. Her roommate insisted Felicity go so she could make out with her boyfriend in their dorm room. Felicity could only hope that her roommate cleaned down the place afterwards. The boyfriend was skanky.

“Are you snarky with everyone or just frat boys?”

Felicity found another male who invaded what she claimed as her own personal space. She opened her mouth to cut him down but her usual quick mind faltered. Felicity stood there and stared at the blonde guy. He was dressed simply in tight fitting jeans and a plain white t-shirt. James Dean. Only a mask covered half his face. It was supposed to be a masquerade party after all. Not that Felicity paid any mind to it. She had only arrived in her usual clothes and without a mask. Felicity only wore a mask if her Halloween costume called for it and since she was sans costume that meant no mask at all.

“Cat catch your tongue?” he asked as a smile formed on his lips, making dimples appear under the black mask. He leaned forward slightly invading even more of her space and winked. “Too bad. I wanted a chance.”

Another guy came forward. Felicity sighed. Did she have a magnet or something on her?

Instead the guy barely paid her a bit of attention. He slapped James Dean on the back. This new guy was dressed in red scrubs. He had dark hair and was no less handsome than the other one. “What’s up? I just got here.”

“Tommy.” James Dean perked up considerably. He nudged the new guy and gave him a bro hug. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

Tommy shrugged and smiled. That’s when his attention caught on Felicity. This smile was different. Charming in a way that was meant to get exactly what he wanted. “I’m Tommy Merlyn.”

The way he said his name it was like it should mean something. It didn’t, but she shook his extended hand anyway. “Hi.”

The two guys stared at her expectantly. They were probably waiting for her to give them her name. They would be waiting a long time. She wasn’t here to make friends. Not that it mattered. She hardly came over to this campus much. Felicity was much more at MIT nearby where she attended classes.

James Dean nodded down at her before addressing his friend. “That’s Elvira Jr. Or so she told the last guy who dared approach her.”

Tommy frowned slightly. “That makes Elvira a MILF. Not exactly how I wanted to picture her.”

“Thanks for that mental image,” Felicity said with a grimace. “I’ll never be able to fill my mind enough to cover that up.”

“A nerdy Goth.” Tommy said with an ever bigger smile. A genuine one. He nudged his friend. “Good luck with this one.” Tommy nodded off to the side, Tommy took a step in that direction to try to see something. “I’m going to go hit up Rainbow Brite over there and see if she wants to dance.”

James Dean glanced over at where his friend’s interest lie. He frowned. “I don’t think that’s Rainbow Brite.”

“Ding Ding,” Felicity said waving a finger in the air. “One for the frat boy dressed as James Dean.”

His eyes shot over to her. They felt like they penetrated right through her. It was disturbing and yet there was something about that look that had her body reacting on a primal level. “What do I win?”

Felicity swallowed hard. She wished the wall wasn’t right behind her because she wanted desperately to back away from him. Not that he scared her. It was more like overwhelmed her, especially with that laser focus that he seemed to possess. “I… uh…”

He stepped forward so she had no choice but to flatten herself against the wall to maintain some space. He didn’t even allow her that. He only moved closer so that their hips were touching with each small movement. A hair’s breadth separated their chests and their breath mingled.

She noticed his had a touch of mint to it. He must have just had a mint or brushed his teeth recently. Surprising because he looked like a guy who would have come here to drink.

He raised his hand and with a very light touch his fingers brushed over her cheek before sweeping her black hair over her shoulder. Even Cooper Seldon, who she dated a few times now, did not make her feel so totally consumed by a single touch. If she wasn’t careful, she’d combust soon.

Meeting his eyes, Felicity saw that he seemed confused by the fact that he felt the same. The playfulness of his nature had disappeared. Blue flames licked within his eyes. He raised his hand and leaned against the wall pushing himself slightly away from her. She watched as he closed his eyes under the black mask and shuddering breath escaped him.

Felicity had no idea what compelled her. She raised a hand to lay it on his chest. He was solid muscle under her fingers. She was pretty sure under that shirt was a six pack to end all other six packs. So, why the hell was a guy like this even talking to her? Was it a joke? A bet? That would explain the last guy. Which frat kid could get the Goth girl to drop her panties? And, damn, if they didn’t send in their ringer.

When his eyes opened, the blue was barely a ring around the darkness of the depths hidden there. His head dipped down and Felicity pushed up on the combat boots she wore to meet him halfway. The guy kissed like an angel. The Devil was an angel, right? Because this guy was temptation personified. It wasn’t fair.

The guy’s free hand met her waist, his fingers biting deep into the flesh under the layers of clothes she wore. Felicity was sure by the strength of his grip that it was the only thing keeping him under control. She wished she could gather some of her own.

Only she did not have to. The kiss ended fast enough when he jerked his lips from hers.

“Fuck,” she heard him whisper as his forehead pressed into her own.

Their breaths labored together as they stood there. Felicity was the first to open her eyes. When he managed to do the same they stared at each other.

It was in that moment a bubbly blonde popped up next to them. She tugged at the guy’s arm. The one that still clenched her hip tight. “Ollie. I totally have to introduce you to my friend.”

“Ollie.” Felicity rolled the name off of her tongue. It fit him and yet it didn’t. “Oliver.” That was much better.

By the way his eyes flared, he agreed. He looked desperate to kiss her again. The blonde had other plans. Oliver gave in to her tugs and straightened from his leaning pose over Felicity. However, their eyes never broke contact. Not even for a second. “I’m coming back.”

It was a promise. Felicity felt it right down to her bones. Which was the exact reason why she ran the second he disappeared into the crowd with the blonde.

OQFSOQFSOQFS

“I’m going to find her,” Oliver told Tommy almost a week later.

“You ever think she doesn’t want to be found?” Tommy asked. “What other girl have you ever had to chase?”

“I’m going to find her,” Oliver said much more forcefully. It was only a question of how and when. Oliver had not gone to bed one night and not woken up without thinking about the Goth girl he had encountered.

When he spotted Gordon approaching her, Oliver had gone over to see how badly the guy would tank. He was always great for a good laugh, especially when he thought he was being slick with the ladies. Oliver had needed a laugh. He and his girlfriend had called it quits a week before and Oliver was ready to move on. After a year of fighting, Oliver knew it was time to finally say enough was enough. When his girlfriend had called that night and tried to ask him why now, before she had been too shocked to ask, he told her he did not want to hear from her again. It was in that moment, Oliver had decided to come to the Halloween party.

Then Elvira Jr. entered his life and he had never laughed so hard. She had the perfect comebacks. He had wanted more and so he approached her. She was this bright light in his mundane world. Something completely different from what he was used to. That was what drew him to her, but that wasn’t what made him stay. No, that was something else entirely.

She made him feel things he never had before. It was an instant chemistry that was undeniable. The entire party faded away when they were close. It was not even just sexual chemistry, though they had that in spades. It was something that Oliver had yet to define. It made him want so much more, not only from her but from himself.

“You think she’ll show at the party tomorrow?” Tommy asked drawing Oliver out of his thoughts. The party Tommy referred to was being held by the largest sorority on campus. It was their yearly day before Halloween bash that gathered everyone together from their campus and MIT. It attracted students and faculty alike.

“I don’t know.” Elvira Jr. barely looked like she had wanted to attend the last party. Another reason to wonder why she was there. And why she disappeared so quickly. Oliver had spent the rest of the night trying to figure out where she had gone.

“Are you going over to that seminar over at MIT tonight? It’s extra credit for class. And you need it bad after skipping so many classes.” Tommy might be talking about school, but his mind was definitely not focused there. His eyes were trained directly on a buxom brunette who smiled and waved at him as she passed with a couple of friends.

“Doubtful,” Oliver told him as he nodded at the trio. None of them interested him. He was fully focused on one girl right now. Plus, extra credit was not going to help him at this point. He was failing computer class whether he showed up or not, so what was the point?

“I’m thinking, I’ll go.” Tommy shrugged. “Extra credit could be useful since I have a feeling I am going to fail the mid-term.” Tommy nudged Oliver and gave him a wicked grin. “Plus, one of those nerdy chicks there must be looking for some male company that isn’t spewing computer codes and Periodic Tables. I’m totally bored with Laurel gone.”

Oliver sighed heavily. He was not in search of a nerdy girl. Oliver wanted one and only one, which was a little strange for him to be so focused. “Fine. I’ll come with you.”

Tommy grinned harder and slapped him in the chest. “You won’t regret it.”

Oliver could only hope that was true.

OQFSOQFSOQFS

“Tell me again why I agreed to do this?” Felicity asked Professor Karen Smith as she rechecked the projector while the professor went over her notes. Everyone was supposed to arrive soon for the lecture and Felicity was ready to run. She hated being in front of people when she did not have to be.

“Because you’re the best and I needed the best,” Professor Smith smiled over at Felicity. “Plus, it saves you from the monotony of your term paper.”

“I guess.” Felicity finished with the projector and flopped into the other chair next to her mentor. She spun it in a circle before gazing out at the empty room. “Still… I guess it’s better than prepping for the Halloween party tomorrow over at the other campus, like my roommate wanted me to do.”

“See. Bright spot,” the professor joked, pushing back some of her long auburn hair back from her face. “But, maybe you should go.”

Felicity raised a finger to her mouth and opened it so she could put it in and make gagging noises. Karen laughed. She knew how much Felicity hated frats and sororities, let alone their inane parties. Raising her legs, Felicity plopped them up on top of the desk. She was fine until she leaned back. That’s when the chair decided to roll out from underneath her. Felicity squealed and her professor screamed.

A pair of strong hands came out of nowhere and caught Felicity before she hurt her butt and lost her dignity. When she looked up, Felicity saw that the first was definitely true, but the second was debatable.

“Felicity, are you okay?” Karen had already jumped out of her chair and gave her a once over in concern as Felicity came up on her feet.

“I’m fine,” Felicity told her professor and Oliver as she straightened her clothes that had come askew at the grab. “You can let go now.”

“I’m good,” Oliver told her with a huge grin on his face. His hands had yet to leave her waist and now with her shirt fixed, some of his fingers brushed over the bare skin that he had access to since the shirt was now over his hands. One of those fingers moved in a circular motion over her stomach, making her shiver. “Felicity.”

Shit. He now knew her name. Wait. Karen just said it. He knew no more about her than what she knew about him. That was a good thing, right? Even footing. “What are you doing here?”

“Same thing as you, probably.”

Felicity shook him off and turned to narrow her eyes at him. “You’re helping to give a lecture on Programming Languages?”

Oliver chuckled. It was a deep, rich sound that had Felicity’s toes curling in delight. Not that she would ever admit to that. Ever. “I might if I had any idea what you said.”

Karen nudged Felicity and gave her a soft smile. “You know, I just realized I completely forgot my mouse in the car. I’ll be right back.”

Felicity was confused. She glanced over her shoulder at the computer set up. The mouse was right there. Damn Karen and her matchmaking ways. She was the one who had introduced Felicity to Cooper Seldon, the guy Felicity was currently dating, in the first place.

“We’re alone,” Oliver whispered for no reason. It drew Felicity’s attention back to him.

“Doesn’t matter.” Felicity was about to pull out the professor’s chair to sit down and work on the laptop when she turned and faced Oliver again. There was no need for him to be there. She had half a mind to tell him that. “The lecture is starting soon. Why don’t you grab a seat? The back fills up pretty fast with all the other people who decide to come here to fall asleep.”

Oliver crossed his arms and Felicity noticed the muscles that shifted with that movement. “I have no plans on falling asleep. Or sitting in the back.”

“Suit yourself.” Felicity shrugged. What he did was of no interest to her. And, yes, she was completely lying to herself. Oliver was bound to be a distraction. The last thing she needed was to look out and find him in the crowd. Though, her speech teacher had said something about looking out into the crowd and picturing them naked. However, picturing Oliver naked might just have the opposite effect that she was going for. Her mouth watered at the thought.

“I have every intention of sitting over there,” Oliver nodded off to one side, “and watching you.”

Felicity was about to sit down and stumbled at this words. Frack. This time she caught herself, but he moved back by her side. Their gazes caught and Felicity froze. What the hell was it about this guy that shook her to her very core? “I… uh… I better check to make sure everything is plugged correctly.”

She made her way away from him on heavy feet. It was like moving away from him defied some sort of gravitational pull. One that he didn’t deny because he followed her off to the side and grabbed her arm to stop her.

“Go out with me.”

It was not a demand or a request. Which is probably what led her to ask, “Tonight?”

“Okay.” His grin split his face and made two deep dimples on his cheeks appear.

“I didn’t… I mean I… It wasn’t supposed to be…” Felicity stumbled over every single sentence she tried to say to get out of this supposed date. He was beyond not her type and she was already seeing someone. Sure, there was no promise of exclusivity at this point, but Felicity was not the person who dated a bunch of guys at the same time. In fact, she never had the chance to even think about it before now. It was not like she was the most popular, or the prettiest, girl on campus.

“Felicity,” he drew her name out, making her eyes rise to his. “Please.”

There was something mesmerizing in the way he said her name, but the way he said please was even more compelling. Vampires had nothing on this guy. Hell, he could probably give them pointers. Especially as he slowly licked his lips and cocked his head expectantly to the side.

“Please,” he repeated.

It was that second request that had her nodding despite every reservation she had. He was a frat boy with absolutely no interest in what made her tick. Her computers. They were her lifeline for as long as she could remember. Even more so since her father had left when she was seven. It gave her a small link to a man she barely remembered. The first one who ever broke her heart and destroyed whatever trust she had in the male race.

Oliver’s palms slid over her face, this thumb brushing briefly over her lips. His head lowered and it was like watching some cheesy romance flick, only she was the female lead. Oliver’s mouth brushed over hers in an imitation of a kiss before he looked her in the eyes. In those depths, Felicity saw the question that lingered there. Apparently, he found an answer within her own because his mouth clamped down on hers.

Felicity began to shake at the intensity of the kiss. She had no choice but to wrap her arms around him just to remain upright. The kiss was all consuming making Felicity feel like she was on fire with a need that she did not know she could feel.

Barely, Felicity registered the sounds of people coming into the hall. It seemed so far off. A throat clearing was much closer. As was Professor Smith’s chuckle. “Right. You keep doing that. I’ll start.”

Felicity clenched onto Oliver’s shirt with every intention of telling him they had to stop. Only she used it to pull him even closer when he broke off slightly to take a precious breath. It was like no matter how much they needed to separate they couldn’t. God! She was turning into a Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode.

It took every bit of effort that she did not have to pull away from him. She ran around a chair that was sitting near them to put some space between them. Felicity clenched tight to the wood and took some well needed breaths. Looking up, Felicity saw the lower half of Oliver’s face was covered in her dark purple lipstick. His lips were swollen and, oh no, were there teeth marks near his bottom lip? She bit him? Frack!

Her own lips felt chapped and sensitive. Raising a hand, she gently touched them. They were swollen as much as his were.

It took a few minutes, and the sound of Karen’s voice, to return reason back to Felicity’s mind. She was supposed to be out there helping. Not hiding behind a curtain making out with one of the best looking guys she ever met. Felicity shook her head in an attempt to further clear her head.

“I guess I better go.” Oliver jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward where Professor Smith was giving her lecture.

“Why did you come? I mean not to the lecture, but earlier. Did you track me down?”

Oliver shook his head and reached inside his leather jacket. He pulled out a folded up piece of paper and held it out to her. “I came for this.”

Felicity accepted the paper and read it over. It was for extra credit. He needed to attend the lecture and get the professor to sign off that he had been there. There was a clause that said that Smith’s assistant could also sign the document. Glancing up at him, Felicity nodded down to the paper. “Do you have a pen? My bag is out there.”

Reaching back in the pocket, Oliver extracted a pen. Felicity took it and signed the paper, handing both items back to him the second she was finished. She needed him to go. He was bad for her mental health. Oliver accepted them and they landed in the side pocket of his coat. He also buried his hands in each.

There really wasn’t much more to say. Oliver was free to go. He had come and his paper was signed. Mission accomplished. However, the last thing he wanted to do was leave. The reason stood in front of him.

Never had he felt such an instant connection to a complete stranger. Even his friendship with Tommy took time. More because they were always pushed together because they were the same age and their families were friends. Plus, they both shared a general distaste for Carter Bowen, a fellow friend of their families. “Felicity, I…”

She shook her head and returned her hands to the back of the chair that still stood between them. She used it to shield herself from him. Not that the small wooden chair was much of a shield. He could easily kick it away without effort. “You might want to wash your face first.” She waved at her own chin and frowned. “Sorry.”

Oliver scrubbed his leather jacket over his face. It came back with dark streaks on it. A small giggle bubbled up from Felicity and Oliver glanced over at her. “What?”

“You made it worse.”

“You should talk,” he teased. “The demented clown look was so last year.”

“Frack!” Her hand raised to her face and she tried to rub off the lipstick that was streaked there. “How bad is it?”

Oliver raised an eyebrow. “Adorable demented clown?”

Felicity glanced around her and by the way her hands clenched, he was half sure she was looking for something to throw at him. Oliver reached out and cupped her face drawing it to his. He kissed her softly. Just enough to show her he had been teasing. If he lingered, Oliver was sure to sit on that chair and drag her down onto his lap. Something time and opportunity did not afford him.

“Please go out with me,” he said against her lips. Oliver never begged for a girl to go out with him. They were usually much too eager to fall into his plans, if he wasn’t ejecting them from a bed he never invited them to. This one… He was willing to drop to his knees before if that’s what it took. What made this one girl so different from everyone else? The answer evaded him.

“When?”

Oliver silently cheered. “There’s a party tomorrow…”

“No.” Felicity shook her head and stepped back. “I don’t do parties.”

“You were at the one the other night,” he reminded her.

“Not by choice,” she told him. “My roommate kicked me out and a friend of mine went there so I tagged along.”

“Okay. When?” Oliver hoped he wasn’t leaving her with the opportunity to back out completely.

Oliver watched her face change with each thought. She was so expressive. And, right now, he could tell she was warring within herself about why she agreed to come in the first place.

“Tonight,” she said with a sigh. “Tonight works.”

“Okay.” Oliver nodded at her. “Tonight.” He reached out and had to lean forward slightly to sweep a piece of her hair from her face. The dark strands were so soft in his hand. He rubbed them slightly before letting go. “Where?”

Felicity named the hall just off the quad from where he had told Tommy he’d find her. Oliver nodded again. “Eight?”

“Sorry,” Felicity said with a shake of her head. “My late class doesn’t end until seven thirty. I won’t be able to meet you until eight thirty. Is that okay?”

“Yes.” Oliver reached out again and tilted her face up. He gave her smile even if everything in him demanded he kiss her again. “I’m looking forward to it.”

OQFSOQFSOQFS

Felicity spent the rest of the lecture sitting in the chair completely unsure as to why she agreed to see Oliver again. Part of the reason she could not agree to come to the Halloween party was because she had a date with Cooper tomorrow. They were supposed to hit up the local cinema for a horror movie marathon before going over to the party. So, how was it she became that girl? The one who strung two guys along.

“How did it go?” Karen asked as she approached with a large grin on her freckled face.

Felicity shrugged one shoulder, anything else took more of an effort than she felt like giving right now. “We have a date. Tonight. After my class.”

“You might want to wash your face before you go there,” Karen said with a laugh. “Looks like things got interesting.”

“I know. Demented clown, right?” Felicity said with a sigh.

“Ouch!” Professor Smith knelt down by Felicity’s knees. “And here I thought Oliver Queen would have better lines and more tact than that.”

“Queen?” Felicity met her mentor’s eyes. The woman nodded.

“I thought you knew.” Karen gifted Felicity with a confused stare and motioned back to the computer where things had to be cleaned up before they headed out. “His face is on like every other tabloid. Plus, he’s always on those celebrity news websites.”

Felicity shrugged. “I don’t pay much attention to that stuff.” That did not mean she didn’t know who Oliver Queen was. People talked. Even nerds. Especially nerds.

Oliver Queen was some playboy from Starling City, a city all the way across the country. A whole hell of a lot closer to Vegas where Felicity grew up than Massachusetts. He was known to sleep with anything in a skirt, young or old. Though he had a tendency to be seen with models and actresses. Yup, Felicity knew enough to regret agreeing to be another notch on his bedpost. Not that she had any intention of sleeping with him.

“Hey.” Karen reached out and grabbed Felicity’s arm. “If he’s forcing you…”

“No,” Felicity told her shaking her head. “It’s not that. I’m still a little taken aback by the fact that he’s Oliver Queen.”

It was something that continued to bother her. If she had known… There was no sense playing that game. Her head hurt enough.

Felicity walked across the quad in search of him. He did not appear to be there yet. Figures. One of the other things she heard about him was that he was always late. Though he had been far from late earlier that day.

The only people on the quad were a couple of people jogging past. One was a brunette with long hair that bounced across her back from the ponytail it was tucked into. Felicity had no idea why she caught her attention. Maybe it was the way she squealed in excitement and ran faster to get to something or someone. Someone. Definitely someone.

She threw herself at a guy and wrapped her long tan legs around his waist while her arms entwined around his neck. The guy’s arms wrapped around her sweaty form. His hand cupped her ass to keep her secure in his embrace.

Felicity wanted that. She wanted to be so excited to see who she was dating that she had to run and greet him. Kiss him like she had kissed Oliver earlier. Like there was no one else but that person. Or no one else who mattered.

The woman carded her hands through the guy’s hair and kissed him gently. Yep. That was definitely what Felicity wanted in a partner. Something she doubted that she’d ever find with…

Oliver Queen. That’s who was in the woman’s arms. Or was she in his? It didn’t matter. Felicity froze the second she recognized him. The woman had finally settled down on her own two feet. She was not quite as tall as Felicity first pictured. It left plenty of room for Felicity to see Oliver’s face over her shoulder.

The bastard. Felicity shook her head as her teeth began to clench. She was not going to stand here and watch any more. It was not like he had any shame for his actions when he stood in the middle of the quad where anyone could see him despite the darkness of the night. It didn’t matter that the space was lit up by the lights that the college had for safety.

Ducking her head, Felicity kept to the shadows. With her dark hair and clothes, Felicity would be able hard to spot there. It did not take her long to reach her car. At least one good thing came out of tonight. She found out exactly what kind of man Oliver Queen really was.

OQFSOQFSOQFS

“Is she here?” Laurel asked as Oliver continued to search the quad for the fifth time.

“No.” Oliver glanced down at his watch. They agreed to meet at eight thirty. He even made it there right on time. He never did that. So, where was she? Was she okay? Did she stand him up? Every question put him more on edge.

Laurel laughed. “Seriously? Did she stand you up? The almighty Oliver Queen.”

“Don’t you need to finish your run?” Oliver glared over at her hoping that Tommy’s girlfriend, and one of his good friends, would just go away. He was humiliated enough.

“If you told me what Felicity looks like, I might be able to help you.”

“Fine.” Oliver swung around to face her completely. “She had black hair with a purple streak on each side of her head and wears all black. She’s into Goth or something.”

“Elvira Jr.? You had a date with her?” Laurel stared back at him in shock. “Tommy mentioned her, but he said you didn’t know her name or where to find her.”

“Jealous?” Oliver teased. He and Laurel had dated for a short time back in high school. Back before she and Tommy realized they were happier together than apart.

“Not in the least,” she told him with a smile. “I want you to be happy.” Laurel punched him in the arm. “Did you find her at the seminar? Tommy mentioned that he saw you go in to get the Professor’s signature, but never saw you after that. Is that how you found out who she was and arranged this?”

“Yes.” Oliver refused to elaborate. He did not tell Tommy and he certainly had no intention of sharing with Laurel. This thing with Felicity was delicate. Apparently, more delicate than he believed if Felicity could not even bother to show up.

“You have her number?” Laurel asked. “You could call her, because she’s definitely not here.”

“No. I don’t.” Damn it. Right now, Oliver really wished he thought of it earlier. What if she was in an accident?

Laurel held up a finger. “Hold that thought.” She grimaced at whatever passed over his face. “Actually, think of something better while I do something.” She whistled over to guy who was running past. “Hey, Lonnie.”

“Laurel.” The guy came to a jogging stop next to them. “What’s up?”

“Did you happen to see a Goth girl roaming the quad or the parking lot earlier?”

“Goth? Like dark hair, clothes and all that?”

Laurel looked in Oliver’s direction and he nodded. “Yeah. Ollie’s missing one.”

Lonnie jerked his finger over his shoulder. “One left like fifteen minutes ago in some beat up old clunker. She came from out this way.” Lonnie looked down at his watch. “Yeah, I would say a little after eight thirty.” He shot Laurel a questioning look. “Surprised you didn’t see her.”

Laurel shrugged. “I wasn’t really paying attention. I had my headphones in and then I saw Ollie and I ran to greet him.”

“How is your sister doing?” Lonnie asked. Sara had been in a car accident with a drunk driver over two weeks ago and up until now Laurel had been back in Starling City helping out.

“She’s good. Sara’s coming out of the hospital on Tuesday.”

“That’s great. Tell her I said hi.” Lonnie pointed over to the dorms. “I gotta get going. My roommate has an early exam and wants lights out in an hour.”

Oliver did not even bother to listen to the rest of the conversation. He was too preoccupied by the fact that Felicity had shown up. But something made her leave without coming to find him. There was no need for the sudden departure. Unless… Oliver swung around and grabbed Laurel’s arm. “Damn it, Laurel.”

“What?” She blinked up at him in confusion.

“You scared her away.”

“Me?” Laurel looked even more confused. “What did I… Oh!” Laurel winced. “Sorry.”

Oliver slapped a hand to his head and ran it through his hair, pulling strands along the way. Felicity saw him and Laurel. Not that there was anything happening between him and Laurel, but Felicity did not know that. Hell, Oliver had never even managed to get Felicity’s last name, let alone her number. How was he supposed to find her? “Professor Smith.”

“Who?” Laurel stood there staring at him like he had gone crazy. Maybe he had.

“Professor Smith over at MIT knows who she is. I just need to find her office and talk to her.” Oliver turned to go. He was a man on a mission. Only Laurel’s hand on his arm stopped him short. “What?”

“It’s after nine on a Wednesday,” Laurel explained. “I seriously doubt she’s even at her office at this time of night. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait until tomorrow,” Oliver raged quietly. “The longer I wait the less chance Felicity will even talk to me.”

Laurel let out a low whistle. “I wish you were only half this committed when we were dating.”

“I’m not dating her,” Oliver pointed out. He waved his hands around the quad. “Obviously.”

“Exactly,” Laurel said glaring at him before she walked away from him with a disgusted snort.

OQFSOQFSOQFS

“Knock. Knock,” Oliver said imitating his actions on Professor Smith’s open door at eight am the next morning. He had barely slept so coming here early was really no big deal, even if it would be any other day. Okay, so he’d miss a class or two, but it wasn’t something he had not done before. “Professor?”

She looked up from the paperwork in front of her and smiled. “Mr. Queen. Come in. Please.”

Oliver accepted the chair she indicated. Now all he had to do was follow through with the plan that had played in his head since the night before. “About…”

“Felicity.” She nodded at him. It made him wonder how much she knew about what happened last night. “How did the date go?”

“Did she tell you about it?” Oliver leaned forward in his seat intrigued to find out if Felicity had shared anything about what happened. When the redhead in front of him shook her head his heart sank a little.

“Felicity might have mentioned that you planned one. Right around the time that I accidently spilled the beans on your last name.” Professor Smith smiled at him apologetically.

She was a beautiful woman, even with the large smattering of freckles that consumed her face and the dark glasses that were perched on her nose. Oliver in any other situation would decide to flirt with her to see where things could go. That’s how Felicity affected him, because he could not even think about doing something like that. His mind was consumed with only her.

“Sorry about that,” the professor continued. “I hope it did not affect the outcome.”

“We never had a date,” Oliver told her. “I’m pretty sure she showed up, but I think she misunderstood a situation that she saw.” Oliver let out a sigh. “I think the fact that she knew my last name might have put some preconceptions into it.”

Professor Smith winced. “I don’t know how to apologize enough for that. I thought with the way the two of you were acting that she might have already known.” She fiddled with a pen in front of her not quite meeting his eyes. “She’s not exactly forthcoming about what happened, but she has some trust issues where men are concerned.”

Oliver rubbed his face as he took that in. “So, I’m screwed even before I began. Great.”

“Not necessarily.” The professor pointed her pen at him. “Tell me about this misunderstanding.”

“My ex….”

“Already not a great lead in, Mr. Queen,” she scolded.

Shaking his head, Oliver decided to continue, even if she might be right. “My ex saw me. We’re still friends and she’s currently dating my best friend. Anyway, she saw me after being away for a few weeks because her sister was in a really bad car accident when I came to the quad to meet Felicity.” Oliver flinched as he pictured how the whole situation must have looked to Felicity, or anyone else, who did not know the whole story. “She was a little too enthusiastic in her greeting.” Oliver held his hands up in order to further his case. “I swear it was nothing.”

“What kind of nothing is nothing?” She leaned back in her chair and studied him. Professor Smith did not seem like she was just going to accept him at his word. Maybe that was for the best since Felicity would also be hard to convince. But, Oliver felt like he was sitting in front of the headmaster waiting for his mother to come and pick him up after being expelled from school.

“She ran and leapt into my arms.” Yeah, he could tell from her face that he was royally screwed.

A harsh intake of breath was the only sound in the room. Finally, she shook her head in disappointment. “Are all of your friends this enthusiastic?”

“I swear this was a one-time thing. It never happened before and after Laurel found out I was waiting for a date, she felt really bad.” However, when Laurel left him the other night, she had been pissed. More because she realized how much more this complete stranger meant to him than she ever did. “I doubt Laurel is even in the mood to speak to me right now, let alone anything else.”

Professor Smith steepled her fingers in front of her. Her dark green eyes bored into him. “And where does Felicity fall in all of this? Will she just be another conquest, Mr. Queen? Because Felicity is one of my favorite students and I’d prefer to not see her hurt.”

“She’s not just another conquest. And I’ll try really hard not to hurt her again.”

The professor’s smile grew from the line of her lips. When it reached full peak, he knew he had won some sort of battle. “That was a very smart answer, Mr. Queen. No one can promise to never hurt someone. Especially ones we really care about. They always seem to be caught in the crossfire.” Once more she sat there studying him, but this time he felt like he was being measured up. It made him uneasy. He was completely unsure of where this conversation was leading. Then when she leaned forward, Oliver was sure all that he did, no matter how hard he pleaded, was over. He was surprised when he heard her words. “Okay. I’ll help you.”

Oliver’s whole body relaxed. He let out a deep breath and began to smile. “Thank you.”

She nodded at him and tapped her pen again. “What do you need from me?”

“Can I get her last name and where to find her?”

Professor Smith shook her head this time. “That’s not how I work. And, frankly, I can’t take the chance you’ll upset her school day. College is very important to her. That’s the first thing you need to know. Felicity is driven and passionate about what, and who, she loves.”

Oliver shot her a look, mainly because there was an underlining message in what she was telling him. He caught it, but he was not quite sure if he was capable of being the guy that the professor was telling him he needed to be for Felicity’s sake. He wanted to be, though. The underlining question was if Felicity already had deep feelings for someone else. “Is she in love with someone already?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know about love, but, yes, Felicity is currently seeing someone else. And, unlike you, she’s not one to divide her interests so easily. If you understand my meaning.”

Felicity would not cheat. That’s what she was saying. And Oliver was the one who came last. That made him inwardly chuckle. For once he was placed on the other side of the fence. Maybe Laurel was not wrong. It sucked over here.

“I see you do.” Professor Smith rose gracefully from her chair dropping her pen on her desk before she circled around it. She took a seat on the edge near where Oliver was seated and crossed her arms. “I will talk to her. If she decides that she’s willing to take a chance, where would you like to meet?”

“I’ll be at the sorority party on campus tonight. Everyone will pretty much be there. It’s a yearly event as you probably know.”

“I’ve been,” she said with a nod. Her eyes became distant for a moment. “I met my fiancée there.”

Oliver smiled at her. “He’s a lucky guy.”

Professor Smith returned back to the present and smiled at him. “Yes, she was but I lost her last year.”

“I’m sorry.” Oliver did not know what else to say. He never really had to do much with loss. The only person he lost in his life was Tommy’s mother.

“I’m not.” Professor Smith pushed to her feet. “I have a beautiful daughter that reminds me of her mother every day. One that’s very much like Felicity, so you see why I’m this protective.”

“Yes, I do.” Oliver knew his own mother would be the same way. She had always protected him from the harsh realities of life. Maybe, sometimes, too much.

“Good.” The professor reached out and shook his hand. “I’ll see what I can do for you. There’s no guarantees. Felicity is a very smart and resilient young woman who makes her own choices. I hope that you will respect whatever that choice may be.”

“I will,” Oliver promised. Though, he could only hope that she would choose him. He hated to admit it, but his heart would break just a little at not being able to see Felicity ever again. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for reminding me how precious love is when we have it.” She winked at him before waving him back toward her door.

Karen waited for Oliver to leave before she pulled the picture of her fiancée out of her drawer. She had hidden it there over the past year unable to look at it, even if it also contained her beautiful daughter. Taking it out, Karen placed it back on her desk. She was ready to see her love of her life again without a severe bout of sadness invading.

Oliver and Felicity might not realize it yet, but they had a great love in store for them. Much like Karen had. It was the greatest feeling ever, but you had to be ready for it. She wasn’t quite sure that they were. However, she had to see if they could handle it, because both of them deserved it.

Picking up her phone, Karen called Charles Rounet’s office. He was about to have Felicity in his class and he owed her a favor. It would be no trouble for him to send Felicity over to her without losing credit.

OQFSOQFSOQFS

Felicity flopped back on her bed. Her conversation with Karen left her with a lot of things to think about. The woman would not give her a definitive answer of what she would do if she was placed in Felicity’s situation. Which made this all the harder for Felicity. Professor Smith was her mentor and Felicity fully respected her opinion.

Oliver had not been there to meet up with someone else. It just happened his ex, who was still his friend, that was a good thing right, was there. Felicity had not dated enough to be able to understand being friends with a previous boyfriend. She guessed it was possible. Felicity did not possess a mean bone in her body, so she doubted that she would ever really hate anyone. She had even forgiven the bullies who used to tease her back in school.

However, how hard was it to say no to your ex when they acted inappropriately? Felicity sighed. Probably as hard as it was to say no to a guy you already agreed to date. Question was which guy was she going to use it on?

Felicity really liked Cooper. She could really see the two of them going the distance, way past college. They were a lot alike, yet different enough that their relationship would always be interesting.

Oliver, on the other hand, was almost Cooper’s complete opposite. No matter how you studied it, Felicity and Oliver would never match up on paper. However, there was this undeniable chemistry that sparked between them. When they touched, that spark combusted. In her scientific mind, that scared her because sparks fizzled. It lost its glow and faded away. Which was an excellent reason for her to say no to Oliver. It wasn’t meant to last.

Only every time she tried to convince herself that was the case, it felt wrong. By the time Cooper called up to her dorm room to see if she was ready to head out, Felicity was bombarded by the worst headache she ever remembered having.

“You mind if I sit out tonight, Coop?” Felicity said to him after she had slunk down to the main floor of the dorm to meet him. “My head is killing me.”

Cooper pulled her into a hug and rubbed the hair on her head. It was comforting and just what she needed at the moment. She was half tempted to ask him up to her room and just lay with him on her bed and watch television the rest of the night. “Sure. Just feel better. Okay?”

Felicity nodded against his thin chest. One that she could get used to. But did she want to get used to it or did she want to crave being there like she did with Oliver? Pulling back, Felicity raised her eyes to Cooper’s face. A handsome face for a good man. Just he wasn’t the one she wanted. “Cooper, I have a question.”

“Sure.” He indicated a nearby bench and they both sat down. “What’s going on?”

“First, I want to tell you that I really do have a headache. I’m not lying about that.” Felicity reached out for his hands and squeezed them. She noticed that Cooper shut down slightly and stiffened at her touch after her words. “Second, there’s this guy…”

“What?” Cooper pulled his hands from hers. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Felicity nodded, then shook her head before she shrugged. “I really don’t know. It’s complicated.”

“Who is it?” Cooper jumped up and stared down at her. One of the dark strands of his hair fell across his forehead right above his angry eyes. “It’s Martin Pollak, isn’t it?”

“No,” Felicity said vehemently. Martin Pollack, seriously? He was in her Unified Engineering IV class. Martin creeped her out on a good day with his bright blonde hair and his blue eyes that were almost so light that it just looked like he had small black circles within his eyes. Add into that he always tried to lean over her for answers or to catch up on notes and… Just, no. Felicity shuddered. “It’s Oliver Queen.”

“Queen?” Cooper relaxed slightly and began to laugh. “Queen?” Now Cooper doubled over in laughter. “Sure. You and Oliver Queen.”

One of her dorm mates walked past and Cooper grabbed her arm. “Want to hear something funny? My girlfriend thinks that Oliver Queen actually wants to date her.”

The pretty blonde turned to look in Felicity’s direction. The look was practically murderous. “She doesn’t stand a chance in hell of even gaining his attention.”

Not only had she gained it, Felicity made him search her out. Not by choice, but he did. Staring at the two of them, Felicity rose. She had her answer now. “You’re right. It must be the headache. I’m going to go rest.”

Felicity pushed past the two of them and went up to her room. A note was pinned there from her roommate. She had left to go to the Halloween party at Oliver’s campus. Exactly the same place Felicity planned to be very soon. There was only one problem. She had no costume to wear.

OQFSOQFSOQFS

Karen showed up an hour later with a bag draped over her arm. “You’re fairy Godmother is here.”

Felicity giggled at the seriousness in which her mentor said that. “I thought for sure fairies were supposed to be smaller than me. Not six foot tall redheads.”

Karen bopped her on the nose as she entered Felicity’s room. “Sorry to disappoint.” She nodded down at Felicity. “You need to strip.” She threw the bag on Felicity’s bed. “This requires skin.”

Felicity’s eyes fell to her minimal cleavage under the large sweatshirt she was wearing. “I don’t have much to hold stuff up.”

“It’s not that type of skin, though that helps.” Karen reached for the door and pulled it open. “Knock when you’re all dressed. I’ll wait outside.”

The second she was gone, Felicity revealed what was in the bag. Holy shit! There was no way Felicity would be able to pull this off. All it was consisted of was a black one-piece. It was studded up around the breasts and the rest was leather. A brand new pair of fishnets were attached to the hanger.

Felicity gulped. She was going to freeze even before she got over to the party. With a deep intake of breath, Felicity reached out and did the unthinkable. She put on the outfit.

OQFSOQFSOQFS

“You look great,” Karen told Felicity as she pulled up outside the sorority house.

Felicity played with the blonde wig Karen had given her to put on over her black hair. “Is this thing on straight?”

“It’s perfect.” Karen pulled Felicity’s hands down from her head. “Leave it alone and give me your coat.”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Felicity admitted as her eyes began to stare out the window at the party goers that spread out everywhere.

“You can.” Karen squeezed her hands. “You have the confidence and I believe in you. More than that, the second Oliver realizes it’s you, I doubt you’ll ever have a second to doubt yourself.”

“Okay.” Felicity took a couple of deep breaths and stepped out of the car. She took off the coat and shivered at the coldness that invaded her skin. “Can I keep it at least? It’s freezing out here.”

Karen nodded at her as she ducked down to stare up at Felicity. “Give it to Oliver. He’ll know where to put it so you can get it back easily.”

“Thank you,” Felicity told her friend. “For everything. And wish me luck. This place is huge. It might take me a while to find him.”

Something caught Karen’s eyes making them light up in laughter. “I don’t think luck is needed.” She smiled softly up at Felicity. “Reminds me of meeting Dia.”

Dia was short for Brenda. Or at least that was the nickname Felicity had been told about. Dia had been Karen’s fiancée until a year ago, when she died in a car accident on her way to work. A deer had leapt in front of her car and when she slammed her breaks the car behind her never did, pushing Dia’s car down a ravine. The person who ran her off the road had never been found.

Oliver appeared out of the crowd and jogged around to the driver’s side of Karen’s car. He knocked on her window until she rolled it down to talk to him. “Hey. Did you talk to Felicity?”

“I did,” Karen told him.

“And?” Oliver stared at her expectantly. “Is she coming?”

Karen glanced over at Felicity before she went back to looking at Oliver. “That decision is up to her.”

Felicity bit one of her bright red lips. Oliver honestly had no clue she was right there. Which was good because it allowed Felicity to glean some insight into what he was thinking.

“She’s out with that other guy, isn’t she?” Oliver cursed. “I screwed up. I should have made sure I tracked her down myself to talk to her.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Karen told him. “How badly do you want to fix this?” She tapped one finger on his hand that gripped onto her door. “Are you jealous?”

“Fuck, yeah, I’m jealous.” Oliver straightened and crossed his arms. He looked ready to hurt someone. “I wasn’t fast enough. With the other guy. With meeting her. With not telling her I was sorry that I might have embarrassed her with Laurel.”

He sounded so upset and sincere in his rant. But there was only one way to really prove that he actually wanted her and not the idea of her.

Felicity draped her coat on the top of the car and sidled her way around on dangerously high heels. She had to think about it for a second, she was no actress to change her voice. “Hey, handsome.” She ran a hand over his chest that lay somewhat bare and he shrugged it off. “Want to dance?”

“Not with you,” he told her with the briefest of glances. “And I don’t dance.”

Karen tried to hide her amusement and that gave Felicity even more incentive to follow through. She pouted up at him. “Please.”

Felicity pressed her entire body against his. She shimmied slightly. She never shimmied in her life until this moment. Oliver’s eyes barely flickered down to her. In a second, she was found wanting. It stung slightly.

“You’re gorgeous, but I’m not interested.” Oliver’s eyes sparked with desire but he shook his head. He leaned against Karen’s door in an effort to escape some of Felicity’s movements. His eyes dropped to Karen. “Can you call her? I just need to talk to her. You don’t have to give me her number, just call so I can apologize.”

“What are you sorry for, handsome?” Felicity asked in her best imitation of her mother.

“This doesn’t involve you,” Oliver barely told her over his shoulder. “Please, Professor.”

Karen shrugged, but her eyes met Felicity’s. She nodded at her mentor. “Okay.” Karen dialed the phone and Felicity’s coat began to ring.

Felicity went over to answer it as quickly as she could on the heels she was not used to wearing. Digging it out of the folds of the coat, Felicity picked it up and answered. “Yes?”

“Oliver would like to talk to you,” Karen said with a smile to her voice.

“He just was,” Felicity told her. “He didn’t seem to care a moment ago.”

Oliver’s eyes slowly rose to meet hers over the car’s roof. “Felicity?”

She tapped her phone. “I thought you wanted to call and apologize.”

He shook his head and slid over the hood of Karen’s car. He grabbed her by the waist, pulling the phone from her hand. He slammed it back on the top of the car. Oliver cradled her face in his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t know,” Felicity said with a shrug. “You kind of just brushed me off.”

“Because I had no idea it was you.” His eyes trailed over her body and she noticed his Adam’s apple bob heavily in his throat. “I did tell you that you were gorgeous.”

“Yes, you did,” she agreed.

“Oh, just kiss her already,” Karen called out from inside the car.

Felicity glanced around, pulling his hand from her face. “It appears we have an audience.”

Oliver’s own eyes traveled over the group that had formed around them. “Yeah. You okay with that? Because it’s kind of a regular thing for me.”

She contemplated that. Felicity might not mind occasional public displays of affection but to know that people might always be there watching her? It kind of scared her. Was Oliver worth all of that?

Felicity stared up into his blue eyes and realized he was as unsure as she was. This wasn’t a joke for him. He was seriously interested in her and by the way he hesitated her opinion mattered. It was like she had this power over him in some way. Not that she asked for it. Some women would get off on it. For Felicity it was just another hurdle to cross. “I can try to be.”

“Good, because I’ve been dying to do this since yesterday.” Oliver pulled her in tight to his chest and kissed her. Right there in front of everyone, he laid his claim. Not just on her, but to her. There were a million promises laid out in the press of his lips. Felicity returned it with a few of her own.

When they broke apart, the crowd cheered. Even Karen let out a whoop of excitement.

Oliver clenched her hand within his own. He gathered up her coat and phone and looped his arm around her waist. Knocking on Karen’s roof, Oliver bent down to smile at her. “Thank you. For everything.”

“You’re welcome. Both of you.”

Karen drove away and Oliver tugged Felicity even closer. “I think you owe me a last name.”

“Smoak,” Felicity told him. “My last name is Smoak.”

“Good.” He smiled at her and pulled her forward. “Now that is out of the way. I’d like to introduce you to some friends of mine.”

“I’d like that.” Felicity smiled up at him. Professor Smith seemed like she was right. Sometimes the ones you least expected to fall in love with were the ones that you were meant to be with.

#Olicity #olicity fanfiction #olicity au #olicityfic #one-shot

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fakingitfanfiction · 7 years

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Her Latest Flame Chapter 22: Breaking Up is Hard to Do

A/N: I think we’re almost at the end. Which, considering I thought this would be about seven chapters, is saying something. But I think there’s just a few left (2 or 3) and then it’ll just be JFM. And now that I’ve depressed everyone… enjoy! (reviews, comments, punches, etc. happily accepted.)

Previous Chapters

There are times (like right fucking now, for instance) when Sophie wishes she wasn’t a good person.

OK. So, there are probably (read: definitely) (read: like absofuckinglutely) (read: like, again, right fucking now) an equal number of times - way way more times - when what Sophie really wishes is that she was a good person or, at least, a better person, a person who’s a bit more like the woman her mother always wished she was.

Wait. Just… wait. And… no.

Just no.

She doesn’t wish - and never has or ever will wish - to be like that person, not like that person at fucking all and yes, that fucking is absolutely necessary cause her mother and what her mother wants and you know what?

Fuck her.

(Not literally, cause ewwwww and Sophie’s never been into the MILF thing though, if she was ever gonna be - she’s gotta admit - Farrah’s not half bad, like not half bad at all and yes, she knows this is weird, her even thinking about this, but it’s so much less weird than her thinking about Reagan ‘giving’ her to Amy and all the various and sundry and smutty ways her brain is taking that idea and running with it.)

Where was she? Before she got all sidetracked with MILF-y Farrah (they’d be Farphie) (or maybe Sopharra) (and oh, she needs to stop) and giving Reagan and smutty and whatnot?

Oh. Right. Better person.

So, again, to recap, fuck her mother and her mother’s idea of better (read: straight.) No, if there is a better person Sophie could be - and she so very often, far more often than she’d like, thinks that there is - well, that person is so not the person her mother imagined her little girl becoming as she grew up and she’s 100% absolutely not the woman her mother wished (prayed) for after she grew… well… out. That woman, that daydreamed figment of her mother’s imagination is so not the person Sophie is.

And, even if Sophie frequently thinks that there might be a bit of room for some improvement, she also does think that the person she is, is a good one.

Generally.

Usually.

Most of the time.

If, you know, 'most’ means on a good day. And 'good’ means a day when she hasn’t managed to do anything stupid yet (like punching her roomie) (or meeting Reagan in a diner) (or, most of all, thinking said meeting might, you know, go well.) And so, typically, that means it’s usually a day when she hasn’t made it out of bed (yet) and - another fucking and - there’s nobody in that bed that shouldn’t be and, for those three or four or five (or, on a really good day, ten) seconds before her brain kicks in and her eyes open completely and she finds herself staring up at the starless ceiling of her (their) room, Sophie’s actually happy with the person she’s become.

Those are the good days.

This is not one of those days. And, recently, those days have been somewhat few and far between. Of late, Sophie’s found herself having more and more of those… other… days.

Days like the other night (and yes, a night is still a day so don’t you go giving her that semantics bullshit) when she found herself still so desperately, wholly, almost uncontrollably wanting to kiss Reagan even though they were both drunk and it would’ve been such a horrible mistake (as if a kiss with Reagan could ever be wrong) and even though, by then, she knew everything.

Or, you know, days when part of that 'everything’ was knowing that even though she wasn’t the one Reagan wanted (at least not enough and 'not enough’ is, she’s discovered, all of two billion times worse than 'not at all’) Sophie would still - willingly, without reservations or doubts or even one single moment of second thinking - pretend it was her that Reagan wanted.

(And, you know, not the other her.)

She’s not proud of it - almost as 'not proud’ as she is of the fact that she’s already up and out of the booth and chasing Reagan (again) (and don’t you give her that 'life’s too short to be chasing after…’ bullshit, don’t you dare) - but Sophie’s learned, in her admittedly limited experience, how love (or a serious case of the likes that could, so easily, be more) has a way of turning pride into nothing but a memory. So, yeah, she’ll admit it.

If she’d had the chance to pretend she was… 'the one’? Oh, she’d have pretended the fuck out of that.

She spots Reagan in the parking lot, sitting on a bench, her head in her hands and she tries, so very hard, to focus on that and not on the thought of all the 'pretending’ she might have done, if given the chance. Like, you know, pretending right on into Reagan’s bed.

(And once she thinks of that, you really think there’s a way to stop?)

Sophie stops just outside the diner door, her feet locking like they’re in concrete and she doesn’t know if that’s anger (she was just given, after all) or fear (cause pretending) or that she just likes looking at Reagan that much (yes, even sads and crying and giving Reagan) and that’s easier, if slightly (more than slightly) creepier to do from a distance. Mostly, it’s probably ALL about her not being able to, you know, talk to Reagan, not while she’s still thinking about pretending and, thinking - more than a little - about her bed.

A bed that would, eventually, have become theirs. And then that, the whole theirs idea, well, it would have moved right out of that bed and right on into moving everything she owned from the dorm on over to Reagan’s place (one U-Haul, coming up) so then her apartment would become theirs.

Sophie tries to stop, to not let it spiral out any further, to give herself a chance to not make any of this any worse than it already worse. She knows she should, that the smart thing is to stop thinking. If she was smart, she’d just be done with it all.

You think she’s done?

Have you been paying attention?

She’s not done. And once she starts - again - well… it picks up a bit of steam. You might say it escalates, even. Just a bit.

Eventually, everything they owned would move, again, this time into a just a bit slightly less tiny apartment. And then, eventually (sensing a pattern, yet?), that not as tiny place would’ve turned into a bit bigger - but still tiny - starter house. Just a slip of a thing, more cramped than cozy, but they wouldn’t care because it was theirs and they were a them. And, eventually (again) being a them would have led to a ring and save the date cards and choosing pretty flower arrangements and cake tastings and, believe it or not (and Sophie’s a not) (mostly) (but it is pretend), her mom coming around, sucked in by the wedding of it all.

Sophie would’ve - if given the chance or the choice - pretended all of it right on down the aisle, right on into staring into the eyes of her bride, right through those tears she’d see in those eyes and right through pretending they were tears of joy, not tears that had anything at all to do with the maid of honor because, of course, that was her, that other her, because if Sophie’s gonna pretend, she’s gonna pretend she can have it all.

Sometimes, like right now, lost in her escalation, spinning out in her own mind, one that’s full of pretend and Reagan’s tears - both real and imagined - Sophie’s not at all if sure the description 'good person’ applies to her in the slightest.

She finally manages to crack the concrete, getting her feet to move again - it’s not a walk, more like a shuffle, at best - heading down the narrow sidewalk until she reaches the bench. And, but of course, there’s room (just enough) for her to actually sit, but that will mean they’ll be pressed close, like shoulder to shoulder, and Reagan’s hands are in her lap now and for fuck’s sake, all Sophie can think about is how easily those hands would fit in hers, how simple it would be to sit and reach out and just lace their fingers together.

And how likely it is Reagan would let her.

Giving her to Amy notwithstanding, Sophie knows she’s not the only one who likes pretending better than facing (as in reality). It might be, she thinks, the one thing all three of them have in common.

Well… maybe not the only thing. But the only one Sophie’s thinking about right now cause, for reasons she can’t even begin to understand (reading her own heart’s always been like reading fucking Sanskrit to her) Sophie is bound and fucking determined to be that good person.

And, more importantly, or so she tries her best to convince herself as she squeezes down onto the bench, none of it would be real. It wouldn’t even be pretend. That, Sophie knows, is make believe, that is for kids and while none of them are what you’d call mature, they’re not that, not anymore.

No, it wouldn’t be pretend, it would be a lie. And maybe they could do it, maybe they could fake it and, really, it isn’t like Amy doesn’t have practice with that, but Sophie doesn’t want 'maybe’ or 'might’ or 'could’. She wants real, she wants yes, she wants…

God help her, she wants Reamy. Or, more accurately (a little more accurately) she wants what they have.

Or could.

If, you know, they’d both stop being fucking idiots and saying all the wrong things and doing all the even wronger things.

Rule # It isn’t a rule but it fucking should be: Amy will get her head out of her ass and stop sabotaging her own happiness cause, really, it’s wrecking Sophie’s too and that shit’s just not fair. (Also, 'Amy’ may be replaced with 'Reagan’, but only in the rule and not in real life cause… um… no.)

“You know what it is that pisses me off the most about her?” Sophie asks Reagan and no, she doesn’t think she needs to be any more specific about who 'her’ is (like she’d be talking about Farrah or Karma right now) and yes, she knows it’s a (massively) loaded question that, really, has no good answer and is totally putting Reagan on the spot.

What? She’s supposed to feel bad about that?

“The lying?” Reagan offers. It’s a mumble, really, a half-spoken, half choked out bleh of a thing and Sophie could, if she wanted to be a bitch, point out that there’s probably a reason - a pretty valid one - that Reagan went there first. “No,” she says quickly, changing her answer. “The fact that, no matter how much you want to, you just can’t hate her for it?”

Again: valid reasons.

“Maybe that’s just me,” Reagan says and she tries to laugh but all the gurgled and pained sound of that does is make it worse, which comes as a bit of a surprise to Sophie. She hadn’t thought worse was even possible.

Truth is, either of those answers might work. Lord knows both of them bug, both of them irritate, both of them are like the fucking pea under the mattress of Sophie’s life with Amy but no, neither of them are right. Neither of them are the killing blows, the fatalities.

Neither of them are the reason Sophie knows how this is all going to end or, at least, how it will end if she’s a good person - and a better friend - assuming, of course, that neither Reagan or Amy does anything else ridiculously dumb.

But, really, what could they do?

(She’ll let you know, in just about an hour and eighteen minutes.)

Sophie shakes her head, focusing on the feeling of her own hair brushing against her shoulders cause it’s either that or the way Reagan’s thigh is pressed against hers and… well… nope.

Not. Going. There.

(But oh, how she wants to.)

She forces herself to speak, to push her attention to the problem at hand and not the thigh at, well, thigh. “It’s that she’s just like you,” Sophie says, almost cracking up at how fast Reagan’s head snaps toward her, at the way she can just barely see it out of the corner of her eye, cause no way, no fucking how is she looking directly at Reagan (how about you go staring directly into the sun?) and oh, how the older woman glares. “You both always find ways to make everything so much harder than it has to be. You’re a total pair of drama queens.”

“I…” Reagan gasps (and yes, it’s a gasp, complete with this kind of choking, suffocating, 'oh fuck I can’t breathe cause what you said is just so’ noise that almost gets Sophie to turn and look at her.) “We… her… drama?”

Two old woman crossing the parking lot in front of them pause and turn at the sound of it, one of them clutching to the other’s arm, not unlike Amy’s done to Sophie on more than a few 'just a bit drunk’ nights (and of course Sophie’s never done it the other way round, cause she can hold her liquor) (and if you buy that…). She nods in their direction, at the shocked, the aghast, the totally put out looks on their faces, so out of sorts at all the extra up in this biatch.

I rest my case.

(Also: mental note - never even think biatch again.)

“Fine,” Reagan says, her tone making it oh so very clear that 'fine’ is not the four letter F-word she’d like to be dropping right now. “So maybe we can be… a smidgen dramatic. But it’s not like we Karma up everything.”

Sophie can’t help but smile at Reagan’s use of Amy’s (other) best friend as a verb. But, in just about an hour and fifteen (now fourteen) minutes, she’s gonna get a firsthand view of that verb in action.

And yeah. That other BFF is gonna Karma some shit up.

“And,” Reagan rolls on, quite clear now - apparently all she needed to stop crying was an affront to her dignity or, you know, some such bullshit - “you’re right about Amy, so right, but I don’t see how I make things harder.”

There’s a joke there, something about 'that’s what she said’, but Sophie’s just not feeling it.

(And that, once upon a time, in the back of Jerry King’s Dodge Neon,'I’m not feeling it’ is totally what she said.)

Sophie leans back against the bench, scooting as far as she can away from Reagan, which is a phrase she never thought she’d think. “The night you and Amy… met… at our room, you and I still went on our date,” she says. “Did you tell me Amy was your ex or that you weren’t over her or that you were planning to fuck her the next day?”

Reagan starts to retort, cause of course she does, and Sophie’s sure there’s gonna be some BS in there about not planning it but, apparently, Reagan realizes - correctly - that that is so not the point and so she just shakes her head.

Point, Sophie.

“The next day, when you and Amy met to talk,” she says and she’s so very proud of herself for not using air quotes around 'talk’ (even if she so thinks them.) “Did you meet in public, out in the open where even you two wouldn’t be likely to do anything… more?”

Reagan doesn’t even bother to shake her head or say no.

Another point, Sophie. If this was a tennis match she’d be up thirty - love and though she loves tennis (those skirts and balls in pockets and did she mention those skirts?) Sophie’s feeling a bit more Tina Turner about the whole thing right now.

As in, what’s love got to do with it?

(Well… you know… everything. But when has Sophie ever let a little thing like logic get in the way of a good line?)

“After I found out,” Sophie says - barely containing her amusement as Reagan hangs her head at yet another sure to be winning point - “did you call Amy and tell her I knew, or arrange for the three of us to talk or did you just -”

“Let her walk right into it,” Reagan says with a sigh. And by 'it’ she means getting busted and not getting punched, though she guesses 'it’ could mean Sophie’s fist too. If she’s, you know, being literal and all. “OK, I get it,” she says. “Maybe I don’t always make things harder, but I don’t do much to make them any easier, either.”

Sophie shifts on the bench, pulling her knee up to her chest, like a firewall. “You do really try though,” she says, not at all sure why she’s trying to defend Reagan here. “I mean, I’m just guessing that’s what you thought you were doing when you decided to give me to Amy like a fucking dowry.”

A brow arches - you know whose - and it’s Sophie’s turn to sigh.

“I paid attention in history class sometimes,” she says by way of explaining her correct use of 'dowry’. “And for the record? I’m not a herd of cattle or a collection of quilts or some ancient family heirloom that you can just pass on like… like… gonorrhea.”

Those old ladies (they’ve made it about five feet cause they’re slower than Sophie after Jager Bomb night at The Rink) stop dead and, for a moment, Sophie’s afraid that they are, you know, dead.

Two old women killed by gonorrhea. Film at eleven.

“I know,” Reagan says, and she does. She really didn’t mean it like that, even though she also knows that’s pretty much how it came out, how it sounded, how it seemed. She could say 'this isn’t what it looks like’ but, really, all of this has been exactly what it looks like.

“And,” Sophie says, not stopping with the, you know, venereal disease, cause hey, in for a penny, in for the whole fucking pound (even though she’s never gotten that phrase cause a penny is American and a pound is British, ooooh, like that cutie from Wynonna Earp and oh, now she’s distracted) (again.)

“And?”

“Right,” she says, turning her attention away from British cuties (who play lesbians but aren’t lesbians, but hey, can’t have everything) (and it’s acting, not faking) and back to Reagan and, for the first time, actually turning to her, like literally. “For the record? I don’t want Amy in that way and I think we’re both well aware that it ain’t me she wants.”

Of course it isn’t. That would be silly. It’s not like Amy falls in love with every one of her female friends. After all, there's… well… um…there's…

Shit.

Note to self: Make Amy some new and unattractive and totally non-crush worthy girl friends.

Girl. Friends. Separate.

Reagan shakes her head cause, again, she didn’t mean it like that and oh, this is getting to be a pattern with her. “I wasn’t giving you like that,” she says and no, that doesn’t make it sound any better, like not at all. “I just meant…” she sighs. This is so going to sound wrong, like epically wrong. “You’re Karma,” she says. “Or you could be.”

There’s a look on Sophie’s face - one that’s about half a shade greener, a quarter of a shade more revolted and a whole fuckload of a shade more 'oh, no you didn’t’ than look she wore in the back seat of Jerry King’s Neon - and yeah, Reagan was right.

It sounds wrong.

So so so epically like foot not just in the mouth, but gonna be eating shoe leather for a month (or more) (definitely more) wrong. Especially - and yes, there’s actually an 'especially’, a supa extra level of wrongness - since Reagan is, apparently, trying to make a point about how Sophie and Amy can be friends without some sort of romantic issues.

So, maybe, you know, Karma might not be the best example for that.

“I’ve thought about this,” Reagan says and oh, Sophie’s so very not sure that she’s thought, like at fucking all. “I told you, I’ve looked at this from every angle.”

Sophie really wants someone - anyone - to explain to her what angle (acute? obtuse? 37.56 degrees off fucking center?) one could look at this from and see her as Karma.

Sorry. As a could be Karma.

Cause, you know, so much better.

Reagan leans back against the bench and yes, that pushes her even closer to Sophie and no, this time Sophie really doesn’t notice cause she’s, you know, got Karma on the brain and, oh, that one hour and now eight minutes from now is so not gonna help with that.

If anything, it’ll burn Karma onto her brain forever.

“No matter how I look at it,” Reagan says, “I can’t see it. There’s no throne here. There’s no way, at all, that this works out well.” She shakes her head, scuffing her shoe against the hard pavement. “Not for me and Amy, anyway.”

If those words - me and Amy - bother Sophie, she doesn’t show it.

Except for the slight flinch of her leg as she tries to scoot a little further away and the slight curl of the corner of her lips - down, obviously - and the soft slow exhale of breath from between her pursed lips.

So yeah, either it does still bother her or she just tasted something really gross.

(Or someone compared her to Karma.)

Reagan takes no notice or, more likely, figures Sophie’s the one who chased her, so she’s just gonna have to deal with it. “Say, for example, Amy and I decide to try. We say to hell with our pasts and all our fuck ups and decide to give this couple thing a go.

Oh, yes, please. Let’s say that. Out loud and repeatedly and right in Sophie’s ear.

"It will never work,” Reagan says and, at least, she sounds just as certain of that as she does the whole Karma connection and yes, Sophie’s aware that she’s obsessing so just S the F up about it already. “I think we’ve proved that.”

What they’ve proved, Sophie thinks, is they’re both idiots. Anyone disagree?

Didn’t think so.

“She’ll never be able to do it, she’ll never be able to get past what I did,” Reagan says, with a swipe of a hand across her face, subtly brushing away some dirt or dust or, you know, air from her skin. Dirt or dust or air that’s shaped like water, slowly running down over one perfectly formed cheekbone. “I made her think she wasn’t enough for me, I more or less told her she wasn’t gay enough for me.”

Reagan pauses, letting the words sink in and yeah, judging from the way her face crumples, that was probably a mistake.

“I’ve never said it out loud before,” she says (it’s almost a moan and not the good kind.) “She was sixteen and just out… oh fuck… what did I do?”

Let her down easy? Tried to soften the blow?

Came up with some absolute bullshit about different places in your lives just to mask your own rampant fears of being a phase again and, maybe, to make you seem at least a bit slightly less potentially biphobic?

Yes, yes, and oh… yeah.

Sophie remembers - vividly - the night Amy told her all about it, over their first shared plate of noodles (and first shared stares at Becky’s ass), in all its excruciating details, from the pain of knowing it was over to the way it slowly dawned on her that college had fuck all to do with it to the faint twinge of anger she felt (judged… she felt judged,she said) (and that was the moment, for Sophie, the moment Amy became Amy for her) right up to the way she swore to herself she would never forget how their last kiss felt.

And no, Sophie didn’t think then (or now) that Amy realized the way her fingers were brushing against her lips as she spoke.

Later, when she ended it with Sabrina? How did Amy tell her about that?

I don’t feel like noodles tonight. Maybe pizza? Oh, I broke up with the GF. No, wait… no pizza. Not in a sauce mood. Burgers. I know this great little joint. Serves them on doughnuts!

Yeah. Little different.

But Reagan does have a point. And another one when she brings up Amy’s sometimes tenuous relationship with the truth. “How do I get past the lies?”

Well… she could start by considering that, at least recently, most of them weren’t told to her.

And, of course, Reagan says, there’s the running and yes, she already brought that up, what with the running from and running to and giving bit. But… “How do I trust her? How do I deal with the thought that every fight, every argument, every wrong word might be the starting gun for her next fucking sprint?”

And then, she says, there’s always that one other thing.

“There’s you.”

Right.

Wait.

“Me?”

Reagan nods and there’s this part of Sophie - a very tiny and very stupid and very very glutton for punishment part - that feels a swell of hope, of just maybe, of 'so you’re telling me there’s a chance.’

Oh, Sophie. Silly silly silly Sophie.

“Of course you,” Reagan says (swelling intensified.) “If Amy and I are together, if we somehow did find a way to actually make it work? We’d lose you.” She blushes a little, the way Sophie’s already learned she always does as she’s about to say something that might be tooting her own horn, at least a little. “I mean, how could you stand to be around us, watching us be happy and into each other, when you’d always…”

Reagan trails off and maybe, just maybe, it might have been better if she’d just gone ahead and finished the thought cause, really, whatever she was gonna say?

Probably not half as insulting as what Sophie’s thinking she was gonna say.

When you’d always…

Want me.

Be jealous.

Wish it had been Amy’s heart that broke and not yours.

Spend your time dreaming of thruples.

Be watching us move into a tiny apartment together. And then a starter home. Then helping us pick save the date cards and taste cakes and watching me cry at the altar, hoping the tears are because it’s her standing across from me and not you.

Be chasing after someone who had chased after someone else. And caught her.

“I didn’t meant it like that,” Reagan says.

Where has Sophie heard that before?

Reagan’s words are just a whisper, not nearly loud enough to drown out the ones rattling round in Sophie’s head, not even close to loud enough to keep her from wondering just which of those 'thats’ burning away in her noggin is the one Reagan meant. Sophie knows if she doesn’t stop now, she’s never going to be able to quit imagining exactly how little Reagan really thinks of her, how big a loser, how utterly desperate she thinks she is, how totally incapable she is of getting over it…

No. Not 'it.’ Her.

Getting over her.

“I spent years doing it, you know,” Reagan says. She clears her throat and fidgets in her spot and Sophie swears that this time she’s the one trying to scoot away and yeah, that really helps, oh so fucking much. “Most of the first year Heather and I were together, I spent so much of it in my own head… just kept wondering.”

Wondering what Amy was doing. Wondering who Amy was doing, and almost always thinking it was Karma and that meant alternating between being happy for Amy that, at least, she was with her true love (and had won her, took her right away from Liam and call her petty, but that always made Reagan smile) and being fucking miserable because if Amy was with Karma?

Amy was with Karma. As in not with her and not missing her and not needing her and so what, right? She had Heather (not really) and she wasn’t missing Amy (bullshit) and she didn’t need Amy (more bullshit) and she was doing just fine.

(almost too much bullshit to measure)

“I’d lay awake at night and wonder how… why…” She shakes her head, letting out a rushing breath. “I broke up with her and I kept wondering why I wasn’t enough. Why she always put someone or something ahead of me… her mother or Karma or the lies about Liam or maybe being bi… there was always something.”

There always is.

Reagan stops fidgeting and clutches her hands in her lap. “The pain of losing Amy was bad enough,” she says. “The pain of thinking I lost her cause… because I didn’t measure up to someone else, someone that was never right for her, that had hurt her so much, done so much fucking damage and was just never going to deserve her…”

She risks a glance at Sophie, a sort of quick check and she can see it, right there, dancing in the other woman’s eyes. The recognition, the realization. It’s a familiar look for Reagan, one she saw a hundred times in Heather’s eyes - not that she ever recognized it or, you know, let herself recognize it, not then - but it’s not those looks Reagan remembers, it’s never Heather’s eyes she sees at night.

Does this have to be the end?

Reagan squeezes her own eyes shut - as if that helps, as if it changes anything - and swears to herself that she’s not gonna cry.

You know, more.

“I don’t know how you feel about me,” she says (and she just can’t stop with the bullshit.) “And I don’t have such a big ego that I think I’m irreplaceable or something.”

Sophie wonders if she’s ever seen a picture of Sabrina. She might reconsider that notion if she had.

“But, I know what you’d go through,” she says. “I know how it would feel, seeing us together, and maybe it would just be at first and maybe just for a bit but… that shit… it lingers. It stays and it soaks in and sometimes you don’t even know it, can’t even feel it, but it’s always there.”

Reagan’s right and she knows she’s right cause she remembers the moment when she put two and two together, when she connected the girl Sophie told her about - the girl her roomie’d just dumped - with Amy and she remembers thinking, for just a split second, well, at least it wasn’t Karma.

And then…

It wasn’t Karma.

If you’d ever asked her if that would make it worse, Reagan would have laughed in your face.

She can’t really remember the last time she laughed, right now.

“I even thought…God, this is gonna sound wrong… again.” Reagan runs her hand through her hair and wonders, not for the first time, how this all would have gone if she’d never come to the dorm that night, if she’d met Sophie out somewhere, if she’d never been there to look down the hall. Oh, for a do-over, for a chance to fix it. Her kingdom for a time machine.

Yeah. Time traveling lesbian to the rescue. Like anybody would ever buy that shit.

“I even thought,” she tries again, “about you and me. What if we gave it a shot, if we both just put all this other… stuff to the side and tried.”

Other stuff. Stuff.

Sophie starts to say it would never work - cause that’s what she’s supposed to say and even, a little, cause she knows it’s true - but Reagan cuts her off. “It would never work,” she says (it’s like she’s got the ESP) with a shake of her head. “You’d never stop wondering, always looking at me and questioning if I was thinking of you or her, if I was kissing you or her, if I…”

Loved you. Or her.

Reagan says Sophie would always wonder. Sophie knows better.

She wouldn’t have to wonder.

“The only thing that can be saved here is you and her,” Reagan says, all matter of fact and I’ve spoken and so it is so. She stands up from the bench, shoving her hand into her pocket to find her keys. “I meant it when I said you could be Karma,” she says, holding up a hand to stifle any protests - and there were gonna be protests - before continuing. “You and Amy… maybe it’s all new still and maybe you don’t have a decade of friendship behind you like they do.” She smiles at Sophie and it almost reaches her eyes. “But you could. Someday. I see it. In the ways she looks at you. I know that look.”

In about fifty-eight minutes, Sophie’s gonna get a first-hand… look… at that… look.

And how it ends.

“You were right about me,” Reagan says. “I do make things harder. Worse. Every time I open my mouth, I find just a little bit room, another couple inches to squeeze another toe or two right on in there.” She shakes her keys in her hand, the hard cold of the metal brushing against her skin. “I wrecked me and Heather and, in a lot of ways, I did the same to Amy and Sabrina. I’m not gonna do it again. Not to you, not to you and her.”

She’ll never know quite why she does it, but Reagan bends down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Sophie’s head and pretending she doesn’t hear the other woman’s breath catch.

Can I have one last kiss?

God, she sucks.

“She needs you, Sophie,” Reagan says and Sophie hears Farrah whispering in her ear - 'I don’t think Amy will be quite the same without you’ - and sure, no fucking pressure or anything. “And if there’s one thing I know I have to do,” Reagan says, stepping back and turning to go. “It’s that I have to give her what she needs this time. And the one thing Amy’s always needed, way more than anything else, is a friend.”

A Robin to her Batman. A pepper to her salt. A bacon to her burger (or, you know, any kind of food cause bacon), some sprinkles to her doughnut, some calm to her storm.

Some 'Kar’ to her 'my’, but without the baggage and the unresolved tension and the institutional memory of the girl Amy was getting in the way of the woman she is. Or could be.

Reagan starts to say something else… a goodbye or a take care of her or a tell her I love her, probably. But she thinks better of it and turns, quickly, crossing the lot, climbing into her truck without so much a single look back and, just like that, she’s gone.

Sophie sits there for a long few minutes, staring at the empty space and not doing much of anything at all. It’s peaceful and it’s quiet and she doesn’t remember the last time she had much of either of those and yes, she knows it was like a week ago, but still.

Yeah. But still…

She’s more than halfway through dialing before she even realizes she’s pulled out her phone, a whole three-quarters of the way through 'Hi, Mrs. Raudenfeld? It’s Sophie’ before there’s even a single second thought running through her mind and she knows that calling Amy’s mom instead of, you know, Amy, is probably a sign of something, probably a big giant neon blinking fucker of a sign screaming STOP! THIS WON’T END WELL!

Well duh.

But that’s kinda the point, isn’t it? To make sure it doesn’t end?

That’s what a good person does, right? What a friend would do?

A best friend.

There are times, Sophie thinks as she listens to Farrah’s excited greeting on the other end of the line, (she’s practically cheering) when she really wishes she wasn’t a good person cause if there’s one thing you should know about being a good person?

It’s fucking hard.

She just hopes it’s worth it.

“Yeah, I was thinking I could… um… come by and see Amy? If she’s there?” Sophie walks as Farrah talks, going on and on about how of course Amy’s there, you know she just hasn’t been much of anywhere else in days and yes, she’d love to see Sophie, Farrah’s just sure of it.

She heads for the bus stop on the corner, she’s pretty sure that ought to get her to Amy’s in like, less than an hour?

Fifty-four minutes to be precise.

She climbs on board as Farrah rambles on, something about work, about having to head there early and Sophie doesn’t buy a word of it (she can fucking hear the 'I have to leave them alone’ gears whirring around in Farrah’s head) and yes, she’ll leave the door unlocked and of course, Sophie can just come right on in and go right on up to Amy’s room and no, she won’t breathe a word to Amy.

Don’t want to spoil the surprise, right?

Right.

Maybe it’ll be good, Sophie thinks, maybe it’ll go better than she expects. She does miss Amy, after all. It’s been seven days and that’s like a fucking eternity. “Long time, no see,” she laughs to herself as the bus pulls out from the stop.

Yeah. Long time, no see…

#faking it #faking it fanfiction #reamy #oc #update #amy #submission #Her Latest Flame #secretmonkey

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5hfanfiction · 7 years

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Malibu Love: Chapter 45

It’s the eight time Camila wakes up during the night, and also the eight time she falls back asleep with a smile on her face. Because, Lauren is still here.

The last time Lauren stayed over for the night, Camila woke up alone and didn’t see the green eyed girl for three years.

The tenth time Camila’s eyes flutter open there’s a a sunrise coming through her window and hitting directly at her face. She lets out a groan and nuzzles her head in the crook of Lauren’s neck.

Her heart stops beating for a moment because Lauren lets out a giggle. An actual giggle, and it sounds like heaven.

Camila lifts up her head just for a moment to see that Lauren’s eyes are wide open and there’s a dopey smile on her face.

“Why are you awake?”

“Cause it’s morning dummy.”

“Exactly, shouldn’t you be making me breakfast?”

“Honestly, I wanted to. Then, I realized something.”

“What?” Camila mumbles

“What would your reaction be if you woke up alone in your bed after I spent the night here?”

And Camila doesn’t have to reply, because Lauren knows. They both know.

“I’m glad you stayed.”

“Did you think I’ll run away? Is that why every time I woke up during the night your grip on me was stronger than before?”

“Maybe.” Camila sighs

“I’m not going anywhere this time. I’m here.” Lauren takes a short break “As long as you want me.”

Camila notices the way Lauren rubs her own belly gently and it kind of breaks her heart that a part of Lauren thinks that she’ll leave her just because there’s a human being inside of her.

“Lo?”

Finally, Camila untangles her legs from Lauren’s and sits up, her back pressed against the wall.

“What’s wrong?”

“I understand that this baby will be your priority and I support you in that, I’m not gonna get mad if you can’t see me because you’re being a good mom. I’m not gonna get mad just because you forgot about our date because this little nugget kept you up the whole night before that. I can’t promise that I won’t get annoyed sometimes or be annoying, crave your affection and your love, I obviously will, you know me.”

“I do.” Lauren laughs

“The point is, I love you Lauren, all of you. This child is a part of your life and it will be as long as your heart is beating and I know that my hear will always beat for you, I also know your heart will beat for me, but it will also beat for that kid, a bit stronger. I want you to know that’s okay. But I will fight for you, not with your kid obviously, unless we’re playing around.”

There was a smile on Lauren’s face as she was listening to the words spilling out of Camila’s mouth.

“You know, it will always beat for you too. You might won’t be the only one it beats for, but it will still beat for you.”

Lauren then sat onto Camila’s lap, straddling her.

“Hey.” Camila whispered

“Hallo.” Lauren giggled

“I feel like I’m a sophomore again.”

“Because?”

“Because,” Camila shrugs “I feel the same amount of butterflies I did the first time you sat in my lap. It was about two days before Hale asked me out before you could.”

“Fuck Hale.”

“I’d rather not. Unless, it’s Lucy Hale.” Camila winked

“Way to ruin the mood Camz.”

Camila laughs and tangles her fingers in Lauren’s head, pulling her closer until their lips are connected. For less than a second.

“I didn’t brush my teeth.” Lauren mumbles

“Fine, get up, let’s brush our teeth so we can make out.”

“I know your plan Cabello, not gonna happen."

With that, Lauren got up and walked into the bathroom.

Camila bit her lip as she watched Lauren walking away, wearing only one of Camila’s sleeping tees and her panties.

To say Camila was sexually frustrated would be a lie. She was more than just sexually frustrated, and it did not help that she was dating Lauren and that their relationship was moving on a seriously slow pace.

"Camz, do you wanna go and grab some breakfast? Well, brunch actually.”

“Yes, I’m okay with that. I have classes later today though."

Lauren walks over to the bed and plants a soft kiss on Camila’s forehead.

"Get up then my love, do you mind if I borrow something of yours?”

“If you fit into it."

As soon as the words left her mouth, Camila’s eyes widened.

"Lauren, that’s not what I mean, I– I don’t think you got fat, or gained weight, well you did but it’s normal because there’s a human inside of you, and that’s-”

“Camila!” Lauren laughed “You’re rambling. It’s okay, I know what you meant. I’m curvy and that’s okay.”

“And all the right junk in all the right places." Camila sang

"When do you have classes?”

“At three, until nine I think?”

“How about this, we go out now and I annoy the hell out of you until I drop you at your college?”

“Will you pick me up?”

“Sadly no. Nick is coming over today so we’re gonna deal with the things for tomorrow’s dinner and I’m not sure how long that’ll last.”

“Is he staying at Mark’s?”

“I’m honestly not sure, he might be but I have no idea. I doubt though.”

“Is he staying at your place then?”

“No, but you could if you want to. I know what you’re doing Camz, no need to get jealous, he’s my ex.”

“We were once ex girlfriends and that did not stop us from hooking up every chance we had. And, he’s your baby daddy.

"But, you’re my daddy.” Lauren winked

“What are you doing to me Jauregui?”

“Loving you.”

“Annoying me.” Camila corrected

“Great, mission complete. You ready to go?”

“Mhm, I just gotta take my books.”

“Who even has classes on Saturday?”

“Someone whose professor was sick on Wednesday and Friday. I hate it. So, Lauren, how does it feel to be a grown up who’s dating a college girl?”

“How does it feel to date a MILF?”

“You’re not a MILF. Not yet at least, you will be in like twenty years or so.”

“Camila!” Lauren yelled

“And that’s the sound that will be leaving your mouth in also twenty years as I’m not just dating but actually doing the MILF you are.”

“Get out!”

“It’s my house.” Camila replied before giving Lauren a quick peck and walking outside of the room

Lauren could only roll her eyes before following the younger girl.

A brunch and many kisses and laughs later and Lauren pulled her car on the parking lot of University of Miami and Camila lets out a groan.

“I don’t wanna go.”

“Well, you gotta. And I gotta pick up Nick from the airport in an hour.”

“It takes you half an hour to get there Lauren.”

Lauren pecked her lips quickly before unbuckling her own seatbealt and getting out of the car so she can open Camila’s door.

“Here you go m'lady.”

Camila blushed and hid her face in the crook of Lauren’s neck.

“Hey, I’ll try to pick you up later at your house?”

“I’m probably going to DInah’s after classes.”

“Will you sleep over at her place?”

“I doubt, why? Do you want me to stay over at your place?”

“Don’t I always?” Lauren questions

Camila lets out a giggle and nods her head, because yes she does. Ever since their first actual date Camila’s been mostly sleeping at Lauren’s place.

Neither girls minded, nor did Normani. She loved to see the smile on Lauren’s face every morning.

They’d wake up and one of them would make a breakfast and a coffee( a tea for Lauren), they’d eat and talk about random stuff, Normani would call them disgustingly cute and ask Lauren about popping the question number one while Camila wasn’t there and Lauren would mostly flip her off and mumble something about waiting for the right time. Then, Normani would drive Camila to college and Lauren to work before going to the gym to work on finishing touches.

“Okay, text me when you’re done with Nick?”

“Of course, I’ll probably text you even before that.”

“Yeah, same."

Lauren laughs and pulls Camila into another kiss; she pulls away before Camila can deepen the kiss.

"Go love, you’ll be late.”

There are butterflies in Camila’s stomach as she gives Lauren a kiss on the cheek before walking away.

She doesn’t even make it into the building before her phone buzzes in er had and she unlocks it to see a text from Lauren.

From Lolo: hi, i miss ya.

Camila turned around to see Lauren leaning on her car and smirking at her. She blew her a kiss and typed a text back.

To Lolo: you’re a dork Jauregui

Lauren smiled as she read the text and got into the car. About half an hour later she got to the airport and patiently waited for Nick to land down.

“There’s my princess."

Lauren turned around as she heard the voice and was immediately pulled into a hug.

"Hey Nick.” The Cuban girl smiled as she pulled away

“Hey, so, my parents are driving from Orlando for the night, they booked a room in a hotel so that’s good.”

“And you? Where are you staying? At Mark’s?”

“No actually. But I am planning to talk to him tomorrow. Hell, if you wish to be with Camila and he’s not with her, he has no right to be a dick about it.”

“Where are you staying then?”

“Hotel. I thought about texting you but I don’t want to make Camila insecure or anything.”

“She’d be fine with it.” Lauren mumbled

“No she wouldn’t, and I understand her, considering your past and all.”

“I guess you do have a point. So, where am I driving you?”

“InterContinental Miami.”

“Fancy.” Lauren mocks him

“Fuck off.”

“Anyway, the dinner?”

“Can we talk about it over lunch?”

“If you’re paying.”

“Sure, is there any good restaurant near the hotel?”

“I know one.”

“Let’s get going then.”

Once dinner time comes and Lauren puts herself into the best dress she has that doesn’t really show her baby bump too much, Normani helps her with hair and make-up.

“Where’s Camila? Is she not staying with us tonight?”

“She is, I’ll pick her up after the dinner. You don’t mind having her around, do you? Because, we never really talked it through and-”

“And I’m glad she’s here to put a smile on your resting bitch face.”

“Thanks Mani.”

“But if she moves in, she has to pay for the rent, I ain’t gonna pay for her living.”

“Fair enough.” Lauren chuckles

The doorbell rings and Lauren opens it to find a very handsome Nick standing there with a bouquet of yellow roses.

“The girl at the flower shop said that yellow rose represents friendship.” Nick says as soon as they greet each other

“That’s sweet of you.” Lauren says and gives the flowers to Normani who mumbles something about not being her maid before walking away

“Let’s do this.” Nick says as they walk towards Lauren’s car

“How did you came?”

“Uber.” Nick shrugs as if it’s the most obvious thing “I don’t have a car here, remember?”

“Well, next time I need you in Miami, come with Normani’s car, we need it.”

“Sure, I’ll just drive for twenty hours because you need the car.”

“As if you wouldn’t do it.” Lauren scoffs

“I actually probably would. Fuck.”

Lauren laughs and turns on the radio a bit louder because John Legend just came on and she loves John Legend.

And then, Lauren parks the car in front of the fancy restaurant and takes a deep breath because no one knows how this will go.

She and Nick agreed on what to say to their parents and what to keep away.

At first, it goes like every other dinner they have had with their parents, a few jokes here and their, conversation about some random topic, but then it happens.

“So, will you guys tell us why you brought us here?” Peter, Nick’s father asks

“Is everything okay?” Lauren’s mother, Clara questions

"I’m sure everything’s fine honey.“ Mike says and rubs her hand gently

"Everything is fine guys. We just have some news for y'all.”

For a split second everyone looks at Lauren’s hand, to see if there’s a ring on it and then back at Nick when they realize there isn’t.

“There’s no ring.” Nick’s mother mumbles

“Sophie, let them speak.” Peter scolds her as if she’s his child and not wife

“No, there’s no ring, nor there will be.” Nick says

“At least not from Nick.” Lauren adds

“What do you mean love?” Clara questions

“Well, what we are trying to say is that, Lauren and I broke up. Weeks ago actually, but there have been some stuff going on and-”

“Are you sure you can’t work it out? Lauren’s a lovely girl-” Peter starts but Nick cuts him off

“No dad, we broke up and it’s for the best. We’re not in love with each other anymore, we are still really close friends- ”

“Is there a way to make a friendship work with your ex? Won’t your new partners be jealous?” Nick’s mother questions

“No, they won’t.” Lauren shrugs “We have both moved on and Nick’s met my girl-”

“Girl?” Peter cuts her off and Nick mumbles something about everyone cutting everyone off

“Yes, we were kind of high school sweethearts and now that I’m back, the connection we have had is stronger than ever. She’s met Nick and she knows he’ll always be a part of my life.”

“You can’t know that for sure. Something can happen and you’ll fight-”

“And we’ll be fine mom. We have to be.” Nick explains

“How can you be so sure?” Mike asks

“Because dad, you, all of you, are gonna be a grandparents.” Lauren says just above a whisper

“Nick Ryan you can not broke up with her if she’s pregnant.” Nick gets scolded by his mother

“He can, and the break up was mutual.” Lauren defends him

“But you’re moving to Miami, right? For the kid?” Clara asks

“No ma'am, I’m staying in New York, my life is there. I’ll visit as often as I can and we agreed I’ll be allowed to see the child whenever I please to do so.”

"Oh honey, maybe you should move-“

"If you want me to move in with you, I have to say no mom. That’s why Mani is here. I’m not alone, I have my two girls here and that’s all I need. I love you guys, I do, but it’d be too much. All three of them are still at home and with Xavier being there a lot it’s just too crowded.”

“If you says so, but oh mija, I’m so happy for you.”

And finally, both of her parents stand up and pull Lauren into a tight hug, giving her their best wishes for the baby.

They pull away to give Peter and Sophie a chance to congratulate as well, Texan couple doing it with a proud smiles on their faces.

“My first grandchild.” Peter mumbles and then looks at Nick “If he’s anything like you, I’ll be proud.”

“Now that we’re done with the shocking news, which I think we’ve had enough. Three in such a short period-”

“What do you mean three?” Nick questions his mother

“Did you know Mark broke up with his girlfriend too? Camilla, right? She apparently cheated on him. Up until now I thought she’s a really nice girl.”

“It’s Ca-mee-la.” Lauren corrects them and catches both of her parents looking at her

She gives them a simple nod, confirming their suspicions that Mark’s Camila is actually her Camila.

“I don’t think she cheated on him, I’ve met her and she’s a really nice girl. His anger problems came back though.” Nick adds, because there’s no way he’ll let his parents talk trash about Lauren’s girl

“We’ll talk about that some other time, should we order a dessert perhaps?” Sophie suggests and they all agree, thankful that the subject has changed

Once the dinner is over Lauren sends Camila quick text saying that she’s on her way to drop off Nick at his hotel and then she’ll be at Dinah’s to pick her up.

As soon as Camila’s chocolate brown eyes sees Lauren she knows the older girl isn’t feeling well, so she offers to drive back to Lauren’s apartment and Lauren only gives her a nod. They don’t talk during the drive and Camila doesn’t really mind, she softly hums to the songs on the radio.

Lauren takes her time getting ready for bed and by the time she’s done, the younger girl is already cuddled up in her bed with a book in front of her.

“Camz?”

“Hm?”

“I know you wanna talk about the dinner, but I don’t really feel like it.”

“It’s okay Lo, I’m not gonna push you to do so.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course.” Camila replies and pulls her closer to her body and puts the book down

They spend the Sunday morning going to the church with Ally and Normani (who actually joined the choir because Ally begged her to) and then they go back to their apartment where Normani can’t stop talking about the most handsome guy she has ever seen.

“He’s so hot and I talked to him for a bit and he’s so funny, but I can not remember his name, I don’t think he ever told me his name.”

“Which one are you talking about?” Ally questions

“The tall black one. He looks like he’s a model, real candy.”

“When did you even talk?” Lauren butts in

“When we all walked out, before I met up with you guys, he said I have a nice voice and would love to hear more of it.”

“Oh, that’s Aaron Gabriel.” Ally explains

“Aaron Gabriel?”

“Yes, his mother is in charge of the choir and his dad is like a handyman around the church.”

“Mills?” Camila questions, knowing that her father was a good friend with the handyman

“Yes, he’s Robert’s son.”

“I don’t care whose son he is, he’s hot and I need to go out on a date with him.”

“Well, Ally can help you up with that, we have to go because I promised my siblings I’ll spend the time with them today.”

“We’re still picking up Sofi on our way, right?”

“Of course we are love.” Lauren replies and gives Camila a quick kiss before grabbing her keys

It’s three days later when Lauren and Nick found themselves at the doctor’s office.

“It’s cold.” Lauren mumbles as the doctor puts the gel on her tummy

He hums to herself before looking at Lauren and Nick.

“So, is everything okay with our baby?”

“Oh, yes, your baby is just fine, nothing to worry about. In fact, both of your babies are fine.” He nods

“W–wait, what? What do you mean both?” Lauren questions

“You’re having twins Miss Jauregui, did you not know that?”

“No, I didn’t actually.” Lauren mumbled

“Well, congratulations I guess.” The doctor offered her a smile

“Thank you.” She returned a smile

“So, twins?”

“I’ll need a bigger place to leave and– oh my gosh– how am I gonna tell Camila?”

“Lauren, calm down, you’ll be okay, I?ll be here to help whatever you need.”

“I need you to drive me to see Camila.”

“Just wait a bit, okay? Don’t stress yourself please. So, doctor, is there anything else? Like, when do we get to find out the gender?”

“You can’t really know the gender until about week fourteen and your wife-”

“She’s my friend.” Nick corrects him

“Sorry. Your friend, is only about seven weeks pregnant so I suggest you come here in a month and a half for another test and we'l see then.”

“Okay, can you write us down?” Lauren questions

Once they sort out the dates and thank the man for the help Nick drives Lauren back to the apartment where Camila is already supposed to be.

“How was it?” Normani asks as they walk in

Lauren ignores her question and looks at Camila.

“Camz, do you think we could maybe talk?”

“Of course, is everything okay?” Camila questions, sensing the panic in Lauren’s eyes

“I’m not sure.” Lauren mumbles walks towards her room

Camila gets up and follows her, stopping for just a moment to look at Nick who gives her a supportive smile.

“So?!” Normani asks once she and Nick are alone

“We– she– uh– it’s twins.” Nick stumbles upon his own words

“Holy shit!”

“I know, right?”

“And Lauren?”

“I’m not sure. I think she’s mostly worried about Camila leaving her now that there’s not one, not two but three of them.”

“I don’t think Camila will do it.”

“I wouldn’t blame her if she did. It’s not her cross to carry.”

“I guess you do make a point.” Normani agrees “But I know I won’t leave her.”

“Neither will I.” Nick agrees “But she knows that. Camila on the other hand…”

“Camila on the other hand gets Lauren and her berries, what a fruit salad.”

And there’s nothing else Nick can do but laugh.

“Do y'all still call my child a berry?”

“It doesn’t have a name!” Normani defends herself

And while Normani and Nick are jokingly discussing the unisex name for Nick’s children because berries sounds stupid, Lauren anxiously walks around her room.

“You’re freaking me out Lo.” Camila mumbles after a minute or two

“Sorry.”

“Is everything okay with the baby?”

“Yeah.”

“Is everything okay with you?”

“I– yeah.”

“Is everything okay with us?”

“I– I don’t know.”

“Lauren? You’re honestly freaking me out right now, what’s wrong?”

“I need to tell you something and I hope this won’t ruin what we have.”

“Okay.” Camila says and closes her eyes, not sure she’s ready for this

“I’m having twins.” Lauren blurts out and there are tears streaming down her cheeks just a moment later

“T– twins?”

“Yes and I know you didn’t sign up for this and I get it if you wan’t to leave.” Lauren takes a deep breath, ignoring Camila's no’s “I won’t blame you because is a big deal and-”

So, Camila stops her from talking any further by pressing their lips together into a passionate kiss, the one that manages to make all of Lauren’s fears go away.

Once they pull away Lauren looks at the floor, not sure she can look Camila in the eyes.

“Look at me,” Camila says and gently lifts Lauren’s chin with her finger “I told you this the other day and I’m telling you again. I love you Lauren, my heart beats for you, kid or two kids can not change that. It’s always been you, and you having twins won’t change that.”

“So, you’re okay with it?”

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I? It wasn’t part of my initial plan but as long as I get you, I’m okay with it, yes.”

“So, you’re staying.”

“One condition.” Camila smiles at the older girl

“Hm?”

“I’m staying only if you’re okay with me staying as your girlfriend.”

“More than okay.” Lauren smiles and pulls Camila into another kiss

They stay in Lauren’s room talking about it all for almost an hour and once they finally come out, Nick’s already gone and Normani is sitting on the couch watching Riverdale on Netflix.

Once she spots the couple she pauses the episode, despite of Betty and Veronica being too cute again, walks over to Lauren and pulls her into a tight hug.

“Congrats mama.” She whispers before kissing the top of Lauren’s head

Lauren smiles at her best friend and thanks her.

“And you,” Normani looks at Camila “what do you have to say?”

“I only have one question.” Camila shrugs

“Which would be?”

“Now that I’m officially moving in, how much is the rent? And do I get a discount because I’m Lauren’s girlfriend?”

“Fucking finally!” Normani exclaims as she watches Lauren hugging Camila from behind “We’ll talk about the rent once the show is over. Feel free to join lesbos, the shit just got real.”

Lauren mumbles something about being bisexual and not lesbian and Camila has to hold back a laugh because her girlfriend, yes her fucking girlfriend, is so damn precious and so fucking cute.

#UPDATE #series #AU #slash #camren #angst drama #family #humour #romance fluff #submission #Malibu Love

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