#oh and hit a stripclub!!!!!!

[theviceadmiralswife]

Salute recruits and soldiers to this still funky Friday ⚓🌊⚓🌊⚓🌊⚓🌊⚓🌊⚓🌊⚓

A good question popped up in my mind with Kizarus birthday yesterday out of nowhere 10 pm ... I'm supposed to sleep.. Doberman comes home tomorrow from a mission but no... my brain is like, must answer this question, now. Ps. I better put a NSFW   after all Kizaru who is undoubtedly the most pervy, lewd and kinky admiral 😛🙃

So here are the top 10 gifts YOU can gift Kizaru for his birthday in no particular order. 

I see you next week I'm off this weekend with hubby Doberman 😍... wish you all a lovely weekend.

• STRIPCLUB. ..mens night out in a strip club, women, wine and "woos" , if your Kizarus darling he drag you with him into the strip club. He gives you booze until your in a good buzz and become More and more open, he will make you go on stage dancing with the strippers it makes Kizarus eyeballs pop out and his fantasy running of what he do to you at home.

• SCENTED CANDLES this one will surprise you all the most but Kizaru is always thrilled to get for his birthday scent candles... he goes bananas for those and loves his house being filled with their aroma, his nose indeed has an exquisite taste.

• YOU /SUBMISSIVE...oh Kizaru loves it when you give yourself as present he can do anything with you for 24 hours, then you be his pet slave for a full day he digs into that and will you parade around Marineford as his pet

• PRIVATE STRIPTEASE ...Kizaru might be partying in the strip club but when it comes to it he prefers when he gets a private show from, do an action packed strip to the song "rock you like a hurricane" and you will end up that night rocking the bed for sure

• LOVESONG he loves when his dearest Darling serenades him for his birthday and after a traditional happy birthday song Kizaru is even more delighted with an additional love song. Move your curvy body while singing "your so sexy" from French affair and Kizarus shades will fog up he can't help but to join moving his hips with you and join in a little sing session 

•  TROLLING PEOPLE.  Kizaru loves it when you join him on his birthday to be extra mischievously with him trolling the troops by groping your breasts in front of everyone and you slap his ass in public, grinding against each other.....best mischief is when both of you take the piss out of Sakazuki like this pretending to make out in a middle of Sakazukis office

•PERSONALISED KINKY SEXTOYS Kizaru is kink,... give him sexy pink shades...as he  gets thrilled if you by for him and yourself matching collar and leash to add to your kinky sex toy collection and he is certainly experienced in using those, sex toys are his favourite tool to annoy prude Sakazuki , or give him one of those clone your own willy dildos for Kizaru to clone his cock, yeah buy 2 packs you need it.. and as soon as Kizaru has his cock cloned he will cheekily coerce you to try it out and give it your approval 

• BODY WORSHIP AND SPA DAY. he soaks it up when you worship his unadulterated hairy hot body, especially his legs, massage them, kiss them rub them...a full round body worship and dirty talk... Kizaru loves it to lay back and be pampered this way including a facial treatment, and massage...ooooh he coos in pleasure if you end the session with some handywork or your lips

• ROMANTIC EVENING  he has a romantic streak somewhere and when you cook set the table for a romantic dinner put candles up everywhere and play soft classic music pouring a glass of delicate fine wine while wearing and elegant dress, Kizaru will just jaw drop and gaffe at you before smiling so happy like you never seen before.. it makes his heart  flutter. to him it hits home when instead of him taking you out to a restaurant you seemingly bring fine dining home looking like a goddess

• BOOKS ...this might be a bit unexpected but even someone as covertly educated and intelligent as Kizaru finds joy in books at his age... for one of those slow moments on his rare day off... ooh but what makes him snicker and giggle like a school girl if you his darling dearest gifts him a copy of the Kamasutra. His eyes grow wide and his lips curl into a lewd smile the more he flips through the pages of the kamasutra book... he reads it that evening in one go with a glass of wine... later that night he has to try out all the positions with you.

[arcplaysgames]

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON

okay blah blah midnight channel rise stripclub great music this place is a labyrinthine nightmare BLAH BLAH

Shadow Rise is super scary, her eyes freak me out. Her beef with Rise seems to be that she doesn't like this whole Risette facade. She wants Rise to acknowledge all these things about herself and stop wearing them as a costume. There are aspect of the performance, the desire for attention, that are really a part of her and Shadow Rise is mad at her for rejecting them.

right right she says the thing

and her boss shadow is a super stripper with a satellite dish for a head. which... if i slow down and think, a dish both receives and sends out information.

i don't have the brain capacity to dig into this because halfway thru the battle she scans everyone and become impossible to hit bc she's learned about everyone, so

Teddie steps up to the plate

why the FUCK don't I remember ANY of this shit from my own playthru oh my godddddddd

I mean, I know Teddie isn't gonna die, because his SLink just unlocked so

He blows up the Shadow, Rise and Rise reconcile, blah blah

Teddie is all flattened and sad looking blah blah

THEN Rise says this

I GUESS TEDDIE DIDN'T GET THE CHANCE TO SEE EVERYTHING, EVERYWHERE, ALL AT ONCE, BECAUSE HE DOESN'T TAKE THIS WELL AT ALL

SHADOW TEDDIE SHADOW TEDDIE

also hey? hey? pin in this. bc what does that mean. what powerful presence is summoning these shadow selves? there is a presence, that's not just part of the TV? is it not an automatic truth that everyone has this super shadow self?

ANYWAY

So, okay. Teddie's True Self is much more eloquent and thought out and clear-minded than he is, as if the fuzzy mascot vibe is this obfuscation to protect him from all these things he "knows" to be true about himself.

SO TEDDIE ISN'T A SHADOW EVEN BECAUSE THIS IS HIS SHADOW. WHAT THE FUCK IS TEDDIE.

Rise's Persona (Himiko, which, AWESOME) slides a crown over her vision and she's the new Teddie. I guess Persona games just really like giving you a starter analysis person and th

..... /looks at Mitsuru. /looks at Teddie.

nooooooo

SHADOW TEDDIE IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE OH MY GOD

TEDDIE DONE STARED INTO THE VOID AND IT IS NOW STARING BAAAAAACK, HAHAHA THE FUCK

[necros-writing-stuff]

But what if PC did manage to save Bailey, Eden, and Whitney? (Maybe they found his gun/knife/etc or somethin) How would he feel waking up in the hospital to them sleeping in a chair nearby? I simp for these 3 and seeing them hurt, hurts me.

Writing angst hurts so bad man, I love when the LI hurts the PC, but when the LI gets hurt or others are added to the equation I want to cry.

Under cut for mentions of violence and length

Bailey

Was working hard all day, half asleep as they make some soup before bed. They take a quick toilet break, not being there to notice someone sneaking in and drugging it.

They're sat in their office, reviewing what they've been up to when you waltz in, pyjamas covering your body.

Let's you come sit in their lap while they finish up, knowing you'll want to stay in their bed due to nightmares you've been having.

They really shouldn't indulge you so much, but they can't really help it.

When your stomach rumbles they let you taste the soup, only for you to spit it straight out.

"That's drugged. Someone tried to give me that when I worked at the stripclub, Bailey, I promise," you turn to them, alert and panicked but they can only smile a little, the haze settling in properly.

Cursing, you run to their bedroom, pulling the handgun out from under the pillow and sitting back in their lap, grabbing for their phone and asking them to unlock it.

Constantly checking their temperature and lucidity as you do so.

It takes a little, but you manage to get it open and go straight to a contact you'd heard them speaking to regularly, asking them to send someone over to guard them and that there was a possibility people might try to break in.

The next morning, Bailey finds you still awake, sat next to their bed with the gun in hand, eyes trained on the door until their shuffling draws you eyes. Looking over Baikey is a private doctor they trust.

"Oh thank fuck, you okay?" You sit next to them, placing the gun down and grasping their cheeks, much to the annoyance of the Doc, who steps back a little.

Confused they'll ask what happened, immediately getting angry and jumping out of bed despite both of you telling them to lay down.

You'll have to convince them to slow down as they spends the rest of the day ordering their people to start asking questions, but ultimately they just let you follow them around worrying all day.

Needs to be working immediately because they don't want to show weakness.

Starts painting the windows shut in the orphanage so it's harder for people to sneak in.

Never ever leaves their food alone again.

Is very impressed you managed to remember the name of the person who works for them, thankful that you were so quick thinking.

Theres no telling who could have drugged them, hospital staff, police, Quinn. Good job on sticking to the inner circle.

When you come home the next day, you find a box on your bed. It's full of new, expensive clothes and you know it's from Bailey. A thank you for looking out for them.

Eden

Panic starts to encompass them as they fall to the ground, surrounded by hunters they'd threatened weeks ago.

Where were you, were you safe? They can hurt them, but not you.

Drifting out of consciousness a little as they hear a gunshot and a scream.

You stand at the door, Eden's forgotten rifle in hand after shooting one of the intruders in the foot. You shoot again, aiming for another when they start to scatter, not anticipating another person to be here, let alone armed.

You're silently thanking Eden for teaching you how to shoot, as you advance down the stairs, shooting into the trees hoping you hit another one of the fuckers you'd seen beating your spouse.

You can still hear them yelling as you run over to Eden's collapsed body, seeing them struggling to open their eyes.

You grab the water bottle they strap to their belt, dripping it over them and lightly slapping at their cheek, looking up and around every few seconds to check noone was sneaking up on you.

It takes a few minutes, but Eden starts being cohesive again, working with you as you get them up and bring them inside, locking the door behind you after ensuring you fetch anything that could be used as a weapon from outside.

You get the salve you made and start treating wounds, gently talking the entire time to remind Eden that it was you, they're safe, it's all okay.

Eden is just glad you aren't hurt, wrapping their arms around your waist and pressing their face into your chest, breathing in your scent.

So clingy for the next little while.

"I shouldn't have let my guard down, what if they'd been here to hurt you-"

"Eden for gods sake I'm alright, let me help you now okay? What if you have a concussion?"

Let's you fiddle with them to help calm you down. They feel fine, just come here.

Wants to cuddle, kissing you every so often.

"We should start building a perimeter tomorrow," they'll suggest, and you agree, eager to give them something that'll bring back their sense of control.

You can tell its hard for Eden, to have been beaten like that. You let them be more controlling for a little while so they can get their confidence back.

"And I'm proud of you. You can really shoot well," they'll mumble into your neck as they drift off, a little unsure of themselves. They aren't really sure how to praise others, how to show affection that isn't physical.

Makes you breakfast and gives you a massage the next day, a silent thank you for saving them.

Might also use their wood-carving skills to carve you a little figurine of you holding the rifle, letting you put it above the hearth to remember your brave moment.

Whitney

The good mood is interrupted, when the teens in tracksuits grab at you, separating you from Whitney and trying to subdue both of you.

You're not sure how many times you see Whitney get hit before you manage to rip your mouth free of whatever keeps it covered, drawing in a full breath as you scream "FIRE!" at the top of your lungs.

You'd read somewhere it was more affective than 'help' or 'rape', and sure enough, some adults run over to the alley and begin yelling at and chasing after the delinquents who run.

You fall to your knees and hold Whitney close as someone calls an ambulance, asking if anyone knows their parents so they can go tell them what happened. No one does, and you can't unlock their phone, so you just stay with them when the ambulance comes, trying to cover them with your body so people couldn't see how badly hurt they were.

With no way to contact the family, you're asked to accompany Whitney to the hospital, staying over night so the police can take a statement about what happened and so that Whit can have someone take them home the next day.

When they wake up, you're resting with your head on the hospital bed, right next to their hand, which they use to pet you till you wake up.

Whitney tries not to cry when you throw yourself over them and tell them how thankful you are that they're okay.

It's been a long time since anyones been so openly concerned. Since anyone has given a shit about how Whitney was doing. Most of the time people just wanted to be friends with them for the social perks.

Leans on you when they walk, limping along. This is after they've spent half an hour stumbling alone on their own, finally giving in and letting you hold them up.

At school, Whitney is a little quieter while they recover. River glances over to them in class, seeing them rest their head on the desk while you play with their hair. They're being quiet, and everyone can see the wounds, so they let you be.

Feels a little lost without you around for a bit, using you as a safety blanket. Walks home alone one night and end up flinching at every shadow.

Never actually says "Thank you." Just gets more and more kind, stops tieing you up on Mer Street, pulls you away from dogs trying to get at you, is slightly more gentle when you fuck.

Might get you a personalised lighter one day. Just in case noone believes you next time you need to yell fire.

[buckyjamess-archive]

𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓲𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲 ❁ 𝓫𝓾𝓬𝓴𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼

chapter sixteen • wordcount: 2.1k • warnings: squint and you'll find a tiny bit of fluff, cheating, kids, parenthood, crazy ex, talk about sex, just good old angst

summary

going through  rough years after losing your husband, you try to raise your daughter the best you can. With the help from the wilson's you make the best of it but the road is bumpy when sam introduces you to his friend.

masterlist

"He's teething like crazy– cleo told me she used to freeze watermelon for Liam but I don't know, wouldn't that be too cold?" 

taking a sip of hit freshly brewed coffee, his eyes follow you over the rim of his cup and back to the little boy sitting in his high chair next to him, his carbon copy, JJ– drooling and chewing on a set of colorful teethers in the shape of keys while gurgling the last remaining sounds of a crying fit.

Bucky sets his cup back on the table and shrugs, it beats him, he read some things on the internet and the books but nothing could really prepare or help him out in any way possible, this all was a first for him and without your help, he wouldn't have made it this far raising his son. 

"We could always try." 

"Yeah." Your voice is muffled, barely audible over the closing of the fridge and chopping  against a cutting board "Rosie never really had problems with teeth coming through this bad." 

Bucky chuckles softly and reaches his hand out to wipe away a lost tear from JJ his chubby cheeks "You're being a pain in the ass again pal." 

"Like your dad." 

Only if you knew doll, only if you knew. 

With a plastic blue plate filled with fruit in your hand you make your way out of the kitchen– knocks the air out of bucky his lungs like it has for the fifth time that morning; gorgeous and breathtaking, like always but after everything he's started to appreciate you so much more.

The summer dress dancing around your figure, cute and plain– he's never seen that one before and he wonders if you bought it new or found it somewhere in the depths of your closet. Hair pulled up with sunglasses resting on top, silver dangling earrings he's bought you for no other reason to show you he loved you.

Loved you, God he still does and always will, even if you'd break his heart in a million pieces but he's done that himself already; broken his own heart and he still has to break it to you, break your heart. 

For the last two weeks he'd to watch and endure how you treated him like a king, as if he'd been the brightest star out there, not knowing what he knows and though it hurts him, he couldn't bring himself to come clean– you looked so damn happy, feeling amazing like you'd said. 

"Do you have any plans for today?" 

So we can talk later.

You shrug "I need to run into town real quick, get some stuff for school," you start. "Have an appointment with Dr. Weiss at 2 so I'll be in time to pick up Rosie from daycare." 

Bucky nods and watches how you take the teethers out of JJ his hands, leaving the boy frustrated, a squeal leaving his lips as he prepares himself for another meltdown but the sob dies when you place the plate with food under his nose. Two tiny hands digging into a piece of banana, mashing it between his fingers and stuffing his face with it.

"So we get this morning all for ourselves man," Bucky states, though his son is more occupied by his food "wanna hit a stripclub later?" 

"Make sure to take one dollar bills with you." you snort

as quick as you walked into the kitchen seconds ago, as quick as you are to leave it. The sound of footsteps echoing through the hallway– a mantra of curse words muffled; probably that pink and blue, frozen umbrella and red rainboots Rosie had left in the middle of the way that morning.

"Oh, I'll have to use your car, mines making that weird noise again." Your voice comes from where you are. 

"Again?" Bucky chuckles "you had that fixed a week ago." 

"Look I'm not a mechanic but it's like something is loose." 

Nodding to himself, Bucky hums. The air knocked out of his lungs once again when you enter the kitchen, same dress flowing around your body, this time a plain beige shoulder bag thrown over your shoulder and sandals peeking from underneath your dress..and god, he's going to lose it all if he tells the truth one of these days.

"I'll take a look at it." Bucky states and shoots you a smile "we'll take a look at it, right pal?" 

Averting his eyes to JJ, you and bucky snort at the sight. A mess made from pieces of fruit picked out of his plate, smeared all over his highchair and face; JJ holds up a piece of fruit – impossible to identify as to what it is, and waves it into Bucky's direction who thanks the boy and tells him to eat I himself.

"I'll be back before 2." It throws Bucky off but he memorises the kiss you place against his cheek. Memorises every single detail, like he has for the past few days. Your soft touch, skin, lips. Every curve of your body. Every perfect imperfection, the twinkle in your eyes and the scrunch of your nose– remember it for when you're not around anymore.

"James, you're nasty." 

With your index finger and thumb around the little boy's chin, JJ gurgles a high pitched sound, showing off a toothless grin and claps his sticky hands together – bucky realises his mistakes all too well, this perfect family life hanging on a loose treath.

Dead silence, tension sharper than a knife, not as bucky had predicted. He didn't picture Melissa standing in the kitchen after forcing herself in, proudly and casually dropping the bomb and he didn't think he'd have to come clean this way– agreeing with his damn ex and he certainly didn't picture his son and stepdaughter in the same room while it all went down. 

Rosie all showered and dressed in her purple dinosaur pyjamas, her latest obsession, her short legs swinging back and forth as she's seated at the dinning table, a rainbow of crayons and half finished drawings scattered across the wooden surface. Unbothered by the unfamiliar woman standing in her parents kitchen.

JJ just out of his bath, dressed in his own dark blue pyjamas, star printed all around. His head laid upon your chest and hands in fists as he holds tight onto the fabrics of your shirt, pacifier bobbing back and forth on his mouth– ready for bedtime. 

You're calm, frighteningly so and though Bucky knows you're keeping it together for Rosie and JJ, he's scared, petrified even. You've never been like this during one of your arguments or fights, a sobbing mess like he thought you'd be during...this.

"You want a round of applause for that, bake you a cake, congratulate the both of you?" 

"Doll-" bucky can't even finish his sentence, stopping midway when your eyes snap from the woman next to him and to himself– if looks could kill, he'd be six feet underground, dirt stomped and spit on by you. 

"Don't call me doll. You've lost that privilege seconds ago." 

Bucky nods and swallows the lump in his throat. Your eyes snap back to Melissa, a shit eating grin on her face. 

"You enjoy this, breaking families apart?" You ask genuinely "because you can't have it yourself, can't keep a man by your side because of your ugly personality." 

The grin on Melissa's face falters, she crosses her arms in front of her chest and straightens her back "say the woman who couldn't keep her own husband." 

"Hey–" Bucky hisses in a poor attempt to calm things down while he can "get out of my house." 

"No–" you chuckle deeply and I'm a swift motion move JJ to your other hip "She's right; maybe I should've told Riley to stay home and skip that last mission. Could've raised our daughter together, lives happily ever after but instead I got this..whatever the fuck it is." 

With your free hand, you point to bucky and wave it up and down– well deserved. 

Bucky wants to scream, yell and throw the woman next to him out; call her names, curse her but he can't, he's frozen to the ground. The end of a book he wasn't done writing, pages turned to a chapter without you.

"Well, Riley is dead honey–" another grin on Melissa's face. 

Taking a few steps forwards, you face the woman who bluntly admitted to sleeping with the father of your child, dark eyes piercing into her soul. 

"I'll slap that fucking grin off your face, I'll even do it in front of my kids." 

it got real, you never cursed with rosie and JJ in the same room– you're livid, seeing red and for the first time Melissa shuffles on her feet and let's her arms fall down her sides in defeat. 

Bucky reaches out for you, a desperate attempt to pull you back as he wraps his hand around your wrist but you're too quick and  pull it away– sending him another death glare, his heart aches.

"Now if you don't mind, I've got bags to pack."

in the safety of your bedroom, with both babies in bed and fast asleep and Melissa kicked out long ago– bucky can't even hear your soft sniffing and gasps for air, can't bear to see your tear stained cheeks and the tears that still fall down. Your anger is replaced by sadness and disappointment; you let your façade fall. 

Bucky stands at the other side of the room, head hanging low yet keeps his eyes on you; a duffel bag placed on the bed while you're viciously packing your clothes. 

"Doll-" he tries again "please, say something." 

"Like what?" Voice so quietly, he can barely hear it.

"Just talk to me, yell at me if it makes you feel better." Bucky sighs. 

A silent second or five falls like a thick blanket of snow, suffocating– you sniffle and sigh yourself while trying to find the right words "I just– I want to know why, that's all I want to know." 

"Baby, I don't know-"

"What do you mean you don't know?" You scoff and stuff another shirt deep in your bag "you did it." 

I didn't think with my brain but with my dick?

But bucky knows you know the reason, you're thinking exactly what he's thinking and it breaks his heart even more knowing you know– he stays silent and keeps his eyes on you. His own tears are now falling down his cheeks.

"Like I gave you a kid and you decided I wasn't any fun anymore?" you're voice breaks again

"Baby– doll, that's not it. I'd never get bored of you." 

It's an attempt, a desperate one and he knows you won't believe him anyone but Bucky keeps trying.

"I did everything you asked me," you state "I moved here, left my work, one of my best friends, who by the way was right about you," sam, he knows you're talking about sam and addie "I let you into rosie's life." 

Another shirt, a pair of pants and some socks are tossed into your bag, tucked in so deep to make sure most of your clothes would fit in one go. 

"I'm sorry I'm no longer that girl you met– I'm just out here trying to raise two kids, balance work, get things ready for this study and trying to figure out who I am." 

"You have nothing to be sorry about," bucky sniffles and runs a hand over his face, wiping the tears away "I made a stupid mistake." 

Defeated, you toss a sweater into your bag and let your arms fall down your sides and slump down on the edge of the bed "I just don't understand– I'm so fucking stupid." 

Taking careful and small steps towards your side of the bed, bucky inhales deeply and sits down next to you and with hesitation and a heavy stomach wraps his arms around your shoulder, pulls you closer and buries his nose into your hair where he places a kiss and to his surprise you don't even pull back. Rubbing his hand up your arm, he lets you cry.

"You're a fucking idiot." 

"I know," Bucky chuckles with a sob "stay, I'll take the couch and we'll talk about it in the morning." 

Taglist; @farfromshawn @Nicollettemarie @wooya1224 @felicityofbakerstreet @agentmstark @sierrax023 @lilyevanswhore @qhbr2013 @buckybarnesobsessed @themaddies-obx @aloserwithoutacause @aanngie @sebby-staan @sweetth1ng @starrystarkey93 @libidinexx @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @gasly-kvyat @brown-bi-beautiful @peter-laufeyson @im-squished @meshlababy @lindseyrae20 @cb97skies @qwccrr @ssprayberrythings @yougottalovefandoms @jbcalway @realgaytrash @natyvwe @poetryazenth @winterberryfox @ahahafudge @okiegirl24 @0moondoodler0 @why-wait-4-eventually

[cher-writes]

Silver Screen / Silver Pole | Robert Sheehan x Reader (18+)

Summary: A night of celebration in a LA strip club takes an interesting and unexpected turn when a contrarian actor winds up offending the wrong stripper. But night is long and the possibilities are endless, where will it take them?

Word Count: 7.3k

CW: Mention of sexual harassment, Consensual slapping, NSFW smut

A/N: This one is surprisingly not bloody at all and the smut isn't wild either so like most everyone can read it. Although it's emotionally very heavy. So, get ready to feel some shit. Hopefully you'll enjoy.

Special thanks to @crisis-of-joy for being there for me the whole month I took to complete this emotionally taxing fic and also for being my kind beta reader & editor.

Burning on it’s way down, the third glass of whiskey finally gave her some life she desperately needed. Deafening music throbbed throughout her veins, drowning the club in the background. She wanted to drown with it too but she couldn’t, she was there to work and rent for the month was already due. The fourth glass was on the verge of meeting with her bitter mouth when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t drink so much, you’ll trip on the stage,” Coco practically shouted in her ear. Coco was the only friend she had in that goddamn place and It wasn’t a very rare occurrence that Coco had to drag her blackout drunk body out of the club. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say she had a problem. Considering that she was already on her third strike of the month and the third drink of the night, Coco knew better than to let her get drunk this early.

 “I can’t stay here and be sober at the same time,” she shouted back at Coco, “especially after...nevermind,” but decided against talking about it and instead focused her energy on finishing the fourth glass, which was gone just as quickly as the words stopped coming out of her mouth.

 She could read the concern on Coco's face and sense the questions brewing behind it as Coco spoke up, “I want to know what the fuck is up with you but I have to go now, Caleb came home from school hours ago, it’s pretty late and I have to cook him dinner.”

“What happened to Larry? Can’t he take care of the kid? He’s fucking jobless anyway.”

“He got in a bad fight again. I can barely afford Caleb’s school fees and now the medical bills.”

“If only you had divorced him, you wouldn’t need to worry about it.”

“And if only you had been less violent towards customers, you wouldn’t be on the verge of getting fired. But, here we are.”

She furrowed her brows at this sudden sharp stab of truth by Coco and dealt with it the only way she knew how to, by ordering another drink. Coco crossed her arms letting out a deep sigh and said, “Look, I'm only trying to help you, (y/n). Sam wanted me to go up. You see that group seating in the fifth VIP booth? Up there. They are celebs and celebrating something so, ya know, good money. I said no cause, as I said I gotta go home, but I convinced him to let you go up there. It was hard given your recent less-than-favorable behavior, but I managed to.” Coco snatched the already empty glass from her hand and continued, “So stop drinking, go up there and get that money. And for the love of God, behave yourself or this might be your last night here.”

Giving her hand a quick but tight squeeze, Coco got up then soon after disappeared into the crowd. She thought to herself about how a last night there wouldn’t be so bad if she could afford it, and wanted another drink immediately to kill that thought, but Coco's words haunted her ears. She looked over her shoulder to see three men sitting in the booth, laughing.

------------

Her head was in a violent swirl, vision blurry. She was way too drunk to be spinning around the pole, but she had an audience to entertain and had no one but herself to blame.

When you walked around your house wearin' my sky blue Lacoste, the song was thudding against her skull. Pulling herself together, she counted every second, waiting for the song to end. She could feel the eyes on her, sticking to every bit of her, just as invasive as it was the very first day yet, she couldn’t care less. She had to live through it if she wanted the money and she needed the money if she wanted to live. The room was dancing circles around her as the tips came flying in, she kept counting the seconds, sliding down the pole, and your knee socks.

------------

She was swaying dangerously on her way down from the stage. If the song didn’t end when it did, she would have thrown up without a shadow of a doubt. At that point, she didn’t even know how or what she danced, only the awful sickness in her stomach let her know that it was more than she could take.

She needed to chat up the men, try and convince them to buy a champagne room before the next song came on, which she feared was way too soon for her liking. Nevertheless she tried to steady herself but the big glass platforms messed with her earnest efforts, nausea kicking her in the stomach once again, letting her know of her limits. 

She didn’t ever really look at the men who sat in front of her, leering at her, they all looked the same, smelt the same and talked the same. So she followed the same old routine, bending down just enough to give them a view up her tits. Pressing her arms closer, she slurred, “What are we celebrating, gentlemen?”

 She absolutely hated how she sounded pandering to men, two pitches higher. “My friend over here landed a role in a Spielberg film!” the middle one spoke up and pointed to the one sitting on the right side. The one in question grinned in response and repulsion licked the back of her neck at the sight of that. Yet she needed to please him, “That’s amazing! I’m sure I’ll be seeing your face on the billboards everyday now while driving,” she said and fantasized about having enough money to burn down all the billboards in LA and maybe LA with it too.

 “Hell yeah you will!” the one in the middle spoke up and broke her reverie so she pretended he was supporting her fantasy instead. “Oh please! Speak for yourself!” the one on the right perked up in his seat and continued, “He’s literally working with Fincher AND he got engaged!”. The one in the middle gave a revolting smirk at the very humble revelation of his accomplishment and it was enough to turn her stomach or maybe it was the alcohol, she couldn’t really decipher.

 “Oh really?” she looked at the man, tilted her head and said, “And you came to a stripclub to celebrate your engagement?”, her face deadpan. Notes of contempt stuck out like thorns from her voice, making her sound way more intense than she intended to.

 He tensed up visibly at her sudden razor-edged tone and, even though she didn't want to, she had to ease the situation. I can’t piss off these bastards again, she kept repeating to herself like a mantra. “Boys will be boys!” she said, not being able to think of something better that wasn’t inherently insulting, and laughed the most disgusting laugh of her life. If she could she would pour gasoline down her throat just for uttering those words.

 She couldn’t bear to linger at that conversation point anymore so she turned her attention to the man sitting on the far left. He looked distant and foreign, staring but not really looking at her. There was a peculiar absence behind his distinct green eyes, which she would even call beautiful under different circumstances. And that, something about that absence, made her want to zero in on him.

“And what about you? Did you win an Oscar or something?” mockery ringed clear in her voice, which brought his attention back to the presence. Startled slightly, he straightened his posture while saying, “No, not really... not yet at least,” he smiled sheepishly and continued, “I’m just here with them”.

“Come to think about it, I’ve never really seen you anywhere,” she said without thinking too much. In fact, she didn’t really pay enough attention to how he looked to recognize him even if she did. 

Something intense flashed his eyes for a brief second. She couldn’t quite put her fingers on what it was but she could feel the energy shift very quickly between them.

“Oh I’ve been in things but I’d be surprised if you did see any of them,” his voice now stripped of the delicacy it previously held. She could feel the air between them getting unusually heavy, his words penetrating through her skin a bit too effortlessly, a bit too swiftly that it was unsettling.   

“And why exactly would you be surprised?”

“You know...cause people like you don’t usually watch the kind of films I do.”

“What do you mean by ‘people like me?’”

“You know...people of your...stature,” he trailed off. Blood rushed the back of her neck as soon as the words hit her ears. She could feel her vision burning, a hot wave washed the crown of her skull, something unruly building at the base of her being. Clenching her jaw so as not to let it take over her, she said, “Stature huh? Fancy! I reckon from your accent that, wherever the hell you’re from, people get a kick out of looking down on others with such wispy language.”

 She could sense the same unruly substance dancing behind his chest, but he was far better at keeping it on a leash.

“I wasn’t looking down upon you. What I was merely getting at is that some people aren’t cut for apprehending particular types of films,” he sounded snarky but calm, the type of calm that’s tainted with scorn, which only sent ripples of rage down her ribs.

  “Oh so you think just because I’m a stripper by profession that I wouldn’t understand your low-budget dumb indie movies?” she was getting visibly worked up now. Traces of her seductive posture vanished long ago but there was a new hostile energy flowing through her stance.

“I didn’t say that -”

“No, of course you didn’t say that, you only meant that. You meant what you think and every one of you think that we aren’t people with brains and emotions. No, no, we’re just sacks of meat to ogle at in exchange of money, and then grope when you can’t keep it in your pants.”

“I think you're trying to put words in my mouth, this is -”

“God! you think you’re fucking better than me, don’t you? You contrarian little shit!” she could feel it in her bones. She knew what was coming. There were people behind, or maybe beside, her, trying to talk to her, probably. She could hear no one, not even the previously unbearable blaring music. She had tunnel vision and it was fixed on him. The air she breathed chafed her nose. Her nerves thumped as her heart leapt at irregular rapid intervals.

  “Excuse me! but i neve -” he said as his body went alert. Posture anticipating something violent, flight or fight.

  “You think you're better than me because I'm a stripper and you got enough money to buy me?” her voice was icy as she spoke, “You LA people are all the fucking same. You get a little money in your pockets and you think you own the world and anyone who isn’t jerking off to your pretentious bullshit isn’t worthy enough to deserve basic fucking decency. Huh is that it?” she quickly jumped on top of him, straddling him.

He was frozen under her as she leaned in and murmured, “Well then allow me to show you”, she pulled away, her left hand clutching his shoulder as right fist rose the air, “HOW FUCKING BETTER THAN ME YOU ARE!” then her fist crashed on the side of his mouth with all the force she could muster, releasing a knot built in her chest since she checked in with the manager in the evening. Hot, sweltering adrenaline was coursing through her veins.

 The impact resulted in him burying his face in his right shoulder so she grabbed a fistful of his hair and forced him to face her. His lips were starting to swell up so she decided to help it. His eyes went blank as her fist met his face once more.

 Involuntarily, her hand was raising in the air again when she felt a strong pull from behind. The security guard, twice her size, yanked her away from him. People gathered around them staring at her, the music stopped to her relief. The guard twisted her arms behind her back, enough to leave bruises that’ll sting for days to come. She couldn't move, her sight went hazy yet she felt this strange cool serenity soothe her tensed muscles. His friends were crowding him, probably consoling him. She could neither hear them nor make out their faces from her almost closed eyelids. She was pretty sure she was falling asleep in the guard’s painful hold until she heard a certain voice and the hair at the back of her neck stood up. 

“What the fuck! She’s at it AGAIN? Sir, I'm so sorry -” Sam, the manager’s voice pierced her ears as he rushed into the booth. As he was talking to them, commotion rose in the background. She could feel blind rage beating with every thump of her heart. If it wasn’t for the guard holding her in place, she would have skinned him alive by now. She was struggling to free herself when Sam turned to her and said, “You! That’s it!” pointing his left index at her. “I’ve had just about enough of your drunkass assaulting fine gentlemen. You’re fired. Get out right now! And be grateful we’re not reporting you to the police.”

Suddenly everything went quiet in her head. She smiled, nothing behind her gaze. Grinning ear to ear like a maniac, she said, “I’m fired? Aww what’s gonna happen to you now Sam?”. She cooed, ''Whose tits and ass are you gonna grab from now on? Stella? I wonder if she’ll compare to me though.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Sam almost hissed at her.

“Ohhh right! Of course, you don’t know what I’m talking about,” she said while still tussling with whatever little strength she had left to loosen herself from the guard’s excruciating grip. “You don’t know anything about how you sexually harassed me day after day, how your disgusting, slimy little hands grabbed my body against my will at every chance that you got. You knew how much I need the money from this job and you used that against me to keep me silent, threatening to fire me every time I made even a sound. But guess what fucker? I’m fired now! And I’m gonna tell everyone about HOW YOU TRIED TO -”

“Take her to the staff room!” Sam cut her off, “NOW!” And, as soon as the words left Sam's mouth, the guard put his palm over her mouth and started dragging her back. The hand over her mouth muffled her screams and she glanced at the man, now with swollen lips, looking at her with eyes filled with, what looked like, concern.

As she was getting dragged, she finally managed to sink her teeth into the guard’s palm resulting in him withdrawing his hand just enough to give her a small window of time to scream at Sam: “YOU MOTHERFUCKER I’LL BE BACK AND I’LL PEEL THE SKIN OFF OF YOUR SCALP FUCKING SON OF A BITCH I’LL -” Before she could finish, her voice got cut off again and she faded into the dimly lit passageway at the back of the floor.

------------

The cherry of her fifth cigarette shone brightly in the shivering cold as the smoke drifted up in the air and sluggishly faded away. Mouth agape, her eyes meticulously followed the faint trails left after their disappearance. She wondered where they went, where she’ll go. If it wasn’t this late, and the water wasn’t so cold, maybe she could have gone for a swim in the ocean. If the water wasn’t so cold maybe she would have let it swallow her even. She was calculating the probable temperature of the hypothetical water she’d marry someday when the sound of slow approaching footsteps entered her field of perception. She would have preferred to ignore it but the, somehow already familiar, voice spoke up, “Hey erm...” and left her no choice but to look. And there he was, the foreign man with the swollen lip, looking culpable. There were distinct imprints of guilt in his voice as he continued, “I saw you across the parking lot…um I was actually just leaving with my friends,” he pointed at a black Mercedes parked at the far end of the lot. “They’re waiting in the car anyway so I decided -”

“So you decided now that she’s fired from being a stripper, she's probably a hooker! Lemme go ask the price she’s selling at,” her gestures and voice was comical, “you know, dude if you’ve got a kink of getting beaten up non-consensually then you’re really good at getting it cause I might just be up for round two.”

He stared at her for a good few seconds with a perplexed face, as if trying to process her stream of logic. When he started speaking, he sounded genuinely hurt, “No! Jesus Christ I came to apologize. Can you just not be defensive for one second? I’m not a monster ya know!”

His sincerity caught her off guard. She had about five thousand ways of dealing with assholes prepared and ready to go but an actually decent person? Now that was rocky territory for her.

“Well, uh, that’s a first. Go ahead I guess?” she shrugged her shoulders.

“I apologize for saying what I said back in the club. I shouldn’t have insinuated that you aren’t intelligent enough to understand my films just because of your choice of profession. It was really shitty of me to say that, and nothing can justify it either. And I feel like I caused you to be fired, that’s also weighing heavily on my soul and I don't know how to make it up to you. Just, I hope that you can forgive me and, again, I apologize, earnestly. Please tell me how I can make it up to you,” he said and looked at her with a rueful expression.

She was at a loss of words. It had been years since anyone apologized to her, let alone that sincerely. After a considerable amount of silence, she gathered her fragmented thoughts and spoke up, “Whoa, whoa man, chill. You didn’t murder my family or anything so calm down,” she held up her open palms, the cigarette almost at it’s end. “Apology accepted, okay? And don’t feel bad, I would have been fired sooner or later given my questionable behavior ever since I joined, so it’s not on your conscience. And I’m sorry too,” her index and middle finger holding the cigarette gestured at his lips, “for, um, punching you so let’s call it an even.”

“Okay,” he nodded, “yeah okay,” sounding clearly more relaxed than before.

“You know it’s a miracle how long it took for me to get fired,” she mused, “oh no it wasn’t a miracle it was sexual harassment, ah I see now. Wonder what Sam saw in me though that was worth not firing me for this long even though I pulled so much shit,” she took a long drag of her weary cigarette. “Maybe I've got a talent for getting harassed or something...who knows?”

His face tensed up again as he said, “That’s...not right,” eyes pooling with the same worried look as before.

“I was joking, chill. Humor is an excellent way to deal with most everything really, especially trauma.”

“I am sorry for what you had to go through, it’s gut-wrenching. Can’t you lodge a complaint to the police?”

“Going to the pigs? As a sex worker? Who just got fired for being drunk and punching a man in front of many eye witnesses? Now that was humor, you’re quite good at it actually.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Besides, that’s like one of the first things you gotta learn to put up with if you’re working in this business. As unfair and grim as it is, men, no actually, people don’t see sex workers as human beings and I’m just too obstinate to accept that simple fact, or maybe too much of a pussy, depending on where one’s priorities lie.”

“I…don’t know what to say.”

“There is nothing to say.”

 It was just setting in for her how beautiful he actually was. His crestfallen face was graced by two stunning green eyes, lush unruly curls sticking to his forehead, sharp jawline kissed with a  scruffy goatee and the swollen lip throwing off the symmetry just right to make him look captivating, to say the least. In the chilly December ambience his face was a soothing sight to her eyes, his sweet voice kind to her drudging ears, his presence warm to her existence. And she wanted to hold onto the warmth, just for a bit longer.

   “You said you wanted to make it up to me, right?” she said as the cigarette fell on the ground then died out under the crushing embrace of her cruel heels.                         

------------

“Well I'm Ro -” he said leaning against the passenger seat window, sitting half facing her.

“If you’re trying to say your name then don’t,” she cut him off quickly without averting her gaze from the road.

“Why?” he asked, staring at her intently yet without any emotion in particular.

“‘Cause it doesn’t matter. It’s better if we don’t know each other’s name. Names individualize people and that’s not necessary for tonight,” she answered nonchalantly as the neon lights of a passing by road sign illuminated her face and then faded into the past just as nonchalantly. 

“Okay.”

She could feel his eyes on her, but it didn’t bother her, it wasn’t tainted. There was this unusual tranquility in the atmosphere of the car, this obscure but consistent serene rhythm. She felt a bizarre comfort in his presence and she could drive like this forever, on a never-ending road spiraling towards heaven or winding down pandemonium or just dissolving into the ether, with him sitting lazily on the side.

    “Do you ever feel like that?” he spoke up absentmindedly, breaking into her almost fever dream.

“Huh?”

“The song, I feel like that often.”

She didn’t realize the radio was on, playing at quite a significant volume. She wondered if he had turned it on at some point and how long she was driving for without being present mentally.

This place will be the end of me. Take me out, LA. Take me out of LA, the voice from the radio filled the car to the brim.

 “I don’t feel like that, I know that. I know I'll die here, kinda intrinsically...do you hate this place?”

“No, not hate. I just feel like I don't fit in here. It’s the way of life, it’s quite significantly different to what I was used to. The people and the city, it all feels hollow sometimes and every now and then i catch myself yearning for what I left behind me.”

“I see. Beautiful people and their beautiful problems.”

    Silence fell in the car again. Except for the voice through the radio, Well this place is never what it seems.

 “You don’t have to make small talk, you know. I'm fine with silence,” she said, finally looking at him for a brief second.

“Oh I know,” he was looking right into her eyes, unruffled. “I wasn’t making small talk, I just wanted to talk to you. That’s all.”

------------

The bleak fluorescent tube above buzzed in solidarity as the fatigued clock on the chipped convenience store wall dragged its hands and finally managed to tick at 2 am. The attendant was leaning on the counter, trying not to fall asleep when her voice echoed in the store: “$20 on pump 2.”

“I’ll pay”, he cut in, reaching for his wallet. “Okayyy...” she replied, narrowing her eyes at his benevolence and looked around the store which was significantly emptier that other nights. She closed her eyes for a second and the memories flashed behind her lids. She used to come here frequently, around this time, with someone when everything in her world was right, just right enough for her to not to seek out falling stars every night and wish for death over and over again. When she opened her eyes a shiny pack of Parliaments caught her gaze and she quickly gestured behind the counter, “Since you’re paying, can I get a pack of those also?”

“Sure”

“I remember surviving on those alone while writing my thesis papers,” she said wistfully, “good times.”

“You went to college?”

“University actually, but yeah.”

“Good lord.”

“But I had to drop out so I couldn’t complete my Master’s in Biochemistry.”

“Why?”

“Life.”

“I flunked out my first year of college so you did way more than I did in that regard.”

“Welp, look where that got me.”

“Don’t say that!”

“What?” she scoffed.

“Anything else?” the attendant interjected, visibly tired and clearly annoyed at their conversation.

She swiftly grabbed a lighter, “Can I get this too?”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

“That’ll be all,” she tossed the lighter towards the attendant and continued, “You’re clearly doing way better than me in life.”

“Are you being sarcastic?” he replied, raising an eyebrow.

“No. I meant that seriously. I’m the one who fucked up my life and that’s a fact. Say, how did you know what you wanted to do?”

“That’ll be $30”, the attendant interjected again.

“I don’t know. I started acting as a kid and it just seemed right. It’s all I've known really and I can't see myself as anything else,” he said as he passed the money to the attendant.

“I envy that.”

“I do sometimes ponder what I would have been if not an actor.”

“Wondering too much isn’t good,” she grabbed the goods and shoved them in her coat pocket, “It might make someone into me.”

She stopped right before the glass door, pulled the lighter out and flicked it on, “I’ll use it later,” she leaned in close to him with a frivolous smirk and whispered, “to burn this city down.”

He chuckled at her sudden gaiety, “I’d gladly assist.”

Pushing the door open, she continued as he followed behind her, “Did you see the way that dude rolled his eyes to you? He definitely thought you were with a blabbering hooker and to be honest, my make up probably didn’t help either. Oh well it's not like -” her voice slowly evaporated into the gloomy gas-station lights. 

------------

“So beautiful,” he said with awe looking over the vast and apparently endless ocean which the full, eternal moon bathed with its silver glory.

She clutched at her coat sleeves as the chilly wind sent shivers down her body and said, “I know right? I’ve always found the sea to be peaceful during this time of the night.”

“It’s lovely, I’ve never been to this beach before.”

“It’s my favorite spot actually, I used to come here pretty often,” melancholia dripping from her voice. She paused for a little while as if going over a mental checklist and said, “let’s go sit down there,” and pointed towards a vague place in the distance. 

They walked down the beach for a bit side by side, knuckles occasionally brushing against each other’s, making them want to hold hands, feel the warmth of another being. But the hesitance of the yet to be known, the uncertainty of a nameless stranger clouded their minds and prevented them from reaching out.

She stopped, sat down and gestured to him to do the same by tapping the cold sand beside her. He sat a bit too far for her liking so she huddled up closer to him saying, “You blaze right?”

“Sure.”

“Cool,” she said, taking out a small bag from an inside pocket of her coat, “keep an eye out for me while I roll it.”

They sat in silence as she rolled a joint meticulously. The waves kept crashing on the shore as if fulfilling some ancient duty. Wind rustled through the empty beach. Sand glimmered sporadically under the warm light of the moon, creating a transcendental atmosphere.

He sighed and thought out loud, interrupting the intoxicating stillness of the night, “Where do we go from here?”

“Other than plotting the murder of Sam, I don’t know about me,” she replied without looking up from the task at hand, “Don’t really wanna think about it tonight. That’s why I took you along with me. I wanted someone to keep me distracted from my thoughts and I had no one to go to...then you came to apologize, like my knight in shining armor.”

He smiled wryly and said, “I see.”

“What about you? What are you gonna do about your not fitting in or what was it?”

“I don’t know either. I just miss my people. I’m not meant for here, I think.”

“So can’t you go back there? To your home I assume?”

“I can...”

“Then go. Why the fuck would you stick around if you had the option to go back?”

“Maybe.”

“Huh! I wish I had a home to go back to too.”

She could see him from the corner of her eyes, clenching his knees tight with his fingers at her words, bringing them closer to his chest. She looked up to see him staring at her with his big, beautiful, hurt-puppy eyes.

“Did that make you sad or something?” she asked, almost amused. 

“Yeah...yeah it did.”

His apparent empathy for a literal stranger who also punched him not so long ago struck her as odd and oddly enticing. He looked unreal to her in the strange moonlight, as if a remote but vivid memory. She felt as though if she reached out and touched him, he’d turn to dust and drift off with the wind. Those intense eyes and his fey beauty were getting too much for her to bear so she averted her gaze towards the ocean and said, “There’s no use for your or anyone’s sadness. You see, sadness changes nothing. Unless you can start a capital R revolution tomorrow, everything will be the same. It’ll be the same day with slight variations over and over again, things will repeat and go on and on and on until one day humanity just goes poof somehow and then the universe will go on as if we never even happened. There’s no significance of our lives, there’s no point in feeling sad about anything in this set up. One must always imagine Sisyphus happy.”

“That’s quite pessimistic, isn’t it?”

“Kinda absurdist actually, but It’s hard not to be pessimistic or defensive, when you have to lead a life like mine.”

“I understand.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do, “Glamour Boy,’” she said, licking the rolling paper.

He put his hand over his chest and feigned being hurt which made her laugh; a clear, hearty laughter. The beach echoed with a faint sound of the laughter of two stray souls as he joined in.

The joint hanged from her lips, sensual and reckless like an erotic magazine model, burning bright as she took a long drawn-out drag.

“Say, do you think the water is cold?” she said, passing the joint to him.

He took in a drag, inhaling some of her used up smoke with it too, tasting her cheap but obscenely sweet fruity lip gloss at the filter tip, “Yeah...very much so”.

She huddled up even closer to feel the heat of his body as he passed the joint back to her. Taking in another drag, she leisurely put her head on his shoulder.

The sedating smoke sank into their lungs as the sand anchored them from floating off in the elating static of the enveloping darkness.

------------

“Is this it?” she said, pulling up to a posh apartment complex, something she wouldn’t be able to afford even after paying off her debts. 

“Yeah, that’s me,” he replied absently and unbuckled his seatbelt. 

She was looking ahead at the road, expecting him to get out of the car, but he sat in silence. She looked at him and saw him laid back on the seat as if being consumed by it, tracing the edge of the left air vent softly with his fingers. He sighed and said, still looking at his busy fingers: “I feel strange and fucking awful.”

“It happens sometimes after coming down a high.”

“It’ll be a pain in the arse going to bed feeling like this.”

“I know,” her eyes travelled down the flow of his posture, giving birth to an urge of some aboriginal origin in her loins, “but you don’t have to.” 

He turned his head towards her slowly, lethargy clear in his slow breathing pattern, “What do you mean?”

“Push your seat back.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

He furrowed his brows, alarmed by her sudden gratuitous command. He looked at her; motionless as if not even breathing awaiting his compliance and her eyes glinted with expectancy. He pushed his seat back, as far as it could go then parted his lips to say something but before the words could get out, she virtually jumped on top then sat astride him.

 A deathly stillness engrossed the car as her previous bellicose energy returned to the atmosphere, only this time rather ardent in nature. His heart, instantaneously racing, almost audible to her. 

“You know,” she said taking off her top, “dopamine is a hormone and neurotransmitter that’s an important part of your brain’s reward system, and it can elevate your mood and make you feel really good.”

Eyes wide with surprise, he struggled to keep his gaze fixed on her face as she unbuttoned his shirt. Her fingertips snaked up and down his smooth chest as if caressing a sumptuous painting one is not allowed to touch. She felt his taut muscle tighten at her touch, veins kindled with a hot rush pulsing under. Burying her face in the hollow of his neck, she felt the heat of his body as she pressed her chest against his. His breathing picked up it’s pace even more at the contact with her flushed skin.

“Do you ever get lonely?” she spoke up letting her lips skim over his bare shoulder.

“Terribly,” his voice breathy as he placed his hands on her hips hesitantly, not possessively, but affectionately.

“I do too.”

“What do we do about it?”

“Maybe we don’t do anything.”

“Maybe.” he said resting his right cheek against her head, “or maybe we keep each other company.”

“But for how long?”

“However long we need to.”

A mirthless laugh rippled from her lips then through his skin. She pulled back to look him in the eyes, curious green mixed with an unfamiliar kind of sorrow, a sorrow too costly for her. “Lust and attraction shut off the prefrontal cortex of the brain, which includes rational behavior,” she said, knocking softly on his temple.

“Makes sense.”

Cupping his face, she stroked his swollen lips with her rough thumbs, making him wince in response. The purple bruise steadily forming on the side of his mouth marred his flawless complexion yet his allure only enhanced. Her thumb rubbed on the bruise with reckless abandon, his flinches testifying to that. Withdrawing her hands from his face, she left a light peck on the bruise and said, “Slap me.”

“What?”

“Slap me, come on, I'm giving you a chance to get back at me for earlier.”

“No!”

“Prude!”

“Hey! I just don’t want to hurt you, especially not as revenge or what not,” he sounded genuinely offended.

She leaned in, “But I want to get hurt, silly,” her lips ghosting over his as she whispered, “Endorphins are our body’s natural pain reducer and it so happens to increase when we engage in reward-producing activities, such as eating, working out, or having sex.” She pulled away and continued, “So hit me. Hard.” His adam’s apple bobbed up then down as he searched at her face, as if trying to find some sort of sign. His fingers dug in her hips, indicating the upcoming crude impact. Her palms laid flat against his chest as his left hand rose then crashed against her face. Her fingers curled in response as she gasped weakly, eyes shut closed but the tensity clear in the lines on her eyelids and forehead. 

“Ah... that was good,” she said as if talking to herself, caressing her cheek. When she opened her eyes, she found him staring with uncertain eyes, the doubt readable in the way he bit his lips. 

“Just like that, once more,” her firm voice ringed in the vehicle. His hand cruelly collided once again with her face, leaving her face warm and red. 

“Good boy,” she cooed as the sharp sting eddied on her cheek and then through her whole body, easing her off some unknown yet intrinsic discomfort. Her chest pounded in sync to his as she spoke up, “Do it for me once again, won’t you?”

Pressing his teeth even deeper into his lips, he struck her once again, with as much strength as he had. A white light flashed before her eyes, her ears ringed as she sat in silence for a bit. When her vision became clear, she held his face between her palms. Leaning closer, she rested her temple against his and murmured, “Such a good boy.”

Sweat dripped down as her nose grazed up the side of his neck, she could feel him growing hard through his pants. She buried her face in his curls and breathed in. He smelt sugary, sweet to the extent of almost making her nauseous. She whispered against his ear, “You’ve got a boner...it turned you on this much to hurt me?”

“It’s, um, n-not really that part it’s the -” he stammered in embarrassment.

 “Ugh men,” she cut him off and rolled her eyes playfully. “But since we’ve got a situation at hand, and you’ve been so good to me, I think you deserve some relief for yourself,” she said, tugging at his waistband. To which he responded eagerly, elevating his hips just enough so she could slip his pants off as much as possible. His head sank back into the headrest as her hands wrapped around his cock. Her hand gilded up and down his length as her other hand ran through his hair, pulling lightly. Resting his forehead on her shoulder, he quivered and moaned softly as she lovingly yet mercilessly worked on him. His breath hitched sharply as she stroked the tip of his cock with her thumb, making him groan and twitch under her touch. She was about to pick up the pace when he grabbed her wrist abruptly. “Wait!” he rasped, “I wanna...feel you.”

He panted, trying to catch his breath and said, “Let’s take this inside, there might be people around.”

“Why? Are you afraid of getting photographed with a hooker by the paparazzi, Mr. Actor?"

“No”, he answered, the same hurt as earlier could be heard in his voice, the type of hurt when one is misunderstood by someone they love, “I just - I just want it to be nice.”

“Let’s not make it too nice lest you fall in love with me,” she said sternly. “Besides, you should be more concerned about getting STDs. There should be some condoms in the glove box and also tissues for later.”

He brought his face closer to hers, looked at her lips and said, “You’ve got such a mean mouth, you know that?”

“And you like it?”

“Perhaps”, he replied then kissed her, deeply. Holding her face in his head, he bit her lips which made her moan in his mouth. After running out of breath she pulled away, still tasting his saliva on her tongue as he reached behind her and rifled through the glove compartment. Having found what he wanted, he turned on the radio then returned his focus to her; she was hiking up her dress and awkwardly slipping off her panties in the short space.

Heavy bass filled the car, I wanna be your vacuum cleaner breathing in your dust, as the sky started to light up with shades of azure and tangerine. Her tongue blended with his as she took his cock in her. Their bodies pressed and flushed against each other as a steady rhythm flowed through them. Her nails scratched his nape, as he kissed her neck, nibbling at her collarbone. Her head shot back as he thrust up into her, frantic and keen. His groans muffled in her chest, her moans melting into his hair as their hips clashed against one another.

Maybe I just wanna be yours.

I wanna be yours.

------------   

The sparkling rays of the breaking dawn illuminated his face as he cleaned himself off and got dressed. She marveled from the driver’s seat at the magnificence of the sight of him in afterglow. There was something in him, something innate, that made him stand out from anyone she ever came across. He was made for the screen, he was made to shine, and she wondered whether or not he’ll remember her afterwards. It was for the better if he didn’t, she thought to herself, as this was probably one of the lowest points in his life, while that night was most definitely one of the highlights of hers. The sheer dichotomy was glaring at her soul when he spoke up, bringing her attention back to the present, “I was wondering if you’d like to -”

“Look if you want my name or number, then that’s just not gonna happen,” she said with a sigh, “It’s the oxytocin flooding your brain. Increased levels of oxytocin facilitate attachment and bonding and shit so, like, don’t be fooled.”

“But it’s not that, I feel a connection between us...something I haven’t felt with anyone here before.”

He averted his eyes from her and looked out the window. His hand lingered on the door handle for a second before he stepped out of the car. Turning his back towards the car, he walked into the apartment complex, without saying anything further. Her foot pressed on the accelerator, as the car drove past the buildings. A Parliament washed out the leftover taste of him in her mouth as she rolled down the window to let the nauseously sweet scent dissipate into the cold morning air. 

“It is that. Believe me, I know. There is nothing between us. Whatever connection you feel is your hormones doing bullshit things.”

“You’re just evading me”

“I’m not. I do actually know. Okay, for instance you feel really tired and sleepy right now, right?”

“Yeah”

“That’s the parasympathetic nervous system down-regulating your body and a shit load of vasopressin coursing through you”

“But that could also be because we stayed up all night and got high and just had sex”

“Why don’t you understand? It’s all chemicals, everything! There is nothing called love and whatever the fuck people feel is just their chemicals doing somersaults. There is nothing between us, we don’t know each other. There can be nothing either, look at the circumstances. People like you shouldn’t have to do anything with people like me unless it requires a monetary transaction.”

“But i can help, with whatever you’re dealing with”, he said reaching to place his hand over hers, “we can help each other”

“and what exactly do you think i’m dealing with?, she asked, withdrawing her hand, eyes narrowed at him.

“I don’t know yet”

“Exactly. You don’t know anything. I’m not some sad little girl who went to college then got depressed but in a sexy way so maybe she did drugs or whatever and dropped out and now strips for fucking aesthetic reasons probably. No honey, I’m involved with shit that can drag you down faster than a meth withdrawal and my life is a living testimony of that, take my word for it. So, go get some rest. Sleep out your saviour complex and live out your promising life when you wake up.”

[thisismandee]

You’re my PainKiller (Spencer Reid x F!Reader)

Part 1| Part 2| Part 3

Word Count: 1.7k

Content Warning: Talk of murder typically criminal minds warnings. 

Summary: The next morning with Spencer. Then the team gets called into a case.

You woke up to your alarm the next morning. You looked over at the couch and noticed Spencer wasn’t there. You got up and turned off your alarm and picked up the living room. You grabbed the empty bowl that was filled with popcorn the night prior and walked towards the kitchen. As you walked in you saw Spencer making a pot of coffee. You also noticed that he was already dressed for the day. 

“What time did you wake up?” You asked him as you put the bowl in the sink and grabbed two to go cups from your cupboard. 

“Only like ten minutes ago.” He replied, and you believed him because you could hear the roughness in his morning voice. You had to admit his morning voice was kind of hot, in that he is your friend and any female would find it hot, kind of way. You put the cups on the counter and you noticed that Reid had grabbed the sugar. You watched as he did his normal pound of sugar and topped it off with coffee. You smiled as you made your own cup.

“Would you like some coffee with that sugar?” You joked towards him. He just gave you a mocking ‘haha’. You left the kitchen and went to your bedroom and got ready for the day. You were glad that you were able to do your entire makeup and morning routine in fifteen minutes, so you could always sleep in. You left your bedroom, dressed and with a go bag, because you never know how the day is going to go. What you didn’t know was that this was foreshadowing.

You and Spencer left your apartment and headed towards the car. It was a quiet car ride until Reid spoke up. 

“Y/N, I just realized that we are coming up on your one year with the BAU. Congrats”

“Has it really already been a year. It feels like just yesterday I walked into the unit and was greeted by you literally falling for me.” You said in a teasing tone.

“Morgan tripped me as a joke, I didn’t just ‘fall’. I still can’t believe that I spilled my coffee on you on your first day. I am still sorry about that.”

“Just think if you didn’t ruin my favorite shirt we wouldn’t be friends now.” You said teasingly, knowing that he would only pay attention to one part of your sentence.

“That was your favorite shirt!?!?” You could tell he felt bad. “I didn’t know that, oh my...”

You let out a laugh and looked over at him. His demeanor went from regret to calm as he figured o9ut that you were messing with him. 

“Very funny, I was this close to ordering you a new shirt like the one you had.”

“Oh, come on pretty boy, I have to mess with you sometimes, it can’t just be Morgan that gets to have all the fun.”

“Well if you want to go there, it is on Y/N”

You pulled into your parking spot and walked into the building ready for the day. Anticipating what you just started with Spencer.

***

You weren’t at your desk for more than a half hour when you were pulled into the round room with a new case. 

“We are headed to Las Vegas, NV.” JJ had started as she gave us the case files. You looked over at Spencer and noticed the smile he had, we were going to his hometown. “We have three woman dead. First we have Lara Lynch, age 32, she was found in her home, no sign of a struggle. Violet Mercado, 29, and local magazine model, was found with her face mutilated, almost unrecognizable. Lastly, we have Chloe Baldwin, 37, she was found in her law office.”

“These killings are so random, how do we know that it was all the same person?” Derek asked.

“They all had a letter carved into their chest. Lara, ‘E’, Violet, ‘P’, and Chloe, ‘G’. “

“Is the killer trying to spell out something? And what happened with Lara, why was there no struggle?” You said speaking out loud.

“Wheels up in 15”

***

When you had landed at Las Vegas, the team split up to go to the crime scenes. You were with Emily and were walking up to Lara’s door. You walked into the house and if you wouldn’t have seen the pictures of the crime scene you would have thought this was a normal lived in home.

“So why would Lara just let this guy in?” You started thinking out loud.

“She must have known him, or he was someone she would have trusted.”

You walked into the kitchen and noticed two glasses of water on the counter. 

“Must have been a friend or someone close to her, why else would she be getting a drink for them?” You said as you pointed towards the glasses on the counter. You then looked over at the shelves that lined the wall and saw the framed pictures. One of them stood out. It was of Lara and her husband. It looked like it was during their wedding, it was with them and what looked like the wedding party.

“Her husband is at the precinct right now. He was the one that found her.” 

“Emily look at this.” You pointed at the date on the picture. “This was two weeks ago, they had just gotten married.”

“So much for a honeymoon”

You walked around the rest of the house but couldn’t find anything that stood out. You decided to grab the photo from the wedding and bring it with you back to the precinct, you were holding it in the car and you couldn’t help but keep looking at it.

“Don’t you just love weddings? The amount of love just surrounding everyone.” Emily was trying to make small talk.

“Eh.” Your response took Emily by surprise. You decide to elaborate. “Don’t get me wrong, I love weddings, and I am all for romance, but if I am being honest, and what I am about to say is to not leave the two of us, I have never been in love before.” You don’t know why you were opening up about it, but with Emily it just felt right.

“Why?” 

“Love is scary for me. From what I have read and seen, it's all consuming, and the thought of giving yourself to someone and trusting them wholeheartedly is scary.”

“Very true, and it can be scary, but you shouldn’t hold yourself back from feeling love. It can be scary but when you are in love it is the closest thing I think to cloud 9.”

You were quiet for a bit, “Thanks Em.” 

***

When you got back to the precinct everyone was there.

“So Chloe was a real treat I guess.” Morgan started. “She was big into the dinner things in life and she was upcharging her clients to get the things that she wanted.”

“Wow, she sounds like a real treat, how did she ever have clients?” Rossi commented

“That's the kicker, she would only work with people with money, Which brings me to this, guess who worked with her?”

“Violet.” You said, confident, not so much questioning.

“You got it.”

“Speaking of Violet,” Rossi started. “According to her coworkers, she was a r4eal charmer. I guess she was narcissistic and thought that she was the center of the world.” 

“What about you Y/N? What did you find at Lara’s?” Hotch asked.

“She must have known the Unsub, there was no struggle and there were glasses on the counter like they were about to have a conversation. The only other thing that was of importance is this.” You said as you put the wedding photo on the table. “She just got married, and I mean just married, two weeks ago to be precise, which means she would have been married for a total of four days when she got murdered.” 

“So it started as a crime of passion.” Spencer said. “The Unsub was triggered by the recent marriage and ever since them is trying to make others around them pay for their ‘sins’”

It hit you like a freight train, you knew what it all meant. “That’s it! He is making them pay for their sins. Chloe, Greed, taking advantage of others to get the finer things in life. Violet, Pride, everything is about her and how she benefitted from everything. And the trigger of it all, Lara.”

“How is she a part of it?” Morgan asked.

“She is Envy.” Spencer stated.

“Exactly, The unsub wasn’t killing Lara for her sin, but it was the Unsubs sin. He couldn’t have Lara, he was envious.” It all started to click in everyone’s head. “We have to go talk to the husband, he knows who our unsub is. Someone call Garcia and have her cross reference the wedding party with our victims. There has to be someone that connects all of them.”

***

Within the next hour you had a name Myles Hickman, he was the best man, he had known Lara and her husband since college. After further research it was found out that Lara had worked at a local stripclub with both Chloe and Violet at one point. Myles had been a bartender at that same bar, he had a thing for Lara since college, but she turned him down early on. However, that didn’t stop him from having hope, that was until the wedding day, where it became apparent that he wasn’t going to get the girl. Garcia was able to pin Hickman’s phone and found out that he was approaching that exact stripclub. Everyone put two and two together. He was about to get the next sin in line, lust. 

The team had come up with a plan to get Hickman. 

“We have to get him by himself, we don’t know what he is capable of. The husband mentioned that Myles is an avid hunter and has had moments of being erratic.”

“So one of us should go undercover?” You asked.

“I don’t know if that's necessary.” Hotch answered.

“I think the kid is right. Someone should go under and try to lure Hickman out. We don’t know what he could do if we make a scene.”

“I’ll go.” You say. You look over at Spencer and he gives you a face of concern.

“Okay it’s settled. Y/N go get ready we are leaving in five minutes.” 

[kz-i-co]

*Hot Mess

Request: "Hi! I just wanted to request an iKON one shot. It's about June, a new worker of a strip club, then y/n was invited by friends to the stripclub where June is and let's just say they met each other in a awkward way then it got a little Hot."

Pairing: June/ Reader

Genre: very Very smutty (18+ only)

Words: 2.4k

A/N: I have never been to a strip club or gentleman's club before so hopefully this isn't bad lol also not sure if you wanted June to be a stripper himself or like a waiter or bartender. But anyway I can't get magic mike out of my head for this type of scenario so there might be similarities lol. P.S. I wrote this strictly as a one-shot :( sorry lol

m.list ╫ ikon masterlist

-

"Where are you taking me?" All you could see through the black blindfold that blocked your sight was random lights that peeked through.

"You'll see." You heard your friend say as you were stopped to a halt. "We have a 21st birthday girl here."

You heard a door open and music blaring out as you friends dragged you along once again. Once you were inside the blindfold was ripped off and your vision came back slowly as laser lights and sweaty people dancing everywhere.

"You said you never came to a club before so we thought it was a good idea for your birthday." It's not like you were a stranger to drinks but it was officially accepted legally. "And maybe you can finally get laid tonight."

Your other friends whistled.

"Back off." You laughed and they guided you to the bar.

...

About an hour of dancing you felt exhausted and went back for another drink. "One please." You said out of breath as you gave the man your shot glass.

You looked around as you noticed a guy glance at you from the end of the bar. He was very attractive and he smiled as soon as he saw you.

"Thank you." You took your drink and gulped it down. As soon as you put the glass down the attractive guy was by your side.

"You want another?" He asked and all you did was smile. "Double?" He told the bar tender.

"I've never seen you here before." He spoke.

"You come here often enough to memorize every girls face that hangs around?" You flirted.

"Only ones that catch my eye." He flirted back.

"It's my first time here actually. It's kinda my birthday."

"Happy birthday. You having a good time?"

"It's getting better." You bit your lip.

"It's really your birthday?" He squinted as he leaned closer.

"Yes."

"You over 21?"

"To be exact." You confirmed.

"I work at the the crescent moon down the street. Since it's your birthday your entitled to a free show." He sipped his drink.

"I'm sorry, I'm new to all this." You blushed.

"It's a performance, plus I can get you free drinks."

"Oh cool, may I invite my friends?" You asked.

"Of course." He said and you were quick to grab them.

"This guy I met works at the crescent moon and he said since it's my birthday we can get in for free."

"Are you fucking kidding me. That place is impossible to get in." Your one friend said.

"So you know it?"

"It's like the most famous club around here." She said not believing you had no clue.

"Let's go meet your new friend." Your other friend said.

"Hi, these are my friends Siyeon, Chaehyung, and Haekyung." You smiled. "And this is.....actually I never got your name." You blushed.

"It's Junhoe." He smiled. "And these are my friends."

You are your friends waved to the other attractive guys. "You ready? The next show starts at 10."

"Hell yeah." Siyeon cut in. "Let's go."

Junhoe smiled at you as you all followed them to the club.

....

"You guys are late." The guy at the door spoke.

"We found you some V.I.P's." Junhoe began. "Birthday."

"Alright, alright. Come on in ladies." He let you in.

Junhoe went the opposite direction causing you to stop him. "Wait, where are you going?"

"I need to put on my uniform." He said and you nodded taking your assigned seat. All the seats were filled with ladies of all kinds.

"So he works here? What does he do exactly?"

"I don't know he didn't say. He said free drinks on him so maybe he's a bartender?" You shrugged.

"Welcome ladies." A guy walked out on stage. "You all ready for the show tonight?" The girls all cheered.

"Now I heard we had a birthday girl in the building. Seat A5, how you doing?" That was the seat you were in. The light shines on you and you gave an awkward wave as your friends were whistling by your side. "Don't worry hun, this will be a birthday you won't forget."

And then he walked back offstage and the music started as some guys came out of stage and started dancing.

"Oh my god. This is a strip club?" You said shocked as the guys were losing clothes by the second.

"Of course it is, what did you think?"

"When he said performance I was thinking like a play." You said innocently.

"(Y/N) you have a lot to learn." Chaehyung laughed. "You are so pure."

The guys were were basically dry humping the stage causing you to blush like crazy. Throughout the show you saw no sign of Junhoe.

"This next performance needs a volunteer." The host spoke up. The girls were shooting their hands up as you tried to hide in your chair. The other parts of the show with volunteers were basically having sex on stage and you rather not have that kind of attention. But of course, faith liked to work against you. "Birthday girl, come on up."

Your friends were practically pushing you towards the stage.

I don't want to do this....

"Have a seat here, beautiful." You sat in the chair, front and center. "So how old today?"

"21."

"You're not dating anyone I hope." He began and you just shook your head. "Good, we don't need that on our conscience." He laughed and left your side. "Next is our newest star performer. Believe it or not, our most requested dancer and he only joined us a month ago. You know him, you love him, and we know most of you cougars want him but it's time to let this little birthday angel have him tonight."

"Have fun." He whispered next to you giving you chills and then the music started.

The girls were cheering as the performance clearly started behind you that you were too nervous to even look. You felt the presence come closer as he danced and he grabbed your hand pulling it up his naked torso that you finally got a glimpse of his beautiful face. It was Junhoe. You were a mess before but this was a whole new ball game. You only met the guy an hour ago and he already had this crazy impact on you.

He was gyrating his hips towards you as he made you hold on to his undies. He pulled you slowly bringing yours lips towards his in a hypnotizing kiss that had you unbalanced. He lifted you up and carried you off stage taking you to a private room.

"Oh ladies, how you wish you were her." You heard the host speak as he started the next performance.

Junhoe shut the door behind him and placed you on this big circular red sofa bed. The room was small and on the darker side since the only lights were neon. There was also a pole in the middle of the room.

What was he gonna do? You were in a daze as he towered over you bringing his lips to yours. He came up and was still putting on a show as he was gyrating his hips in a sexual way.

You couldn't keep your eyes off his bulge as his hips danced in your face. You moved your hands touching his toned abs, slowly moving further down where they don't belong.

Once you got dangerously close he grabbed your hand placing them back up towards his torso. "Are we going to-"

"I'll get fired." He looked at you stopping.

"What?"

"Having sex with a customer is against the rules if that's what you're asking."

"Oh." You said blushing. You felt annoyed with yourself that you even brought it up.

"Besides I hate to pull you away from your friends." He looked at you leaning down to kiss you once again, moving his hips along with yours. He continued down pleasuring your neck more, getting closer to your chest.

"I'm not even allowed to kiss you. I'll get a warning after the show for doing it on stage. I just couldn't help myself." He whispered.

You felt his bulge get bigger as he continued moving against you. He stopped suddenly and looked down causing you to snap out of your daze. "This never happens." He said concerned.

"Can I take you to my place." He whispered.

You nodded immediately without a thought but still wanted to ask. "Why not here?"

"Every private room has cameras." He got up and pulled you up with him. You both stepped outside the room and walked to the back. "Wait here." He said and disappeared. He came back in a few minutes ready to leave with you until his name was called back to the back.

He handed you his keys. "Take this and go out this back door. Just hit the button and you'll find my car. I'll meet you there in 5 minutes."

You nodded and did what he asked.

"You leaving so soon?" His boss asked as he stepped back inside. "We always go out for a drink after.

"Sorry man, I have plans." He simply said.

"You know I have to lecture you right?" He began and Junhoe nodded. "You can't be kissing on stage or every woman is gonna want the same treatment."

"I know."

"One inspector, we can be shut down."

"I know. Won't happen again." He said in a rush.

"Alright, go on." He cleared.

"Hey Jinhwan." He called over his fellow colleague. "Tell the girls in seat A3- A6 that they're friend will get home safe and sound."

He smirked and left.

...

You bounced your legs impatiently as he drove to his place. You were only in the car for 10 minutes but your nerves were getting the best of you.

Once you arrived he lead the way in a rush and once that door shut. He pampered you in a way you couldn't even describe. This time he was stripping your clothes instead of his own. The cold air was a bit uncomfortable as you were in nothing but your panties.

"You cold?" He felt the goosebumps on your arms.

"A little."

"Follow me." He guided you to the living room where the fire place was starting. "I'm gonna get us some drinks."

He left for a second as you warmed up, the fireplace was small but very warm. The couch was soft and had a fuzzy blanket draped over as you covered yourself up.

"Here." He hand you a wine glass with what you guess was white wine.

"Thank you." You took a sip. It was pretty strong and bitter but still tasted fine for the moment.

"It's your birthday. Any request?" He was already hovering over you causing you to feel lustful again.

"You still on the clock?" You flirted.

"No but everyone should feel good on their birthday."

"Surprise me." You bit your lip.

"Are you giving me consent to touch you in any way or form?" You nodded and he began tugging down your panties.

He grabbed your left leg placing it to rest against the back of the couch and started to gently kiss up the other one. He moved slowly and sensual as he made his way up to your moist core. He worked his touch throughout causing your extreme pleasure. You couldn't stay still from your lack of experience. You always imagined what it could feel like but never thought it was this amazing. You never wanted it to end.

He was doing things you couldn't even explain. He placed two fingers in and began pumping them causing you twitch as he held you down still sucking every last drip. You were a moaning mess.

You felt a rush coming up quickly disappointing you from how soon it was going to be over. You moaned out reaching your high letting him finish you down slowly. "This your first time?"

"You can tell that bad."

"You're more sensitive then I thought." He chuckled but he was finding you cute the more he knew you.

You sat up and began pulling on his briefs feeling impatient. "It's not about me tonight babe." He stopped you from touching him.

"But I want you to feel good too."

"We can do that another time. It's about you feeling good tonight."

He pulled off his briefs anyway but he was quick to pull a condom down. "Turn around for me hun." He was such a gentleman in the way he talked you couldn't help but blush. Once you turned around he grabbed your hips placing his member to your already soaked center. He tapped you a few times before entering slowly. He pushed up against you as he began moving your hips along with his. He was slow and steady until you were fully adjusted. Once the momentum kicked in he held you down, pinning you to the couch as he pounded from behind. You cried out as the pleasure was building up once again.

You felt sore already from the pressure of his pace going faster and faster. The build up was coming up more intense then before causing you to squirt out. Your breathing was unsteady as he continued to thrust until eventually reached his high shortly after.

"You are one fine women Miss (Y/N), I hope you let me take you out."

"Birthday breakfast?"

"Of course." You smiled.

He picked you up bridal style and began taking you to his bedroom. "Your birthday isn't over yet."

[twit-moonstar]

i fall to pieces: chapter one - roger taylor x fem!reader

N/A: Hey! This is just the first chapter of this little mini series I’ll do. I was intending on doing a big ass one shot but I can’t force myself to finish it so I decided to post what I have and see if there’s actually any interest on reading this. It’s a 80s Roger x Stripper!Reader, in case the little banner didn’t gave it away. Let me know your opinion and reblog the fic if you liked it <3

N/A2: I edited this myself, so pardon me if there’s any grammar mistake or incoherence! (Doesn’t excuse me but) English it’s not my first languaje.

Summary:  When Y/N, a dancer at the Blue Velvet stripclub mets rockstar Roger Taylor, she’s torn between mistrust and flirting shamelessly but little by little they find a way to each other’s heart.

Warnings: There’s no smut in this bc i’m not up for it but there will be a few references to sex.

Words: roughly 3K

“Bring you ass here, Laura!” exclaimed Coco and you rejected the various shots that Laura offered you before she walked to Coco with a simple gesture of your hand. Applying the deep wine lipstick carefully, you smile in different ways in the mirror to try to get into this persona you had created for the club.

Working on the club night after night was taking its toll over you, and you were in desperate need of a vacation but you wouldn’t dare to ask Mike about it. Your rent was due in a week and you still needed a few pounds to get the amount of money you needed.

Maybe I should go on that date with that guy, Tate, you think. You already know him and how his crushes tended to go for the girl he had put his eye on—The fortunate chosen one would end up with a new shiny pair of brand shoes and a gold bracelet or a diamond necklace, all of that without even sleeping with him. Of course, those who did sleep with him could get a whole lot more but that wasn’t something that you were thrilled for— and he was certainly interested in you.

You walk out of the dressing room. The club wasn’t yet at its fullest, as it was fairly early yet. The lights, however, were starting to get lowered and soon the place would be bathed in blue and red.

“Busy night, Karma?” asks the new barmaid, Matt, you think. He’s been trying to get into your pants ever since he started to work, but you never pay him any attention.

“Not yet, Matthew,” you reply, passing by without looking at him and walking straight to a group of three men drinking beer and watching to one in particular.

They seem delighted with your presence as if you had chosen them for some special reason. By the end of two songs, you’re fifty pounds richer. It’s not the most you can get, but you’re tired and at this point of the week you don’t even care.

You walk to the bar and observe the club. It wasn’t the fanciest place, but it felt cheery enough for you after all this time. Sometimes it scared you how comfortable you felt there but you had to remember why you had started to work in a place like this.

A group of men enters, laughing at some joke probably, and they stumble to one of the black velvet sofas. As a dancer of the well-known Blue Velvet strip club—or as the owner preferred to call it ‘gentleman’s club’—, it wasn’t uncommon to see band members around. The almost-naked girls were beautiful and the alcohol was the good kind if you had the money, who wouldn’t be attracted to come? So when you recognise at least two of them as Roger Taylor and John Deacon, you’re not surprised.

You walk to the pole that’s right in front of them and start dancing, without looking at them at first, just to catch their attention. Bet they’re good money, you through, lucky me.

Much to your surprise, Roger requests for a private dance, just for him. That flattered you; you wouldn’t deny it. Rockstars usually picked someone else—like Ginger, with her long legs and big ass, or Coco, who had straight blonde hair and nice tits.

Of course, you had your charms, but usually, you would give private dances for rich and boring businessmen in suits. Never someone as exciting as Queen’s drummer.

With his blonde hair, mischievous blue eyes, and delicate yet strong features, he was, by far, the most attractive man you had ever met.

Despite your nervousness, you flashed him a flirty smile that he returned as you led him to a private room. He sits down on the black leather couch while you pour him a glass of whiskey.

“You don’t drink?” He says, taking a gulp and licking his lips afterward. You shake your head no with a little smile.

“I don’t drink while working, Mr. Taylor.”

He asked you then to not call him mister, to which you replied with a smile and an amused ‘yes, sir.’

“What’s your name?”

“Karma,” you replied simply, walking to the little selection of vinyl you had to play. “Do you like Pink Floyd? Or maybe Led Zeppelin?”

You know there’s a lot of magazines that gather trivial information like what’s his favourite band, or book, and even actress, but you never bother to buy them. You’re not greatly interested in keeping up with the life of any rockstar, to be honest. You’re quite busy trying to keep up with your own life.

He cocks his head slightly to the side, thinking for a moment before ignoring your question. “Why did you pick it?”

You weren’t bothered by his curiosity, although not many had asked you about it. 

You had earned your nickname in your first week when you slapped a guy when he tried to undress you himself. Whereas some of the girls believed you would be instantly fired, the owner warned you against taking the matter into your own hands next time and let it slide, saying you had to call security next time—unless it was urgent.

To the exception of a few regular clients, who had already heard the story, men usually came to ogle over your body and not to learn anything about you.

“Because I’ll punch anyone who has it coming,” you reply.

“When is that?”

“When someone tries to piss me off trying to get way too handsy when I don’t allow it,” you say with a light and joyous tone. Oh, how you would be happy to throw a punch or two to some idiots that believed that could touch with no consequences because you were wearing little clothes. You had gained pretty much all of your patience just working here.

He took the glass to his mouth again to cover a nascent smile, but you notice the corner of his lips curving upwards. 

It made you smile as well.

Despite the more than a generous tip that Roger gave you, you didn’t think he would come back and were pleasantly surprised to see him again two weeks later.

There was a certain lustful glow on his deep blue eyes, and you would lie if you said that the prospect of having his hands all over you didn’t send a jolt of desire straight to your core.

So you decided to end your dance by sitting on his lap, giving him a proper view of your almost naked tits, and taking his hands to slide them to your ass. 

A little flirting never hurt anyone, you think.

He grinned at you. “You’re not gonna hit me, right, love?”

“Of course not, sir.”

He squeezed your ass and you grinded against him trying your best to follow the rhythm of the music.

“When does your shift end?”

You almost stop on your tracks at the question but you laugh softly instead.

“We only provide dancing services, sir. Don’t let your hands on my ass confuse you,” you replied teasingly, playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. He doesn’t seem offended by the insinuation on your word’s choice but instead amused.

“I was planning on wine and dine you.”

This time you do stop moving and look at him, slowly getting out of his lap and standing in front of him. The music keeps playing, but you don’t move at all as you watch him carefully, searching for any hint of…

What were you looking exactly? Something in his eyes that gave away his true intentions, probably, since you always guided yourself by your mistrust when it came to people, especially men who were older than you.

“You did, huh?”

He’s obviously only interested in seeing what’s down the skimpy lingerie, right?

But he seems sincere, so you smile. “Fine.”

“Can I get your real name now, love? I think I deserve to know with whom I am having dinner,” he asked, and you rolled your eyes, but smiled, nonetheless.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N.” The way he said your name, like savouring every syllable in his tongue, made your heart give a little jump on your chest. “Nice.”

Despite Roger’s best efforts to impress you and convince you to stay a night at his place, it takes two dates more before you finally agree to do so.

It’s not that you aren’t impressed you have enjoyed very much the expensive wine and fancy restaurants, but you truly enjoy his company and there’s this feeling that if you sleep with him once you will never see him again.

Not that you can see getting involved in a romantic relationship with him, but if you can just spend time with Roger, then you would take the most advantage out of it you could. 

“Sit down, put yourself comfortable,” he says, walking into what you assume it’s the kitchen and you nod.

You observe the spacious place. The walls are painted with a warm cream colour, which doesn’t exactly match the wooden furniture, like the shelving on the corner. You’re surprised to see the great number of books and before you realise you’re standing in front of the shelving, caressing delicately a book spine.

You take one out and look at the cover. On the road by Jack Kerouac. 

“That’s one of my favourites,” Roger’s voice says on your ear and you jump a little on your spot, which makes him smile. “Have you read it?”

“No. I was about to buy it once, but I choose another,” you say, opening a random page and reading whatever it catches your attention.

«"I love love," she said, closing her eyes, and I promised her beautiful love.”»  You smiled. Would it be just a coincidence that you had read exactly that paragraph?

“What’s so funny?” he asks and you read it out loud for him. Roger looks into the nothing, his blue gaze deep in thought. 

“That’s a good chapter,” he says simply and you nod, without knowing what to say. 

Had been reading something like that a too-bold of a movement? You didn’t expect anything from him, you couldn’t have the luxury to fantasize about him. A few dates can’t mean anything, do they?There’s a strange shift in the air, and you hate it. Ten minutes ago you were laughing and whispering silly things on the corridor while trying to open the flat’s door.

“Do you have something to drink?” you say softly.

“You can keep the book if you want,” Roger said and you looked at the book on your hands. It’s in good condition, which means it’s either new or he hasn’t read it that many times, but he said it’s his favourite and you feel a little bad thinking about taking it.

 “Oh, no, that’s fine. I couldn’t,” you say, shaking your head and leaving the book on its place.

“If you don’t want to keep it, you can borrow it.”

“I’ll think about it. Now, what about that drink, uh?”

“Yeah, yeah. You like white wine?”

“Actually, do you have something without alcohol?” you ask, sheepishly, and he nods. 

“Of course. You like Cola?”

You both sit down on the couch, facing each other, and drinking.“Y’know, we have been in three dates but I don’t think I know much about you,” he says and you bit your lower lip softly, which only brings his attention to your lips. He’s making conversation before fucking or is interested in knowing you? Men usually weren’t interested in hearing whatever you had to say, it was the sad truth and you had already gotten used to it. 

“Nothing worth of telling you, to be honest,” you shrug, taking a sip of your drink. 

“That’s a load of crap, and I don’t buy it,” he replies and you smile, before leaving the glass on the little coffee table. Getting closer to him, you finally connected your lips to his. It tastes of wine and the cigarette that he had been smoking earlier while driving.

“Let’s go to your bedroom,” you whisper before deepening the kiss. He pulls apart, getting up and taking your hand to lead the way. Chit chat can come later if he still wants to be around after fucking. 

You’re the first to wake up the next morning so you try to be as quiet as possible as you roll out of bed and go to the toilet to refresh yourself a little. You wash your face, trying to get rid of the eyeshadow under your eye as much as possible, and after you’re satisfied you tie your hair on a loose ponytail. 

You’re already dressed, so all you need to do is get your bag and coat, write him a note or say goodbye if he’s awake and leaves. You open the toilet door and go to the living. Just as you’re putting on your coat, Roger gets out of the kitchen with a water bottle on his hand and smiles at you like he’s thinking gotcha.

“Stay for breakfast?”

“I got things to do,” you lie quickly. Roger raises an eyebrow, probably questioning your answer. 

You’re one to value honesty but right now, you can’t bring yourself to spend more time with him. He’ll start to ask questions and that’s the last thing you want, as much as you like his company.

“Really? I’m starting to think you’re just using me for sex,” he says, with mocking hurt and you try not to smile. 

“That’s a low blow,” you accuse.“What you got?”

“Coffee, toast and pop tarts,” he recites with closed eyes like he’s mentally looking through his cupboard. 

You think he probably doesn’t have a lot of food right now since it’s the last days of the months. You wondered if someone did shopping for him and when was the last time he did? Did he ever do that? Was he able to do it now, being famous and all? 

“What flavour?” 

“Strawberry?”

“I want two,” you demand. Roger just nods with a smile. 

You walk inside the kitchen and sit on a stool by the breakfast bar and observe Roger preparing breakfast. He’s wearing a white shirt and black sweatpants; his hair is dishevelled but it gives him certain charm.

“You slept well?” Roger asks, placing your coffee in front of you. 

“Yeah, I think I can confidently say your bed is the most comfortable I’ve slept in.”

“You’re welcomed in again whenever you please,” he winks, taking a sip of his tea.

“Shut up,” you reply, taking a bit of your pop tart but you’re smiling.

“I’m serious, though, I’d love to repeat that. Dinner included, of course.”

“We’ll see,” you just say.

A long beat happens before you speak again. “Why are you so interested in me?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” he says, sipping on his cup.

You sigh. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t, I’m just saying it’s strange.”

He raises an eyebrow, and his blue eyes are inquisitive, looking at your face like he could find on your eyes the answer to your constant changes between being apprehensive and flirting shamelessly. “Why?”

“Because I- I thought men like you wouldn’t be interested in someone like me?”

“Someone like you?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I think I can be interesting and, maybe, a good company but you could be with anyone you want,” you state like it’s obvious like it’s the kind of thing every man with a highly successful career thinks.

“And I want to spend my time with you, guess it’s because you’re good company,” he states, matter of factly but your expression must give away that you’re not so convinced so he takes one of your hands and interlocks your fingers.

“Look, I like you and as long as you’re willing to entertain my interest on you, I’m gonna keep asking you out.”He looks at your hands for a second before looking up to see you smiling down at him.

“Fine. I like you too, you know?”

“I know,” he replies with a cheeky smile.

“But I gotta go,” you say and he lets go of your hand. 

“Can I pass to the toilet?“

“Go ahead, you know where it is.”

After you’re done, you get out of the toilet to put your coat on and get your purse. However, you’re not exactly sure of how to say goodbye, so you stand awkwardly in front of him, close by the door.

“C’mere,” he chuckles, softly pushing you flush against him and cradling your face to kiss your lips with delicately.

“See ya soon, love.” He opens the door and you step outside on the corridor.

“Goodbye, Rog. Thanks for yesterday, I enjoyed it very much,” you smile.

He grins. “Well, of course ya did.”

“Don’t get too cocky now, Taylor, you lean towards him, your mouth close to his ear. “It wasn’t me begging last night, after all,” you whisper and kiss his cheek quickly, like fearing being seen, and start walking to the elevator.

He watches you with a smile until the elevator door closes.

[sinsiriuslyemo]

Hello beautiful readers!

Jen is vacation so I’ll be posting today’s episode. Thank you to those who are still reading this story. We’ve worked so incredibly hard on it and it means the world to us that you guys are as invested as we are!

EPISODE 33

If Amber thought the first day in court was hell on earth, day two proved her wrong. Her mother’s attorney had laid out every single job Amber had ever held, including any top secret assignments during her time with the company she had once tried to get Omar hired with. They had even somehow gotten their hands on the unredacted military files, which might not have been a big deal had they not included the notes of the social worker that had several times tried to take the baby she’d named Oliver only to be stalled repeatedly by Amber. The remainder of their case certainly hadn’t painted her in the best light to say the least.

Finally, it was their turn to present their case and Rita stood to call their first witness.

“At this point we would like to call Troy Madison to the stand.”

Troy stood and made his way to the stant to be sworn in before he sat in the witness box and waited to answer questions.

“Mr. Madison, how long have you known my client?”

“A little over ten years, ma’am.”

“And what is your relationship to her?” Rita asked as she approached the stand.

“We were friends, I was her captain for years and more recently it’s become a romantic relationship,” Troy replied.

“And are you around her daughter often?”

“Yes ma’am, I stay with them most nights and I help out where I can. Fallon is a great kid,” he replied fondly.

“Have you ever seen Ms. Woods mistreat her daughter in any way?” Rita asked.

“No, never,” he said, lips turning downward.

“And are you aware of Ms. Woods having firearms in the home?”

Again he nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

“Are they lying out on the table? The floor?”

“No,” he answered. “They’re locked in a safe.”

“Locked in a safe,” she repeated with a nod. “Would you say Ms. Woods has a dangerous job?”

“No ma’am, she’s a writer. She spends a lot of her time at home with Fallon,” he answered with a smile.

“Mr. Madison, how was my client before she had a child?”

“Loud,” he said with a chuckle. “She was a little bit entitled with a chip on her shoulder and no patience. I found it...at times infuriating. She was kind of annoying,” he said.

“And now?”

“I’m not saying she’s a whole new person, but she’s visibly different. She’s so patient with her daughter. She’s far less impulsive, and she finally seems to understand that the world isn’t about her.”

“Have you ever been to a doctors appointment with Amber?” Rita questioned.

“I went to a doctor’s appointment last month,” he said.

“Has she ever missed an appointment while you’ve been around?”

Troy shook his head. “No ma’am, never.”

Amber watched Troy carefully, he was calmer than she could ever be. His army training paying off in the best of ways. He’d been her rock through this so far, she was lucky.

“Mr. Madison, does Ms. Woods drink while she has the baby?” Rita asked.

“No, um her friend used to keep an alcohol-free house and Amber always admired that. So she tries to do the same usually.”

“Do you see Amber engage with her daughter?” Rita went on.

Troy again nodded. “Yeah, all the time.”

“How would you say she does that?”

Troy thought for a moment before speaking. “She reads to her, spends a lot of time talking to her, they play with blocks and other baby toys...stuff like that.”

“Do you see Fallon smile often, Mr. Madison?”

“Constantly,” he answered without hesitation. “She’s non-stop smiles.”

“Does Fallon see her father, Omar Diaz, often?” Rita asked softly.

“No ma’am, not often. Maybe once a week at most.”

“So he’s not present in the majority of her life then,” Rita surmised.

“Not really, no.”

“Thank you, Mr. Madison,” Rita said, going to sit back down as Mr. Templeton stood.

“You said Mr. Diaz isn’t present in the majority of Fallon’s life,” Mr. Templeton said.

“That’s right.”

“Isn’t it true that Ms Woods takes Fallon to a gathering every Sunday, at which her father is always present?” Mr. Templeton asked.

“Yes sir, that is the weekly visit I’m referring to,” Troy answered, polite as ever.

“Are you aware of whether Mr. Diaz has had Fallon overnight on other occasions?”

“Yes.”

“And this weekly gathering, I believe it’s often referred to as Sunday dinner, where is that usually held?” Mr. Templeton asked.

“At Y/N’s place. But I assume you’re referring to Nevada Ramirez,” he said softly.

“Both, actually, since they’re married. Are you aware as to whether Omar Diaz works for Mr. Ramirez?”

“He does,” Troy answered.

“And what does Mr. Ramirez do for a living?”

“He runs a stripclub and a restaurant,” he said with a frown.

“Okay,” Mr. Templeton replied, though he didn’t sound convinced. “You yourself have attended this Sunday dinner, have you not?”

“Yes I have,” he replied skeptically. “They’re very welcoming.”

“So I’ve heard. Theoretically speaking, assuming Ms. Woods doesn’t carry her firearm with her, how many firearms would you estimate are present at these Sunday dinners?” Mr. Templeton asked.

Troy quirked a brow. “You’re asking me to just take a guess? I have no idea, sir.”

“I can make it easier. To your knowledge, do Mr. and Mrs Ramirez own any guns?”

“I believe so.”

“To your knowledge, does Mr. Diaz carry a gun?” Templeton asked.

“Yes, I think so,” Troy said slowly.

“Does, Mr. Diaz’s brother, Oscar Jr carry a gun?”

“Probably,” Troy answered.

“Hm. Probably,” Mr. Templeton replied. “Mr. Madison, who normally babysits Fallon?”

“Her grandmother, or me,” Troy said.

“Her grandmother, meaning Gladys Diaz, Omar Diaz’s mother,” Mr. Templeton replied.

“Yes, who, to my knowledge, does not own a gun.”

“I didn’t ask if she owned a gun,” Mr. Templeton replied. “But while we’re on the subject of guns, why would Ms. Woods have a gun in the home if her profession no longer requires it?”

“A lot of people have guns in their home. I think, like, 10% of New York. It’s a registered weapon for a woman who usually lives alone. I don’t think that’s very unreasonable.”

“Is that to say that Ms. Woods lives in a dangerous neighborhood and it would be smart to keep a firearm in her home?” Mr. Templeton asked.

“I would say at times it can be dangerous.”

“How so?” Mr. Templeton asked.

“There have been a few shootings.”

“The last one was as recent as two weeks ago. A man was shot just a block from where Ms. Woods resides, isn’t that right?” Mr. Templeton asked.

“Yes, that is correct.”

“Thank you, Mr. Madison.” Cecile’s counsel sat back at his table.

“You may step down,” the judge said.

Troy stepped down as he moved back to his seat in the back as Rita stood.

“We would now like to call Roxane Hume to the stand.”

Roxie moved up to the stand, sitting down and resting her hands on her stomach.

“Miss Hume, can you tell me how you know my client?” Rita questioned.

“Amber and I know each other through my sister in law, Y/N Ramirez.”

“Is it safe to say you go to the family dinners then?”

Roxie nodded. “Yes, every week.”

“Can you describe what happens at these dinners?”

Roxie looked puzzled. “We eat, we talk, it’s a chance to let all the children get together and play as well.”

“Does anything dangerous go on at these dinners?”

“No, never.”

“Do the children seem afraid?” Rita prompted.

“No, they’re excited, it’s their favorite part of the week when they all get to play together.”

“Have you ever seen my client interact with her daughter?”

“All the time,” Roxie said with a smile.

“How is she with her child?”

“She’s wonderful, she’s always playing with Fallon or reading to her. Fallon is always all smiles.”

“Have you ever known Amber to hit or abuse her child?”

“Oh god never, Amber dotes on that little girl. I wouldn’t say she’s a natural at motherhood, she’s always worked above and beyond with her daughter.”

“Have you ever seen Amber forget to feed or change her daughter?”

“No,” Roxie answered.

“Thank you, Miss Hume,” Rita answered.

“How close would you say Ms. Woods is to Mrs Ramirez?” Templeton asked.

“Very close,” Roxie answered. “They’re best friends.”

“Isn’t it true that your own husband believes that Mr and Mrs Ramirez lead a dangerous lifestyle?” Templeton asked.

“Mr. Ramirez maybe, but Y/N is a stretch.”

“Yeah, you can word it anyway you’d like, but seeing as how they’re married, if one leads a dangerous lifestyle then by proxy the other leads the same dangerous life simply by being in the same household. At the very least, Mrs Ramirez is complicit,” Templeton answered. “You were present when Mrs Ramirez asked your husband to leave because she didn’t want her daughter to hear the truth about her father, isn’t that right?”

“I was,” she said softly.

“Are you aware as to whether Ms. Woods knows about this dangerous life?” Templeton asked.

“We all know about it,” Roxie said with a frown.

“And still, she frequently visits with Mrs. Ramirez and her children?” Templeton asked.  

“Yes, she does.”

“Thank you, no more questions,” Templeton replied.

“Call you next witness, Ms. Calhoun,” the judge said.

“I call Amber Woods to the stand.”

Amber stood, looking back at Troy before moving to the stand and taking a deep breath.

“Ms. Woods, can you tell me what a typical day entails for you?”

Amber thought. “We wake up, I make her breakfast and we’ll usually run errands, followed by something to do for her. So if we go to groceries, we’ll hit up the library for more books after. Then we have lunch, I read to her and we get done whatever else needs to be done, then dinner and bedtime.”

“And does your daughter have any developmental delays or learning disabilities?”

Amber shook her head, “No, she’s a healthy baby.”

“Miss Woods, how are your finances?”

“I’m stable financially, I’m not a millionaire but I do alright,” she said.

“And how would you say your relationship with your mother is?”

“We don’t have one. Whether that be good or bad I’m not sure. But we don’t have a relationship.” Amber said almost sadly. She looked to her mother and frowned.

“Can you tell us why you’re here today, Miss Woods?” Rita prompted.

“Because I need to set the record straight. My daughter is the most important thing in my life and I would do anything for her. I’m here to show I am a fit mother for Fallon.”

“Thank you, Ms. Woods,” Rita replied, sitting down at their table.

“So, you don’t have a relationship with your mother. Is that because you don’t want one?” Mr. Templeton asked.

“In all honesty I don’t know. Things with my mom have been difficult for so long I don’t know how we would even begin to repair that,” she said softly.

“Isn’t it true that anytime she’s tried to get close to you, you dismiss her or blame her for things that happened when you were younger?” Mr. Templeton asked.

“Not always, there have been a few times I have truly tried but some thing comes out of her mouth that is so cruel or blatantly...racist that I really can’t picture her in my life with my half Latina baby. But yes, sometimes I blamed her for things and let that get between us.”

“You lived in Jersey City for a while, is that right?” Templeton asked.

“Yes I did,” she said.

“But you moved back?”

“I did. I’m a creature of habit, I like living in places I know well.”

“Even if that means moving your daughter to a dangerous neighborhood?” Mr. Templeton asked. “What did your ex husband have to say about that? From my understanding, you were still married.”

“My ex husband would have preferred we stay in Jersey city. Jersey City felt wrong. Here she’s close to her cousins, my former mother in law can help with her, my friends and her family are all in the Heights.”

“Something wrong with the subway? Taxis? Jersey City is only thirty minutes away from Manhattan,” Templeton replied.

Amber sighed. “No. It’s just more of a drive than I’d prefer if there was an emergency.”

“Usually people call the police for an emergency,” Templeton mumbled. “So, moving back to Washington Heights had nothing to do with Fallon. You moved back because you wanted to.”

“Moving back to Washington Heights is something I felt was good for both of us but yes, I wanted to.”

“I fail to see how moving your daughter back to a neighborhood where she’s constantly surrounded by known felons, who happen to be your friends, is good for her,” Templeton replied. “Your boyfriend, Troy, testified that you don’t keep alcohol in the house, is that correct?”

“He testified that I usually try to do the same, I do my best to keep an alcohol free home around my daughter, but the rare special occasion when I have someone over I’ll offer a drink or something.”

“Rare special occasion,” Templeton mumbled as he wrote on his pad. “Why do you keep guns in the house?”

“Because I feel safer with a way to protect myself, I felt the same way in Jersey City,” she said.

“Do you ever wonder what keeping Fallon around felons might do to her in the the future?”

“Sometimes. But I’m not really around felons. I’m around their kids and their wives who are just trying to live their lives and raise their kids right, like me.”

“Really?” Templeton asked with a tinge of sarcasm. “Even Y/N Ramirez, who was convicted and served time for a felony? What about Melissa Diaz, who comes from a long line of felons in her family, and then married a felon? You see, I’m having trouble seeing how you see nothing troubling about who you chose to bring your daughter around on a regular basis. Children imitate, that’s how they learn. Why would you even take a chance?”

“Because they haven’t done a single thing around my child to imitate, what are they going to do? Rob a bank in front of her? Y/N Ramirez served her time. Are you telling me people don’t get second chances in your world?”

“I ask the questions, Ms. Woods. I know that may be difficult seeing as you’re used to being in control,” Mr. Templeton replied. “If you’re confident that the role models in your child’s life will encourage her to lead a productive and law-abiding lifestyle, then so be it. But some people might be wary of spending so much time, and allowing their impressionable child to spend so much time, so deeply embedded in the criminal world.”

Closing his file, Templeton clicked his pen and set it down on top of the manilla folder.

“No more questions.”

“Very well, you may step down Ms. Woods. I’ll hear summations at nine am tomorrow. Court is adjourned,” the judge said, bringing down the gavel.

Amber got down off the stand and moved to Rita. “I’m sorry, I was terrible, I shouldn’t have testified.” She gritted her teeth angrily.

“You did fine,” Rita assured her. “It’s almost over.”

Nevada sat next to you in the lobby of your therapist’s office, present and yet somewhat distracted. Seeing Lauren again after all the time that had passed had affected him more than he cared to admit, even to you. Especially to you. The last thing he wanted was to lose ground in all the progress the two of you had made in therapy. Things at home had finally gotten back to somewhat normal, he didn’t feel as if he needed to walk on eggshells around you anymore, and yet still, he hesitated to talk about Lauren. It was safer to say nothing rather than rock the boat. It wasn’t as if you had been forthcoming about your past relationship with Jameson when Nevada first met him.

“Mr. and Mrs. Ramirez?” he heard their therapist say and he stood, following you into her office.

Sitting in his usual seat, he placed on ankle on the opposite knee and sighed softly.

You sat down beside your husband and offered a small smile, wondering how things would go today, if they’d be the same or if something would start about Lauren.

“So, how has this week been?” the therapist asked.

“It was a busy week, we didn’t get much time together,” you said softly.

Nevada knitted his brows. “We took the kids to the arcade a couples days ago, what do you mean?”

“I meant more alone time, we had a great time with the kids at the arcade.”

“Yeah, we did,” Nevada mumbled, nodding his head.

“A few weeks ago, we talked about making time for each other,” the therapist reminded.

“We do try to make time,” you replied, earning a disingenuous glance from Nevada.

“Why the look, Nevada?” the therapist asked.

“No, no look,” he replied. “I mean, she went to dinner with her friend and her sister-in-law is all and not that I’m mad about it, pero our week wasn’t that busy.”

“So I shouldn’t see my friends?” you said with a frown.

“Now, Y/N, remember what we said about defensive responses.”

You let out a breath and nodded. “Sorry.”

“I didn’t say that,” Nevada replied softly. “All I’m saying is that you made it out like we didn’t have time to take a shit, let alone spend any time together, pero that’s not true. It’s just an excuse.”

You nodded. “Okay, he’s right.”

“So why didn’t the two of you spend more time together?” The therapist prompted.

Nevada bobbed his shoulders. “I guess we were just outta sync this week.”

She nodded. “Sometimes that’s going to be the answer. Was there anything different this week that you two would like to talk about.”

You thought for a moment, deciding if you wanted to mention Lauren.

“Y/N, you look like you might have something on your mind,” the therapist said.

“We ran into Nevada’s ex.”

The therapist kept her gaze on you as if waiting for further explanation. When you didn’t give it, she furrowed her brows, glancing at Nevada briefly before she set her eyes back on you.

“Alright...and it upset you?” she asked.

“No, not really. They’re going to have lunch together, I’m honestly not sure why I brought it up. I guess it was just something new...that I’m not sure how I feel about,” you answered.

Nevada furrowed his brows, eyes still on the therapist. “We’re gonna have coffee together. Not lunch, coffee.”

“Coffee, same thing. I think I’m okay with it. I feel okay with it.”

“It’s not the same thing though,” Nevada mumbled, shaking his head.

“It seems like there’s more to how you feel, Y/N. Nevada isn’t a mind reader, he can’t know how you feel unless you tell him,” the therapist said.

“I guess I wanna know how he’s feeling about it all, I guess. He hasn’t said anything and that is the part that makes me a little uneasy.”

“I mean there’s not really anything to talk about,” Nevada answered softly with a bob of his shoulders.

“Do you feel like you could talk to Y/N about this if there was something to talk about?” the therapist asked.

Nevada stayed quiet for a moment, licking his lips subconsciously and lowering his eyes. “Probably not.”

“That makes me sad,” you said softly. “Is there something I can do that would make you feel more comfortable or should I be leaving it alone?”

Nevada bobbed his shoulders again. “I mean, I don’t know if there’s anything you can do, to be honest. I don’t know.”

You nodded. “I think I was initially a little shaken by how kind and beautiful she was and that they were meeting at their spot. But I can acknowledge that Nevada has been with other women and I can’t avoid all of them. I trust that he’d never do anything. So I’m not really worried about them going for coffee or anything.”

“You shouldn’t be, she’s married,” Nevada replied. “So am I.”

“I guess my problem was with his reaction to her.”

“How so?” the therapist asked gently.

“He was more like himself in that moment than he has been with me in a long time. I got jealous of that, not her. Not that he isn’t always wonderful--”

“You don’t have to backtrack on your feelings Y/N, as long as you’re not being disrespectful this is an open space. Nevada, you didn’t take offense, did you?” She looked to Nevada for a response.

“Offense that she thinks I’m not myself with her? No, no offense, but I don’t agree with that,” he answered.

“Can you explain why you feel differently about the situation.”

“Yeah, I think I’m myself all the time,” he replied.

“Well there’s no right or wrong here it’s simply a matter of perspectives. Y/N can you explain a little to how you feel he was different?”

“He has a certain charm that he’ll pull out for women. I guess it’s because he doesn’t have to win me over but he doesn’t really do that with me anymore.” You gritted your teeth. You felt so tense, although the communication had been really good between the two of you since therapy started, you were so afraid of taking a step backwards that you’d almost rather keep your mouth shut. “And I’m a grown woman I don’t need to be wooed all the time. It’s just something I miss.”

“You don’t think I’m charming with you?” he asked, furrowing his brows.

“Not very often...do you think you’re charming with me?” You felt terrible for bringing it up.

“Yeah, in my own way. Not like when we were dating, but you and me, we got a lot of history. Alot of years, it’s obviously not gonna be the same as it was when we were dating. You’re not the same with me as you were when we were dating, and why would you be?” he replied before he looked over to the therapist. “With everything we’ve been through together, I’m surprised she stuck around. I’m sure she’s surprised that I stuck around too. Most people would’ve thrown in the towel, not us.”

You bit your lip for a moment and smiled. “I really love you,” you said gently. “I don’t want who you were when we were dating I just want some of that spark, ya know? I feel it more lately than I have in the past but I think I’m so scared of losing it that sometimes I’m emotionally strangling you.”

The therapist smirked. “That’s an interesting choice of words, Nevada do you feel strangled?”

“I don’t know why you’re afraid of losing me,” Nevada replied, ignoring the therapist’s question for now. “After all this time, after all the bullshit, I’m still here, aren’t I?”

You gave a slow nod. “Yes,” you mumbled. “You’re here.” You let out a breath, relaxing a little.

“Okay, so how about a little faith for once? That’d be nice,” Nevada answered. “You wanna know the truth?” he asked, turning to look at the therapist again. “Sometimes she makes me feel like she doesn’t need me.”

“Do you care to elaborate a little?” the therapist asked with an encouraging smile.

“Ever since she started working again, that’s all she does. She works, she takes care of the kids. It’s not that I don’t want her to work, it’s fine if she wants to pero she puts all her energy into that and the kids and a lot of times there’s not really any left for me. And I get that I’m not the only important person in her world, I’m not complaining cause she doesn’t give me all of her time. I mean, shit, I work too, I understand. The difference is when I come home, I leave all that shit at the door. She doesn’t. She can’t, sometimes she’s gotta bring work home with her, esta bien. Pero I feel like a lot of the time, she sees the problem as me not doing this or not doing that. She doesn’t ever think that she should have to do anything.”

“What should I be doing?” you asked calmly.

“I don’t know,” he replied with a bob of his shoulders. “I just like to feel needed sometimes and I don’t feel like you need me a lot of the time. You got your little job, you got the kids, the apartment, what do you need me for? To give you a good dickin every now and then? You could buy a dildo and get that. What am I around for? Decoration? You know what I mean?”

“I don’t see you that way at all,” you answered. “You’re not here for sex. We raise kids together, you make me laugh and I love when we just hang out. And yeah sometimes I wanna have sex with you because it’s been eight years and you still look fantastic. But I do need you. I’m sorry if it doesn’t always seem that way. My life wouldn’t be the same without you.”

He bobbed his shoulders. “Okay.”

“Well I think that’s a good place to stop today. Homework, I want you two to have a real date night, away from the kids or the apartment. Something other than just a dinner where you talk about the kids and work.”

Your brows furrowed as to what that meant but you nodded, standing up before you and Nevada exited the office.

“Last one,” Izzy said as she stepped back from the final picture she’d hung. She smiled and admired it for a moment, encased in vintage gold painted frames just the way she had intended. Things were finally coming together.

“Wow,” she heard from behind her and turned to see Josie coming into the gallery. One of the men helping her began to ask Josie to leave, explaining that the gallery wasn’t open yet, but she simply waved him off. “No worries, I’m VIP.”

Izzy beamed and moved over to her. “Hi!” She hugged Josie tight. “Thank you for coming to help!”

“Of course I wasn’t gonna give up the chance at a sneak peak of your new digs,” Josie answered, hugging back. “This place is amazing, Izzy. Really, it’s great.”

“Thank you, this is honestly like a dream.” She wiped some sweat off her forehead and grinned. “Wanna see my main piece?”

“Um, yeah!” Josie replied with a grin.

Izzy moved to the side of the gallery where a huge painting hung. In the painting was a little girl standing outside of a cracked door. Through the crack in the door you could see a man’s hand loosely holding a cigar as ash floated down to the ground.

“Oh wow,” Josie whispered, in genuine awe of the piece. “What do you call this one?”

“Trepidation,” Izzy whispered somberly, eyes focused on the hand in the painting before looking back to Josie. “I’m thinking it may sell opening night. It’s my favorite piece I’ve ever done.”

“It’s beautiful,” Josie said, looking at the piece as though she were studying it. “I love how despite the danger, her fears and her inexperience, her desire to venture into the unknown drives her to open the door anyway. It shows immense courage and desire for new experiences.”

Izzy’s eyes lit up at the excitement of someone understanding her piece. “You get it! Because yes there is danger and maybe pain on the other side but how do you say no to an open door?”

“Exactly,” Josie replied with a grin, patting Izzy’s shoulder. “So much talent in you, young grasshopper. Go far, you will.”

Izzy giggled. “Hey I actually get that one! Pinocchio!”

“Oh honey,” Josie answered with a sympathetic expression. “No. It’s okay though. It’s a little bit before your time...then again, so is Pinocchio.”

“What was it from?” Izzy asked, genuinely curious.

“Star Wars,” Josie answered. “Have you never seen it?”

“No, but it’s the one with Darth Vader, right? We should watch it!”

“Yes, and yes, we will watch it. In order of release, because that’s the only way to watch them. I happen to own episodes four, five and six in their original VHS format. Why do I keep VHS tapes when most people don’t even know what a VCR is, you ask? Because of three words, Izzy, and they’re three words that you must always remember. Han. Shot. First.”

“I will definitely remember them,” she said with a chuckle.

“Good,” Josie replied, laughing along. “So, what do you need me to do. Put me to work!”

“Okay so I need you to help me start rolling out the carpets. I bought special carpets just for this.”

She pointed to the series of rectangle boxes. “They go right in front of each picture.”

“I’m all over it,” Josie answered with a grin.

Izzy getting ready for her soft open

Rafael was working on the couch when Roxie walked--or rather waddled--through the door and he turned his head to smile at her before going back to his task.

“Hey honey,” he said, making another note on his pad. “How’d it go in court today?”

He hadn’t necessarily been thrilled that Roxie was still close enough to Amber to be able to testify in court with regard to her character. He wasn’t a cruel man, which meant that he hadn’t given Roxie a hard time about agreeing to testify, nor did he hold it against her. For everything that Amber wasn’t, the fact remained that she was a good mother. She deserved a lot of things, but losing her only child certainly wasn’t one of them.

Still, he hoped that it would be the last time he would have to hear the name Amber Woods in his own home ever again.

“It didn’t go great,” Roxie said softly. “I don’t know if I helped or not. It doesn’t look too good, even with having Rita as her lawyer,” she said with a frown as she moved to sit down beside him.

“Rita is good at what she does, I’m sure you did fine,” he offered, putting an arm around her.

“I can’t even imagine what it’s like to have the threat of losing your child,” Roxie said as she rubbed her belly. “I haven’t even met him yet but if I lost Liam, I wouldn’t recover,” she said looking down at her belly.

“I know what you mean, I don’t think anybody deserves to go through that,” he replied, rubbing her shoulder. “Amber’s a lot of things, but a bad mother isn’t one of them.”

“Honestly she's putting on a brave face but she always looks ill. Poor girl. Her mother’s lawyer is really good, they’re painting Amber out to be a dreadful mum.”

“It’s his job,” he replied with a shrug. “Rita’s a good lawyer too, though. I learned a long time ago not to underestimate her.”

“I hope you’re right, if that baby goes to Amber’s mum… I really feel for Fallon. She’s innocent in all this.”

“Yeah,” he replied softly. “I’m sure it’ll all work out.” He kissed the side of her head. “By the way, we should probably talk about who we want here when Liam’s born. Your mom will obviously already be staying, so I’m thinking just her, my mom, the two of us and the midwife?”

“Do our mother’s have to be in the actual room?” she made a displeased face.

“Not if you don’t feel comfortable having them there,” he answered with a smirk as he shook his head. “Maybe my mom can take yours out for some coffee or something. I sincerely doubt either one will agree, the best we’ll probably be able to do is get them to wait in the living room.”

“I’m fine with the living room. I just don’t need to be three pushes into delivering a baby and then make eye contact with our mums,” she said with a giggle.

He chuckled. “Fair enough. I’m sure there will be plenty for them to do. Are you excited? Probably not as excited as I am to push a baby out of your vagina, huh?”

She snorted a laugh. “I think I’m still processing it all,” she said with a shrug.

“It’ll be over before you know it, and then our boy will be here finally,” he replied.

“Well you're not the one pushing a human out of one of your very small body parts,” she mused. “I don’t know how fast that will be over.”

“Honey, your body is designed for childbirth, you should know that. The vagina has the ability to grow big enough for a baby to pass and then retract back to normal size,” he replied.

“Yes, I get the idea, but it’s a lot more daunting when it’s staring you in the face. But he’ll be worth it.”

“I understand,” he replied. “You’ve been doing your kegels though, right? And your relaxation exercises...you’ll be fine and I’ll be right there with you. I believe in you.”

She smiled and leaned in to kiss him. “I love you,” she whispered softly.

“I love you too, mi amor,” he replied, kissing her back just as there was a knock on the door. “I bet that’s your mom.”

Roxie smiled and rocked herself a few times to get up before going to the door. The moment she opened it she was greeted with a warm hug.

“Hi mum,” Roxie said with a chuckle. “It’s good to see you too.” She hugged back.

“Oh, Roxanne, darling, you look wonderful!” Helena exclaimed, pulling back to look down at her daughter’s belly. “Oh just look at you!”

Roxie blushed, looking down at her own belly. “I definitely grew into the pregnancy. He’s very healthy.”

“I have no doubt,” Helena answered as Rafael came up behind Roxie. “And hello to you, daddy-to-be!” she cried, squealing in excitement as she pulled Rafael into a hug.

He chuckled and hugged back. “It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Hume.”

“Rafael, honestly, you got my oldest daughter pregnant, I think you can start calling me Helena,” she replied, pulling back.

“Okay, Helena,” he replied. “Let me get your bags.”

“Thank you very much!”

“We are so happy to have you here, mum, I’ll show you to your room.” Roxie took her mother’s hand and led her to the guest room. “I hope it’s enough,” she said, gesturing to the room.

“Oh, it’s just perfect, darling. I don’t need very much. I’m just so happy to be here,” Helena replied. “I can't believe my baby is going to have a baby!”

Roxie preened beneath her mother’s attention, already getting excited for the weeks to come. “It’s all happening so soon now, it’s a bit overwhelming.”

“I know it may feel that way, but trust me. When you hold that beautiful baby in your arms, it’ll be worth it,” Helena replied as Rafael brought her bags into the bedroom.

“You must come to the bakery with me, have a tour, you’ve never seen the New York one.”

“I would love to!” Helena answered, grinning.

Rafael had never seen his wife so excited to see her mother. Being pregnant and working, Roxie had truly begun to understand that her mother wasn’t purposely neglectful or cold. She had simply been a woman trying to balance a career and a child where the career won. But it was clear to Roxie that her mother was here now, fully present when it counted and she was thankful for that.

“And we’ll have to tour New York together. You know I’ve been here for so long now and yet I’ve never been on one of their double decker bus tours.”

“Oh you guys would love that,” Rafael mused, smiling at his wife. “You should definitely try to do that.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Helena replied, still smiling.

Roxie took both her mother’s hands and smiled at her, meaning every word she spoke. “I am so thrilled you’re here, mum.”

“I’m thrilled to be here as well,” Helena answered. “Are either of you hungry? I could whip something right u--”

“--No, no, you’ve been traveling, I’m sure you’re tired,” Rafael replied. “I actually took the liberty of ordering in for us just before Roxie got home, it should be here any minute.”

“Oh you thoughtful man,” Helena replied. “Well then, I’ll just get unpacked and then we can have a nice dinner together.”

“We’ll just give a moment to get settled in.” Roxie moved out of the room with Rafael to give her mother a moment to unpack, unable to stop smiling.

“You happy she’s here?” he asked, smiling down at her.

She nodded eagerly. “I’m so thrilled, I honestly didn’t know I would be. But I’m so happy she’s here.”

“I’m happy that you’re happy, mi amor,” he said, kissing the side of her head.

“I should have made dessert,” she mumbled after a moment. “Something from my new recipes.”

“Honey, she can have something from your bakery,” Rafael replied. “You know the midwife said it’s not the best idea for you to be bending over an oven.”

She nodded. “Right, right I’d forgotten.”

“She'll love the bakery,” he replied, kissing her forehead before he looked down at her stomach. “Don’t you think grandma will love mommy’s bakery, Liam?” The baby kicked against his hand and Rafael grinned widely, looking up at his wife. “I think that’s a yes.”

“He is so responsive to your voice,” Roxie said with a smile. “He loves it.”

“That’s cause he knows his daddy, isn’t that right, Liam?” he cooed, rubbing over Roxie’s belly.

Roxie giggled before moving to begin cleaning off the table for when their food arrived. “What did you order, love?”

“I got a couple of those pizzas you love so much from Brunetti's,” he answered.

“I have the most wonderful husband,” she said with a smile, moving to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him. “We love you,” she whispered against his lips.

“I love you more,” he answered, kissing her again and humming against her mouth.

She tugged him a bit closer savoring the fact that she wouldn’t get as much alone time with him soon. She parted her lips and threaded her fingers into his hair. Moaning against her lips, Rafael trailed kisses down to her neck.

“I want you,” he purred, leaving a kiss against her pulse point.

She shivered and nodded eagerly. “I want you, too, so badly,” she whispered, tugging lightly at his hair.

“Darlings, I’m just going to hop in the--Oh!” Helena put a hand over her mouth as Roxie and Rafael broke apart. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s alright,” Rafael replied in a chuckle just before a knock sounded on the door. “That’s probably our food, I’ll get it.”

Roxie looked over at her mom who mouthed, ‘I’m sorry’ to her as Rafael went to the door.

Roxie shrugged. “It’s alright,” she said with a smile. “What matters is you’re here and we are going to have some of my favorite pizza.”

She led her mom to the table as Rafael brought the pizza box over.

[blxckjaded-blog]

Listen to the hottest #dirtysouth #hiphop  #stripclub track by up-and-coming artist Blxckjadetherapper. From #snapmusic, to #crunk , to #trap, Blxckjade #therapper #beats are inspired by the #musicculture of #Atlanta , #Memphis , #Miami and #Houston. Thanks for listening to “Slow Dancer”  -

Blxckjadetherapper (  #PoleDancing Mix) prod. by Memphisto [Official Audio]

You Can Come check out Some Of The Blxckjade Apparel at the Link Below : https://teespring.com/stores/blxckjad...

https://www.redbubble.com/people/blxc...

SPOTIFY ➡️ https://open.spotify.com/album/2mZaLA... ITUNES➡️https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/slo... TIDAL➡️ https://tidal.com/browse/album/99369831 GOOGLE PLAY ➡️ https://play.google.com/store/music/a... AMAZON➡️ https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07... ** BE THE FIRST TO KNOW ** SUBSCRIBE to this Channel for more dope music ► https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC5Sp... INSTAGRAM ► https://www.instagram.com/blxckjadeth... /// COMMENT BELOW ⬇️ ⬇️ ⬇️ and tell us what you think about “Slow Dancer” ///

(Lyrics)

Hook/Chorus: (Call) - My Missus She So Fine / (Response) - She So Fine Yeahhhhh!! (Call) - Palm Inching she a Dime ...Yeah / (Response) - A DIAMOND.... ... (Call) - I need Me A Slow Dancer / Dancer.... (Response) - I Might Romance Her... / Romance Her (Response) - I Might Romance Her... / Romance Her (Call) - I need Me A Slow Dancer/ (Response) - Slow Dance For Me .... (Call) - I need Me A Slow Dancer/ (Response) - I Might Romance Her...

Verse1:

In The Night ,i'm coming to see her.. wrong right , i wanna be there keep it tight / like a secret she hit the pole / please dont sell your soul / oh  no! she hit the pose / so cold / her body froze its dripping gold / Chanel / Felicia for the feature elicit  is Fiona / Fiona like Mona / damn like sounds / can i doggy get a boner lisa is explicit / sexy little mistress / damn i'm never missing out / damn these hoes be pimping now but sorry but i love to play a little difficult ... Hey baby ,  baby , Hey baby ,  baby , BABY!

[camillaharcourt]

I’LL NEVER LOVE AGAIN | CAROL & MILLIE | @velvetipped

    –––––– she remembers it well. the time she’s spent, trying to figure out what was wrong. why caroline didn’t react to her gentle, soothing touch. to her words. why she seemed to look right through her everytime she says her name. asks for her to look at her. but everything she does seems not good enough. little does she know it’s been days since their last conversation. since they’ve shared a loving touch. and it’s when she’s standing against the frame of their bedroom door, watching the love of her life, something hits her.

a tender lit room - one that resembles to a private booth of a stripclub. no. no, she’s wrong. when her gaze falls upon the pokertable behind her, where she’s cornered against, she knows where they are. the back of a casino. one of her hands rests on the slick wood of the table as the other’s hiding behind her back, feeling the green material the cards normally lay on. spread around, with a cigar or two. and a shot of bourbon, or whiskey, depending on the player’s poison. but this time there’s nothing, just a blank green canvas, ready to be played at. except, something tells her tonight there won’t be any games played. not the kind civilized society would normally play. an unexpected breath, one that’s only noticeable for herself, leaves her lips when she feels something touch her fingers. someone, not something. fingers lock with her own and hazel eyes fall onto the figure next to her. it’s blurry. unclear. like she can exactly see who it is, it’s right there on the tip of her tongue, but her brain won’t process. so all that remains is a hole her mind impossibly won’t fill up. 

❝ you can point the gun at me all you want, but i’m taking one of you with me to the grave. –– don’t mistake me for a fool. don’t ever – ... ❞

there are no details. everytime she tries to remember - everytime she tries to focus, the less her mind is willing to cooperate. so instead she’s just there. lingering in the space she’s most familiar with. she’s with her every second, she’s been there with her ever since she died. unable to let go. unable to leave caroline alone. there are moments she’s forgotten what happened - why her lover won’t respond to her, she’s right there with her after all. and it causes millie to withdraw from her and sit on the end of the bed instead. for minutes, hours not understanding what she’s done to upset her lover.

she often wanders around the house. when she’s realized it’s useless to talk. to try and seek communication when there is none. so she tries to find comfort in the place she lives in. a darker and grayer place she remembers. or was it just the weather, the clouds that drove the sunlight out in the afternoon skies that made this house seem so... unhappy? she misses something. a familiar light. heat. something.... something dangerous when touched for too long ––– fire! it was fire she missed. the fireplace burning, the living room basking in its glory and warmth. she hasn’t seen or felt that fire for a long time, it seems. but the strength to move down and heat the thing she doesn’t find. fingertips touch the dusty photoframes that are on the hearth instead. 

the doorbell rings. it does sometimes, but millie doesn’t pay attention any longer. the people that come in are a daze to her anyways. like white noise. she can’t see who they are, or what they’re saying. she sighs when her eyes fall on the beach photo of them together. it causes the corners of her lips to rise, as far was possible. she can’t be happy whilst her lover isn’t. but the sweet memory of their shared kiss in front of friends sparks an emotion she hasn’t felt in a while. happiness, she thinks it is. and it’s then she hears an unfamiliar voice coming from the bedroom.  ❝ we all miss her, caroline. we really do. –– ❞ silence falls for a moment and millie takes it to turn away from the hearth, slowly approach the room the female voice had come from.  ❝ – but life goes on. she would’ve wanted to see you happy. to move on, no matter how much it hurts. ❞ she recognizes that voice, she knows she does.

❝ wanna bet? – i pull the trigger faster than you can, asshole.❞  there are more people in the room, millie notices. she knows now. it’s not just her, the stranger pointing the gun at her and the figure next to her, but three more people have surrounded him. she remembers the fight, no, not a fight, a war. a war she had started by killing the cult’s queen lillian. and the chase, oh the forever chase to track down the upirs that had made it out alive. the friends they made along the way, finding out they hadn’t been alone. fighting a fight that had been going on for longer than millie knew - the queen apparently had made many enemies. and their fight had almost been over, save for one. the last pawn they had found tonight, hiding in the back of a casino that had been shut down years ago. a great hiding place, millie had to admit so, but not clever enough to have stayed off the radar. not for the codebreaker, at least. but somewhere along the way, whilst intruding the place, the tides had turned and they no longer had control over the situation. 

it’s katherine, she remembers now. their best friend, pointing a gun at their enemy. a glock g29 gen4 to be exact. it was better than this homemade one, but that didn’t rule out the danger they were in. and her strength grows around the hand she’s holding in her own when she notices his knuckles tighten, clearly not considering lowering the gun by katherine’s threat. and it pushes the air right out of millie when his shooting point shifts from her own chest towards caroline. 

caroline. oh god, it hits her now. she’s holding caroline’s hand. and her focus changes from the man towards her lover. she finds those beautiful oceanblue eyes she’s been drowning in over and over again. only to be rescued by those breathtaking lips. lips where both loving and awful words had dropped from over time, but they always made it through. they made it through everything, they were made for each other after all. like soulmates, always returning to each other. she thinks of the many times she’s been cupping those perfect cheekbones, traced the lines all over her face and kissed her forehead - her nose. kissed her everywhere she could possibly kiss her. ran her hands through her soft short hair. and her hands... the hand she’s holding onto. she takes in the feeling of skin on skin, as if it’s the last time.

and the last time, it had been. she figured it all out. it took her so long. but she knows why. her fingers trace her temple, the final blow still echoing through her skull, but there was no trace of a gunshot to be found.  ❝ –– caroline? ❞ she asks, not expecting an answer. for the first time knowing there won’t be an answer. because no matter how close she was to her lover, they were entirely separated. and the distance between them breaks her. it makes her hurry to the bedroom. how she had made it into the kitchen, she cannot remember. but the house is dark - the lights are out and she figures caroline’s to be found in the room they spent so much time together.  ❝ oh, caroline. ❞ she breathes out when she finds her in bed, moving in to hold her close. to brush her fingers through her hair, to brush her fingertips over her hand.  ❝ i’m so, so sorry.  ❞ tears drip onto the pillow, although she knows for sure it’s only her own hallucination. ghosts cannot cry, and most certainly caroline cannot see, feel or hear her. but her apologies - they’re real.  ❝ i had no idea... i didn’t know until now. –– i swear i’ve always been here. i’m right here. i was lost....so lost. –– my darling dearest, i wish i could’ve said goodbye. i wish you could hear me - like all the other many times i’ve tried to talk to you.....i thought you were angry. i thought - i thought you were upset, but not –– not because of... ❞ she’s unable to finish her sentence, listening to her lover’s breathing for a while. 

❝ i’ll always be here. i promise. –––––– my darling. ❞ 

[starsinursa]

11 questions tag game!

THE RULES ARE SIMPLE

1. Post the Rules. 2. Answer the questions given to you. 3. Make 11 questions of your own. 4. Tag 11 people

Begin!

I was tagged by both @saawek and @jemariel, so I’m going to answer all of the questions together in one post.  😊 Thank you, lovelies! 

1) How and when did you get into fandom/fanfiction/shipping?

Oh god. 😂 It all started when I was 14, playing Kingdom Hearts on Playstation 2, and one day I stumbled across some Roxas x Axel fanart on DeviantArt. At first, I was confused. Then I was intrigued. Then I was hooked and the rest was history.

2) What was your dream job when you were five years old, and why?

I always wanted to be an artist, probably until I was halfway through high school, and then I veered more towards writing. I haven’t drawn in years, I really wish I had kept practicing, because now I suck and can’t draw for shit.

3) If you had to only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would you eat? (Assume that nutritional needs will be met by this food.)

That’s tough… maybe ice cream? Am I allowed to eat different flavors? That might give me enough variety to keep me entertained.

4) Roughly how far from where you grew up do you now live?

I live about 140 miles/ 2 hours away from my hometown, so not too far, I go home to visit my mom every couple of months. 

5) What’s your usual breakfast?

…coffee. I never eat breakfast, I don’t eat until lunch. I know, I know…

6) Cats or dogs? (Or other?)

Both! I have one of each!  😊 Although tbh, I’m more of a cat person, they’re a lot more low-maintenance and a little better suited to my two-job lifestyle, even though right now I’m lucky enough to have a great aunt who babysits my dog for me on the nights I work at my second job.

7) Favorite holiday?

Hmm, probably Christmas. I just like the feel of the season, even though I don’t really decorate or do anything too festive. I just like the Christmas atmosphere. You wanna hear a funny story about laziness though? The two tricks to never having to take down a Christmas tree are: 1) never putting it up in the first place (that’s my method), and 2) never taking it down (that’s my mom’s method, if I visit her house in, like, May, her Christmas tree will still be up, she literally just leaves it up year-round).

9) What is your ‘happy place’?

Probably just my house. I love coming home after work and decompressing in a quiet, empty house. As soon as I’m through the door, pajamas are going on, I don’t care if it’s only 5 p.m., and I hope I don’t get any visitors because I’m not answering the door for anybody.

10) Favorite song to sing when no one else can hear you?

I’ll sing anything… pop songs, Disney songs, showtunes… I go through phases where I’ll sing one soundtrack constantly for about a week at a time. People will pop their head into my office and be like, “Are you singing Beauty and the Beast?”

11) Would you rather be too hot or too cold?

That’s a tough one, I always change my mind depending on whether it’s winter or summer at the time!

1.Weirdest idiom of your language

It’s hard to choose, we’ve got a lot of weird idioms. “In a pickle”, “under the weather”, “when the fat lady sings”… who is the fat lady and why does she have to sing?

2.Fuck (or cuddle) Marry and Kill with : Godstiel, Demon!Dean, Lucifer!Sam 

Hmmm…I’m gonna kill Lucifer!Sam (sorry Sam, it’s not you, it’s Lucifer), fuck demon!Dean (hooo boy, you know he’d be insane in the sack), and marry Godstiel.

3.Same question but with : Castiel, Sam or Dean (i’m not THAT sadistic)

AAAGH. This one is HARD. I guess…if I HAVE to choose… I would kill Sam (I’m so sorry, Sammy, I love you, I just don’t particularly want to fuck or marry you!), fuck Castiel, and marry Dean. Honestly those last two could go either way, but I picked marrying Dean because I feel like I have more in common with him, we could totally spend our lives together watching Star Trek, reading Vonnegut, and hitting up stripclubs.

4.What’s your zodiacal sign?

Leo, but I don’t feel like a Leo at all, it doesn’t really fit me.

5.Tell us an embarassing but funny moment you lived recently or years ago.

One of my friends loves to tell the story about my 24th birthday, two years ago, when I pounded back grapefruit vodka, margaritas, and limoncello, proceeded to whip my boobs out in the taxi, puked on the subway, and then when we went to a bar called “Sneaky Pete’s”, I spent the entire night calling it “Stinky Pete’s” and cackling about it. That night was full of regret and shame. 

6.Which fictional characters do you most fancy (or find very attractive)?

Definitely Dean, of course. Deep at heart, I’m ultimately a Dean!girl. Cas is an extremely close second. I’m also pretty sweet on Spock. I’m sure there are more, but those are the big ones.

7.Destiel is now canon, do you mind?

Umm, definitely not. I’m probably rejoicing in the streets, drunk out of my gourd, crying tears of happiness on the shoulders of strangers.

8.You got an unlimited access to money and power, what do you do? (see question 7 to have some ideas on what to buy)

Are you suggesting I buy the CW?  😂 Because that’s…not a bad idea. I would also pay off all of my bills and student loans, and then do the same for everyone in my family. I would donate a bunch of money to my favorite animal shelter. Then I’d travel the world.

9.An urban legend or a myth around your area?

We actually don’t have any close for where I live. Not that I’ve heard, at least. I mean, there’s the whole Stull Cemetery thing, but that’s a couple hours away. My city is pretty boring on the urban myth front.

10.Why do I have to ask you 11 questions? It’s fucking hard.

“It’s fucking hard.” That’s what she said. Eheheh.

11.Can you give me a cookie?

I don’t have any cookies, I’m sorry!

Now, my 11 questions for YOU to answer:

1. What is the best compliment you’ve ever received, the one piece of praise that really sticks out in your mind?

2. Weirdest food/ food combination that you love?

3. What would your spirit animal/ totem/ patronus be, and why?

4. Favorite dirty joke (or clean is fine, if you prefer)?

5. If you cosplay/ ever got the chance to cosplay, which character would you be?

6. One of your bad habits?

7. A song that always makes you feel nostalgic?

8. How did you choose your tumblr URL?

9. Is love at first sight a real thing? What about true love/ soulmates?

10. The book/ poem/ fic that changed your life?

11. What is the one piece of advice that you think everyone should hear?

Now I’m tagging 11 cool people I’d like to know better: @aldehydean, @rosewhipped22, @threshie, @castielismyfavouriteangel, @robotsnchicks, @santamadredidios, @holamishamigos0, @beefcakemish, @60r3d0m, @casthewise, @goodtidingsdean

[runicscribbles]

strippersheith! hunk wants to take keith to the movies for the night after a stressful week, lance butts in and decides that they're going to a stripclub instead! thank you in advance if you fill in my request

You’ve got it!! Thank you so much for supporting us by buying us a coffee, @itdans and I really appreciate it. Here’s a little thank you drabble, we hope you enjoy.

Keith was forced to admit that Hunk had terrible taste in friends, but Keith had long admitted that Lance had terrible taste in everything.

They were supposed to be having a quiet movie night, something to get them through the rest of the week, when the weekend felt as far away as the moon. Instead they were here, in the middle of flashing lights and a pounding beat, in a club that felt like it wanted to be fancier than it really was. In the center of it all was a large stage, not unlike a catwalk. In one corner sat a group of girls, talking in hushed whispers. In the other corner was a group of burly men who would not talk to each other at all. There were more people along the back, in strategically shadowed booths that Keith very pointedly did not look at.

It was a specific kind of club. Keith never should’ve let them talk him into this.

“Let’s get a seat at the front!” Lance yelled, already heading for one of the tables near the middle.

“Nooo.” Hunk argued, but it was the same ‘no’ that had gotten them into this mess in the first place because in all honesty, Hunk really liked bad ideas, too.

“I’m gonna get singles!”

Keith groaned.

“Can we go home yet?” He muttered as Lance exaggerated a gasp, hand to his chest like he’d been personally wounded.

“We’re doing this for you! You’re the one who’s been complaining about stress all week.” Lance said with a sharp grin, throwing an arm around Keith and Hunk. “So quit your bitching and relax. I promise you’ll enjoy the show.”

Keith scowled as Lance steered them towards a table right by the stage. “You two keep our spot, I’m gonna go get those dollar bills.”

“I’m going to go check out the snacks before it starts, we didn’t get a chance to have dinner.” Hunk said and Keith knew he more looking for an escape than food, but let them both go. This was all a mistake, but there’d be no way to convince either one of them. Keith would have already left if they weren’t his ride home too. With a sigh, he rested his head in his hands. That movie was sounding better and better as long as it was far away from this place.

Music suddenly blared on the speakers and the lights dimmed. Keith looked around for his friends, but those idiots had found something to distract them. Namely, each other. Ugh. Well, there went the evening, if they’d hoped this place was going to spark his libido, that thought was enough to stamp it out for the rest of his life.

Keith was ready to sink into his seat forever. Then the spotlight focused on the far end of the room, the beat gentling at first, but promising to pick up. An announcer echoed through the speakers. “Welcome welcome welcome to another hot night at the hottest club in town. We’re revving it all the way to the top and starting of sizzling. Give it up for Rocky Member!”

A lone cheer echoed in the corner, and Keith beat down a rush of second-hand embarrassment, even as he could see people turning towards the stage. He bit back a groan. It wasn’t going to be the first one that night, because coming out of the backroom, hidden behind a curtain walked the most painfully attractive human Keith had ever seen.

In slick, slick leather, smoothed out into a bastardized version of a soldier’s uniform, complete with long white gloves, Rocky Member strutted out on stage to a pounding bass. His dark hair was smoothed back, except for a tuft of white that curled down his brow, and when he smiled, more cheers filled the tiny room.

Keith felt like his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. He couldn’t help but lean forward, watching the way the leather strained against the dancer’s arms as he stretched. Rocky was all lean strength carved out of his body with broad shoulders and a narrowed waist that Keith’s hand itched to wrap themselves around. He had to shake himself, pulling himself out of his fantasy with a muttered curse, but self-control only lasted so long.

Rocky moved to the raging heartbeat of his music, teasing the crowd with every thrust of his hips and impossible flexibility as the crowd ate it up. Money rained on the stage as Rocky unzipped his uniform, letting it dropped to the floor as he grinned. Everything except those gloves, and they stood out in sharp contrast where he touched himself. His skin glistened with a sheen of sweat and Keith swallowed hard, trying not to wonder what it would be like to lick the salt from the dancer’s taut stomach.

Oh god, he needed a drink. A lot of drinks. His face burned as the dancer locked eyes with him, capturing Keith in the wicked darkness. It seemed like he moved just for Keith and the crowd died away. Rocky dropped down to the stage and writhed as the breath caught in Keith’s lungs.

A shrill whistle blasted right by Keith’s ear, making him jump out of his skin. Some overzealous patron had his fingers in his mouth and didn’t think bills were effective enough to grab Rocky’s attention. He was right.

Rocky swiveled towards him, squatting in front of Keith, his legs spread wide enough that Keith could drown himself in the chiseled line that cut across his thighs. Every muscle was put on aggravating display as he fell back on his hands, thrusting into the air, his bulge straining against the fabric of his painfully short shorts, close enough that Keith could see the dark patch that grew across his taint where sweat pooled. Keith had never been a jockey, but all he could think about was riding.

Then Rocky flipped over, and Keith stopped thinking altogether.

Suddenly there was someone screaming behind him, and a plate of nachos on his table. Hunk draped himself across his shoulders, and Lance started hooting, and Keith could die. Keith could honestly die, because when the music stopped, Rocky disappeared off stage, and if Keith’s pants were any tighter they would kill him.

“See? I told you this was a good idea.” Lance crowed and Keith could have strangled him if Hunk hadn’t managed to intervene.

“Dude, the snacks aren’t even half bad. You should try some!” He shoved a plate towards Keith who used one greasy, cheese-filled chip as a distraction as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The room was dark enough that hopefully no one would notice how flushed he’d gotten or how obviously he’d fallen right into the dancer’s spell. No such luck.

“So you liked what you saw, huh?” Lance waggled his eyebrows and this time, Keith really did punch him. Lance yelped and rubbed his arm, but it wasn’t enough to wipe the grin from his face. “Oh come on, like I couldn’t tell you’d like him. He’s new, but he’s good. Maybe we could make coming here a regular thing, I’m sure you’d like to see more performances.”

“Lance.” Hunk’s voice held a note of warning as he tried to smooth things over. “Ignore him. It was just fun and man, these guys are really flexible. You think I could ever dance like that?”

“I know I could. I’d probably make thousands of dollars a night, who could resist this?” Lance pulled what Keith only assumed was his attempt at a sexy pose.

“I’m pretty sure people would pay you not to do that.” He said dryly as Hunk cackled.

Keith did his best to ignore them. It was easy when they were more interested in each other and the entertainment that came afterwards. A leggy blond and a flexible brunette came in afterwards. Keith watched and waited for that visceral, dizzying pull that Rocky had, the same hunger that left Keith breathless and lightheaded, wondering what they’d look like, biting into his pillow. Mostly he just felt a vague sense of embarrassment and tried not to stare at anything other than his nachos. After the third time Lance threatened to call someone over, waving a dollar bill with the same sort of viciousness one would a knife, Keith excused himself, blaming his bladder. Hunk gave him a sympathetic look, but didn’t try to stop him.

The pounding bass followed him out of the club, and when he was sure no one was looking, Keith ducked outside. A blast of cool night air hit him, washing away the past few hours more effectively than the drinks his friends had no so subtly nudged in front of him.

They meant well. That had to count for something. Keith didn’t know what, but it had to mean something.

He promised himself a few minutes away from it all. He owed Hunk that much at least, and he wasn’t about to walk home anyway. Then Keith turned around, and walked straight into a wall of muscle.

Keith wobbled, but found himself trapped in strong arms that held him still so he couldn’t move. “Wait!” His captor said. “Don’t move, I dropped my glasses.”

“Your what?” Keith squirmed a little more carefully, looking down to make sure he hadn’t accidentally stepped on or broken anything.

“I’m so sorry, I’m kind of blind without them.” Keith caught a blur of a bright smile and dark hair as the man gently set him back down and knelt to feel along the floor. His beanie nearly fell over, and the stranger tugged it lower on his head. “It makes my job easier without ‘em, but finding them again afterwards is always a pain.”

“You take them off to work?” Keith asked, raising an eyebrow as he stooped to help the man look. “Seems kind of dangerous to do anything that blind. What don’t you just wear contacts?”

“I know, I know.” The man moaned as he groped along the floor. “But I actually like not being able to see. It kind of makes you feel braver, you know? You don’t actually have to see anyone’s reaction?”

“See anyone’s reaction?” Keith asked as the man crowed in success as he found the missing glasses and slipped them on. Keith found himself face to face with a strong jawline and wicked humor in his eyes. “Oh, my god, you’re Rocky!”

Rocky went pink.

“It’s actually Shiro, but I guess you caught the show?” He grinned almost sheepishly. All Keith could do was stare. On stage, Rocky had been pure sex, moving writhing his body with barely constrained power and an even barely-er constrained leather thong. He was confidence and seduction, holding Keith captive to an embarrassing wave of lust. This Shiro was still handsome. The slim black glasses only accentuated his features and the soft grey sweat suit did nothing to hide his body, but he seemed softer, almost awkward.

“I. Uh. You danced.” Oh god, kill him now.

Shiro gave a startled laugh. “I did. Did you like it?”

Keith just nodded mutely.

“Well, I’m glad.”

“Me Keith. I mean, I’m Keith. Keith.” He buried his face in his hands as Shiro shook with laughter.

“See, now this is why I don’t wear glasses.” Shiro teased. “If I saw someone as handsome as you in the audience, I’d be way too nervous to perform. It’s nice to meet you, Keith. Thanks for your help.”

“You’re welcome.” Keith cleared his throat, trying to win back some of his dignity. “Think about getting those contacts, alright?”

“Deal, as long as I get to look at you.” Shiro said with a wink.

[missatown2u]

2nite catch me @clubplatinumatl oh yeah, we taking it byke to #TheRealMissAtown its @missscott111 BIRTHDAY FINALE! #CoalitionDjs on the 1s & 2s😁 Artist hit me NOW for spins tonight!!💿📀💿 #atlstrippers🍑 #StripClub #NakedHustle #BiryhdayBash #MissAtown #FemaleMC #ATLPromoters #ATLRap #RecordLabels #HypeGirl #ATLModel https://www.instagram.com/p/Byvvv2YhXlr/?igshid=ep1p00hsna81

[time-in-tokyo]

7/10 || Miura

I think Miura was my favourite day. It all sort of came together, the weather, the people, the food and the beautiful, beautiful sea. I was so happy to get to the seaside. We left at around 9:00 in the morning, going to Shibuya where we quite nearly missed the express to Yokohama. We met up with Jelle on the train (missing it would have been quite the setback) and headed down south in the train that slowly got less packed. At Yokohama station, we switched trains and could sit back for another small hour, enjoying the train ride. It was actually such good weather we saw Mt. Fuji from the train! A couple of friends from the dorm had planned a trip to Hakone, so looking at the mountain was slightly strange, knowing that they were near there somewhere. We zoomed onwards, cruising along the coastline and soon enough arriving at Misakiguchi station, where the sweltering heat hit us like a wall as we got out of the train. Hoo, boy... 

Getting out of the station, a couple rushed to the 7/11 to get coffee and we spotted this tourism place, Susie and I going in to ask about prices. Turns out they had bicycles and renting them for the day would be ¥1,500. We thought about it for a minute, but otherwise we’d have to catch a bus or two, so we might as well. Turns out they had just enough bikes left, handing us the eight keys as I signed a contract. Eight tiny red bikes with baskets waited for us outside as an elderly man explained how it all worked. In Japanese. Well, we got the gist of it and it was a bike, so how hard could it be? Turns out, what I’d missed in the explanation, was that these were e-bikes. So when you pushed the pedals, you got an extra boost that almost had me crashing into a railing on the first go. So much for my biking skills. Gleefully, we did circles around each other, getting used to the bikes and taking pictures. Jelle took the lead towards a park that was apparently quite pretty and off we were! Zooming next to traffic, going uphill as if it was nothing and racing each other on short stretches, I’m sure the locals weren’t quite fond of us.  

Still, we got to the park, but we couldn’t find the entrance, so we got some ice cream in a very quiet harbor. Then, we decided to cruise along the coast towards the southern tip, the bikes making transportation a breeze. We saw a couple of bays, came across a stone beach/reef (??) with a funky lighthouse and I was smiling all the way. The weather was perfect as we watched how local divers went fishing and enjoyed ourselves. Soon, we hit the town of Miura though, where our tranquility was disrupted by many other tourists like ourselves and we parked our bikes somewhere (not sure if that was allowed, but I don’t think it bothered anyone) and went looking for lunch. Before we’d left I’d found a couple of sightseeing points, but more importantly, good food spots! One that had very high ratings was nearby but as we approached, we saw the huge queue by the door. There was a list where you could write your name on, and there were about 30 people on the list. We weren’t deterred, though, and only saw it as a reason to go, because if that many people were waiting, it couldn’t be bad. So, we wrote our name (the only Western one on there) on the list and decided to visit a local temple to kill some time. To get there, however, we had to walk up a huge staircase that didn’t like people with short legs. To quote Susie, “Aw, heck.” We probably waited an hour for the food, but it was worth it! Their special was a tuna bowl (まぐろ丼) that was absolutely perfect. Not that expensive but so so tasty, you also got tuna soup with that and some other tiny bits of food with it. Perfect. 

After lunch we crossed the bridge to Jogashima and went for a brief walk. It was lovely, but our deadline for handing in the bikes was approaching quickly so we couldn’t stay as long as we’d liked (or I’d liked, anyhow). Speeding back to Misakiguchi, we handed in the bikes to a very welcoming owner and took the train one stop over to end the day on the beach. Grabbing some beers, we plopped down on the beach and Jelle, Lewis, Susie and I actually went for a swim. It reminded me of going to the beach with my dad and going for a swim in sea, so doing that was perfect. The only sad thing is, is that this beach is on the east side of the peninsula, so we caught a bit of what looked like an incredible sunset. Oh, well, can’t have it all. Sandy, not quite dry and a little sunburnt, we made our way back to Shibuya. Walked around Shinjuku for a bit with our personal guide, Jelle. Had a medium dinner, spoke to the manager of a stripclub and saw Golden Gai (we have got to go), but all in all, good. 

[curtisandlewis]

Happy Trans Girl Day Pride!!!!

Much more will be added to this!

Jerry unlocked the door to the suite he shared with his partner Dean. He held the hand of a lovely young woman as he stepped inside. “Here we are my Dear. I usually don’t bring women here because my partner has a habit of barging in at the exact wrong moment. But I saw him go off with a girl of his own so we should have the place all to ourselves. Go ahead and sit,” Jerry said gesturing to the couch. “What was your name, sweetheart?”

“Roberta”

“Would you like a drink, Roberta?”

“Umm...I think I should go to the bathroom.”

“Okay. It’s the second door.” Jerry went ahead and made them both Gin Martinis with olives instead of pickled onions, of course. He handed Roberta her drink when she came back and she drank it all in one gulp. Jerry stared at her in shock as he took a sip of his drink.

“Before this goes any further there’s something I should tell you.”

“Alright,” Jerry said taking another sip of his drink.

Roberta bit her lip. “You have to promise me you won’t get angry.”

“Okay.”

“I mean really promise me. This is going to be a big shock and you might lose control...And I need reassurance you won’t hit me.”

“HIT YOU? Of course I wouldn’t. Not even if you were a Nazi.” Jerry hesitated. “You’re not from Irvington are you?”

“No, I’m from Pleasanton, California.”

“Oh, Okay,” Jerry said relieved. “Yes. I promise I will not get angry and I will certainly not hit you. Please just tell me what it is.”

“I think you better sit down.” Roberta set her drink down and looked even more nervous than before. “I think the easiest way is just to show you.”

“Okay.” Jerry’s heart fluttered in his chest. He felt like he was in an old gangster movie and about to get shot by the beautiful temptress. But she made him promise that he wouldn’t hit her. Would he hit someone with a gun? Roberta stepped closer to the couch. She slowly lifted her dress. Jerry watched as the material went up her legs and to her thighs. This was it she was reaching for her gun he was sure of it. He guessed there were the worse ways to go than looking at a beautiful woman in her garter belt and panties. He gripped the couch and prepared for the bullet but nothing happened. “Honey...What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“Look at the panties. There should be something...Off.”

Jerry stared at the undergarment. They were very nice panties. White satin with lace trim. Her thighs were quite nice too. Now that he was sure he wasn’t about to get wacked he was feeling horny again. He thought about caressing her milky white thighs while licking them then sticking his tongue deep in her. “Oh...” There was a noticible bulge in the fabric. He looked up at Roberta “You have between your legs what I have between my legs?”

Roberta nodded.

THAT’S IT? “I thought you were sent by the mob to kill me, Roberta!”

“What!” Roberta dropped her dress. “Why would the mob want you dead?”

“Who knows! Those people are extremely sensitive. You know I have a heart condition,” Jerry said drinking his martini. Then it occured to him what Roberta said before. “Did somebody hit you?”

“Yes. One time. I was much younger then and he was older. Men don’t...they don’t like when they find out. They feel tricked. Even though he put his hand up my dress when I didn’t want him to.” She looked away as if she was reliving that horrible moment in her mind.

Jerry was outraged. “Even if you were a man he has no right to hit you.”

Roberta looked at Jerry. Their eyes locked. She sat beside him. “You don’t see me as a man in a dress?”

“Do you see yourself as a man in a dress?”

“No.”

“Then it would be pretty silly if I saw you that way. You forget I AM a man in a dress and I can tell the difference. The first time I wore a dress I was twelve years old and I’ve done performanences in drag ever since. There’s been PLENTY of men that have mistaken me for a woman. I’m damn good at my job. They got angry when they found out, sure. But I can’t imagine them getting violent. Though, now that I think about it I was pretty lucky. People don’t know this but Dean was there to protect me. He doesn’t want people to know how long we’ve really known each other. There was one scary guy but Dean beat the hell out of him before he could touch me.” Jerry thought back to all those men in the stripclubs that made him uncomfortable. That would masturbate out in the open and scream disgusting things at the strippers as if they were objects to be fucked and nothing more. He was pretty sure atleast a few of those men wanted to fuck him too. Even if he wasn’t wearing a dress. He saw one put his hand in his trenchcoat, no doubt touching himself. Jerry felt sick. He locked himself in his dressing room and cried. It was before he met Dean. Thankfully, the man didn’t come near Jerry. It was easy for Jerry now to see a man be so cruel as to hurt her. Especially if they were like Dean. He knew Dean would never do anything like that but someone like him who was taught the same ridiculous rules. If they had the same insane beliefs then yeah they would probably think they would magically turn into a homosexual by being attracted to a woman. They probably would turn violent if they felt their heterosexuality was threatened. People like Dean they’re taught their heterosexuality is all they have. If they lose it then they’re nothing. “Those men could have really hurt me.” Jerry lightly put his hand over Roberta’s on her knee. “He had no right to put his hand up your dress either. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“I’m okay,” Roberta said with a slight smile. “I wasn’t planning on any of this. I wasn’t going to go with you but you picked me. Out of all of those girls you picked me. Why did you pick me?”

“You’re very beautiful, Roberta and I liked the way you laugh. You also have a nice ass if I’m being completely honest...”

Roberta giggled. It was nice to see her smile. “I knew you were a good person but...Why are you taking this so well?”

“I’ve been around the block. I know about girls like you. It’s not as shocking as you think. You’re not the first of your kind you know.”

Roberta looked down. “Have you been with a girl like me before?”

“No. You’d be the first one.” Jerry held Roberta’s hand with both of his. “My feelings haven’t changed. I would still very much like to have a lovely evening with you but you have to promise me something.”

“What is it?”

“When you’re asked about this night it’s very important that you say all you did was suck me or give me a handjob whichever is the most believable.”

Roberta looked confused. “Oh, you want them to think I didn’t tell you my secret.”

“No. In fact it’s better if you say after you told me I was ONLY comfortable with you doing those things to me.”

“I don’t get it. Why would you want people to know we had sex? Wouldn’t it be better for them to think that after I told you I was asked to leave?”

“No! I come off as a total prick. Listen, I don’t give a fuck if they know that I see you as a sexy woman and that you got me hard. I saw you and I wanted to have sex with you so we came back here and had VERY HETEROSEXUAL sex. That part is key!”

“Very heterosexual?”

“You know, follows the rules.”

“The rules?” Roberta looked more confused by the second.

“Didn’t you have guy friends growing up?”

“Not really,” replied Roberta. “All my friends were girls.”

“Same here.” In other circumstances Jerry rejoice in finding another rational human being but this meant that he would somehow had to teach the insanity that he never understood himself. “Ok. Here’s the deal. You are a woman and that means ANYTHING I do to you or you do to me is het-er-o-sexual like how a guy can get sucked by a woman and it’s not considered homosexual even though that’s a common way for two men to have sex. Are you following me?”

“I think so...”

“And the rules say I can be sucked by anybody even a homosexual and still be completely heterosexual.”

“...what! But you had sex with a man...who enjoys it. You had your cock in his mouth and he liked it...”

“Exactly!” Finally someone who gets it. “To rational people like us if two men are having sex and enjoying it they’re probably not heterosexual. But Society or these people...I don’t know which created their own reality...The way it was explained to me is that if you’re receiving then you are male but if you’re giving then you’re the female. The worse-the second to worse thing a man can do is suck another man. He not only is instantly seen as homosexual but loses all his manhood...and becomes a woman...in a sense.”

“So that’s what happened to me.”

Jerry laughed. He knew she would have a good sense of humor. “Can you understand why it’s important for people to think I refused to be anywhere near what’s between your legs?”

“I don’t understand,” replied Roberta. “But I understand.”

Jerry smiled to reassure her. “I’m taking a big chance and maybe I shouldn’t because I just met you...I just always got to be a non conformist....” Jerry took a deep breath. “You have to promise me that you will never tell another living soul what I am about to tell you OR anything we do together tonight.”

“I promise,” said Roberta slightly shaken.

“Your solemn word.”

“You can trust me.”

“I sure hope so. I’m trusting you with my life, Roberta. You had a secret and I’m about to tell you mine.”

Roberta swallowed a lump in her throat. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Jerry let go of Roberta’s hand. “Ok. My secret is I don’t follow the rules. I can go down on you if you want. I was thinking about doing it before your surprise. I like to give people pleasure. I like to hear the person I’m giving sex to moaning and coming. I like to taste them. I like to feel them in my throat...”

“...But I’m the only woman you know-” The realization hit her. “You had a cock in your mouth. You had a man’s cock in your mouth.”

“Yep.”

“But you’re not homosexual.”

“Nope”

“You fuck women?”

“Yep!”

“You fuck men and women?”

“Bingo! Am I your first one?”

“Yes. I guess we’re each other’s firsts.”

“That’s why I felt I could trust you, Roberta. We’re very different but we both know what it’s like to have a secret.”