Kiss Me Like a Picture

I can taste you

how bad I wish 

you were mine

but I’ve already

watched your 

dark brown hair

and blonde/purple/pink

high lights slip

through my fingers

and walk away

with words that

tore my heart free

loosened amongst 

my insides.

You were an

angel maybe once

mine but not now

as I watch you

hunched over 

your desk 

and interested

in your work

like I don’t

matter.

Everyone wants you

I’m not sure why

you’re so universal

right? You’re so

beautiful that 

you can have

everyone and

everything and

you like to play

with feelings

but maybe I

do too and…

maybe that’s why

I still keep 

your pictures

and your kisses

close to my

<3.

My books may contain action, romance, & gore. So uh. Read them?

It has come to my attention recently, after a few of my close friends yelled at me, that people don’t know I’ve written books.

So I’m here to set the record straight. My name is Desdemona Wren and I have written 4 books; 2 novels & 2 novellas and I’m going to tell you a little bit about them.

First up, The Marjorie Diaz series: Marjorie Diaz’s Unfortunate Introduction to Magical High Society and Marjorie Diaz’s Unfortunate Introduction to Ancestral Politics & Foul Play.

The Marjorie Diaz series follows Marjorie Diaz, a 22 year-old Mexican American college student who manages to piss off some magical high royals and gets herself marked for death.

And while that seems like a very bad thing (TM), the story keeps cutting deeper and Marjorie discovers everyone has a secret, including her best friend.

This title is LGBT with acespec rep, lesbian rep, bisexual/pansexual rep, and transgender characters. There is also POC rep with Mexican American, Black American, Zimbabwean, and British Indian characters.

Next up, Bloom: A Monster Love Novella and Call Me Eli (my anthology piece).

Both of these books feature transgender characters in same-sex relationships.

Bloom: A Monster Love Novella is about Holly Juniper who falls for a nymph who comes through a portal in her barn. She gets more than she bargained for, when Nia helps her discover what she was truly meant to do.

Call Me Eli is about a transman who falls in love with a rock star when he shows up and hijacks Eli’s cab ride back from his impromptu concert at CosFest, a huge con he goes to with his best friend every year. It’s a Cinderella story, but with a fresh take. They’re adorable together and I’ll be rewriting their story when I get the rights back in August.

I have another few books I want to release this year: Nighthawks: A Monster Love Novella, A City of Glass and Sand, Marjorie 3, A Reverse Harem story, and The Incredible Origins of Suzie Q, Demon Hunter Extraordinaire.

To keep up with my books, what I’m up to, and get sneak peaks of my writing: sign up for my monthly newsletter on my website!

Hunger Games: Troll Attempt Plausible

She was waiting there in her way.  The same way she always waited for him to come by.  For Peeta to come by.  She knew today was the day and this was their moment.  The moment she had been waiting for.  She was so lonely and wanted everything Peeta had to offer.

His warmth, his strong embrace.  The one which had protected her all those nights in the cave and all those nights in her cabin when the nightmares came.  Peeta was so warm and inviting, much like the bread he made in his oven.

He walks by, blue eyes meeting hers and he smiles that smile he saves only for her and then he jumps on her in the middle of the street and…some stuff happens and………….

This is so OBVIOUSLY how SOMEONE I know would write a sexy story.  Let’s see if I can do any better :).

Hunger Games

I couldn’t contain the elation I felt upon seeing him again.  Seeing his beautiful blue eyes, his brilliant blonde hair.  I flung myself into his arms, not even questioning he might not be able to hold me due to his lower leg being amputated thanks to those abominable Hunger Games.  

As soon as I was in his arms, his legs buckled, but I could hear his laughter in my ears.  

“Oh Peeta,” I whispered, tears stinging in my eyes before rolling down my face freely.  He doesn’t answer in words, instead he grabs my waist firmly with one arm and strokes my hair with the other.  I feel so safe and happy I almost forget that we’re not the only people in the room.  

From behind us Haymitch clears his throat pointedly and my mother’s own throat clearing follows.  The two of us scramble up off the floor quickly and stand facing our small audience.  Although Haymitch and my mother seem displeased with us at first, it’s not long before they descend on Peeta, almost as glad to see him as I am.

Then just like that, almost in an instant it seems, Haymitch and my mother excuse themselves and give us some time to catch up or roam the ship.  Whatever we please to do, really.  I have a lot to tell Peeta and he obviously has a few things to tell me too.  However, when I meet his eyes I can tell that whatever we have to say can wait.

He gathers me into his arms again, hugging me, kissing me.  He’s holding me so tight I can barely breathe, not that I even care.  I don’t ever want him to let me go, I’m so scared he’ll disappear again.  Like he’s not permanent.  Like he’s a dream.

“There’s no cameras you know,” he whispers, pressing his lips to my ear and I flare my nostrils, growling a little in anger at his comment.  His kisses against my throat diffuse any anger he may have conjured however, as I feel myself relax against him again.

“I missed you,” I said, voice sort of strangled because he’s holding me so tightly, “God, Peeta, I missed you.” I kiss him again, tangling my fingers in his hair, holding his face, touching his chest.  I just want to feel every part of him, I want to make sure without a doubt that he’s real.  That this isn’t another one of those nightmares that plagues me.  The ones where he disappears and I’m left wanting.

“Don’t let me go,” I beg when it feels like he’s moving away from me.  I sound desperate and I can feel more tears spring to my eyes at the simple idea of his arms leaving their place around my waist, against my back…in my hair.  

***

To finish? Probably not.

Red Wine

Her large pink plastic earrings clicked against her sunglasses as she walked fast into the room holding a huge bottle of red wine.  The other agents that had been in the room stopped talking for a minute and gazed over at her, some of them even allowing their jaws to drop open.

What!?” She shrieked, grabbing a corkscrew from one of the kitchen drawers and twisting it into the cork at the top of the bottle.  

“Dess…” Someone said from near her, sounding concerned.

“Not now, Kura,” Dess responded harshly, reaching up and ripping the short black wig off of her head and tossing it onto the granite counter top.  

“Is everything alright?” Kura asked, obviously oblivious to Desdemona’s foul mood.  Dess growled, yanking the cork out of the bottle and taking a big swig.  The liquid went down hot, but not burning hot like other liquors.  

“Did your mission go okay?” Kura asked, jumping a little when Dess slammed the bottle back down on the counter top.  

“Does it look like my mission went okay?” Desdemona shrieked, her brown hair falling out of its place on top of her head.  Kura swallowed hard, looking around at the others who were now busying themselves with whatever they currently had in front of them.

“Uh,” Kura said nervously, backing away from the extremely pissed off woman in front of her.  

Huh!?” Dess shrieked, spit flying from her mouth as she reached for the bottle again, taking another long swig.  

“No,” the girl squeaked, turning around and running out of the room.

“Pssh,” Dess said watching her run out before taking another swig from the bottle.

“Now that wasn’t very nice,” a male voice sounded from behind her, Dess whirled around and faced John, the most annoying agent ever to make it into AFTER.

“John,” she said, trying to sound annoyed, but it came out more surprised.  She swallowed, her throat feeling a little dry, probably due to the alcohol.  

“I think you should go and apologize,” John said, reaching out and taking the bottle of wine out of her hand.  Dess growled at him and reached out to take it back.  He held it away from her with a smirk on his face.  She snorted and crossed her arms across her chest, grinding her teeth together in annoyance.

“And if I don’t?” She asked, eyes narrowing.

“I’ll dump your whole bottle of wine here,” he said, bringing it to his lips to take a sip from the bottle before continuing, “Mmm,” he said, swishing the liquid around in his mouth, “And it tastes expensive.”  Dess just rolled her eyes.

“Why should I care?” She said, leaning closer to him, breath reeking of alcohol (and not just red wine), “I stole it.” John smirked again.

“Tch, tch, tch,” he said, wagging his finger in her face, “What am I going to do with you? You’ve been so naughty today.”  Dess blinked, arching her eyebrow and willing herself not to blush at John’s obvious sexual tone.

“Pssh,” she said, clicking her tongue, “Like you’d do anything, you’re not my dad.” Dess reached out and grabbed the bottle out of John’s hand, walking past him slow, hips swaying and practically daring him to do something about her being naughty.

“Don’t tempt me,” he warned her, eyes practically glued to her perfectly peach shaped behind.

“Like, this?” She asked, taking another swig from the bottle and heading for the stairs.  When she got to the bottom of the staircase she turned back over her shoulder and blew him a kiss.  

“Told you,” she called back to him, “you’re not man enough to handle me.”  John took in a deep breath through his nostrils, rushing to the staircase behind her.  The look on Desdemona’s face when he stopped next to her was priceless.

“And I told you not to tempt me,” he growled, grabbing the bottle and tossing it almost casually over his shoulder.  Desdemona watched, mouth agape as the wine bottle shattered against the red carpet.

“That’s gonna st—” She shrieked as John grabbed her and flung her over his shoulder, climbing the stairs to the girl’s rooms.  

“I need to teach you some manners,” he hissed, stomping down the hall and yanking open the door to her bedroom.  Once inside, he slammed the door behind him, tossing her onto the bed roughly.  She screamed, grabbing at her white comforter.  

“I just made this bed!” She screamed, grabbing one of her fluffy feather pillows and throwing it at him.  John said nothing, advancing on her and pinning her beneath him.  

“I think someone needs a spanking,” he said, flipping her over beneath him effortlessly as if she were a rag doll.  

“Let go of me!” Dess screamed against the bed, struggling to free herself.

“No,” John said, sniggering a little as he pulled his hand back and brought it down to hit her rump hard.  Dess screamed again, begging him to stop.

“Are you going to apologize to Kura?” He asked.

“God no!” she responded, he smacked her rump hard again.  She screamed, hand clutching at the comforter.

“Are you?” he asked.

“Fine!” She yelled, “Fine I’ll tell her I’m sorry!”

“And?” He asked, smacking her again, but softer and more playful this time.

“AND!?” She shrieked, there was more that he wanted her to do?

“What about me?” He asked, “Are you going to tell me that you’re sorry?”

“In your dreams!” She responded, he chuckled and smacked her butt again, so hard that it echoed off the walls.  She screamed, tears coming to her eyes.

“You seem to be forgetting the kind of position you’re in right now, Dess,” he said, hitting her butt just soft enough so it would bounce slightly.

“Fine,” she whimpered, “I’m sorry, will you please stop now?” John chuckled again, leaning down so he was right next to her ear.

“Do you really want me to stop, Dess?” He asked, his breath hitting against her cheek softly.  She took in a sharp breath, body tensing beneath him.

“I have to apologize to Kura….” She whispered, chewing on her bottom lip.

“Do you really want to do that?” he whispered, brushing her hair away from her neck softly.  Beneath him, she shivered at this touch.

“I don’t know,” she said, whimpering softly as he kissed her neck. “m…maybe…”

“Are you sure?” He asked, kissing her neck again, this time sucking a little.

“You wanted me to,” she muttered as he reached beneath her, grabbing one of her breasts and squeezing gently.  

“Well, we’re kind of busy right now, aren’t we?” He asked, nibbling on her earlobe.  Dess moaned loudly.

“Yes,” she hissed.  Maybe this time…her mind trailed off, remembering the last time John had her in a position like this, bent over a table in the computer room.  He left before he could do anything that time.  

“Don’t stop this time,” she mewled.  

“I’m not going to,” he said seductively, moving off of her a little so he could force her onto her back.

“Promise me,” she begged as he practically tore her shirt off of her and tossed it onto the floor.

“Does it seem like I’m going to stop?” He asked, pulling her up into a sitting position and kissing her roughly.  She moaned into his mouth as he squeezed one of her breasts with one hand and undid her bra with the other.

“Don’t stop,” she breathed as he pulled away to take her bra off.  He chuckled a little bit.

“I’m not going to, Dess,” he whispered, kissing her collar bone gently before moving lower to take one of her nipples into his mouth.  

“A…ah,” Dess moaned, spreading her legs a little bit.

“Wet already?” He asked before touching his tongue to her other nipple, teasing it a little before taking that one into his mouth as well, running his tongue over it in circular motions.  Dess gripped the sheets and moaned even louder.

“You like that?” He asked, amused.

“Don’t. Stop,” she gasped.  He smirked, taking her other nipple into his mouth and licking it in the same circular motion.  Dess moaned again, reaching down and pushing her already short leather miniskirt up and rubbing her clit through her white lacey panties.

“Now, now, now,” John said, pulling back from her breasts, “That’s my job.”  Dess sighed softly as he moved her hand, unzipping her skirt and slowly pulling it down over her legs.  When he got to her feet, he stopped for a moment, contemplating.

“What?” Dess asked, sitting up a little and looking at him, “Why’d you stop?” 

“I think I like the shoes better on,” he whispered, pulling her skirt off the rest of the way and letting it fall to the floor.

“Shoe fetish?” She asked, amused.  John smirked at her, but didn’t answer, instead he spread her legs, fitting himself between them and started to plant soft kisses against her stomach.

“A..ah…” she breathed, tangling her fingers in his hair.  He kept kissing lower, rubbing his thumb against her clit softly.

“Harder,” she pleaded, bucking her hips, but he did not comply, teasing her.  She moaned louder the lower he got, her loudest moan being when he reached the top of her panties.   

He stopped for a minute, watching as she arched her back and bucked her hips again.  Then he started kissing even lower, planting a soft kiss against her through her panties.  Dess took in a sharp breath, back arching, hands gripping against her blanket.  

“You like that?” He asked, teasing her a little by flicking his tongue against her clit through her panties.  She mewled loudly, hips bucking.

“Please,” she begged, opening her legs wider.  He smirked, pulling her panties to the side before flicking his tongue against her bare clit.  She hissed beneath him, biting her lip and spreading her legs as wide as they could go.  

“Mmm,” he said, pulling away from her and yanking her panties off and over her sexy red and black stiletto heels.  

“J…John” she whimpered as he let her panties slide from his hand onto the floor.

“God, you’re so sexy” he whispered, gazing down at her body. 

“I…I’m ready,” she whispered, body tensing slightly at the idea of having sex for the first time.

“Shh, Dess,” he whispered back, pulling his shirt off and undoing his belt before leaning down and pressing his chest against hers.  She gasped, wrapping her arms around him. “You’ve got to relax,” he said against her throat, planting soft kisses.

“Mmph,” she whimpered, body relaxing a little.  John sighed, kissing against her shoulder and reaching down to undo his pants.  Dess tensed again as he kicked his shoes off and pulled his pants down a little ways.

“Dess,” he warned, “relax.”

“I’m scared,” she said as he pulled his pants down to his knees and pressed himself against her softly.  She whimpered a little, feeling him press against her through his cloth boxers.  

“Shh,” he told her, leaning and kissing her forehead gently, “it’s okay, Dess.” She whimpered a little when he pulled back and kicked his jeans off before pulling his boxers off slowly.  Dess swallowed as she watched him drop the boxers into the floor with the rest of their clothes.

“Ready?” He asked, pressing himself gently against her entrance.  She whimpered, gasping and tensing beneath him.

“Shh, Dess,” he said, leaning down to kiss her inner thigh.  She signed softly as he sucked on her skin.

“I want it,” she begged, “please.”  He stopped for a moment, looking up at her and smiling softly and slipping just the tip inside of her.  She whimpered and gasped.

“S…stop,” she begged, “for a second…please…i…it hurts.”  He stopped and waited for a few seconds before slipping farther inside of her.  She whimpered again, tears springing into her eyes.  He stopped again.

“Nnn…” she whimpered, “Keep going…” He pushed in deeper, stopping every time she made a noise like she was in pain.  

“Are you okay?” He asked, finally, almost breathless.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, “it feels so…good…” He smiled, pulling out of her a little ways before going back in.  Beneath him, she moaned, wrapping her legs around his waist, heels digging into his back just slightly.  He bit his lip, thrusting a little faster inside of her.

“John,” she practically screamed, moving her hips in time with his thrusts.

“You’re so tight,” he whispered.  She moaned his name again, rocking her hips harder into him, heels digging into his back harder.  He wasn’t sure how much longer…he sighed, pressing his face into her shoulder and biting down on her skin.  She called his name again as he pulled out, coming on her stomach.

Dess sighed a little, watching as John reached for some Kleenex from her bed side table, wiping his cum off of her.  

“You don’t have to…” she whispered and he just smiled at her, wiping the rest of his cum off before leaning down and kissing her cheek.  She giggled a little bit, smiling softly.

“I…” she started, biting her lip.  

“What?” John asked, laying down next to her and brushing a piece of hair out of her face.

“Thanks…” she said, blushing a little at how stupid she must’ve sounded just then.  John laughed, gathering her into his arms and kissing her forehead.

“I love you, Dess,” he said softly, “I….I know it took me awhile to say it…” he started, but trailed off when Dess pressed her fingers to his lips.

“It’s okay,” she told him, “If it’s any consolation, I probably said it too soon.”  He smiled down at her, kissing the tips of her fingers.

“You were perfect, by the way,” she told him, snuggling her face into his chest.  He laughed a little bit.

“But you didn’t…” he started, but she hushed him again, this time with a kiss.  

“We’ll worry about that later,” she said, “right now…all I want is…” she kissed him again before snuggling her face into his shoulder.  He hugged her tighter, naked bodies pressed together tightly.

“I love you too, by the way,” she said, a little late.  He chuckled, running his fingers through her hair.  

“It’s okay,” he said, “I pretty much already knew.”

The Original Marjorie Diaz Had a Happy Ending

The first time you see him, you’re in a group project together.  You’ve both been in the same major for nearly four years, and you’ve never seen him before.  You’ve never worked with him, never had a class with him. But you’re interested.  Just interested enough to overhear him when he begins talking about his girlfriend.  It seems like a dead end.  So you give up, but it’s a little more than love at first sight when you hear him laugh and he shoots you a smile when you make a sarcastic remark.

From then on out, he’s all sarcasm and wit and completely irresistible.  And you’ve decided that is just fine.  The group project keeps going, but instead of your little crush disappearing, it holds fast.  Every single time he says your name, your stomach decided to flip, your heart rate quickens, your pupils dilate.

So when you hear his beloved girlfriend crying in the bathroom, on the phone with her girlfriend, you may have gotten a little bit ahead of yourself.  But she needed help, and you may have needed her to get that help more than you’re willing to admit.  

She tells him on a Tuesday.  The day after your class ends.  And he stands there, and he listens, and he understands.  No hard feelings, he tells her and you stand off to the side and just watch.  Because you can’t help yourself, because somehow he’s become this overwhelming important thing in your life.  And you can’t breathe when she walks away. and. he. looks. at. you.

With that look.  The same look he’s reserved for her.  And you’re not quite sure what to do with the information your brain is encoding.  So you don’t do anything.  You smile a sad smile and wave a little bit as you go up the stairs to the left, trying to catch your breath while you lean against the bannister.  

But he’s there in an instant, his voice behind you.

“I wouldn’t trust that bannister,” he says and you jump and turn around.  And he’s wearing the most warm and inviting smile you’ve ever seen.  And you’re done for.  

It seems so easy at first.  Lunch.  Dinner.  Movies.  Cute text messages to wake up to, compliments when you know you look terrible.  And you’re so far gone you don’t notice when it changes.  

They’re at the table when you walk in.  The door was unlocked because you’d said you’d be over soon.  He always leaves the door unlocked when you text him you’ll be over soon.  After all you had plans.

They look up when you come in.  And there’s this woman you’ve never seen before, but she looks posh.  She’s drinking tea and wearing couture and you’re just in some leggings and an oversized sweatshirt because you’d been planning to play video games.

He looks surprised to see you.  But you know you sent that text.  The door was unlocked.  The door is only unlocked when you send a text first.

He says your name, rising up from the table and pulling out a chair for you.  This is something you’ve never seen him do, but you go to the chair anyways, sitting down and staring at the older woman at the table.

She looks you up and down, a stoic look on her pretty face.  But you can tell you’ve already left a bad impression.

“This is my mother,” he says, same stoic face and schooled features as he watches you.  Your eyes widen just a little bit, but your brain can’t quite process what he’s saying.

“Pleased to meet you,” his mother says, and you panic.  Because this woman is not what you expected from someone so warm and inviting and sweet.  This woman is a monster cloaked in fur and prada.  

“Y…yes,” you stammer, not quite sure what to do with your hands.  This whole situation is a mess.  But no one else’s face falters but yours.  His mother chuckles.  It’s a high pitched, airy sound.  The kind of sound you hear from people who think they’re superior to you.

“Honestly,” she says to her son, “Where did you get this one?  The Big Lots?” He sighs next to you, eyes closing slightly.  It sounds long-suffering and you’re too stunned to say anything else.  You close your mouth tight and force back nervous tears.

“What are you trying to do to this family?” She asks him, tone suddenly deadly serious as she looks you over again.  For the first time in his presence you feel like complete and utter trash.  For the first time in 3 months you feel lonely.

He says your name as you stand up and take your leave.  He calls after you, but you shut the door and walk away so you don’t have to feel so hurt anymore.  You’re not even sure what happened. You’ve never been so harshly judged by anyone, with the exception of your own mother.  

You had hoped that his mother would be kind.  And sweet.  And gentle.  But she’s so dark, and cruel, and she’s made you a laughingstock.  And. You. Feel. Like. Nothing.

Two days go by before he finally finds you alone in the library.  You haven’t been responding to his texts, calls, or messages.  Because you’ve never been so humiliated before in your life.  

And his smile has you so far gone that you spend the next 8 months trying to make everything right.  Despite your family and his family fighting you.  He doesn’t talk about his mother, and you don’t ask.  She seems to be staying away longer now and you feel safe in his tiny apartment, snuggled up on the couch, playing and watching him play games.

He beats you in Pokemon more than you’re willing to admit.  

Your final semester ends with an invitation to a ball.  You’re not quite sure who is throwing it, but according to the internet, dressing for a ball requires a lot of work and a lot of money.  You feel a little silly wishing you had a fairy godmother or maybe some animal friends to help you out.

In the end, you find a dress.  Or maybe the dress finds you.  Considering you never bought it.  It merely “showed up” in the mail.  It’s gorgeous.  Breathtaking, really.  Floor length with a sweetheart neckline, a gold sequined bodice, and taffeta layered skirt.  

It fits.  And in the back of your mind you think it’s a little bit strange, but you’re excited anyways.  You spend hours googling hair ideas, but never think about talking to him about it.  It’s to the point where you assume he’s already going with you.

The week before the ball you get a text message from an unlisted number.  Telling you the ball is that night.  The invitation was wrong.  And you’re flustered because night is only a few hours away.  And it isn’t long enough for you to be ready.

He doesn’t text you back when you send him a frantic message, asking him to meet you at your apartment.  He doesn’t even show up.  But you get dressed and go anyways, sending him the address so he’ll know where you are if he decides to make an appearance.

A car shows up to take you to the ball.  You never called a car, but you don’t want to drive yourself either.  So you get in and it takes you through the countryside and to a large mansion surrounded by woods.

When you arrive it’s like something out of a fairy tale.  You’ve never quite seen anything like it.  You’re a little wary of going alone, but the festivities beckon and your curiosity gets the better of you.  

That’s when you see him.  Escorting a beautiful woman in a pink and white low cut gown up the brick steps and into the mansion.  You bite your tongue when you see them, but it doesn’t stop you from letting out a strangled cry of surprise.  

And his eyes are on you in an instant.  As if he knew it was you.  As if he could hear your voice above the crowd.  And he’s shocked.  You run.

It doesn’t quite feel right going home.  So you sneak into the quarters of the mansion, finding an unlocked bedroom to lick your wounds in.  You’re crying beyond consolation before you find one, fingers cold and shaking.  But the room seems cozy if a little unused.  

There are a few pairs of shoes and white button up shirts tossed haphazardly on a chair by the door.  But your tears blur them all together as you make for the bed.  It’s a large king-sized bed with a wooden frame that creaks a little when you lay on the mattress.  You wrap the dark blue duvet around your shoulders, kick off your shoes, and finally let yourself go.

You feel so stupid to think that he could love you.  After all his mother would never approve.  Not ever.  Being in love is so stupid.  And god he’s never told you he loves you.  You think about how deluded you are while your eyes burn and you fall asleep.

He’s calling your name, and stroking your cheek when you wake up.  And you realize this is his room.  This is his mansion.  And your legs can’t get you away fast enough.  You’re not cut out for this life.

You’re not quite sure where you’re going to go, but you keep running.  Through the halls, down the stairs, and out of the front door.  The ground is muddy beneath your feet and it slows you down.  You can hear him behind you and you curse your skirts for the first time.  Beauty does not coincide with being swift.  Cinderella was a pro.

You make it into the woods behind the house.  Your feet and ankles sinking into the mud with every pump of your legs.  You’re struggling and your calves are burning and you can’t quite seem to make it far enough before you’re on your knees in a tiny clearing.  He’s a few steps away from you, bustling through the trees.  

“Let me explain,” he says, breathless and muddy.  And you don’t want to hear him, crawling through the mud to get farther away.  The clearing is less muddy than the woods, and you need to be able to stand up.  You need to get away.

“You were not supposed to be here,” he tells you, and you shoot him a look.  Filled with betrayal.

“I’m not with her,” he says, “I’m with you.  She’s nobody.  I was just escorting her to the ball…” he grabs your arm and pulls you to him.  He clings to you for dear life.  It seems like it’s been months since you’ve seen each other.  

“I love you,” you say because there’s nothing else you can say.  There’s no way to hold it back anymore.  And it hurts when the words from from your lungs.  And you aren’t quite sure he can return them.

Until he’s kissing you.  He’s kissing you all over and whispering those words against your skin and it’s everything you’ve ever wanted.  He gathers the front of your taffeta skirts higher on your legs and you don’t stop him.  This isn’t like every other time.  You’re both drunk on each other and you don’t want him to stop.

The first time you make love is in the mud.  Holding into each other like your lives depends on it.  You’re not quite sure where his body ends and yours begins.  And you want to stay like that forever, with him inside of you and whispering just how much he needs you into your hair.  

But it does end.  And you lay tangled up in each other until the cold sets in and he drags you to your feet.  

Two hours in a scalding hot shower isn’t enough to chase away the cold.  You snuggle, shivering under the blankets.  Drying desperately to warm each other up with kisses, and hot breath against each other’s necks until you’re tangled together again.  Promises of love, and need, and forever.  

He’s gone when you wake up in the morning, but you expected that.  However, you did not expect the old woman who is sitting in the chair by the door.  The items that had occupied it formerly have now disappeared.  And she gazes at your fiercely.  

“I suggest you put on some clothing, young lady,” she tells you, tossing you your torn and muddied dress from the evening prior.  You don’t want to put it back on, but you do as she says, trying your best to shield your naked body from her.  

The fabric is stiff, and cold, and grimy.  It scratches against your skin, but you still manage somehow.  The clasps in the back are broken.  She tosses you an oversized white t-shirt to cover what the gown cannot.

“You’re ruining this family’s bloodline,” she says, grasping your wrist and pulling you out into the hallway, “and my mistress will not have a golddigger coming after her son.”  You begin to protest, but one glare forces your mouth shut as she guides you to the front door, out of the mansion, and to a car.  

“Don’t come back,” she tells you, giving the driver the address to your parents house.  But all you want to do is go home.  Back to your apartment.  You try to tell the driver that, but he continues driving the opposite direction, back to your childhood home.  

Your mother is waiting for you on the porch when you arrive, coated in mud, tear stains on your cheeks.  But she’s not warm or apologetic, she watches you like an animal would watch it’s prey as you make your way to the front door.  

“Dry it up,” she commands you as you place your hand on the knob to the storm door and pulling.  That only makes you cry harder.

He doesn’t call.  He doesn’t text.  And you’re no longer friends on any social media accounts.  And you realize what he’s done to you.  What he’s used you for.  You were nothing but a cheap, easy lay to him.  

Your mother agrees.  And you’re not quite sure how you’re going to make it home because you’re hours away with no car, and there’s no way a cab will take you that far.

But you get a text message.  From an unknown number.  And you know it’s him.  And he’s here to take you home.  You go to your old room and pack a few things.  Things you don’t really need, but want to see in your new place.  And you walk out, leaving your family behind and baffled.  

You meet him at the car down the street and it’s beautiful.  Because he’s smiling and helping you put your luggage in the trunk between stolen kisses and hugs.  And you’re so drunk on each other that you don’t even care that people are watching.  And you love him more than anything, so much that it hurts.

Then he says, “Let’s go home.” And you’re both smiling so big that you’re afraid your face is going to fall off.  Because it sounds like a promise.  It sounds like home is somewhere you go together.  

So he takes you home while you listen to music, and talk over it because you’re so happy to be together.  And he tells you he loves you a thousand times in a thousand different ways.  And he tells you about how he knows you’re going to make it and beat all the odds.  You being poor doesn’t matter to him.

Because you’re worth so much more than money.

I’m WEAK

1. Real name: [REDACTED]
2. Nickname: Desdemona, Des, Dessy
3. Favorite color: Amaranth
4. Male or female: Female

5. Elementary school: Too many
6. Middle school: Homeschooled
7. High school: Too many
8. College: Ye
9. Hair color: Red
10. Tall or short: Tall.
11. Sweats or jeans: Jeggings
12. Phone or camera: Phone
13. Health freak: I just ate a zebra cake, so
14. Orange or apple: Neither
15. Do you have a crush on someone: Yes
16. Guy friends or girl friends: Yes
17. Piercings: Yes
18. Pepsi or coke: Snapple
19. Have you been in an airplane: Yes
20. Have you been in a relationship: Yes
21. Have you been in a car accident: Yes
22. Have you been in a fist fight: Yes
23. First piercing: Ears
24. Best Friend: Meself
25. First award: Advancement in Science
26. First crush: Scar from The Lion King
27. First word: Mickey Mouse
28. Any talent: Yes
29. Last person you talked to: Boyfriend
30. Last person you texted: Best friend
31. Last person you watched a movie with: Boyfriend (It was Avengers: Endgame)
32. Last thing you ate: a cara cara orange
33. Last movie/ TV show you watched: Lucifer and Endgame
34. Last song you listened to: Look Back at It – A Boogie Wit Da Hoodie
35. Last thing you bought: Chick-fil-a
36. Last person you hugged: Boyfriend

Favorite:
37. Food: Pork noodles
38. Drink: Water
39. Bottoms: Leggings
40. Flower: Anything fragrant (Azaleas are amazing)
41. Animal: Deer
42. Color: Amaranth // Folly
43. Movie: Me
44. Subject: PHYSICS

Have you ever?
45. [x] fallen in love with someone
46. [x] celebrated Halloween
47. [x] Had your heart broken
48. [x] went over the minutes/ texts on your phone
49. [x] had someone like you
50. [x] hated the way someone changed
51. [?] got pg
52. [ ] had an abortion
53. [x] did something you regret
54. [x] broken a promise
55. [x] hid a secret
56. [x] pretended to be happy
57. [x] met someone who has changed to your life
58. [x] pretended to be sick
59. [x] left the country
60. [x] tried something you normally wouldn’t try and liked it
61. [x] cried over the silliest thing
62. [x] ran a mile
63. [x] gone to the beach with your best friend
64. [x] gotten into an argument with your friends
65. [x] disliked someone
66. [x] stayed single for two years since the first time you had a bf/gf or been single forever

Currently:
67. Eating: Nothing now
68. Drinking: Nothing
69. Listening to: Look Back at It – A Boogie Wit Da Hoodie
70. Sitting or laying: Sitting
71. Plans for today: I should write but I’m probably gonna clean/read fanfiction
72. Waiting for: My food
73. Want kids: Yeah, actually.
74. Want to get married: I do.
75. Want to travel: Yes.

What do you look for in a partner?
76. Lips or eyes: Personality
77. Shorter or taller: Same height
78. Younger or older: Same age
79. Romantic or spontaneous: Logical
80. Trouble-maker or hesitant: Intelligent
81. Hook up or relationship: Meh
82. Looks or personality: Both (My man has got it all, thanks)

Have you ever:
83. Lost glasses: Yes
84. Snuck out of the house: Yes
85. Held a gun/ knife in self defense: Yes
86. Killed somebody: lol only in my books
87. Broken someone’s heart: Yes
88. Been in love: Yes
89. Cried when someone died: Yes

Do you believe in:
90. Yourself: Yes
91. Miracles: I want to
92. Love at first sight: Love isn’t something that happens in an instant. 
93. Heaven: I want to
94. Santa clause: No
95. Aliens: Yes  (Can I have a drell husband now, please?)
96. Ghosts/Angels: Yeah

Truthfully?
97. Is there one person you really want to be with right now: Sure.
98. Do you know who your real friends are: I think I have a good idea
99. Do you believe in God: I want to