By: Caramel Rain
Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh or anything else for that matter of fact.
Summary: Everyone knows and loves the sweet and innocent Serenity Wheeler her beauty, her charm, and her naivety was renowned. Too bad that won't get her man. It's always Serenity the sister, Serenity the friend, heck even Serenity the back up of the backup of the babysitter. Well no longer is she going to spend her Saturday nights watching Juliet Robert movies and eating toffee; she's dating Seto Kaiba, and she loves it. (For now)
Our Romantic ComedyRomantic Comedies. Whoever invented those little spawn of torture and wickedness should be hung, shot, and plucked. Shamefully, I admit being addicted to those little bursts of shallow, amorphous, guilty, pleasures, and I blame the lack of an actual love life and Meg Ryan for my illness. My incurable and utterly unrestrained passions for that one and a half hour of unbridled fantasy of gorgeous men standing seven feet tall with tight leather pants and a million-dollar smile (as well as million dollar bank accounts) were not fleeting; instead, they were itching closer and closer to destroy the already mutilated figure of my once ragingly successful career. I was twenty-six, accomplished, and well . . . loveless.
Romantic Comedies. Where do they come from? (Hint: It's not Goldie Hawn; she's retired) After tirelessly going through excruciating research and innumerable bags of caramel corn, I find that the answer to this timeless question lie in the tunnel of one lonesome demography, desperate women. Sadly I find myself as one of these poor wretched creatures that, wish, hope, and plead with the Supreme Being to give us our hero, our buff, sensitive, and perfect protagonist to complete the fairytales of our lives. After nine years of wishing, hoping, and pleading, I find myself almost giving up that fantasy, (settling for only six feet tall, super fitted jeans, and Crest White Strips by the cart load instead.) Then he appeared.
He, with his sparkling wicked blue eyes and low smooth voice, you know that kind that turns your insides into mango juice and reduces your speech capability to one of a new born baby, oh yeah he seemed like the one. The one whom I would fall into a deep passionate love with, the one whom would make me feel like I was on Prozac without me actually having to be on Prozac. When he spoke, it was with such conviction and passion, that I couldn't help but just tumble away into the dream that was his voice. Of course he was also highly regarded as the biggest bastard since Hitler, but that was a minor detail. And he also hates my brother, he kills little birdies as a hobby, and he might have pushed his dad out of a window. Hmmmmmmmm. Oh well, he's got a great ass.
He was the Romeo to my Juliet, the Mickey Mouse to my Minnie, the Desi to my Lucille, what I should have realized then was that Juliet died, Minnie never actually existed, and Lucille got divorced. Damn it. Cupid is such an evil little twit, but what can I say, I was more than willing to finally fall into the beautiful disaster known as love. What I wasn't willing to do was to rip out my heart, stomp on it, stomp on it some more, and then sauté it with jalapeno peppers. Although, I like jalapenos.
Anyways, I guess what I'm trying to say; in my own awkward little way is that this is my story about how the desperate and the evil are perfect for each other. At first.
A/N: Well, that was the prologue. Good? Bad? Should I be tarred and feathered? Anyways I really need a Beta so if you're interested please e-mail me at . Feel free to criticize; I'm new at this, so I would really appreciate any commentary. Thanks!