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alg3a · 6 months ago

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muffins

viktor x f! reader

3.8k, MDNI, no use of (y/n)

description: Viktor had been so kind as to agree to help you out with your midterm prep, so you thought baking him muffins would be a great way to repay him. However, an accidental secret ingredient gets in the way of studying.

warnings: Age gap, roomie smut, more story than smut, p in v, sex pollen/serum (with pretty explicit consent), overall jolly good fun, no harm no foul, yippee!

a/n: inspired by @the-hidden-pages story, Human Testing because it’s one of the first viktor x reader fics i ever read and i STRONGLY recommend!

Any student should feel lucky to have the smartest men at the academy as their roommates. Being an undergraduate biochem student who had to work to pay her own tuition, going to lecture wasn’t always an option. That’s when you’d bake a tray of brownies or do some extra dishes and call in a favor from one of your roomies.

It happened all the time, which made you incredibly thankful to have one people-pleaser in the apartment. Jayce was always willing to put aside whatever he was doing and help you out on your Arcane Studies homework or your Bioengineering project. Last semester, finals week consisted of the two of you sitting criss-cross applesauce on the rug of the living room, paper scattered all over the floor as you tried to decipher the grading scale of your Organic Chemistry class to see what the lowest grade on the test you could get was and still wind up with a passing grade (something Jayce had done plenty of times in his undergrad years).

Viktor, on the other hand, had gotten somewhat tired of your constant requests for him to backtrack and dive into knowledge he hadn’t tapped for years now. He was never particularly rude about it, but you were very perceptive. When you asked him to repeat an explanation once or twice, you noticed the growing exhaustion on his face that bordered frustration and you stopped asking for his help going forward. It wasn’t to his own fault, you could be pretty needy sometimes, so more often than not, you just asked Jayce.

Only, Jayce was out of town for a Hextech press conference this weekend, the weekend before you had your Arcane Studies midterm. In a heartbreaking display, he had apologized profusely for not being able to help, inches away from getting on his knees and begging for forgiveness. You assured him none of that was necessary, and that you’d just stay up studying in the library or even reach out to your TA (who you’d never even spoken to before in class or outside of it, and who you were certain would be less helpful than Jayce).

To remedy your situation–even though you pinkie promised him you didn’t need him to��he took it upon himself to ask Viktor to help you cram study on Sunday night, the night before your midterm. While Jayce asked, you did your best to listen from your bedroom, the next room over. You heard some grumbling from Viktor and a muffled, yet compelling “She’s our roommate and she bakes us nice things” from Jayce.

Apparently that last bit must have been very rousing, because shortly after, Jayce was at your door telling you that Viktor agreed to a maximum of three hours of cramming that would begin no earlier than eight at night.

You worked for all of Saturday’s daylight hours, and then finalized your experimental serum for your Advanced Biochemistry project. For the biochem class, you’d been studying methods of enhancing senses for the first half of the quarter and your midterm project involved making a serum that could temporarily improve the performance of one human sense. Around three weeks ago, you and your classmates drew topics from a hat and your fingers emerged with “arousal” on a piece of paper. Needless to say, you were concerned. You thought the serum project would be fairly straightforward, and had already brainstormed ideas for vision enhancing serums or hearing aid serums, but arousal? You had to think out of the box for that one.

When you finished up your last touches to the serum, you were left with enough time at night to get ingredients to bake Viktor some muffins as a sign of your gratitude. You got enough stuff for twice as much as you would’ve made for Jayce and actually stuck to the recipe this time. Keeping Viktor happy was a very delicate ecosystem and there could be no tampering.

It wasn’t that he was a grump or even that he hated you, he was just too busy to want to help and too intelligent to want to backtrack. Once he had even looked at what you were studying and said, “I’d have to go too far back to help you.” That was inspiring.

You poured the contents of your tote bag on the counter.

On your better days, you and Viktor actually got along quite well. Those were the rare days when Viktor got more than three hours of sleep and ate a full meal before two pm. In his best conditions, the two of you were good friends.

The best days were when he and Jayce both come home early enough for you to make them a home cooked meal. Then you’d all curl up on the couch and watch a movie. The last time that happened, Jayce picked some superhero movie you’d never heard of and you and Viktor both fell asleep. You woke up the next morning asleep on Viktor’s chest with four blankets piled on top of you both. Jayce said he knew both of you ran cold, so he took the blankets from your beds. You and Viktor never talked about that night.

The exhaustion of your stressful Saturday had leaked into your studying Sunday, and in a tired stupor, you whisked together all the ingredients for the muffins and poured them haphazardly into the mold. They might not look pretty, but at least they’d taste good.

You pulled the freshly baked muffins from the oven and rested them on the stovetop. The sweet aroma of warm blueberry filled the apartment. It must have roused Viktor from whatever he was working on in his room, because he emerged a full quarter of an hour earlier than your agreed upon study time.

“Hey,” you said. “I made you some muffins as a thank you. They’re still hot, though, I wasn’t expecting you for another fifteen minutes.”

“That’s fine,” he said, setting himself at the kitchen table and sipping from a cup of coffee that had been there since Jayce was still in town. “Would you like to begin now?”

You grab all your study guides and homework assignments and your assortment of chicken scratch notes and slide them over to him on the table.

“Are your midterms cumulative?” He asked, finishing the remnants of his cold coffee.

“No,” you answered. Thank God. If you had to remember everything that was in the last midterm you’d be losing your mind right about now. “Everything past Arcane History will be on the test.”

“Mm. I see.”

He scans your notes for another five minutes.

“I’ll quiz you,” he decided, standing up to check on the temperature of the cooling muffins on the stovetop.

“Uh, okay.” You didn’t typically study by being quizzed, especially when you hardly went to lecture and didn’t even know most of the material. But you didn’t want to risk arguing with Viktor and have him decide to take his muffin to-go.

“Tell me why the Arcane can manifest in such unpredictable manners?”

“Because…” you started to think that maybe going to your TA wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Your TA was just a random graduate student. The roommate that was helping you study now was one of the inventors of Hextech, the researcher responsible for some of the greatest advancements in Piltover’s modern understanding of the Arcane. “...it reflects the intentions of the user.”

“Correct,” he says, affording you a rare Viktor smile. “Would you like a muffin?”

You had intended for the muffins to be entirely Viktor’s, but you hadn’t eaten all day and gods, they smelled good. Plus, it was like a reward for getting an answer right.

“Sure, thanks.”

You watch as Viktor plucks two muffins from the tin and comes back to seat himself at the table. He hands one to you and sorts through the papers you’ve scattered on the desk as he brings a small chunk to his mouth. You do the same.

Something tastes slightly off, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. It’s possible the ratio is off, and in your tired state you added too little vanilla extract or too much vegetable oil. Regardless, they’re not bad at all.

“Your notes are a little bit difficult to–” Viktor stops before finishing his sentence. He pulls out a sheet of paper from the pile and reads it, his eyes widening a bit as he does.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“These notes are from your biochem class,” he says, his eyes flickering up to meet yours for just a few seconds over the piece of paper. “This is an interesting assignment…”

“Oh,” you feel your cheeks growing hot. “Sorry, that’s not supposed to be in there.”

You reach out to take the paper from him, but he pulls it back as you do. He’s still reading it. You’d really like him to stop reading about your own aphrodisiac serum, but your embarrassment is a bit unwarranted. After all, you didn’t make the serum because you wanted it, you made it because it was a graded assignment. Nothing more. So what if you did eventually garner interest in the topic. So much interest, in fact, that you did extensive research into the properties your serum could afford and spent long hours in your lab experimenting with it. Shamefully, yes, you had tried some of it. Mainly to test its efficiency but also out of plain curiosity. You had determined that it was safe, most importantly, but you’d also learned that it tasted horrible. To counter that, you’d added some–

“Oh fuck!” You shout as you scoot your chair so far back so quickly that it topples over. You stumble over your bag on the floor as you sprint to the kitchen.

“Is something wrong?” Viktor asks from his seated position.

“Don’t eat the muffin!” You exclaim as you run to the counter space next to the stove, your heart pounding.

You confirm your worst fear. The bottle of vanilla extract you picked up from the supermarket sits on the counter, the protective seal still intact. Your arousal serum, however, is halfway empty a few inches beside the extract.

You turn around slowly to face Viktor.

“It’s a bit late for that,” Viktor says, holding up the half of his muffin that remains. “Did something happen?”

You eye your own muffin on the table, half eaten as well.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you scrambled back toward the table where Viktor sat, the serum held tight by your hand. “You’re not allergic to anything, are you?”

“No,” Viktor says, eyeing you like you’re crazy.

Come on, just get it out already. You have to tell him, it would be morally bankrupt not to.

“I accidentally drugged you.”

Okay, maybe not like that.

Viktor just stared at you, his expression unchanged. You sort of just wished he would yell at you so that you could get the encounter over with, but no such luck. He just sat, unphased, until he picked up the notes he was looking at earlier.

“With this?” He asks. Even his voice is still even. You knew that if the roles had been reversed you would be fracking out, absolutely bouncing off the walls.

“Yes, but don’t worry I’ve done lots of research on this serum,” you say, taking the notes from Viktor and looking them over. You read the list two or three times, scanning for any sort of antidote for ingestion. You saw none. “How could I have not included an antidote?” You mutter, mentally beating yourself up.

“It’s okay,” Viktor said and you couldn’t even bring yourself to look up at him from your notes. “It is safe, yes? It won’t kill us?”

“No, it won’t, but it’s a powerful aphrodisiac and I added half the serum to those muffins. If my math is right, you’re taking three times the recommended dosage.”

“But I only ate half the muffin,” Viktor counters. Again, you’re shocked by how unphased he is.

“Okay, then one and a half times the dosage,” you shrug off his comment as you look for anything in your notes that might reveal a way to undo this mess.

“I assume this means you no longer wish to study?” Viktor says.

“How are you so calm about this?” You finally burst out, slamming the paper down on the table to look at him.

Big mistake.

Once you see him, you become lightheaded and your knees buckle beneath you. You have to sit down to stop yourself from falling over.

“Are you alright?” Viktor asks.

“I-I’m fine,” you shake your head in an attempt to get some blood flowing to your brain. No luck.

“Since you’re obviously worked up about this, why don’t you tell me how it works and then we can go from there.”

“It’s a fast acting stimulant,” you say, burying your face in your hands. “The chemistry is irrelevant since I have no goddamn cure for it, but it works the same as any other aphrodisiac. It makes you susceptible to arousal and heightens it by three times at a normal dosage, and in our case… nearly five times.”

“Intriguing,” he says, eyeing the muffin that lays neglected on the table. “Such a strange class project. Aren’t there moral quandaries to be had for such a substance?”

“Yes of course there are, which is why I made it so that it only takes effect if there’s already a degree of attraction in place–”

You shouldn’t have said anything. Especially not when you’re so clearly affected by it in the presence of Viktor. Way to sell yourself out.

“So you’re saying…”

You groan out in frustration, but once you look at Viktor you’re reminded of why you had your face buried in your hands. Somehow every feature of his seems five times more beautiful than you normally regarded them. His perfectly angular nose, his narrowed amber eyes, his messy hair which fell in ways you could never recreate on paper…

“I have a feeling you know exactly what I’m saying.” You squeezed your eyes shut. If you couldn’t see him, he couldn’t torture you.

Or so you thought.

A tantalizing graze of his hand on yours shot shivers down your spine. You pulled away so fast that a few of the papers on the desk shifted from the shear force of the wind.

“Don’t do that,” you seethed, sucked your teeth as you pressed your eyes shut so hard that you saw stars.

“Because…it affects you?” His voice was raspy and slow, or maybe that’s just what the serum was making you hear. Every bit of what he was doing seemed five times as attractive as it would normally be.

You’d done such a good job at hiding your feelings for Viktor for almost a year now. Being roommates with someone you found incredibly attractive was no easy task. And now all of your efforts were thrown out the window because of a stupid baking mishap.

“You’re being cruel,” you furrow your eyebrows as you speak, your voice coming out whinier than you would’ve liked.

“I’m sorry,” he stifles a laugh. “Would you open your eyes?”

“I can’t,” you groan, shoving your hands against your face again. “It’s best if I just go to my room and wait it out. Thank you for trying to study with me but I’m just gonna have to accept a shitty grade tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, his fingers wrapping around your wrists and pulling them down from your face so that you had to look at him. “It’s been a long time since I’ve taken biochemistry, and I certainly haven’t studied aphrodisiacs, but the effects should go away after the serum is put to use, correct?”

You thought back to your experimentation phase. All the nights you spent alone in your lab trying out the efficacy of the serum resulted in the effects dissipating once climax was reached. It had certainly been the least orthodox experimentation phase you’d ever undergone.

“Yes, that’s correct,” you say reluctantly. It takes every ounce of strength you have not to let your eyes explore Viktor’s face, then his long, narrow neck protruding his sweater, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a deep breath, then the sharp clavicle poking from–

Get yourself together.

“If you’re willing to retake the class–a class you should easily pass, given your access to the two most prevalent scientists in the field–then by all means, go to your room.” Viktor pulls his hands away from you, then picks up the muffin, peeling off the paper from the bottom. He picks off a piece and drops it onto his tongue.

“What are you doing? You’re just going to make it worse!”

He smirks at you, then sets the muffin back down. “It’s a very good muffin. You’re an excellent baker.”

Fuck.

“You’re playing with me,” you shake your head in disbelief.

“No, dearest, I am not playing with you,” he says, standing up from his chair, then moving toward you tantalizingly slow. He takes a seat on the table in front of you, then crosses his hands on his lap. “You’re smart enough to recognize the alternative I am offering to you.”

Your heart stops. You look at his half eaten muffin, although more than half is gone now with the addition of that last bite.

“You…” The idea is almost impossible for you to grasp, let alone put into words. “You want to expedite the process?”

“That’s certainly one way of putting it,” Viktor laughs. He reaches for a strand of your distressed hair and pushes it behind your ear.

“But you’re not even attracted to me!”

“What makes you think that?” Viktor says, retracting his hand, only to place it over yours on the desk.

“Because if you were, you’d be much more affected right now. I mean, look at me!” You gesture to yourself with your free hand. “I’m a mess! I’m on the brink of breaking out in a sweat and my hands are clammy and you’re just sitting there!”

Viktor laughs to himself as if he’s in on some kind of inside joke that you know nothing about.

“I’ve had lots of practice in concealing my excitement around you,” he finally says, slowly, seductively, the words dripping from his chin as his cold eyes bore into you.

“What?”

You know what he said. In fact, you understand it perfectly, but you can’t be sure it actually came from his mouth because it seems so perfectly unreal. So dream-like, so idealistic, so fantastical.

“You’ve done a good enough job at hiding your attraction, too,” Viktor says. “I wouldn’t have known if it weren’t for tonight’s incident. Which is exactly why I’ve felt the need to hide my own.”

“You’ve liked me?”

You still can’t wrap your head around the idea.

“I’ve admired you,” he smiles, rubbing circles on the back of your hand, reminding you just how potent your little sex serum really is.

In fact, it’s so powerful that you hardly have to put any thought into leaping up from your chair and pushing your lips against his. Before you can third guess his affection, his hands are interlaced with your hair, pushing you deeper into his lips as his tongue begs to be let into your needy mouth.

Now it was clear to see how much the serum had actually affected him. In mere seconds, his hands grabbed at your thighs and pulled you up onto the table to straddle him with strength you didn’t even know he possessed. His breathy little moans sent you further into madness and you yanked his sweater off of his head, forcing your mouth off of his for just a few seconds, but once that sweater was off, your lips clung together like magnets.

Deft fingers unbuttoned your long sleeve shirt and he pulled it off your arms so quickly that you worried for a second that he might have ripped it. But you didn't care. You couldn’t possibly be concerned with a silly shirt when Viktor was beneath you on the kitchen table like a meal.

The serum didn’t exactly allow either of your minds to comprehend much foreplay. You fiddled with Viktor’s belt and he pushed your skirt up to your waist. Once both of you were exposed, he didn’t waste any time positioning you above his cock.

“So wet for me,” Viktor whined against your bare chest. “Is that the serum’s doing or is it mine?”

“Yours,” you whimper as Viktor slides his tip beneath your folds. “If it were anyone else in the room with me when I took the serum, I’d be unaffected.”

“I’m flattered,” he smiles cruelly as he thrusts up into you.

“Oh fuck,” you whine as your rest your heavy head on Viktor’s shoulder.

He brings his hands to your waist and guides you up and down as his hips meet your core in long, languid thrusts. The serum sets every single nerve on fire, making it seem as if each of his thrusts has the impact of twenty.

You moan muffled strangulations of his name into his neck, which only urges him to persist with his cruel thrusts. The sound of your cunt being abused fills the kitchen and you’re wildly thankful that Jayce is out of town.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Viktor pants. “You have no idea.”

You really did have no idea. He hid it so well. You silently thanked whatever force had caused you to accidentally throw the serum into the muffin mix.

“So have I,” you whined against his skin. “Fuck…don’t stop…”

Each thrust is punctuated by the creaks of the sturdy kitchen table below you. His motions become quicker, shakier, and more intense and you can tell he’s reaching the end along with you. Your legs begin to shake and you feel that familiar tickling sensation in your core that the serum does a beautiful job at emulating.

“Viktor, I’m close, I’m so fucking close,” you moan as you lift your head from the crook of his neck. You bring your lips to his and he delivers his final thrusts. As he fills you, your moans echo on each other’s lips, a feeling you never thought you’d experience with your own brilliant roommate.

Your breathing steadies and Viktor wraps his arms around you, bringing you close to him as he tries to collect himself as well.

“You…” Viktor pants, “are forbidden from using that kitchen ever again.”

You laugh as you bring yourself off of him, pressing a kiss to his lips as you collect yourself. “That sounds fair to me.”

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #arcane smut #viktor league of legends #viktor nation #fem reader

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milkoomi · 2 months ago

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how to make finals your bitch. ᥫ᭡

- be at your best to give it your best -

hello angels! so it’s been almost 2 months since i’ve been active on here & it’s simply just been due to me focusing a lot of my time and energy into my academics, career, & personal life! i’m nearing the end of my program with my externship just being one month away! as with a lot of us, the spring semester is slowly but surely coming to an end! and that means finals are just around the corner! i wanted my “comeback” to be some of my helpful tips, tricks, & tidbits of advice for getting through finals and making sure you pass with flying colors!

also, thank you so so much for 1.2k!! i didn’t expect to gain such an influx of followers while i was gone! it means so much to me that so many of you have supported my blog even during my inactivity/unexpected hiatus! i can’t promise i’ll be coming back completely as i have my externship coming up, so i’ll be very busy the next few months! but i hope to continue to post every now and again for you angels!

let’s begin …

୨ৎ — pre-finals prep

it’s important to start prepping for finals in advance! finals may be 4-5 weeks away, but it never hurts to get a head start in your preparations!

create a checklist! — you can always start by making yourself a list or two for everything you need to get yourself prepared for that intimidating finals week! these lists could be a list of different study materials you’ll need, a list in order of priority of the different classes you need to study for, a list of supplies you’ll need to get yourself through the week (& yes, this can include snacks or any self-care stuff!), or even a list of different topics from your classes that you feel need a bit more of your attention! checklists are an amazing tool to use to keep yourself organized and can help you visual what needs to get done or what needs to be obtained!

plan out the weeks! — designate a day in your week where you take some time to plan out your weeks prior to finals week and the week of! include time blocks where you set aside time to study and time to take breaks and rest your mind & body! add small, achievable to-do lists for each day or a bigger, more broad one for each week! weekly planning can give you a tangible idea of what your weeks leading up to finals and the week of will look like, so don’t hesitate to give it a try or incorporate that into your weekly routine!

tina’s tip: utilize your phone’s calendar app! i do almost everything digitally and i’ve been making great use of the Apple calendar to plan out my weeks! it’s a great way to color code different events, classes, appointments, assignments, etc. & if you’re also someone who wants to get into digital planning it’s a great first step into getting into it!

prioritize & maintain good health! — i’m saying this with love, but pulling all-nighter’s every single day leading up to finals is not going to guarantee the best scores for you. you need to make sure your health is where it needs to be! sleep is absolutely vital to making sure your mind and body is working at its very best. as someone who used to be an insomniac and who used to religiously pull all-nighter’s for school, i’m telling you it is not worth it. i didn’t see any improvement in my grades when i was doing that. if anything, my scores and my motivation for school got worse. you can’t just go all night racking your brain over your studies. prioritize your health! this also means making sure you fuel your brain and body with good nutrients! when i’m only running on caffeine, not only do i feel physically weak, but my mind is using so much more energy on becoming anxious than staying focused.

tina’s tip: make sure you set aside time at least once or twice a week to something that makes you happy, helps you relax, and is not related to your academics! i have a rule for myself that after 7:30pm-8pm every single night that i immediately stop working on anything related to my studies so that i can truly unwind for the night. i’ll use my time before bed to have a self-pamper night, play video games, watch a show/movie/youtube video, draw, read, or chat with a friend on facetime! it’s important to include things that bring you joy into your routine! don’t burn yourself out by only focusing on your studies!

୨ৎ — the study wave

try to give yourself at least two weeks in advance to study for finals. consider these two weeks as the study wave! this is the perfect time to really lock into those time-blocks you’ve set aside for your study sessions. each day should be filled with review & ensuring you fully understand the material! the time-blocks could be as long as 5 hours or as short as 30 minutes. i recommend the start of the study wave to include longer study time-blocks and as you get closer to the week of finals to shorten those time-blocks!

week 1 of study wave — reteaching yourself the material: rewatch lectures, review powerpoints/videos/notes/previous homework assignments, and incorporate study methods like the feynman technique, practice tests, & active recall! use this time to form study groups, don’t hesitate to have longer study sessions (remember to take breaks!), and refresh your mind of everything you need to know for upcoming exams! let week 1 help you decide what material/topics/chapters/classes need more of your time and attention and which ones don’t!

tina’s tip: dedicate certain days out of the week to 1-2 classes! this will help to prevent any overwhelming feelings of stress, anxiety, and/or burn-out as you prepare for finals! prioritize which class(es) need the most review, maybe a couple classes need more than one designated study/review day and maybe other classes just need one day throughout the week!

week 2 of study wave — refresh & review: utilize study methods like the blurting method, flashcards, practice tests, & other forms of active recall! this is prime time to focus on active recall methods. doing so will help make sure the information stays fresh in your mind and will help you refine that mental list of which classes/topics still need a little more attention! week 2 of the study wave should included shorter study sessions whether it’s 1 or 2 hours shorter than week 1 or even as short as setting aside 20 minutes every day reviewing material. take this time to try and focus more on those more challenging topics rather than reviewing every single bit of information!

tina’s tip: if you use the blurting method, i recommend using it towards the end of your study sessions! this allows you to recall information as well as put it into your own words that will show whether or not you comprehend the material. review what you’ve written down based off of memory and identify any missing points or errors in your work! this will also help you refine what bits of information still need more focus! repeat this method 3 times!

i highly encourage you guys to also use this time to meet with professors/instructors to ask any additional questions! you’d be surprised at how much of a difference it makes to ask those pressing questions on different parts of the material!

୨ৎ — finals week

it’s extremely important that you are getting enough rest the week of finals! it all sounds cliché, but making sure you’re well-rested and you’ve filled your body with the right nutrients can make such a crucial difference in your exam performance!

if you have time in-between different exams, use that time to do quick review sessions to prepare for your next exam!

avoid cramming! — these in-between study sessions should be used wisely and in an effective manner. take some time to focus on material that has been challenging for you and don’t worry too much about reviewing parts that you’re already confident with!

keep the review short! — if you have 30 minutes or even a couple hours before your next final, do not use the entire time of your “break” to study/review! give your mind a break to rest! listen to some music, play a cozy game, or even take a quick nap if you’re able to! a lot of your mental energy should be put into your time taking the exam, so don’t expend all that energy into studying/reviewing!

final notes —

finals can be exhausting, anxiety-inducing, and just an overall challenge. since it’s that time of the semester where, i’m sure, most of us are starting to experience a drop in the level of our academic motivation, it’s really important to maintain a good and reliable study/school routine to keep yourself on the track you ideally want to be on!

i stress this a lot in my other posts, but self-care is extremely important in being able to maintain good routines in your day to day life! so be sure you’re still incorporating time to focus on your self care to keep yourself afloat!

with lots of love, faustina 🌷

#milkoomis #studyblr #study tumblr #study blog #study tips #study method #study #studyspo #study motivation #romanticizing school #school motivation #academic motivation #academia #soft academia #dark academia #studying #college life #college

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melobballin · 14 days ago

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no pain no game. juju watkins

✶ warnings ✶ 2.8k words count. black!fem reader. juju is being difficult and got a smart mouth. reader being worse. pt!reader. injured!juju. flirty!juju. agnst!juju. wlw. fluffy fluffy stuff.

"WE WANT YOU ON JUJU." Excuse you ? That's all your supervisor said to you before turning her heels and walking out of the classroom. No context. No time for you to blink or ask questions, let alone process what the fuck just happened.

Perfect timing. It was mid semester, you were already knee-deep in the trenches, buried under textbooks, assignments, and finals prep, trying really hard to keep your GPA from tanking.

But yeah, sure, babysitting juju sounded good, real good. Love that for you.

you’d handled injured athletes before—campus regulars, nothing wild. You could do this. No sweat.

But watkins ? That was a whole other story. juju meant headlines, pressure.

You were actually there when it happened. Your best friend, Nia, had basically dragged you to the court that night, guilt-tripping you with the "we never go out anymore !". And you remember it very vividly — her on the court, clutching her knee like it just stabbed her in the back mid-drive. Ever since, the whole department’s been walking on eggshells like somebody died or something.

You weren’t alarmed though. at all.

Yeah, it hurt to see her in pain like that, acl is no joke. But you somehow had no doubt that she was going to get through it in no time.

Still, as sure as you were, you had now a job to do. And baby, you damn good at your job. Top-of-the-class, resident miracle worker type good. Torn ACL ? Please. Move aside. You’ve handled worse.

Star player or not, bones heal the same.

“So… you said yes?” Nia called from the kitchen, halfway through some late-night snack that smelled like burnt remnants.

You rolled your eyes, sinking deeper into the couch cushions. “I didn’t even get the chance to say no. She hit me with the ‘you’re doing it’ and dipped.”

Nia strolled over, plate in hand, and dropped down next to you, pretending to be an emotional support. “And you mad ‘cause… what? You scared you’re actually gonna do a good job and fix her knee and end up in her bed or sum ?"

You side-eyed her. "Be serious please."

“I am,” she mumbled through a bite. “That girl is fine and you got godly hands. It’s like destiny.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it. Juju was fine as hell. And intense. And slightly terrifying.

“I don’t care how good her crossover is,” you said, scrolling on your phone. “If she comes in with a bad attitude and try to run me over, I swear—”

“Girl,” Nia cut you off, grinning. “quit playing. You love a little spice. And you do be killin’ it out here. Stop worrying so much.”

You sighed, flipping onto your back. She smirked. “Anyway, make this entertaining for me. I’m bored or whatever.”

You grabbed a pillow and threw it at her. “I should jump you.”

Safe to say you kept scrolling through your phone that night, looking for her ig.

JUJU WAS LATE. Not the 2 minutes kinda late, the kinda late that made you be on ten. The rehab gym was hot and humid which was disgusting. your baby hairs were already fluffing out. Great start.

When Juju finally strolled in—hoodie pulled tight over her head, brace strapped on like armor, headphones jammed deep in her ears, and a blank face, you were already in position — file in hand, game face locked.

She didn't even glance your way. Just walked right past like you were invisible.

Okay. Cute.

You tapped her AirPods case on the table, trying to stay cool and calm. Click. Click. "You can take those out, missy." you said, finally putting her AirPods case on the table softly. "You won’t need them to hoop."

Nothing. Just a pair of eyes blinking at you like you were crazy.

She sat down, barely even breathed. Instead she stared at you, trying to figure out what the fuck you were talking about.

"You must be an intern or something," she finally said. "Ain’t no way you just asked me to hoop when i still got screws in my knee."

"I’m not. I’m the reason your ass gon’ be back on court. Now take the ball."

She stared. You stared back. If she wanted to waste her time staring into your soul, you weren’t going to waste yours.

“Just take the damn ball,” you said again, softer now. “I wanna see how you move. That’s it.”

Her eyes flicker around the room like she’s trying to will herself into confidence before snatching the ball from your hands. She barely bounces the ball before halting, the brace making her movement stiff and unfamiliar.

“Take your time.” you say, voice gentle but steady. “There’s no rush.”

She didn’t answer, just took another stiff step, the brace groaning under pressure. Her jaw clenched, her shoulders stiff. Then—

“Fuck,” she hissed, almost too quiet. You stepped closer. “That your leg talking or your pride?”

She side-eyed you. “Don’t start with me.”

“Already did. You showed up to my session late, full of attitude, and acting like I begged you to be here but can’t handle a little hooping.”

That got her attention. She turned to face you fully now. “Nobody begged. You lucky they trust you with me.”

You raised a brow. “No. You’re lucky. I’m the best.”

She let out a short laugh. “cocky on the first day ? Crazy.”

You smiled sweetly. “I’m not cocky. I’m confident. Unlike you right now. I don’t crumble when the pressure’s on.”

She licked her lips, slowly. “Yeah, we’ll see how long you keep talkin’ that shit when I’m back on the court… or in your face.”

You swallowed hard. One thing about you—if somebody came at you with flames, you were matching it with a wildfire. And Juju wouldn’t be no exception.

You stepped back, shaking your head. “Alright, hoop barbie. Let’s get to work.”

But she didn’t move. Just looked you over once—slow—and smirked.

“Bet.”

to : judea (watkins)

ur gonna get through this.

imma make sure you do.

YOU DON’T KNOW WHEN IT HAPPENED EXACTLY. Maybe it was after the fourth session when she finally showed up on time, hair slicked into a ponytail this time, knee brace strapped tighter and eyes just a little less dead. Or maybe it was the seventh, when she made that sarcastic comment about your outfit and you caught her smirking behind her water bottle.

Either way, it was clear that something in the air had shifted.

The routine was… comfortable. Begrudgingly so. She’d come in with that same grimace, all hoodie and bad attitude, and you’d hit her with your most professional voice, clipboard in hand, instructions clear. She’d push back every time—“Why we doing this again?” or “You tryna kill me today ?”but her body never lied. She followed through. She moved. She tried.

You’d both pretend it wasn’t a big deal.

Even when she made little comments like, “You always wear those leggings?” with a cocked brow and a glance that lasted too long.

"You’re always up in peoples business?” You didn’t entertain her. Much. Just smiled to yourself, flipped the page on your clipboard, and gave her an extra set just for being smart and annoying.

Tonight, though, it was different.

The gym was quiet, just you two again. Everyone else had cleared out early, and she was doing balance drills on the BOSU ball, arms stretched out like wings, focused as hell.

“Don’t lock your knee,” you warned, hovering nearby. “You’ll regret it in the morning.”

“I regret a lot of things already,” she muttered, wobbling slightly but catching herself. “One more won’t kill me.”

You gave her a look. She met it, sharp and tired.

“Alright,” you sighed, grabbing her towel. “That’s enough for today.”

“No,” she said quickly. “I can do one more set.”

“You’ve done five, juju. I’m not playing with you.”

She stepped down, chest rising and falling like she’d just run laps instead of standing still. Her eyes were darting around again, like she couldn’t sit still in her own skin. You saw it coming before she even opened her mouth.

“I don’t know who I am without ball.”

You blinked.

She wasn’t looking at you. Just standing there, towel hanging from her fingers, lips parted like she didn’t mean to say it out loud.

“Like…” she exhaled, sharp. “Everybody keeps acting like I’m gonna bounce right back, like it’s just a matter of time. Rehab. Surgery. Boom, I’m back on the court. But what if I don’t bounce back ? What if I’m… not that juju anymore?”

Her voice cracked on “juju.”

Your chest tightened. You stepped closer, gentle but sure. “Ju.”

She flinched a little at the sound of that nickname.

“You are still her. You’re just injured. Not erased.”

She laughed bitterly, wiping her face with her hoodie sleeve. “Yeah, easy for you to say. You ain’t the one waking up every day wondering if people only see you for how fast you run a play.”

You crossed your arms, firm. “No. But I see people fall apart in here every week. And guess what ? I’ve watched ‘em get back up. You’re not special.”

That made her look at you.

“I mean—no offense,” you added quickly, biting back a smirk. “You’re talented. Ridiculous, even. But you’re not the only person who’s ever had to fight for their comeback. And you sure as hell won’t be the last.”

Her eyes were glossy now, and her jaw flexed like she was trying to bite down her emotions.

“I hate this shit,” she muttered. “I hate needing help.”

“I know,” you said, softer now. “But you don’t have to like it. You just gotta let it work.”

She stared at you a little too long.

And then, like instinct, she leaned into you—shoulder brushing yours as she sank onto the bench nearby. She wasn’t crying. Not exactly. But her silence said more than enough.

You sat beside her, gently passing her the water bottle she’d ignored earlier. For the first time, she took it without a snide remark. “…Thanks,” she murmured.

You nodded, tapping your nails against your clipboard. “So, next session, we start resistance band training.”

She groaned, head tilting back dramatically. “Do you actually hate me ? You love torturing me.”

You smirked. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’d torture anyone for their own good.” Juju glanced sideways at you, smile faint but real. “You really believe I’ll make it back?”

“I told you I was gonna make sure you do. I don’t play about my job. Plus, I wouldn’t be wasting my time if I didn’t.”

Her gaze lingered. And for once, she didn’t say anything back.

Didn’t need to. The look on her face said everything : thank you, even if I don’t want to say it out loud.

YOU SWEAR JUJU HAS BEEN ON SOMETHING DIFFERENT LATELY. Not much had changed in the routine itself. Rehab drills. Knee work. Progress checks. But the energy though ? Completely different. She shows up with snacks now—sometimes two, casually tossing you one with a lazy, “figured you’d forget to eat.”

She still had that same tough, deadpan delivery, but it didn’t hit the same no more. Not when she lingers a second too long near your desk. Not when she catches your eye in the mirror while she’s stretching and smirks like she knew exactly what she was doing.

One afternoon, she flopped down on the mat, arms stretched over her head, all sweaty and grinning. You raised a brow. “You okay or just being dramatic?”

“Both,” she wheezed. “But if I die, I want you to know… I was right. That playlist does suck.”

You chucked your pen at her. “I should let your knee lock up for that.”

“Oh ? So violence is your love language?”

You froze for a beat.

She then laughed—really laughed—before sitting up slowly, stretching out her arms again. “You should see your face,” she teased, biting down a grin.

“Okay now you’re pissing me off,” you said, clearing your throat, flipping a page on your clipboard for no reason other than to stop yourself from blushing. “Go back to work.”

She was still grinning, smug and pleased with herself.

But then there were softer moments, too.

Like the time her brace pinched her skin mid-session and you immediately knelt to adjust it, fingers brushing against her calf. She sucked in a breath—not from pain, but from the way your hands moved.

You glanced up. “Too tight?” You softly asked.

Her eyes were already on you. “Nah. Just not used to people touchin’ me like that.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you didn’t say anything. Just fixed the strap gently and stood back up.

Or the time she stayed after a session, claiming she needed to ice longer. You both ended up sitting on the floor by the wall, sharing a bottle of Gatorade and talking about nothing—her love-hate relationship with her coach, your childhood memories.

She bumped your knee with hers. “You real easy to talk to, you know that?”

“Keep gassing me up and I’m gonna start charging you per session.”

“Oh, so that’s what this is. Trappin’ me with kindness so you can run up my insurance bill.”

You snorted. “Exactly. Imma finesse your ass.”

You both laughed. And it lingered. Longer than it should’ve.

Then came the night it rained. Hard. She was the last person of your schedule again, and you were packing up when she peeked around the door, hoodie soaked, sneakers squeaking on the floor.

You raised a brow. “You walked in this?”

“Had no umbrella,” she shrugged. “Didn’t know if I’d make it on time. Didn’t wanna miss you.”

Your breath caught. Real subtle.

“Come here,” you said, grabbing a towel and tossing it at her. “You look like a wet cat.”

She took it and laughed, wiping her face. “You like cats?”

“No, but I’m starting to tolerate you, so maybe.”

“Oh wow,” she grinned. “I’m honored.”

She stayed longer that night. Sat with you while you finished your notes. She told you about her siblings. About her mom. How people all expected her to “tough it out,” and get back better even when she was hurting.

You just listened, letting her talk.

And at one point, she leaned against your shoulder—barely there, just enough to feel her warmth.

Neither of you said anything.

But she whispered, after a minute, “You kinda make it feel okay to be weak for a second.”

You turned your head toward her, heart thudding. “You’re not weak, Juju.”

She met your eyes. “Yeah… but you make it feel valid, ★. Even when it’s not true, ” That was the first time she called you by your name, too. Soft. Like it meant something.

And you swore, right then and there, something had shifted for good.

From : ju 🤍

u coming tonight right ?

I’m so ready !!!

To : ju 🤍

staff needs me at the center sorry

ik you’ll be killing it. proud of u <3

YOU DIDN’T GO TO THE GAME. You sat in your room, lights low, music on but not loud, your phone flipped upside down on the bed beside you. Every so often, you glanced at it. Waiting. Not for the score—you already knew she’d kill it—but maybe some word from her. A sign. Something small and stupid, like a “we won” or a selfie from the locker room.

Nothing came.

And you hated how disappointed you felt. Because it was your choice, right ? You’d made the call. You pulled back. Slowed the texts, the lingering touches. Didn’t show up to her last rehab session. Pretended like you were just busy.

It wasn’t a punishment.

You just… didn’t know how to let yourself want her. Not without getting burned.

The thing was—when she was hurt, she needed you. But now ? She was Juju again. Star of the team. Walking headline. Game day was hers. The roar of the crowd, the bright lights, the whole she’s back narrative. And you? You were just someone who helped her get there.

So you kept your distance. Told yourself it was safer that way.

Until your phone buzzed at 11:42 p.m.

From : juju 🤍

open the door.

I’m outside.

You stared at the message. Didn’t move at first. Then—three knocks.

You opened the door slowly, and there she was.

Still in sweats, hair tied up, slides on, backpack slung over one shoulder. Her eyes met yours, and for a second, neither of you said anything.

“I waited for you,” she said, voice low.

You blinked. “I know.”

She stepped inside without asking. Dropped her bag by the wall. Didn’t sit. Just turned to face you.

“You really weren’t gonna come?”

You crossed your arms. “Didn’t think it would matter.”

She laughed, short and sharp. “Right. ’Cause I just spent all these months blowing up your phone for fun.”

You stayed quiet.

“I looked for you,” she said, voice tighter now. “I kept checking the stands like an fucking idiot.”

You let out a breath. “Juju, what do you want from me?”

She stared at you. “I want to know why the hell you started acting like none of it meant anything.”

You swallowed. Looked down. “Because I didn’t want to make it harder when it ended.”

“When what ended?”

“This,” you said, motioning vaguely. “You. Me. Whatever… this was. It was never gonna last, and I’d rather stop now than wait for you to ghost me when everything goes back to normal.”

She flinched. “You think I’m just gonna dip on you because I got back on my feet ?”

“I think you don’t know what you want,” you said, softer. “And I think when you do figure it out, it won’t be me.”

Silence stretched out between you. Her jaw clenched. Her eyes dropped to the floor.

“You really think I’m that shallow?” she asked, voice lower now, almost hurt.

“I think you’re used to people wanting you for what you do. Not who you are. And I think that makes it easy to walk away when shit gets real.”

She didn’t say anything for a long second. Then she finally moved—slow, like she was figuring it out in real time. Walked closer until there was barely a foot between you.

“I’m not good at this,” she said, honest and quiet. “Not with feelings. I don’t talk. I just… I play. I move. I keep it moving. But this?” She gestured between you. “I wasn’t trying to just pass time. I needed you. And not just for the knee.”

You looked at her. Really looked at her. She looked tired. Still sweaty around the hairline. Eyes puffy like she might’ve cried on the way here. And you softened, just a little.

“I was scared,” she admitted. “I still am. You saw me at my lowest. And instead of clowning me, you stayed. That shit… messed me up a little. Made me wanna be soft, even when I didn’t know how.”

Your chest tightened. You didn’t trust it. But damn, it felt true.

“I like you,” she said, no frills. “And I don’t wanna go back to my life like none of this happened. Not without you in it.”

You didn’t respond right away. You were still processing the fact that she was standing in your room, post-win, looking at you like you were the prize.

Then you stepped forward. Just enough to close the space.

“So… what now?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

She shrugged, hand grazing yours. “We figure it out. Slowly. If you want.”

You hesitated, then laced your fingers with hers. Felt her thumb move softly over the back of your hand.

“I want,” you said. “But I need you to mean it.”

“I do,” she murmured.

And then you kissed her.

Not rushed. Not needy. Just real. Gentle, warm, slow like exhale after a long-ass day. Her hands found your waist, yours found her hoodie. She leaned into you like she’d been holding that tension for too long. And you let yourself fall for a second. Let it feel good.

She tightened her arm around your waist. “You know I’m not going anywhere, right?”

You didn’t answer. Just held her a little tighter.

Because you were starting to believe it.

And for once, that was enough.

#melobwriting #juju watkins x reader #juju watkins #usc wbb #usc trojans #black!reader #wlw post #wlw #juju watkins x fem!reader #wcbb

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thatblackstarinleo · 19 days ago

Text

So, I was on the train during my daily commute today and came across this video on Tumblr of Will walking around the BC campus with Gabe and Leno, just chatting. At one point, Will says music is the course he likes the most at university.

And it got me thinking.

Jock, hockey player Will, taking his basic intro-to-music class because it's an easy elective and he needs something that isn't 8AM or 3 hours long. He's got that slightly-too-loud-in-class energy, sits in the back, always tapping his pencil, occasionally forgets his sheet music.

And then there's Macklin Celebrini, classically trained pianist Macklin Celebrini. Comes from a family of musicians. He's already annoyed because he's been forced to take this course as an elective just to fill credits (he already placed out of everything advanced), and now he's stuck next to a jock who calls middle C "the one in the middle" and thinks theory is a kind of conspiracy.

Except.

Will has a good ear. Like, weirdly good. He can't read music for shit, but he can pick up a melody after hearing it once. Starts humming along in class. Then starts playing things by ear on the classroom piano. And Macklin's like... annoyed as hell.

Cue enemies-to-reluctant-partners-to-something-else energy. Macklin reluctantly helps Will prep for their end-of-term duet. Will shows Macklin how to take a break and not treat every performance like it's life or death. Macklin teaches Will how to read chords and listen to space between notes.

They spend one night in the practice room way too late. Will plays something slow and clumsy on the piano, looks up, and Macklin's just staring at him.

Anyway. Just saying. The music room is warm, their hands brush over the keys, and maybe Macklin's final piece of the semester isn't a classical melody after all, but it’s something they wrote together.

#just an idea i had to get out into the world #not until i finish just like heaven i swear #and write girl!will and her new england summer dream #i'm begging my brain to stop rotting with these two #but also #can't get them out of my head #and college aus own my whole heart #macklin celebrini #will smith hockey #willmack #fic ideas

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hiddenlife-manager · 6 months ago

Text

Jude Bellingham x Fem Reader

cw… bdsm, caning implied, consent, handcuffs, restraints, blood, wrist pain, a lot of pain, doggy, slightly edited, bruises, etc

notebook… Yall college has been nothing but fucking awful. So yeah I disappeared. Hopefully next semester is better, ALSO I am starting a book. I want to write a romance vampire novel with adventure. (This is totally gonna take me five ish years with this fuck ass schedule of mine.)

Your hands slipped consistently off the wooden board, your knees cushioned by the mattress below. The comforts for your knees meant nothing, your heart beating each pump being loud within your ears. Your ass covered in red streaks, dark spots slowly spreading around. Your body shivered as if it was the coldest day of the entire year; funnily enough, your body was warm, so warm you were dripping down your own legs.

“Had enough?” A deep voice from behind whispered beside your ear; it was strong, loud enough to overshadow your own heart. Your mouth covered by your own panties, drool dribbling down your chin. The lacy fabric bought for this special night is no longer where it was supposed to be. Your wrists were burning, the metal no longer soothing amongst the skin. Your makeup smeared all over your face, your lipstick no longer perfectly aligned around those two lips.

“Mhm.” You weakly attempted to speak, your jaw being locked in place. The pain forced your teeth to clench so tightly the gag did nothing to stop you from talking; it was your jaw. Your hands continuously attempting to grab onto the wooden headboard, no use; the wetness on them causing your wrist to lose grip and hurt your wrist over and over.

“I doubt it; you did this to yourself.” His beautiful two-toned lips pressed right at your temple. Your appearance did not display your true enjoyment. Jude was your lover after all; he would never harm you if you did not want this. It all started because he was curious; you joined him on this journey, and here you were. On your knees, wrist stinging, ass covered in bruises, most importantly dripping wet.

“You want me to fuck you?” His hand raised to your hair and pulled it back. Your face looking rougher than before. “Touch your clit like you want? Just beg, baby.”

“Mhm.” He smirked at the desperate whine. He was wearing only a button-down and dress pants. He let go of your head, forcing your head to drop down at such movements. He made you look at him, gripping your chin and forcing you to look at his every move. His hand pushing against the sleeves and folding them over. One by one, his large hands removed a button from his dress shirt. Only a few were left before he moved to his dress pants.

“You worship me so well, baby.” His lips raised to a smirk, and he pushed your head away. He climbed onto the bed; there his hand touched your bruised ass. “Your poor ass, I’ll take good care of you.” You heard him lowering his boxers from behind you. In minutes you felt his cock prodding at your cheeks. His hand reached for your hair; he gripped it, wrapping it in his hand. Forcing your head back.

“Good girl.” His other hand touched your warm, shivering body, gripped at your waist; he loved every mark on you, the one he made on you, and the scars you brought before you two ever met your beautiful marks. You called them blemishes; he would never. “You don’t deserve prep.”

“MHM!” A cry erupted; your body weakly attempted to grab at the board, the sweat causing them to slip. You felt it, hips being rocked in and out of you. This is all you wanted: you needed him, to be close to him. Perhaps a few would call this brutal or disgusting. You paid no mind to other opinions. Jude was your world, and making him happy and yourself happy is all that matters.

His hand raised, slapping at your left ass cheek, his other hand still holding your hair, forcing your head back. His cock going into your dipping wet cunt, from all the pain inflicted on your body, you were needy. Desperate for him to finally fill you up with what you desired, he enjoyed this foreplay. He loved it; you rarely ever used the safe word. He knew pain made you needy, and watching you in pain created a monster from within.

“So tight,” he groaned, “taking me so well.” His hand that slapped your ass caressing the bruises, even during these harsh sexual encounters, you felt the tender touches he allowed linger. You could only imagine the face of pleasure he currently held. The way his beautiful brown skin complimented yours. The way his dress shirt is messed up, your eyes were shut, creating an image in your mind.

It took several thrusts into your cunt to cause the feeling to slowly become unbearable to ignore. It tingled from within. Causing you to moan into your panties. His thighs hitting your bruised ass caused pleasure and pain. You eventually managed to grab at the headboard, your hair still being in his grip.

“Getting louder and tighter, baby.” You tried to nod, but his hand gripped your hair tighter, preventing you from nodding. His thrust was clean and precise; it hit the right spot every single time. The feeling of an impending orgasm no longer allowed you to ignore it. You wanted to cum; you craved his touch. You knew he was having an ego boost, not just from just handling you so well but from his successes. He was extremely successful, scoring goals in every single match—an impressive feat for a midfielder.

“You want to cum?” There was a hint of playfulness in his tone. He knew you wanted to cum, and he had no intention of stopping you. He held a plan to fuck you even after you cum. He was close; that was not something he could deny. He wasn’t as close as you thought. “I will allow you to cum; all you have to do is spit those panties out and beg.”

In a matter of seconds, you tried to spit the panties out; unfortunately, it wasn’t easy. It slipped out of your mouth with more drool than anything. “Please, Jude, let me cum. I’ve been good!”

“Good girl.” He gripped your hair even tighter; finally, he could hear your gasps and moans without the panties in your mouth. He wanted to hear you cry out in pleasure when you cum. “Go ahead.” He thrust harder than before; his free hand, no longer on your cheek, snaked down to your clit. His long and skinny fingers rubbing circles with the right pace.

“Shit.” Your cunt clenched on him tightly, and your legs shook with fury. Your hands lost grip once more on the headboard, and with his permission, he let go of your hair. Your head dropped, followed by his hands gripping at your waist and quickening the pace, thrusting with purpose. You cried out in pleasure, the orgasm washing through you; immediately you realized he wasn’t stopping. “Too much!”

“You asked to cum, baby; you made the choice.” Your ears picked up the teasing tone. You could not stop the shaking, the pain of being overstimulated. He did not stop his two fingers rubbing at your clit. He ignored your pleas; he was chasing the high he deserved. He pleased you, and it was your turn to treat him. “Ugh! Fucking close!”

You tried hard to pull away, but each time was futile; his body thrust deeper each time, and he would press just a little harder on your clit at your attempts. Your tears quicken down your face, your wrist becoming almost naked by the rubbing. You were no longer grabbing onto anything, causing your wrist to ache in pain. His thighs began to tense, his thrust kept at the pace, not slowing down for a second.

“So fucking good!” He smirked at how he was close. Then there it was, the feeling of being full. You were about to orgasm once more, and you knew this one had something else. You cried louder, begging him to slow down; he could care less. Then it happened; he thrust so deep he felt you clench harder than before, and a grunt left his lips. His head was thrown back, and that was it. Your body burst in pleasure, and the sheets below you were covered by your own sweet liquids. Your legs shook so much you no longer supported your knees, and you fell down, his cock slipping out.

“How pathetic; you ruined our sheets.” He groaned in pleasure, his cock dripping his cum; your cunt was full already. He climbed over you gently and removed the key from his neck and unlocked your wrist. He would never let you lie there exhausted and your wrist aching. He loved you too much.

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bloomzone · 1 month ago

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Okay, so I just recognized some mistakes I’ve been doing lately literally just saved myself from repeating them again. And honestly, I noticed a lot of other students are making these same mistakes too. So here’s Part 2 of my “Study Mistakes I Did But Saved Myself Before It Was Too Late.” If you relate to any of these, take it as your sign to stop before it’s too late.

part 1

lesson 1 : the “failure” mindset.

Right now, I’m literally in this crazy state. Like the failure mode. It's insane , I do a million past papers, then I tell myself, “Yes, you did well today.” But I wake up the next day with the same mindset: No, girl, you need to do more. Like, what if all those questions don’t show up on the exam?Yes, stress can help it drives you sometimes. For me, it worked most of the time. That fear of failure push me to study harder. But don’t let failure control you. I really wish I could change my mindset, especially before big exams or finals.We always think, what if I fail instead of what if I succeed? So please, try not to stress too much. Even small efforts count. Stay motivated. I know discipline is important, but we’re human. Especially high school students there’s pressure from everywhere. Everyone expects something from you.So try to motivate yourself. Make your breakfast in the morning. Watch something motivational when you wake up. It will remind you why you're doing this.You’re a student. You need to succeed. But sometimes we lose that passion . So keep some backup motivation ready. Think: What if I succeed? Always and Study hard. Do everything you can so you can feel good and proud about urself later.

lesson 2 : using AI for essays.

Please, please, please stop using AI if you’re still doing it especially for essays idk about u use ai or not it's ur life idc but if u are a STUDENT hear me out If your exams are still a bit far and you’re using AI to do your homework, especially your essays, stop now.I swear, some classmates of mine used AI the whole year. Especially for French essays. I know not everyone is great at French even if it’s our mother tongue , some people treat it like a second language tooThere’s this one girl in my class she used ChatGPT for every single argumentative essay. And our teacher praised her: “Oh my god, I love your writing!” and gave her plus points. I got mad. Like… I wrote my essay 100% by hand, all real. And then the teacher accused ME of using AI? I was like Girl wtf 💀💀💀 this is 100% mine.And in the actual exam, that girl got 13/20 and i I got 19/20 and then the teacher believes me after •́⁠ ⁠ ⁠‿⁠ ⁠,⁠•̀.f you use AI all year, you’ll look so stupid in the exam. So please, even if you need help, don’t rely on AI. Just read articles, watch videos on YouTube, act like AI doesn’t exist.Read more, watch teachers online, documentary anything that helps you build real knowledge and vocabulary. You’ll get better and your essays will show it.

lesson 3 : Not organizing your notes.

This one is real. Please don’t do what I did: I lost every single note from first semester. I still don’t know where I put them.So if you’re someone who writes by hand, please always keep a folder next to you. As soon as you finish a paper, put it in the folder. Keep your folders in a place where no one touches them.The only thing that saved me I take pictures of my notes. So please, every time you write something important and feel like you might lose it take a photo. Just in case.

lesson 4 : Not sleeping early.

I’ve been doing this mistake recently, during prep week when we’re home from school. The stress is too much. Not because I can’t sleep I actually fall asleep in minutes. The problem is I don’t sleep early. I have no fixed schedule.If you study in the morning, you need to sleep early. I wake up around 5 or 6 a.m., but I sleep at midnight. That’s just 4–5 hours of sleep. And it’s not enough. I get headaches. I burn out.Today, for example, I woke up at 6 after sleeping at midnight. I had the worst headache. I made coffee but didn’t even drink it.Also, if you get headaches easily, be careful with coffee. Drink water first. Move around a bit before having it.So then I tried studying but couldn’t. I opened a YouTube video to study, but I couldn’t focus. I ended up lying down, playing the video on my phone, and falling asleep again with the teacher’s voice still playing I felt like a loser fr it made me so sad. So please, if you work best in the morning, be in bed at LEAAAST by 10 p.m.And if you’re a night owl and study until 2–3 a.m., please sleep long enough after that. Your brain needs it.Just be organize your sleep schedule. Everyone has their best time to focus just build your routine around it. The time will pass anyway, so spend it right.

stay healthy everyone 💭

@bloomzone

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izanacore · 3 months ago

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“casual” | manjiro sano x reader

chapter twenty 𓂃⋆.˚

synopsis: a no-strings-attached arrangement between a party girl and a frat boy turns messy when mikey falls first. but when (y/n) runs from love, she loses him for good—until fate brings them back together, years too late.

characters: manjiro “mikey” sano, fem!reader, izana kurokawa, emma sano

warnings: angst, heartbreak, fwb dynamics, explicit content, crack, fluff, jealousy, insecurities, themes of regret, alcohol use, violence, bullying, depression

notes: i sincerely apologize for the slow updates. i just noticed the last update was like 3 days ago already? what the hell. anyway, i just don’t wanna give a half ass chapter that’s why i’m taking my time writing casual (i just got busy this week lol). anyway, ig brace yourselves?

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

chapter twenty

the day before mikey’s birthday, y/n stood in front of the sano household, ready to help emma bake his cake as promised. she rang the doorbell, waiting for emma to answer.

but when the door opened, she was met with someone else entirely.

izana.

he stood there with an easy smile, looking way too calm for her liking. “oh, y/n. come in. emma’s already in the kitchen.”

she nodded, stepping inside, but for some reason, the air around izana always felt… different. she couldn’t put her finger on it. maybe she was overthinking again.

before she could even drop her bag on the dining table, emma’s voice cut through the air.

“you’re late.” arms crossed, face unimpressed. “girl, we were supposed to start an hour ago.”

y/n rolled her eyes. “blame your brother. i had to come up with, like, fifty different excuses just so he’d let me leave alone. i was this close to snitching about the cake.”

emma gasped dramatically. “he’s still at your place? girl, kick him out already! he’s not sick anymore. stop babying him.” then she narrowed her eyes. “but, knowing you, this is probably your idea either.” she stuck her tongue out in mock disgust.

“hey! what’s that supposed to mean?”

emma smirked but said nothing.

as they started prepping the ingredients, emma, as expected, went on her usual rants. y/n was used to it by now.

“you know what i’m really mad about? summer classes! do you know how much i’m missing out on?! and it’s your fault, y/n!”

“excuse me?” y/n scoffed. “i only said i was taking extra credit classes. you’re the one who decided to tag along.”

“well, duh! you’re my best friend. i can’t just let you suffer alone while i’m out having fun. and, please, you need to stop lying to yourself. i know you took that class just so you can hang out there with mikey.” she rolled her eyes. “don’t think i don’t know he failed one of his subjects and has to take remedial classes this summer.”

y/n didn’t even try to deny it. instead, she smirked. “oh, really? then what about you? didn’t ken fail too? and isn’t that the real reason you enrolled?” she mimicked air quotes. “you literally said, ‘if i spend my summer without him, it’s basically cheating.’”

“shhh!” emma slammed her eyes shut as if she could pretend she never said that.

y/n burst out laughing.

just then, izana walked into the kitchen. “what are you guys talking about?”

“hell.” emma deadpanned.

“summer classes,” y/n added while stirring the cake batter.

they said in unison.

emma turned to her brother with an exaggerated look of pity. “y/n, this one here is a masochist. like, why would anyone willingly enroll in summer classes?”

izana chuckled. “you see, my dear little sister, i had to take the remaining credits so i can enroll next semester. it’s just two weeks, though—just finishing up what i left behind back in the philippines.”

“ugh.” emma pouted. “why is everyone in summer classes?” she dramatically clutched her chest. “i just need to survive next week. please, please, please. that’s the last week.”

y/n laughed. “you’ll live.”

“do you guys need any help?” izana leaned against the kitchen doorway, watching as y/n and emma moved around.

“actually, yeah,” emma said, exasperated. “an extra set of hands would be great.”

izana looked at y/n for approval, raising a brow. she hesitated for a second—but then she just nodded.

and so the three of them got to work. everything was going smoothly at first—measuring ingredients, mixing, setting up the oven—until izana got put in charge of the icing.

which was a mistake.

y/n barely had time to react before she felt something cold and sticky on her nose.

“izana, what the hell?!” she shrieked, wiping at the icing he’d just smudged on her.

when she turned to glare at him, he had the audacity to grin, looking way too pleased with himself.

y/n scoffed. oh, so that’s how we’re playing?

without hesitation, she grabbed some icing and smeared it across his cheek, making him laugh.

next thing she knew, they were running around the kitchen, dodging and attacking like a couple of kids, giggling in between.

but then—

“would you two quit it?!” emma snapped, arms crossed.

which was exactly when izana, still grinning, turned on her.

before she could react, he smeared a huge glob of icing on her cheek.

“IZANA!!!” emma shrieked. “YOU’RE SO DEAD TO ME!!”

she lunged at him, but he dodged effortlessly, grabbing more icing. and then—chaos.

izana targeted emma relentlessly, smearing icing on her forehead, cheeks, even her hair.

“STOP TARGETING ME, YOU ASSHOLE!!” emma screamed, flailing her arms.

“i have no idea what you’re talking about,” izana said innocently, despite the clear evidence all over emma’s face.

y/n was practically crying from laughter at this point.

when emma finally escaped his grasp, she stomped off toward the bathroom, muttering a string of curses under her breath.

that left y/n and izana alone in the kitchen, still breathless from laughing.

they made their way to the sink, cleaning themselves off. as izana washed up, y/n waited beside him, the energy finally settling into something calmer.

then, out of nowhere, izana spoke. “so… is this your first time celebrating mikey’s birthday?”

y/n nodded. “yeah.”

“do you have a present for him yet?”

“no.” she sighed. “i have no idea what to get him.”

izana hummed, finishing up and stepping aside so she could wash her hands. he grabbed a towel, drying himself off. “want me to help you pick something?”

she glanced at him. “what do you have in mind?”

reaching into his pocket, izana pulled out his motorcycle keys. attached to them was a small keychain—a red charm shaped like his signature earrings, lined with intricate gold details. he held it up for her to see.

“mikey likes matching with people,” he said. “i got him a matching one of these back when we first got our bikes from shinichiro.” a small chuckle left him. “not sure if he still has it, though.”

y/n tilted her head. “oh, he does. i’ve seen it on his keys.”

izana blinked in surprise before his expression softened. “really?”

she nodded. “mhm.”

he looked… happy.

after a beat, he turned to her. “so?” he asked. “want my help?”

y/n grabbed the towel and dried her hands, glancing up at him.

“alright,” she said, smiling.

as soon as they stepped into the kitchen, they put the final touches on the cake. it turned out perfect—so much so that emma immediately pulled out her phone, snapping endless pictures from every angle like it was a high-end photoshoot.

y/n watched her dramatically reposition the plate for better lighting.

“look at this masterpiece.” emma said to herself as she continued taking pictures.

izana chuckled before turning to y/n. “emma, y/n and i are heading out for a bit.”

“mhm, okay,” emma mumbled, still fixated on her impromptu cake photography session. then, as an afterthought, she added, “make sure y/n gets home safe.”

and with that, they left.

outside, izana led her to where his motorbike was parked.

before y/n could even reach for the helmet, izana grabbed it himself. without hesitation, he slipped it onto her head, his fingers brushing against her skin as he adjusted the strap under her chin.

y/n froze.

he’s so close again.

“there.” his voice was soft, almost amused, as he finished securing the helmet. and then, as if to make things worse, he gently lifted her chin, flashing her a small smile.

y/n just stood there, completely dumbfounded.

was he always like this to everyone?

before she could dwell on it, izana casually turned away, swinging his leg over the bike. then, he held out his hand to help her get on.

hesitantly, she took it and climbed on behind him.

once settled, she gripped the back of his shirt lightly—not wanting to overstep. but apparently, that wasn’t enough for izana.

without a word, he reached behind him, grabbed her wrists, and pulled her arms around his waist, securing them there.

y/n stiffened.

this was too close.

but izana said nothing. he just started the engine like it was the most natural thing in the world.

meanwhile, y/n’s thoughts were all over the place. she was hugging him. actually hugging him. would mikey be mad if he saw this?

wait—why did that even matter?

it wasn’t like they were together.

right?

but the thought of mikey getting the wrong idea—of seeing her like this with izana—made her uneasy. she didn’t know why, but it did.

lost in thought, she didn’t even notice when they finally pulled up to the mall.

as soon as they entered the mall, izana grabbed y/n’s wrist and led her toward a small store tucked in the corner.

“good, they’re still open,” he muttered, almost in relief. “it’s been years since i last came here.”

the moment they stepped inside, an elderly woman behind the counter beamed at them.

“welcome! oh—i remember you!” she gasped, eyes lighting up. “you’re the young man who customized those keychains a few years ago! my, my, you’ve grown up so beautifully.”

izana rubbed the back of his head, looking almost shy. “it’s been a while.”

the old lady then turned her attention to y/n, her smile growing even warmer. “and is this your girlfriend? oh, you’re a lucky one—she’s such a beautiful girl.”

“oh, we’re not—” y/n started, but before she could finish, izana casually draped an arm over her shoulders.

“she really is beautiful, right, baby?” he said smoothly, shooting her a teasing smile.

y/n blinked up at him, completely thrown off.

leaning down, izana whispered near her ear, “just play along. she’s a sucker for romantic couples—we might get a discount.”

y/n rolled her eyes but went along with it, offering the old lady a forced but polite smile.

“so, what do you want, babe? matching necklaces? keychains?” izana asked, clearly enjoying himself.

“bracelets,” y/n answered, ignoring the way he was grinning at her.

“ah, perfect choice!” the old lady clapped her hands. “they’ll suit you two wonderfully.”

y/n shot izana a glare, but he just bit his lip, trying to hold back a smirk. he’s enjoying this way too much.

while the old lady got to work customizing the bracelets, y/n found herself getting more and more excited. she could already picture mikey wearing his—and hers, too. meanwhile, izana casually browsed through the store, his hands in his pockets.

“it’s done, dear.”

y/n turned back and gasped. “oh, wow! thank you so much, it’s beautiful.”

the bracelets were simple but elegant, each engraved with an initial—one with an M and the other with her own.

“thank you! here, let me pay—”

“oh, no need, dear. it’s my gift to you two lovebirds.”

y/n’s eyes widened, and she turned to izana in shock. he leaned in, smirking as he whispered, “told ya.”

y/n groaned internally, but she still bowed in gratitude before they both stepped out of the store.

the moment they were outside, her excitement bubbled over, and before she could think, she threw her arms around izana’s neck.

“thank you, thank you, thank you!!” she practically jumped on him.

izana stiffened, clearly caught off guard. for a second, he didn’t know where to put his hands, but before he could decide, y/n quickly pulled away.

she cleared her throat, awkwardly avoiding his gaze. “uh—sorry.”

izana just chuckled, shaking his head. “silly.” he reached out and poked her nose. “shall we go home?”

“wait.” she tugged on his sleeve, pouting slightly. “wanna get cheesecake.”

izana let out a soft laugh. cute.

“c’mon.”

the air in the café was warm, filled with the comforting aroma of coffee and freshly baked pastries. y/n and izana sat at a small table near the window, their drinks in front of them. izana had ordered her favorite without even asking, and of course, he paid—something that led to playful bickering between them.

“seriously, izana, you didn’t have to—”

“too late,” he smirked, taking a sip of his coffee. “i win.”

y/n huffed, but there was a small smile on her lips. her gaze flickered to the time on her phone, and her eyes widened.

“oh, shoot. i need to get home.” she quickly grabbed her bag. “i promised manjiro a movie marathon in exchange for letting me go this morning. your brother is such a pain sometimes.” she rolled her eyes but laughed.

izana chuckled too, shaking his head. “yeah, he never does anything unless there’s something in it for him.”

they finally stood up. without warning, he reached down and took her hand, effortlessly intertwining their fingers.

y/n’s breath hitched. wait, what?

her heart pounded against her ribs, but izana acted like nothing was out of the ordinary. he simply tugged her along toward the exit, as if holding hands was the most natural thing in the world.

but just as they reached the door, someone else pushed it open from the outside.

y/n’s entire body froze.

mikey.

her fingers uncurled from izana’s in an instant, panic surging through her.

mikey’s eyes flickered to the plastic bag in her other hand—the one holding the cheesecake izana had bought for her. the realization dawned on him almost immediately.

his expression didn’t change. not really. but there was something in his eyes, something distant, something cold.

“guess i don’t need to buy you one after all,” he muttered, voice quiet but sharp.

y/n felt something crack inside her chest.

“manjiro—”

but he was already turning away.

“wait, manjiro—” she rushed after him, reaching out, fingers curling around his arm.

he stopped. just for a second.

“it’s not what it looks like, i swear—”

he let out a soft chuckle, but there was no warmth in it. just something hollow, something that made y/n’s stomach twist painfully.

“you don’t need to explain anything, y/n,” he said, gently prying her hand off him. “we’re not even together.”

and then, without another word, he walked away.

leaving her standing there.

leaving her with the weight of something unsaid, something that felt dangerously close to regret.

chapter nineteen | chapter twenty-one

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ros3ybabe · 7 months ago

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Winter Break 24' Goals

My winter break is quickly approaching as the fall semester is coming to an end. I will be getting time off work as well, due to the semester ending, so that gives me about ~5 weeks to basically do whatever I want! Which I am so excited about <3

Here are some goals I am going to accomplish over this long, much needed break:

learn + practice more crochet 🧶(I can do a chain, but a single crochet is difficult for me right now)

workout at the gym 3-5x a week 🏋‍♀️

begin running again 🏃‍♀️ (I'm taking a running class next semester, so I want to prepare myself for it)

study japanese 3-5 days a week + take 2-3 italki lessons 🌸 (I'm also taking a Japanese class next semester so I want to know more than the basics)

study Spanish 2 days a week minimum 🇲🇽 (another language I know a little bit of but want to get better at)

complete watching 2-4 unfinished anime 💻 series (I always stop with a few episodes to go, need to break that habit)

consistent self care + begin a few healthy, consistent habits 🎀 (meditation, journaling, skincare morning + night, stretching, etc)

visit my boyfriend ❤️ (aiming to do so in early January!)

start drawing or at the very least, coloring, again ✏️ (very fun, very creative, very stress relieving, but I won't be mad if I don't hold myself to this)

meal prep 2x a week for lunches and dinners 🥗

on that note, learn a couple new recipes for lunches and dinners! 🍜

finish reading two books at minimum, three if I really work at it 📚 (going to finish What Alice Forgot, then going to move on to Girl In Pieces and If He Had Been With Me [or No Longer Human])

I will truly begin these on December 13th, and begin my daily updates soon too. Will Reblog this around Jaunary 13th to see what I actually did!

what are your guys goals for the winter?

til next time lovelies 🩷

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s-4pphics · 2 years ago

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click! finale (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you need a roommate, and you love eggplant. [college au]

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

WARNINGS: photographer/roommate!ellie, ocs an artist with a rep and black, parental trauma, self-worth issues, slight disordered eating, brief alcoholism and hypersexuality, heavy grief, pining but depressed

A/N: finally on break yaassss….. sequel? LOL

The air around you is strangling. You haven’t left your room in two days. You’re not passing this semester.

The room next to yours, however, is filled with life. Ellie’s back to blasting her music and banging on walls, but you have yet to cross paths. Not in class, not at home; You haven’t seen her. Pickle never hesitates to scratch at your door for hugs. And kisses. She’s brought you so much comfort, even in times where you feel like you’re undeserving.

Christmas is around the corner, and you’re alone. Amaya never shied away from taking you home for her breaks, but she’s gone. She hasn’t called in a while; You hope she’s doing okay.

So, you seek escape in a different way and do what you haven’t in a long time.

Tears flood your vision, your thumb hovering over a number you haven’t touched in ages. Your hands won’t stop trembling. You’re going to regret this. Your heart's already breaking into pieces at the heart and cloud emojis of the contact.

Soft paws knead your thighs and you kiss kit-kat’s tiny head as she nuzzles your chin. You’re trying to keep your sobs to a minimum, but they’re tearing your throat to shreds.

Your thumb comes down on the contact and the line rings. And rings… and rings until the dial tone sounds.

“At the tone, please record your message. When you are finished recording, you may hang up or press one for more options.”

You knew no one would answer. No one ever answers, but still, you listen for her voice. The steadiness of her breathing. You take a shaky breath, “Hi, mom.” Mindless sentences pour out of you like a waterfall. You just sit there and allow Pickle to playfully bite your finger.

“I, uh… I’m not…” Another sob, “I’m not doing well.”

You would never say that if she were here. You always masked your true feelings for her sake; She never needed any additional stress.

Void images of your father reoccur in your memory, “I think there’s something wrong with me… I don’t think I’m a g-good person.” A barbed tongue affectionately licks at your finger, and you try to smile.

“I… We found a kitty in the snow,” You whisper, “She's the cutest thing ever.” Pickle looks up like she knows what you’re saying, and you weep at her delicate eyes.

“It was the weirdest thing…” You huff wetly, “It felt like you put her there to stop me from making a mistake.” More tears flood your shut eyes.

“I just miss you…” Your palm digs into your eye, “and I wish you w-were here. I’m not…” Pickle climbs to rest in your lap; You always did that with your mom for comfort. Another loud sob.

“I lov— “

You jolt at the loud dial tone, and the line ends. You drop your phone on your blanket and search around your room, the portrait of your mother standing tall on your desk. You need to make another one for her birthday.

Your eyes travel over your space, and for the first time, you don’t feel comfort. Your mind is racing with thoughts that expose your truth; They’re vile and dirty and they make you feel like scum. A disease walking.

The dark nights are restless and the days are silent, halls only filled with soft purrs and pattering paws.

Your home no longer holds the joy that it once did when Amaya was here. Excitement used to burst through you whenever she prepped your movie nights after work, the living room filled with laughter and corny love lines that made your stomach secretly twist with warmth.

You’re not happy anymore. Anxiety brews in you whenever you walk into the kitchen, the living room, go to feed and snuggle Pickle. It’s fucking miserable in here, and as difficult as it was for you to admit, it’s all your fault.

It’s almost finals week, and you’re nowhere near prepared. You can’t focus on anything except the treacherous silence of your space. It’s almost like Ellie’s already gone.

You should be anticipating her departure, antsy to have your space to yourself again, but your chest aches. This past month was anything but smooth, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. For some reason. Maybe it’s because you got to live your main character moment, even if it was just for a few hours.

Ellie, as much as you hate to admit it, deserves better. Just like how you deserve to spend your life alone, trapped and secluded with your own thoughts. She should want better for herself; Nothing is worse than being in your presence; Maybe that’s why you have no one.

You desperately want to do better for yourself, but you’re tired. Your mother would be so disappointed in you. You retire from wallowing and climb under the covers, Pickle clutched tightly to your chest. You hope she doesn’t mind the tears from your tee.

The portfolio is finished. Ellie can’t stop staring at the booklet enclosed in leather on her desk.

The online submission process was infuriating, mainly due to her laptop dying during the portfolio render, but it’s done. Her ticket into a life-changing position is no longer hers to judge; It can only go up from here.

All she needs is that phone call from the recruiting manager and it’s over. She’ll be in the city in no time. She’s excited and jittery; Every buzz from her phone is met with clenched hands and a sweaty forehead. Her disappointment heals when she sees her father’s classic thumbs up emojis surrounded by black and red hearts; Even from miles away, he knows when she needs support.

Ellie lays her forehead on the leather, sighing in relief for what seems like the billionth time. It’s a surreal feeling, relishing in accomplishments. She's never done it, mainly because her mother never wanted to acknowledge happenings she wasn’t the center of. Hearing congratulations is still a mindfuck years later.

… Your photos looked stunning. You’re made for this, even if you don’t believe it.

Ellie will never admit how much energy she put into editing those pictures, specifically the ones you’re in. She spent hours recoloring, scaling, sharpening those photos, and they turned out incredible. Probably some

of the best shots she’s ever taken, and you’re in the center. And your eyes… There’s so much light in those hazel specks.

Another mindfuck.

Whenever Ellie comes home, she checks the small space between the floor and door of your bedroom to see if you’re awake. If you’re alive. The relief she feels when she sees a lamp light or shadow eases the tension in her shoulders.

She never knocks, though. Never.

So why are you?

Ellie’s back instantly straightens at the soft pats on her door, heart pounding in her ears. You never knock.

She’s embarrassed at how fast she stands, chair nearly falling over as she flies to pull her door open.

She’s met with you; She hopes you can’t hear the shatters from her chest at the sight of your disheveled appearance. Your hair is matted and the brunette river in your eyes are surrounded by redness

“Sorry, I—“ Your voice cracks like you haven’t spoken in ages, “She was lying there and I felt bad. She missed you, I think.” She’s never heard you sound so tedious. You’re always the loudest, goofiest person in the room. Ellie’s brows furrow before following your line of vision. Pickle’s sleep in front of her door, curled like a cinnamon roll. Ellie sighs as picks her up as fluidly

as she can, trying her best not to wake her.

“You’re gonna have to take her when you leave.”

Devastation sets in your tone as you stare at the little fur ball, “Why?” She asks.

“My dad’s allergic.” You whisper.

Ellie peers down when Pickle stirs, “Is… is he visiting?” She asks, just as quietly.

Your head shakes, “I’m going home.”

Ellie does an impeccable job of hiding her shock. So many questions race in her mind: going home? Where’s home for you? Is it permanent? Are you moving out? When? Are you and your dad close?

You’re turning away back into your room, but Ellie blurts out before you can shut the door. “I finished my portfolio! It’s… it’s done. I turned it in.”

You turn, and your eyes are watery. Your smile is tiny, but genuine. “Congratulations,” you’re so quiet and your voice shakes. Ellie’s mind whirls, “They’re gonna love it.” You take one last look at Pickle, and your bottom lip wobbles. You shut and lock the door before Ellie can say thank you for helping me.

Ellie’s eyes lock onto the floor, watching your lamp turn off, ears honing in on the shuffling of blankets. She swiftly scurries inside her space when she hears crying.

Her chest concaves at the sobs echoing through the dark, silent halls. Through the thin wall as she sets the kitty on her favorite pillow to sleep on. She paces around her room and yanks at her pinky. How she wishes to be a fly on the wall; She wants to knock on your door so badly, but she doesn’t know what to say. How to comfort. She's always relied on her father for that.

So, she just listens with regret and makes her final decision.

If you move from this counter, you’ll faceplant into hardwood. You don’t like the blaringly loud song coming from above, so you down another seltzer. It’s distracting enough.

You feel yourself leaning forward, so you force yourself back up, practically flung over the counter. You’re never drinking again, you promise yourself. How many times has that one been broken? You don’t remember. You miss Ellie.

You’re going to fall again, but this time, you’re supported. And not by the counter. You instantly relax at the familiar scent.

Abby’s mumbling something about something, but it sounds like gibberish. You throw your arms around her neck, inhaling deeply; You miss Ellie terribly.

We gotta get you outta here. You frown; You don’t want to leave! The party just started!

Her strong arms wrap around your waist to maneuver you. You’re not sure where she's taking you, but you don’t fight. You simply allow her to snatch your heels off and carry you into the piercing-sharp cold. Just allow her to drag you to safety. You wish it was Ellie.

The world around you moves in a blur; The pace is making you dizzy. You don’t want to vomit in Abby’s car. When did she get a car?

“Abby…”

“Yeah, hun? You good?” She sounds so far away. Your mumbles are incoherent. She's so confused, so she asks you to repeat it.

You face her from the passenger seat with a sultry grin. You miss Ellie, “I missed you.” Your words are garbled and your hands are as loose as your tongue, shakily landing on her muscular thigh, massaging the skin.

Abby tenses with a sigh, planting a gentle hand on your traveling one. Her grip tightens when you try to move. “Did you really?”

That's your green light. Your smile grows as you clumsily unbuckle your seatbelt, “Stop… stop the car.”

Abby’s foot plants on the break, and you jerk forward. Like the night you found Pickle. Like when Ellie…

“What’s the matter?”

I miss my roommate. “I’m horny.”

Your friend scoffs and shakes her head. Either you’re too drunk or she’s disappointed… Not the reaction you were seeking. Your smile tries to fade, but you force the corners of your mouth back up.

“No, you’re not.” She snaps, and it takes you a second to catch it. Abby’s upset again. What the fuck did you do this time? Your facade finally falters. Now you’re irritated.

“How’re y… how’re you gonna tell me what the fuck I am?” You sound like a fucking idiot, but your rage ignites your slurs, “If you don’t want me, why’re you here!”

“Because you fucking called and I’m your friend! I didn’t wanna leave you by yours— “

“You should’ve!” Your shriek is piercing; You’re shocked the windows didn’t shatter and slice you both.

“That’s how you fucking feel? Really?”

You try to swallow tears, but they flow. The words you want to say are on the tip of your tongue; Thank you for coming to get me. I’m sorry for being awful. Don’t leave me by myself.

But none of them escaped. They sit and rot in your throat. You’ve never seen Abby so…

And she doesn’t let up, “Now you wanna cry? Are you serious?” There’s fire in her eyes; It burns in a way you’re not used to, especially not her, “This victim shit is getting very old— “

“I don’t care!”

“I don’t fucking care, either! If you wanna keep getting used like a piece of meat by random bitches, then do that! Leave me the fuck out of it!” Abby slams her hand down on the armrest, and the car doors unlock, “Matter of fact, get the fuck out!”

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck YOU! Get out! Get the fuck out!”

Curses and heated exclamations leave the two of you until you wobbly exit the vehicle, slamming the door as hard as your brain would allow. The wind blows like tacks, stabbing through the skin of your bare arms and chest. Abby zooms off, and you scream.

You dig in your pocket for your phone, ineptly dialing Ellie’s number. It’s fucking one in the morning

“… Hello?” She was asleep. Your heart eases at the steadiness of her tone.

You’re shivering, “… E—Ellie?”

“Hm?”

“I’m… I’m really cold and I don’t,” sob, “I dunno where I am— “

“What do you mean?” She asks abruptly, alert. Your heart flutters.

You whimper, “I’m lost, I don’t… I’m a bad person— “

“Send me your location. Where’re your keys?”

“I— I don’t remember— “

“Are you drunk right now?”

“Yes,” You mumble meekly. This is so fucking embarrassing.

Ellie sighs heavily, “Just… Is there somewhere you can wait until I get there?”

You search through tears, finding mostly dark retail stores and restaurants across the street… Except Jack in the Box! The munchies hotspot never fails you.

“There’s a Jack in the Crack over there.” You point like she can see you. She snickers softly.

“Go, then. I’ll be there soon, okay?”

“Wait! Don’t… don’t hang up, please, I’m scared— “

“I wasn’t going to.”

You closely listen to the shuffling on the other line as you wobbly trek across the street. You sharply inhale at every slip and stumble on your journey, almost sobbing through every confirmation to Ellie’s small are you okay?

You finally make it inside and thank God that it’s warm. You take a seat and sigh at the familiar jingle of keys.

“You in there?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m coming, send me where you are.”

“K.”

It takes you longer than it should’ve to get her the location thanks to the Casa in your system, but she’s on the way… You really want curly fries. Fuck.

You hate how your thoughts wander, self-loathing at the forefront of your lobe. You take after your father more than you thought: a filthy, lying train wreck. You’ve ruined every glimmer of hope, of positive influence around you, and you’re forced to bathe in the treachery you’ve created all over again.

“Hey.”

You leap out of your seat at Ellie’s raspy tone, seeing your hoodie draped over her forearm and keys dangling in her hand. Your tummy growls when you wave. Ellie’s gaze softens. “Hungry?” She hands you the hoodie for you to throw on. You nod.

“What do you wanna eat?”

“… Fries,” you croak, “Curly, please.”

Ellie nods and waddles to the service counter. You watch her backside under her puffer as she pays and collects a small baggie and water before nodding towards the car. You follow close behind her in silence, munching on your snack.

The ride back home is silent, but for once, the air isn’t deadly. You’re eased back from your breakdown, and it’s definitely not due to the forest in your roommate’s vision.

You enter your warm apartment and get greeted with soft purrs, Kit-Kat skipping over to rub against your leg. It’s almost enough to make you break down all over again; You can’t believe you have to say goodbye to her next week.

You kick your sneakers off and squat down to her level, “I love you so much, baby girl. Thank you for taking care of me.” You whisper and pet her head, all the way down to her tail. She meows like she loves you. Ellie shuts the door and watches you silently. You turn to face her. For the first time, she doesn't fidget at your inspection.

Her eyes are much glossier and she’s picking at the skin on her pinky. She wants to say something.

“You okay?” You murmur, and Ellie nods. You don’t believe her. Her eyes are downcast. Why does she look so nervous?

The silence is killing you, so you speak.

“Ellie, I’m… I’m sorry for everything,” You stand and ramble. “I’m the worst roommate imaginable and I-I’m terrible and impulsive and I fucking suck, but I’m sorry… I’m sorry.”

I also kinda like you.

Not even your word vomit lets that slip. So, you apologize, sloppily and snot-filled. Tears drip down your face in waterfalls, “I’m— I don't wanna go... and I don’t want you to go…”

Ellie’s timid facade breaks, only slightly, eyes closing gently as she listens. “I know I don’t deserve t-to ask that and it’s not… I wasn’t apart of your plan— “

“You’re drunk.”

You’re plummeting into the void all over again, succumbing to a familiar, oddly comforting darkness.

“H-Huh?”

Ellie’s as firm as a tree, unmoving. Strong. Still. You’re transported back to your first conversation and how intimidated she made you feel. “You’re drunk… and I leave in the morning. I got the job.”

Drowning. That’s what this feels like. Strangely proud. Oddly suffocating. You’re underwater, but refuse to resurface. “I-In the morning?”

Her head jerks. “I, uh. I got rent covered. Sorry for the late notice.” She shoves her hands in her pocket. You shake your head, wiping your face with the back of your hand. “It’s okay.” You whisper. “Where’re you gonna go?”

“My dad’s. He’s a few hours out. The truck comes tomorrow.”

Your head bobs in acknowledgement, “H-How was the stats final?” She pauses; Her eyes sadden, tilting like an unwatered rose. “You’ll do fine.” She whispers.

“Promise to take care of my daughter?” You blurt between sniffles, already moving down the hall, ignoring the loud shattering in your heart when you peep all her boxes in the now vacant room beside yours.

Ellie mumbles your name but you’re sick of ugly crying in front of people. “Good luck with everything.” You mutter with hot feet.

And with the last click of your bedroom lock, you shut out the vine who entangled your heart for the last time. You give into the feelings of loss, the emotions that come with failure, and release them into your hands.

What could’ve been, your brain hollers while your heart wails. What could’ve been if you weren’t you.

You don’t remember waking up, but you’re in pain. Physically, mentally; You're hurting. The intensity of it somehow gets worse at the sound of Ellie dragging boxes out of her — the room.

You just cry. There’s nothing to do but cry. Your phone has been ringing all morning, but you don’t have strength to reach for it. You relish in the deserving pain of your hangover. Tequila hasn’t done shit for you.

Hours pass, and your home is silent. Ellie’s gone. Pickle’s gone. Amaya’s gone. Abby’s gone. Your mother’s gone. You take their departures as signs. It’s probably time for you to go, too.

Your shower is incredibly long. You wash and wash and re-wash, wanting the feelings of cleanliness to cascade down your skin, but it never comes. You tearfully accept your lecherous nature and every vile entity attached to it. You’re a vessel for heartbreak and villainy. Forever your worst enemy. You look in the mirror for the first time in days. Just for a second. You can’t stand to see yourself for longer than that, your naked form a reminder of every violation you’ve had to endure since you were fifteen.

Ellie isn't thinking twice about you, and yet, she terrorizes your mind, trying to convince yourself that your time together wasn’t all bad. You’ll never forget the color she brought to you. Her seed is forever planted and growing in your heart, her roots forcing their way into your system, intertwining with your rough, cracked bones, enclosing around your lungs with each breath.

Too bad you impacted her in the worst way. You couldn’t even manage to give her a sober apology before she left. It’s hard to accept the fact that you’ll never see her again, but there’s nothing you can do about it now.

Once again, you’re too late.

The short lap around your living room crushes your spirit. Somehow, all of your memories are shrouded in emptiness. All the proof of Ellie’s residency is gone… Except the indent of her body on the couch. She always loved sleeping there.

One last heavy exhale. That’s all you can manage before you grab your coat and beanie and exit, locking the door behind you. You keep your head down on the way to the parking garage, hopping into the driver’s seat. The ride to the academic advisory office is silent and swift; It matches the finality of your meeting.

Tears glaze your eyes when you ask your counselor, “What’s… What’s the first step of withdrawing? Like, from school.”

CHRISTMAS EVE

Your fork picks at the pasta noodles on your barely touched plate. The wine is delicious.

“Honey, are you…” Your dad says softly before sighing, “How’s the meal?” You blink up at him, focusing on the crinkles in his eyes. He seems youthful somehow. Healing looks good on him.

You gulp down more maroon, “… It’s great. Thank you.” You mutter. You’re not used to talking to him; You’re glad the feelings are mutual. He only nods, head downcast onto his plate. At least he’s eaten.

He sets his fork down on his plate and wipes his mouth with a napkin, “I hope you like your gift.” He says before standing to place the dish in the sink.

A dark smile spreads behind your glass.

“Never thought you’d buy me anything.” You snicker sarcastically. “Don’t start.” His voice slices through the kitchen. You hold back your flinch. You’re not ten anymore.

You shrug, shoulders heavy, “Just saying.” A glass shatters in the sink, and he curses and storms off, the bedroom door nearly swinging off the hinges with a slam. Your smile grows at the booming echo. Like father, like daughter you suppose.

DECEMBER TWENTY-SEVENTH

“Are you ready, kiddo?”

Ellie’s heart is pounding through her chest as she stares out the window. She can’t believe her father hasn’t commented on the bursting organ. “No.” She whispers, adjusting the camera strapped around her neck. She's fighting not to bite her nails; Her dad hates that.

He chuckles softly, “Yes, you are.”

No, she’s not.

The photography studio is fucking huge and surrounded by tall windows that display suited individuals laughing, conversing, perfecting their lenses. She can see the bright specks of neon color on the white floors, white walls, white couches. It’s so much brighter than she ever imagined.

The colors are reminiscent of you. Vivid. Captivating. Beaming like your smile. There are flashes coming from all directions inside the studio and it’s making her shake in the passenger seat. A strong hand plants on her blazer, giving an encouraging squeeze. “Look at me.”

Ellie’s head turns, eyes locking with her dad’s.

“I love you. You got this.” He says with confidence. Ellie nods in agreement, but he doesn’t accept it. “Say it.”

“I got this.” Not as confident. A lot quieter, but getting there.

“Eh?” Her dad leans in closer, ear pointed at her. She giggles and repeats herself. A little louder. He decides that it’s good enough, pulling her close over the center console. Ellie inhales as deeply as she can, right in the crook of his neck. He plants one last kiss on her cheek before releasing her. She grabs her bag from the floor and pushes the door open, looking over her shoulder one last time. “I love you.” She whispers. He bops her nose with the most delicate grin. Pride is radiating off him, and it warms her from the cold outside.

Ellie departs with one last wave, shutting the door and skipping onto the sidewalk, walking right up to the front door of the studio. A final peek at her dad; He sends her two thumbs up. She smiles.

Breathe in, one… two… three…

When the door pushes open, she's greeted with wide grins and warm hugs. It feels like home already.

Finally... Finally.

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