#Pray for me to get my art back soon

[tyquu]

Western Rebels!

I’ve been too sick to draw anything new, and It’s been like 4 months since I started these cowboy designs and I know for a fact they aren’t getting finished so I’m just gonna dump what I had so far here and dip ✌️

[sevinite]

honda and her future ex girlfriend pray-tell’s first encounter 🫶🏽❤️ it is so important to me that i get to go crazy with lighting at least once a year

[elleniemae]

Me rn (ao3 is down)

[midnighteclipze]

People died because of Billie's bare built back (im people) Drawing underneath just in case >.>

She got done working out or smth

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐓𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ཐི❤︎ཋྀ

art cred: maichiatto62 (x)

☦︎synopsis: you get chased by a dark and undetermined figure in the woods, and run toward a dreadful castle that houses a seemingly kind man, will you stay awhile?

☦︎genre: smut w/plot

☦︎tags: vampiric hypnotism, mentions of blood, biting, corruption, dialogue heavy, degradation “whore” , loss of virginity, cunnalingus, creampie, mirror

☦︎wrd cnt: 2.2k

☦︎a/n: vampires and gothic literature is my favorite so this was a dream to write and I hope anyone reading enjoys!

Twigs and thistle snap under your feet as you walk through the fruit berring bushes, feeling the low laying leaves scratch your ankles.

You lost track of time and try to find your group, you probably should have skipped this hiking trip. Or at least wore shorts that covered your knees. The night drew upon your haggard form quite quickly, and the temperature dropped significantly.

You tried your best to find the light of the campfire you knew was there before you left.

After a few minutes of silent walking, besides your rummaging footsteps, you hear a loud thud somewhere behind you.

Your back straightened up like a rod, “Hello?” Your voice echos slightly, bouncing off the trees and up toward the stars. You prayed like hell it was one of your friends, coming to your salvation.

When nobody answered you after your third call out, you kept walking.

You heard another loud noise, as if a bolder dropped straight into a big pile of leaves, trembling the ground you stood on.

Frozen in fear, like a deer, you stand in the middle of a plot of dirt surrounded by the thick trees and shrub.

Your eyes open wide and your hands balled up in fists, you survey the area until you find the source of the sound.

A tree, wounded with a big chunk missing from the side.

It still stood tall, but reckoned to snap if it had been torn just a few more inches towards the unbent side.

You wondered who could have caused such destruction, or rather what.

You would find out soon enough, when you examine the tree to find streaks of blood scattered over earthen hide.

Following the trail you discovered the remains of some animal.

Well that’s what you think it was, it had been mangled and torn in such a brutal manner there was no way to identify exactly what it could have been.

As you tried your best to figure it out, a black shadow stalked you from afar.

Red orbs visible with stillness behind a tree, slowly growing larger in your view as it approached. The dimness of the atmosphere cloaked it well.

You stepped back, shoes muddied and heavy as you ran. You ran until you saw the nearest source of light, not bothered to look behind you to whatever was chasing.

Your labored breath became cold and dryed out your throat.

You ran and ran until you found a rather tall and lucrative looking building, somewhat of a mansion or moreso fitting of a castle.

Where the hell did that come from? You’ve never seen anything like it before in all the times you’d hiked in these woods.

You didn’t have much time to question it, but ran right to the door.

It was slightly crept open, so you figured it must have been some kind of open house or exhibit.

You rushed in, shutting the grand door.

As you caught your breath, you almost screamed when you heard a man’s voice right behind you. Who you somehow didn’t see when first stepping in, as if he’d appeared from thin air.

“Good evening.” The man said, burning candle in his hand.

You turned before he could even finish his greeting, a look of utter terror in your eyes.

“Are you well dear? You’re bleeding”

You didn’t even notice, but your knees had been scrapped and dripping blood halfway down your shins.

His eyes lit a shade of red barely able to be detected, or maybe it was just the reflection of the flame? You were quite scared and paranoid after all.

“Oh- I’m so sorry, The door was open and I didn’t know anyone was here- Someone was chasing me.”

“Oh my, are you alright? Come, let me offer you safety tonight.” He beckoned you to follow him, the rays of the small flame from the wax stick guiding you as he most graciously offered you a safe heaven in his home.

You looked around at the torchlit walls, it felt dark and cold throughout the entire place.

He walked you up 2 flight of stairs, his pace was quite constant throughout, almost like he was floating on each step.

You soon arrived into a hallway full of paintings adorning the walls, hand painted it seemed. So beautiful you had to point it out.

“You have a lovely home- is this artwork all yours?” You ask.

“Yes. I have quite a bit of spare time on my hands, so I much enjoy art.” He answered. The man’s voice was deep and mellow.

You walked down the red carpet hallway to the room all the way to the end, it seemed to be one of the many dozens.

There was a large canopy bed lined with dark lace and wooden upholstery.

“Please, spend the night here until morning. I wouldn’t want you to endanger yourself.”

Before you could even agree to his much eager assistance, he walked over to a box near the fireplace side table and pulled out several glass vials and bandages.

You walked toward him, and sat down per his instruction.

“Thank you- You’ve been so kind to me. Why?”

He chuckled, kneeling down to your level and applying an ointment to the cloth.

“Why? How ever could I turn away such a frightening young lady at my door. There are dangerous things in those woods.”

His tone sounded very concerned, but horrifyingly casual.

“What is your name Sir? If it’s okay to ask.”

“It’s perfectly okay. You can call me Blade.”

“Blade…Nice to meet you” What a strange name.

“Likewise. Now please, allow me.”

You nod, before he dabs a stinging oil to your knee. One by one.

He handles you well, gently.

His cold hands held your calves as he bandaged up your wounds.

He gets up from his knelt position, seeming even taller than he is when he stands from this view.

His long black hair was so dark it seemed blue, ends dipped in a color that resembled the shade of holly berries.

He sat down on the chair opposite of you, his face framed by the fireplaces glow behind him now.

“So tell me dear, what exactly happened?” His voice dripping in concern.

“I…really don’t know. I got lost hiking with my group and I tried to find them, but then I kept hearing weird noise in the forest and I thought it could be them looking for me. But-“

You stopped, reliving the sequence you just ran from.

He waited patiently for you to continue, his sculpture like face and rich eyes giving you their utmost attention.

“I saw blood, and a dead animal, I think a wolf or something could have done it. But there was a man- in the woods. It kept staring at me and getting close. So I ran for a while until I found your- castle?” You chuckle a little, the term house seemed beneath such a grand sanctuary.

“Maybe a werewolf?” The man said, giving you an amused chuckle. He waves his hand, “But anyways…That all sounds very frightening, I’m glad you found me.���

You nod, “As am I” you assure.

Whatever it was you are safe now y/n, very safe.” He took your hands into his own, giving them a positive squeeze with smiling eyes.

You nodded, but soon a hitch in your throat appeared and you felt like your stomach got kicked.

“I never told you my name.”

A smile appeared on his face, “Smart girl.”

His eyes glowed the same shade of sanguine you saw in the forest, chasing you. You could see two sharp teeth sticking past his upper lip, his smirk revealing to you his true identity.

You quickly get up, startled enough to drop the chair behind you and fall back onto the bed.

“Who are you-“ You scream, tears forming in the corners of your eyes as he stood slowly and walked toward you.

“I already told you that, didn’t I?.”

He cupped your face, making you look straight up at him.

“Please- don’t hurt me.” You plead, tears now falling from your eyes and staining your cheeks.

“Hurt you? I just tended to your wounds, why do you think I’ll harm you dear?” His voice sounds even lower at this point, and his eyes fiery.

You kick back your leg and retreat further back into the bed, almost yelling, “You’re a vampire-!”

“And your blood smells so deliciously decadent…I almost couldn’t resist tasting you a moment ago.” He crawls toward your frame, his large hands making deep prints into the mattress.

His eyes seemed to glow in a pattern, the color deepening snd glowing slowly as he got toward you.

Your body felt weak, as if magnetic to him. Almost willing to amuse him.

“What are- what are you doing to me-“

“I haven’t done a thing. I’m just increasing the magnitude of your emotions dear. Whatever you feel at this moment is your utmost desire spilling out every orafice in your body.”

You felt your mind whirl, your body get hotter with every inch he grew closer to you.

He soon wrapped his palms behind your back, seating you in his lap.

You felt an animalistic urge settle upon you, breathing even heavier than when you ran away from him earlier.

He grazed his hand up and down your legs, taking off your shoes and socks, rubbing the sore soles of your feet.

“You must get more comfortable my dear, you seem less tense, good.” He says, slowly pressing his lips to yours as you hold his shoulder.

His tongue found yours, warm in contrast to the rest of him; tangling itself in a waltz.

He nipped at your bottom lip and pricked it, tugging at it and licking the blood that drew from it with his tongue. “Virgin blood…You are truly magnificent.”

You felt your face heat up more than your body, his presence making you feel an insatiable hunger for lust.

“Blade- please…I feel-“

“Concupiscent? I can tell, y/n”, he said, his hand trailing up to your thigh and rubbing your heat through your shorts.

You roll your hips at his touch, a small mewl escaping you.

He picks you up and plops you down further back on the bed, your head hitting the pillow softly as his large frame hovers above your body.

“I can be very thorough in relieving your…lustful desires.”

“Please- yes…” You softly gasp, feeling his lips close to your neck before they kiss you.

Hungrily he rips your top apart, as if it were made of paper.

You quiver at his touch, fear set aside and now unrelentingly yearning for all of him.

“You need not worry…I will take, good, good care of you.”

You nod, watching him soon trail his lips down to your exposed chest.

He circles the tip of his tongue around your nipple, taking it entirely in his mouth to hear you moan out; the other in his hand, his hips grinding to meet your heat as he grinds into you through the fabrics keeping you apart.

“You are a marveling beauty.” He adds, his hands finding the hem of your shorts and pulling them right down, along with your panties.

He pulled back, holding your legs apart and examining every part of you, taking in the view of his next meal.

He watched you shyly try to look away, smirking when he saw how utterly messy your cunt was, glistening and dripping juices down to the sheets.

He didn’t waste much time after that, kissing your inner thigh before planting one on your clit.

He made the most deep, sinful noises as he lapped at your cunt, his eyes not breaking contact with yours as he inserts two long and slender fingers inside you.

He seemed to almost gain more pleasure from sucking on your clit than you did, almost.

You reacted like a beast in heat, legs trembling and hands gripping the sheets as your thighs pressed the sides of his face to pull him deeper into you.

You came faster than ever before. Blade sucked every drop out of you, wiping the corner of his mouth before grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head.

He kissed you once more, not biting this time. Yet.

Without giving you time to recoup- he shed his clothing and slapped his cock on your folds, slipping it inbetween them to get it ready for you.

“I need to taste you dear…truly taste you.”

“M-my blood?” You ask, feeling even weaker and more lustful.

“Yes” he whispers close to your lips, “You will let me drink from you, won’t you, my little temptress?”

You nod- pulling him close to you as if you’d wither without him.

“You are such an eager woman. I quite like that.” He says, before pushing his entire length deep, deep inside you. You groan, eyebrows furrowed harshly as you experience such a reveling sensation.

“Fuck-“ He breathes, “You’re so tight…do you ache for me so deep? You’re sucking me in so much…such a naughty whore you are.”

He moved in and out slowly, making you feel every vein and along his shaft.

You could feel his breathe on your chest, and soon his teeth.

He sinked them into the top of your breast, sucking the blood out of you ferociously as he rutted inside you faster now, making you cry out as tears rolled down your face in pleasure.

“Ah- Blade!…”

“It will only hurt for a moment…I’ll fuck you so deeply you won’t dare to forget it.” He spouts, his mouth dripping with your blood before going back in to take more.

You quickly notice a mirror behind Blade, you haven’t noticed it before but he wasn’t in it of course. All your blurry vision could attest was your spread apart pussy, gaping with a thick hole as you watched yourself be torn apart in the most delicious way, blood dripping down to your nipple, soon to be licked up from Blade tongue, as your body moved with the rhythm of the bed; snapping out of your trance once you heard his suckling.

He whimpered and moaned as he drank, gripping your ass harder as he thrusted into you at a pace you could nearly pass out from.

So much of your cum created a ring around his cock, squelching noises filled the room and muffled the crackling of the wood in the fire.

His grasp on the fat of your ass deepened, possessiveness overwhelming him.

“You’re mine now. You don’t belong in those treacherous woods, you will stay right here.” He commanded, imaging all the ways he’d ruin your perfect pussy, wrapped around him so well he was convinced you were destined to take him, to be his and his only to fuck, eat, and fill.

In response to his hold, you clenched your walls around him tighter until you felt warm fluid rush into your womb, nodding to his wishes profusely as you release together in the romantically gothic room, your breath huffing as you came down from an intense high.

Blade on the other hand, well the stamina of a vampire is quite impressive.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[onlydijah]

જ⁀➴ FAMILIARITY ❪ LES ❫

𝜗𝜚 CATCH IT! fem!reader, mentions of kissing and intimacy (no smut).

𝜗𝜚 WORDS FROM ME! this is NAWT❌ “fluff of the year” material i fear LMFAO i lwk lied thru my teeth srry guys🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️ wrote this instead of finishing part 2 of “BAD HABIT” but that’s almost done and should be out next week!

𝜗𝜚 :: time was never in KENJI’S favor, however, the very few and far between times it was, he never hesitated to devote it to you.

✧ WORDCOUNT :: 986

“KENJI! STOP!” you giggled, keeping your voice low as you ultimately failed to remove yourselves from Kenji’s firm grip.

“Come on baby, just 5 minutes,” he pleaded, “They won't even notice I'm gone, promise.” Kenji stuck out his pinky, eyes filled with a mix of mischief and devotion, praying his pleas didn’t fall upon deaf ears.

You anxiously looked side-to-side, analyzing the barren hallways for any sound or sign of people approaching. “2 minutes.”

“Fine.” Kenji conceded in a breath, too shortsighted to realize how little time your compromise left him with. You extended your pinky, to which he hooked his around, yanking you through the wide, changing room doors.

The state of the art equipment, carefully selected decor and pleasant hum of the electronics in the room were all drowned out as soon as Kenji crashed his lips onto yours, his soft breathing fanning your face.

You pushed him into a chair, pressing small, glassy pink proclamations of endearment on his chiseled face, courtesy of the strawberry flavored lip gloss you had applied moments prior.

Kenji dipped his head back in merriment, ghosting your lower back with his hands, leaving just enough space for you to move freely, but still close enough to catch you if you faltered in your straddled position. As he relished in the warmth of your tender affection and the feeling of your muffled giggles against this skin, you focused on other parts of his alluring face. The side of his nose, below his cheekbone— anywhere you might have missed.

“Is this gonna stain?” He remarked lowly, his slender fingers subconsciously pressing shapes into the sides of your hips.

“Shhh— don’t ruin the moment,” you pleaded, continuing. The changing room was pitch black, the only source of light being the measly floor lamp which was in desperate need of lightbulb change. The faint illumination covered Kenji's face like a soft blanket, softening his harsh features.

As the minutes dwindled into seconds, the faint roaring of the crowd began to get progressively louder, now being audible from inside the room you occupied. Your lips nuzzled against his neck, rolling down the skin tight, black compression shirt’s turtleneck and placing more tinted imprints down his neck.

Everything was serene and cozy, until you pulled away quickly when you heard discernible footsteps passing by the suite, the soft noise bringing you back to reality. The boy in front of you let out a small groan, voicing his displeasure with your sudden cut of contact. But looking at it from an outsider’s point of view; you were in an unlocked staff only room, perched on their star player’s lap, with smudged lips matching the exact color of kiss marks that were now littered across his face.

Suddenly, Kenji’s dissatisfaction wasn’t your biggest concern anymore.

You stood up instantly, flattening out your lightly wrinkled jersey and stealing Kenji’s black baseball cap, smoothing out your disheveled hair to the best of your ability and placing it on your head. “Okay, that was waymore than 2 minutes..” You proclaimed, smiling slyly when you glanced at Kenji’s flushed face.

His eyebrows drew in with discontent, “Can I atleast have my hat back?” He grumbled with mock venom. “Nope, you don't need it. I do.” you replied. Grabbing a mini rolled towel from the side table next to you, you began to lightly rub off the reflective marks one by one with the same care you inhibited when began intricately placing them, “You look funny, I should leave you like this.” You giggled, seizing hold of his chin. “Look to the left for me please,” Kenji obliged silently, turning his head.

As you gently wiped his face, his eyes couldn’t help but wander to yours, housing a foreign look of deep affection and devotion. He admired how your hair fell by your side when you looked down, and the soft touch of your manicured fingers on his skin.

Finishing quickly, you left only one by his neck. You adjusted the neckline fabric tediously, hiding the kiss to the best of your ability. You glanced up at him, surprised at the way his eyes had been focused on yours for quite some time now, eyelids glossy and mind deep in thought.

“Ken—“

“Kenji?” a deep voice called, footsteps nearing closer.

“Shit!” He whispered under his breath, “Okay, you should go now,” he gave a breathy laugh, the whites of his teeth peeking out as he smiled feebly.

“Bye Ken, good luck,” you wished him well, stealthy running out the room’s back door. Giggling as you silently passed by his manager.

Cade opened the door slowly, greeted by the ominous darkness and silence of the area. “H-hello? Ken. They need you out there, now!”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry!” Kenji turned around, frantically looking for… something? “I’m.. where did I put it?” Kenji mumbled to himself.

“Your helmet?” Cade blurted out, unsure.

“Yup, that mhm.” Kenji latched onto the premature lie, nodding his head slowly, the movement stiff and constrained in motion.

“Umm..” The elder stared at the player curiously, “Well I’m sure they have extras on the pitch, let’s go!”

SAFE TO SAY YOUR “LUCKY CHARM” WORKED, the giants winning 8-3.

“We should do that again sometime, huh? Before every game would be great.” Kenji smirked in your ear, walking beside you to the exit.

“Nuh-uh No more. 3 more seconds and we would’ve been caught.” You shook your head stubbornly, grabbing his hand and turning a corner.

“And?” Kenji quirked his brow, dumbfounded.

“Let me rephrase that..” you abrubtly freezed, “3 more seconds and I would’ve got caught— me.”

“I’m still not seeing the problem?” Kenji questioned, stopping along with you.

You huffed, “How do I explain this to you— I would look like a groupie.”

“Ohhhh” he smiled, “Yea I see it now, ‘s a shame.”

“Yea.”

© @onlydijah on tumblr. DO NOT copy, translate, or claim any of my works as yours. thank you! 💘

masterlist

[dragonridernoobie]

For TFP how would each team atobots reaction when they found THE original prediction and not a clone like predaking

Who has been sleeping and been guarding a piece of Primus for many years even at their old age, they just wanted to protect the last thing they have as a family and sort of the reason of the mythology of the world serpent in Norse mythology and quetlaquotal in Mexican mythology by how huge they are

Hmmm, I like the idea, I will try my best. Like I have said before, I am sorry this took so long, I've been busy with my injured arm/hand.

TFPAutobots X OldPrediconReader

Optimus found another artifact location after doing some codes.

So, the autobot team got ready and head out. This time bringing the kids since they believe it would be safe enough.

On their way, Raphael was showing miko, Jack, and Bumblebee how they were going to the location that made the legend of the world Serpent originally came from.

They were excited, we'll miko was since shebwas hoping to see a real life serpent.

Oh, how she will know how her wish came true.

When they got close to the location, they realized how the mountain had some old ruins around it. Lost in time from the jungle around it.

While they slowly go into the ruins, they see art on the side of the ruins walls. It showed some type of creature that was fighting other giant creatures.

Raphael couldn't take pictures to figure out what they were saying since it was so badly run down from time.

When they got closer to the center of the mounting, they saw a gaint predicon laying down, covering the hole room.

It looked offline, but it was as huge as the decpticons warship. This offline predicon has been here for years since it had moss, fallen rocks, rust, and plants growing on it.

In the back of the room is the artifact. A artifact that can regenerate any cybertronian part from nothing.

The team approaches it and looks at it. More ancient text is above it, but again, it's too hard to read because of the years of erosion.

When the autobots grabbed it and started to walk away from it. It suddenly turns on, and let's go a powerful pulse that sent all the autobots back.

Once the autobots are able to get back up, the predicon body moves. Everyone stairs in disbelief as the optics of the predicon body turns on and the body starts to move.

The predicon slowly rises, debri falls while it rises. Once it's at its full height, it stairs down at the autobots.

Its mouth opens, and the most loudest and ear piercing sound comes from it. It suddenly charges a fire breath that causes the autobots to grab the artifact, kids, and run.

The fire stream follows them outside and burns the trees around the mounting temple.

The autobots wasted no time to transform and drive. In the review mirrors, they see the mountain explode and the predicon rises from it.

It roars and takes flight. It chases after them and blows fire. Burning everything. They eventually come to a cliff where there is no riffed at the bottom and no way out.

The predicon lands before them and walks toward them. They prepare for a fight.

Optimus decided to try one last option and prays for it to work.

He steps forward and with his most powerful and loud voice, he interduces himself as pptimus prime, the last of the primes.

The predicon stops and stairs. It growls and a old scratchy voice is heard from the predicon as it speaks.

"Prove it. Show me you are a prime."

So, pptimus opens his chest and shows the all spark. The predicon sees this and lowers it's head.

"Apologies for attacking you. I was only keeping the artifact safe."

Optimus asked why, and the predicon explains they were sent on earth by primus himself to portact the powerful artifical since dark times where to rise soon.

Optimus explains those dark times are the great war. The predicon understands and asks to join Optimus and his mission.

Obviously Optimus excepts. Thought, not even 3 seconds later, miko runs forward and up to the gaint predicon.

"Can you let me ride you! How much do you weigh? Have you ever fought something as big as you? How old are you? Are you a boy or a girl?"

Bullhead had to grab miko to shut her up and apologizes for mikos behavior. Though, the predicon just laughs.

"It seems humans have not changed at all in my 8000 year slumber. Hello little one. Hello to all 3 of you."

Arcee wasent on bored of (Y/N) being on the team because of them almost killing them.

Ratchet as in agreement, but optimus reminded them that they were only doing their job.

Bumblebee says they are excited since they want to ride (Y/N), which caused (Y/N) to say they aren't some creature to ride on.

This is gonna be fun.

[s-4pphics]

click!: in frame. 2 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you crave redemption more than love. [idk au]

WORD COUNT: 11.5k

WARNINGS: professionalphotographer!ellie, strugglingartist!oc who’s black, ANGST!!, daddy issues, SA/victim blaming :(, homophobia LOL, anger issues\violence, bad parenting, anxiety, joel standing on bidness, FLUFF!! :3, SMUT… MDNI, ellie bottoms YAAAS, virginity mentions, jealousy😂, dubcon (they’re high), more fingering, brief mentions of cunning lunning, squirting, mult. big Os, err dassit

A/N: YYYYAASSSSSSSS hi… bye 

APRIL, 2014

Happy birthday, babe, you whisper in your girlfriend’s ear, arms wrapped around her neck from behind. Ceniyah’s giggly thank yous fill your ears and heart as you press smacking kisses on her cheek. 

I made you something… You reach behind and grab the rolled-up poster paper sticking out of your backpack, making sure Ceniyah doesn’t turn around. She seems giddy and your heart soars. You hope that all-nighter was worth it. Please, you pray to yourself, please love it. 

Close your eyes and gimme your hand, you say and she listens, palm open in front of your face. You place the scroll in her hand and she gasps. She whips around to face you, shock written all over her, and you giggle. She unrolls the painting and her head instantly falls back, tears jerking behind her glasses. 

Are you seriously crying right now! You pull her tight to your chest and she sobs into your neck, C’mon, baby, stop cryin’! S’okay. You coo and her arms tighten around your waist. 

D-D’you like it? Your face burns when you whisper. 

Are you fucking serious! She squeaks into your neck, It’s beautiful, baby, I love it. T-Thank you—

I love you so much, you mumble, and she says it back. 

You haven’t slept at all. Your body’s going to collapse soon. You hope it’s not during this phone call. 

You ogle at the small card in your hand, pressing the digits into your device before hitting the call button. It rings twice before a bright voice answers. 

“Hello, this is Lisa Meyers speaking. How can I be of service?”

… Interesting intro. “Good morning, um, Professor Meyers?” 

“Yes, how can I help you?” 

“I… we spoke at the coffee shop yesterday. About the… assisting art professors alumni thing.” 

“Oh, of course! How are you, dear?”

“I’m good. Um… I was wondering if you’d have some time to speak with me about it... If that’s cool.”

You can hear her wide smile through the line, “More than cool! Would you be able to come into the office tomorrow?” 

An extra day in the city wouldn’t hurt (it would), “No problem. What time were you thinkin’?” 

“My mornings are always open! How does ten sound?” 

“Sounds like a plan. Uh, thank you,” you say with twitchy fingers. 

“Course, hun! I’ll put you in and I’ll see you tomorrow!” 

You never expected to end up back here. 

The campus art studio looks exactly the same, only now the old portraits, sculptures, ceramics that were lined up on shelves of the display case are all replaced with new, nameless ones. You’re not used to seeing projects that you couldn’t attach a name to in the classroom. Your university years never feel that long ago, but the randomly placed structures are proof of your long-term absence. 

Time is an illusion… Or you’re getting old as fuck and about to be lowered into the ground. Freshmen make you sick(affectionately). 

Professor Meyers explained the position well enough for you to manage on your own. The work you’re doing isn’t difficult: oversee, assist in grading, oversee some more, oversee, and guide. You’re practically getting a check for being the already observant individual that you are. It’s a steal! 

The position only lasts around a month, but Professor Meyers was convinced that it would only take someone as talented as you (her words… although you agree) a week to get on her toes. You vowed to bring your sketchbook every day from here on out, both to yourself and to her, in case you get the inkling of inspiration that you desperately need. 

The job’s a small win. That’s all you could ask for right now. 

Fuck all that shit you said at the start of the week. TAing fucking sucks. And you still haven’t had any inspiration despite all the efforts from the students! Whenever you pick up a utensil, you stab through your paper. You’ve officially lost your touch. You’re a regular bitch with no talent! What the fuck is going on! 

You’ve had numerous breakdowns in bathroom stalls since Monday, and you’re bound to have another one in the next fifteen seconds. Why the fuck did so many students leave their filled water cups on the fucking tables. Guess who has to clean all that shit up! You! Fuck freshman(unaffectionately). 

You’re so happy the halls are empty in between rotations. No one needs to watch you sobbingly wipe down tables splattered with paint. 

After Professor Ronson’s room is tidy, you start prepping the board for the next rotation of students. They’re learning about anatomy today; There’s bound to be at least three students that scribble tiny dicks in the corner of their starter pages. You hate it here. 

You open the drawer to retrieve all the sharpeners, only to find the container completely empty. You’re sick of the animators not putting shit back. You begrudgingly make your way back down the hall and into Professor Lacey’s room… You should’ve never left.

Your lungs constrict with your gasp and you almost drop your keys. 

A just as shocked Ellie gawks back at you, laminated name tag with YEARBOOK dangling from the camera strap around her neck. 

What the fuck.

Ellie’s either hallucinating or dead. Yeah… She has to be dead. The haunting of your email was too much and she died and now she’s seeing shit—

An angel disguised as you is staring back at her, fist clenched under the sleeves of your sweater, brown eyes just as stunned as hers. Ellie barely has time to gather words before the chains hooked onto the pockets of your jeans jingle as you step out of the room and scurry down the hallway. Ellie’s feet are flying before she can even register their movements, hot on your trail as her camera bounces on her chest. 

She manages to get close enough to grab your bicep, ignoring the stuttering in her heart when she sees the former light in your eyes replaced with something darker. The flourishing storm in your pupils is uncontrollable. 

Ellie drops your arm when she realizes you won’t run, “W-What are you doing here?” 

Your gaze is locked onto the tile squares on the ground. “I-I’m, uh… just enjoyin�� the weather— “

Ellie’s brows pull downward, eyes flicking towards the badge wrapped around your neck. Do you work here? “We’re indoors.” She mumbles dryly. 

“Nothin’ like… the spring rain hittin’ the windows, am I right?“ You huff with a nervous smile, eyes flitting around the hallway as you search for an escape. Ellie’s not having that. 

“We needa talk.” 

You sigh, “I can’t. I’m working.” 

“So am I. Take your break,” Ellie grabs your wrist and drags you back down the hallway, leading you to the bathroom and pushing you into a stall, locking the door behind her. 

Her voice is quiet when she presses, “The fuck are you doing here?” 

Ellie expects you to snap, to push the same questioning back onto her, but you don’t. Your mouth gapes like a fish as you stumble over words. Ellie’s eyes soften when she sees a shaky hand come up to pin a loc behind your ear. You’re shaken up and she instantly notices something off. Your demeanor has shifted immensely since she last seen you and it’s making Ellie’s stomach twist with discomfort. She's never seen you this stunted. 

“What.” Ellie asks when you mumble to the floor. 

“I’m sorry about the email,” You sound winded, “I thought… I dunno. I’m sorry about everythin’.” Your lip starts to quiver as you ramble, “I would’ve never come if I knew, I’m sorry— “ 

… What the hell are you talking about? And why are you crying? 

You sniffle and wipe your tears with your sleeves and Ellie’s fingers itch to comfort, to dry your face herself, but she doesn’t. She watches you weep into your palms for what feels like hours, the air of the restroom suffocatingly tight. 

“I didn’t mean to ruin anything you h — had going on, okay? I’m sorry… I’ll leave right now! You’ll never have to see me again— “

Your sobs are stressing her, “G-Gimme your phone.” Ellie blurts. 

You're already digging in your pocket for your device to unlock it, “W-Why— “

Ellie snatched it from your hand, heart pulling when she sees a photo of younger you being carried by a woman shoved in your case. The same face that was littered all over your apartment, “You wanted to talk so bad, right?” Ellie presses her new number into the pad and calls herself, “You have my number. My…” 

When she looks up, her words get swallowed up; Your eyes still manage to glow under the… horrific bathroom lighting, glittering like stars in the late night. She clears her throat to catch herself, “My shift ends at four. Call me any time after that.” 

Ellie hurries to unlock the stall before leaving you in the bathroom, heart in her throat as she heaves all the way down the hallway to the lounge, shaking her hands to get the jitters out. 

She knew she should’ve never accepted a call from the alumnus association. Fuck the yearbook. 

You clock out with a heavy, anxious heart. 

Three students came up to you and asked for advice on their starter shapes. They were a bit upset when their circles didn’t come out perfect, and you almost cried. It was too sweet. Your bag bounces off your back as you descend the staircase to exit the building. The droplets hit your hood with fever as you skip to your car. You jump into the driver’s seat to turn the heat on, teeth chattering from the evening breeze. 

You check the time on your dash and… it’s way past four. You hope Ellie’s willing to meet. You dial the most recent number and tremble as the phone rings. She answers after the second tone. 

“Hello?” 

She sounds so relaxed, and your shoulders unlock, “… Hi. It’s… me?” 

A lengthy pause, “… Me who?” 

You hide a snort, “Um… ex-roomie?” She chuckles lightly. “Hi.”

“… Hi.” You whisper, “Did you, um… still wanna talk to me?” You think you hear the click of a lighter. 

“Mhm. I’ll send you where I stay at.” 

“Okay… I’ll see you soon?” 

“Yup.” And with that, the line goes dead. Ellie’s location delivers not even a minute later. Her hotel isn’t far from here. . . and fuck, it looks like wealth. Your nerves are nowhere near settled after your last attempt at reconciliation, and paranoia is itching beneath your skin. 

You open your GPS and blast your screamo playlist, hollering your way down the street with your windows down, rain be damned. 

You’re burning holes through Ellie’s hotel room door. 

You haven’t knocked, you haven’t rang. . . you're not even sure if your text of arrival went through. You just stare at the peephole with a clenched jaw. This big bag of Cool Ranch Doritos is doing an excellent job as a stress ball. It’s bound to pop from your grip soon.

Your bladder almost lets loose when the door gets pulled open, nostrils instantly hit with wafts of that forbidden flower. You’re pulled through the small crack by a strong grip before the door is shut and locked behind you. 

Ellie faces you, bare arms on display, and leans back against the door… in those fucking grey sweats. After all this time, they still cause damage to your soul, “Sorry. I don’t wanna get kicked out.” 

“It’s… you’re good.” You point behind her, trying not to gawk at her tattoo, “How’d you know— “

“You breathe loud.” She says simply, tone hushed and raspy. She nods behind you, “Sit down.” 

She follows you to the lounge chairs that face each other. You sit, still tense, suddenly back in therapy, “I-I brought you somethin’.” You push the crumpled bag of chips towards her as she relights her joint. 

Her pink, doe-eyes flit between yours and the bag before she mumbles, “Thank you.” 

“No problem…” You awkwardly set them on the windowsill, swallowing your guilt and deciding to take initiative, “I… I know you have a lot of things going on and I don’t wanna take up too much of your time… I’m just…” 

The loud splattering of raindrops is nerve-wracking, “I wasn’t… I didn’t treat you well. College was a very hard time for me and I didn’t really know how to deal with it without being a bitch—” 

Carbon leaves her nose, “Is that your excuse?”

“N-No, no! I’m not… I’m not tryna avoid blame. I was terrible and you — no one deserved what I put them through… I-I’m really sorry, Ellie… From the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry.”

Ellie’s silent. You have no idea what she’s thinking; She could be plotting to get you kicked out of her room right now and you wouldn’t know. Her stare isn’t angry, it isn’t anything… she just watches you. Every squeeze of your hands, bounce of your knee, every tic photographed in her memory. Just like before. 

“Why're you back on campus?” 

You exhale the breath you’d been holding, “Um… I gotta, like, TA job, I guess. With the art profs.”  

“Still doing art, then, I guess.”

You stare down at your lap, “Yeah. Trying to.” You croak. 

“Trying?” She asks, brows furrowed. Your shoulders bounce in a shrug. “I, err, hadn’t made anything in a while so… yeah. I thought it’d get me back into it.” 

“Are you?” 

“Hm?”

“Are you back into it?” 

“I don’t know yet.” 

“Why were you so upset when I moved out?” Ellie’s tone shifts into something much more delicate, ready to crack and bleed open at any given moment. You can’t tell her, your brain bellows over the pleads from your heart. You can’t tell her how much you missed her!

Your jaw slacks dumbly as you search for a believable explanation, mind blanking under her scrutinizing stare. 

“I was drunk. I-I don’t remember…” 

“You were drunk and don’t remember.” You cringe at her tone. 

“Ellie… I don’t wanna— “

“Don’t wanna what? Actually be fucking honest?” Your babbles are silenced as she rants. “You reached out to me and you can’t even answer one question honestly. Why’d you even come?” She seems so disappointed in your response, but what can you do? Tell her how every part of your body yearns to be next to her? How you almost collapse when you saw her for the first time in what felt like an eternity? How manipulative would that be after everything you’ve done?

Ellie’s index finger jumps on the armrest as silence takes over once more. She’s deep in thought, it seems, teeth nipping at the skin of her lip. 

“Ellie— “

“When I moved out…” She repeats sternly, “you told me you didn’t want me to go. Why did you say that?” 

It’s on the tip of your tongue: because I’m weak and I like you! I’m sorry I didn’t fight! I’m sorry, I'm sorry, I’m sorry! 

“B-Because I didn’t want you to go…” You whisper between sniffles, wiping your nose with your sleeve. 

“Why's that?” 

“I… really liked having you around…” You chose your words very carefully, but they’re not a lie. “You’re… you’re really nice.” 

That seems to satisfy her a little, “I’m really nice?” Ellie’s brow quirks, a tiny smile blossoming on her face. 

“And funny.” You sob, “Like, I laughed a lot.” 

“You’re funny, too,” Ellie says awkwardly while scratching her ear. Your heart pulses. 

Her eyes search yours, “I didn’t know how I would react when you got here. The thought of seeing you really… fucking freaked me out.” She scoffs to herself, and your shoulders begin to droop. “But… um...” She pauses and your pulse pounds in your neck. Tears brim in your ducts. This is when she tells you to leave. To fuck off. To drop dead, for fucks sake—

“I’m glad you reached out.” 

You gawk in disbelief before your bottom lip trembles, “Really?” You ask meekly. She simply nods. 

“Me, too.” You’re really trying not to cry right now, but the softness in her gaze isn’t helping. She’s too sweet. You change the topic before you say something you’ll regret. You point to the bag of chips, “I really hope you like that flavor. I just grabbed it because I was overthinking.” 

“I don’t know why you bought those. I still owe you a bag from what I remember,” She grabs them, squeezing the end until the other side pops open. She grabs four ships and crunches them all at once before extending the bag to you. You follow her lead and munch to your heart's content. 

“I was never mad at you, y’know.” Ellie sets the bag down and reignites her roach. “I wasn’t, uh, innocent, either. We both fucked up,” She puffs and hands it to you. You've never smoked bud before, only stole a couple of Abby’s edibles a while back. She vowed never to smoke with you since you’re a tweaker. 

You accept the charred-to-hell baby jay and stare at it. You shrug, “Wasn’t worse than me. How do I do this without burning my finger off?” 

“Err… just breathe in and hold it.” She instructs. “Have you never gotten high?” 

“I have. I don't— “

“Oh, yeaaah. Non-smoker. Sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” you mumble before bringing the remnants up to your lips and sucking in. Nothing happens. Ellie snickers, “Not like that. It’s not a fucking lollipop. Just, like, fill your cheeks up and hold it.” 

… Are you an idiot? “I don’t know what that means.” Ellie cackles like a witch at your lost expression, nearly falling over in her chair. Your cheeks burn and you try again, cheeks expanding to fill in the smoke. The second you inhale, you start choking, eyes bulging out of your skull from the burn in your chest. 

Ellie finds your near-death experience fucking hysterical as she hollers from her seat. Tears stream down your face and the veins in your neck are bulging as you gasp for air. You’re never doing this shit again. Your lungs finally decide to spare you when Ellie passes you water from her dresser. You gulp that shit down like no tomorrow as Ellie’s giggles dwindle. 

“What the,” cough, “fuck— “

“Fucking baby lungs,” Ellie mumbles with a grin. “You’ll be fine after a couple tries.” 

You chug more water, “Girl… fuck you.” You gasp. Ellie’s grin turns cocky when her head tilts. 

“Fuck me?” Her voice lowers and goosebumps rise on your skin. Your heart stops in your chest and your gaze falls to the floor as your tummy swirls in delight, cheeks fiery. You stand and Ellie sits up at your sudden alertness. 

“Um… Like I said, thank you for taking the time to talk to me today. I really appreciate it.” Ellie stands to grab your arm when your feet slowly start backing towards the door. 

Her smile drops, “I-I’m sorry. I was just kidding—” 

“No, it’s fine! It’s not you! I just, uh… y’know what I mean?” 

“… No.” She mumbles, “You don’t… have to go yet. You just got here.” She chuckles weakly. 

“I just… don’t wanna… pry.” You whisper like it’s shameful. Ellie’s head shakes in denial, “You’re not! I’m… inviting you.” 

Your eyes beg her to understand where you’re coming from. It’s not like you don’t want to, but the two of you just got back cool three seconds ago. The last thing you want to do is force yourself back into her life. Your relationship needs time to marinate and heal before anything else happens… if she allows it. 

“I… I still miss Pickle?” You suggest with bright eyes, and Ellie’s soften despite her confusion. “Would it be okay if I see her?” You ask quietly. 

Her mouth turns upwards, “How long are you in town?” 

“I don’t know… These hotel bills are runnin’ my credit in the fucking mud.” You sigh. 

“She’s with my dad right now. Come this weekend. I’m outta here on Friday, anyways.” She suggests, cheeks glowing in the dimming room. You hope Ellie doesn’t notice your dejection at the mention of her father… It still stings. Her eyes are so hopeful, meadows flurrying with excitement… and you can’t say no. 

“…Okay.” 

“Yeah?” She confirms, smile widening. You nod. “She misses you like crazy.” Ellie notes and tears get to cooking. You think about Pickle every day. Little munchkin. 

“I miss her, too.” You sniffle. The hand that rests on your bicep slowly slides down your sleeve, closing around your wrist. Not strong, but her hold is steady. Ellie whispers your name. 

“Hm?” 

“I’m glad we’re… okay.” Your heart soars with adoration. Her eyes explore your face in admiration, and your body glows. 

“Me, too. Thank you.” Ellie’s gentle gaze drops to your lips and you stiffen. Your hands clench when she moves an inch closer. It kills you to move away, and an inkling of hurt overcasts in her forest. She lets you go and backs away, “Sorry— “

Your head shakes desperately, “S’okay, I just think we should… move… slower?” You never fail to sound like an alien who just arrived on Earth, but Ellie seems to get it. 

“Yeah, I… yeah.” Ellie stares at her sock-covered feet, red dusting her cheeks. You try to hide a smile while she walks you towards her door. She opens it for you, propping up against it. 

“See you Friday?” You throw over your shoulder and Ellie grins. “See you Friday.” She parrots. You can’t stop cheesing even after she closes the door. You make your way back into your driver’s seat, heart bleeding with relief. 

MAY, 2014

Her record is clean! I would’ve never expected this from such a great kid, your professor says to your father, But violence, especially to this extreme, is completely unacceptable—

What about what he did to me! You shout, and your father glares at your tone, He put his hands on me first! H-He—

Your body shudders in disgust at the recall of your classmate touching you the way he did. You were on your way to class when hands enclosed around your chest in a tight squeeze, all oxygen leaving your body. It was abrasive and made your skin crawl, and you swung. Your arms moved on their own until you were on top of him, his nose gushing blood while his friends attempted to pry you off. 

There was laughter when he groped you. So many people — students that you see every day — all watched it, and no one came to your defense. 

Your principal sighs with his palms up, I’m just trying to get to the bottom of what happened—

No, you’re not! I already told you what happened and you’re tryna make it seem like I’m lying! You stand and grab your bag off the floor, stomping towards the door to the office, Y’all can choke—

Your dad calls out for you, and your fingers twitch at his tone, but you keep walking, pushing past the double-doors of the school and towards the bike rack. Tears flood your eyes when the double doors slam shut, your father berating you about making a scene in public. You unlock your ride, blocking out his rampage that draws the security guard’s attention. 

He put his hands on me, dad! You shriek as loud as you can between your cries, He put his hands on me! Why’re you yellin’ at me?

I’m not yelling at you! I’m yelling in general! You scoff and swing your leg over your bike, strapping your helmet on, I’m tryna understand what happened! You broke his goddamn nose! They’re boutta suspend you! 

Imma be at Maya’s, you say, monotone. I’ll see you later. 

Amaya isn’t even home. Your dad’s hollering his lungs out as you ride down the sidewalk, but you block it all out until the wind fills your ears like a monsoon. You’re not sure where you’re going, but it’s somewhere. 

Hopefully somewhere you can cry to yourself without disturbance. 

-

-

-

It’s your first day back at school since being suspended. Fuck everybody… except Amaya and Ceniyah. You probably would’ve switched schools if it wasn’t for them. You can’t wait to see them during lunch and tell them how fucked up it’s been staying at home. 

Today has been weird as fuck, to say the least. Friends that you’ve grown used to talking to in the hallways have either disappeared or ignored you. It’s quiet around you, now, and you’re on edge. What the fuck is going on?

Walking into the cafeteria is frightening. It’s always loud, rowdy, hectic, but the minute you step foot inside, everything seems to stop. You grip your tray so tight; you think it’s about to snap, frantically searching for your girlfriend. 

But your two favorite people are nowhere to be seen. You wander and come up empty-handed. Where the fuck are they—

Your thoughts are cut when a shoulder shoves right into yours. You throw your tray onto the nearest table. Laughter surrounds you before a snarky voice shriek in your ears.

Watch where the fuck you’re going, 

No, you watch where the fuck you’re going. Dumb ass bitch, You spit. You're about to get suspended for knocking this broad out. Who even is this? 

Coming from the slut who cheated on her girlfriend! Are you sure you’re a lesbian? Or are you going back to dick? 

The entire room seems to collapse from top to bottom, crushing you beneath clutter in attempts to suffocate. You freeze when everyone turns to stare at the scene, some standing to surround you, hoping to see a fight. You release a shuddering breath as your fist clench. 

… Cheated on your girlfriend? You love your girlfriend. You’re in love with your girlfriend, and she’s in love with you! What the fuck is this bitch talking about. 

I think she’s going back to dick! One of them laughs, and the rest follow, and the entire room glows red. 

Your knuckles are drenched in the color when your dad comes to pick you up. 

PRESENT

Maybe being a TA is helping. You’ve finally pulled your sketchbook out of your work bag. 

The point of your fine liner hovers over a blank page of your sketchbook. You can’t stop thinking about Ellie, and you don’t have many distractions. 

It’s been so long since you’ve created anything, and frankly, your ass is clenched with anxiety. Never in your life would you think that creating art would wrack your nerves in such a way, but your insecurities are working hard. Probably the hardest they ever have. Once upon a time, your sketchbook was your safe haven, and now the feeling of blank pages feels like needles. 

What if you’ve… lost your talent? You can see everything you want to make clearly in your head but your pen isn’t moving. The attempts at reigniting your passion would be pointless if you can no longer fucking draw. Your fingers are itching. 

Maybe you should try that corny shit from the movies where they close their eyes and move their utensils on pure muscle memory… Maybe you should do fucking shrooms! Visuals always peak on psyches, according to the experts. At this point, why the fuck not— 

“Son of a fucking — this is fucking stupid, bitch, jus’ fuckin’ draw,” you mutter to yourself in agitation. Just fucking draw! You do this! You do this, you do this!

Minutes pass and your paper is mussed with smudged, small ink marks from constantly moving your pen around, trying to find the right angle. Another piece of paper gone to waste. You fucking suck. You slam your pen down on the table. 

You stand and start to pace, “Positive affirmations only,” You remind yourself aloud, “You got this shit, like, what the fuck. Everything’s gonna come back to you. You’re in a funk and tha’sit. It’ll pass, it’ll pass— “

Whoever your hotel neighbor is… Praying for their sleep schedule. 

It’s going to be a long night. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, kiddo. Sorry I missed your call. Your pet knocked out on my hand.” 

Ellie giggles, “It’s cool. How ya been?”

“Fine… She’s a rascal, ain’t she? I found her head first in one of my flower pots. Her tiny legs were wiggling tryna get herself out,” His chuckles are like warm hugs, “How’s work?”

Ellie’s cackles calm, “Also fine… Err…Um… speaking of Pickle…” 

Her dad hums, and Ellie sighs, “Remember when I told you about how I found her?” 

“Yeah… You and that girl found the poor thing freezing to death outside… Why?”

“… Would you believe me if I said we somehow reunited by the grace of God and she’s coming back with me tomorrow?” Ellie squeaks, and her confidence drops when he exhales. It sounds heavy. 

“Um… for what?” 

“To see Pickle…”

“…Alright.”

“What’re you thinkin’,” She nips at her nails. 

“Nothin’…” 

“Dad…” 

“I dunno what you want me to say, darlin’… Everything you’ve told me about her so far wasn’t… great to hear.” 

Ellie rolls onto her back, “Yeah… I dunno. Something’s different about her now.” 

“How so?” 

She can’t tell him how badly your shielded eyes have taken a toll on her. How desperately she wants them to revert to the shining rivers they used to be. How badly her chest ached when you left her room last night, “I dunno. It just is…” She mutters weakly. Another heavy sigh. 

“I mean… You’re an adult. I can’t tell you what to do anymore.” 

“Don’t be like that, please.” 

“Not being like anything. I can only accept.” 

Ellie’s hand drags down her face in exasperation. The rants she relinquished onto her dad about you are making her nauseas. 

“Just… be nice to her, please.” He hums begrudgingly. 

“Dad, I’m serious. I feel like we… could be friends.” 

“Friends… Alright.” He sounds skeptical, but he isn’t combative. She hopes he’ll keep it together when he sees you, “How should I plan for this friend when she gets here?”

Ellie smiles sadly, “Make eggplant parmesan…”

Her dad snorts, “… Since when do you like eggplant?” 

Ellie grins, “I don’t.” 

Why can’t black roses be real? 

Ellie doesn’t seem like a flower girl, but she has a gigantic leaf imprinted on her arm for the rest of her life; She must appreciate the autotroph kingdom. Your mother always told you how fucked it is to enter people’s homes empty handed. Walmart usually pulls through with the awkward housewarming gifts, but they’re slacking in their garden selection today. Fuck your life. 

You’re forced to settle on peonies… They’re pretty and all, but you’d prefer alliums for her. Maybe even a carnation. Plus, Amaya always told you to never buy flowers that sound like penis. 

Amaya… Are you really about to break down in the frozen food section? Maybe. It’s time to go. You're shocked to find out you have more than ten dollars on your card. Fuck hotels, from the depths of your soul. 

You set your purchase in the passenger’s side and pull up Ellie’s pinged location. She left way earlier than you. You would’ve carpooled, but you couldn’t miss these hours for this paycheck. How are you a struggling student and not even in school? 

The drive is going to be long. 

At least you have time to scream out your frustrations. 

“Hey, Siri.” 

… UH HUH?

“Play This Cold Black by Slipknot.” 

PLAYING THIS COLD BLACK BY SLIPKNOT. 

Your head thrashes as you back out of your parking spot. 

“WELCOME HOOO— “

The ride wasn’t long enough, actually. Ellie’s dad’s house is right there. Like… right fucking there, and your voice is almost gone. Clouds are beginning to roll in over the neighborhood. The universe is fucking with you. Great. 

You dump the last bits of water into the thirty-dollar, peony-stuffed vase before exiting your car, backpack strapped over your shoulder. You climb the brick staircase with a pounding heart. 

“Okay,” You croak, “Hi. Nice to meet you, Mr. Miller. I heard my — our cat was with you—“ You rehearse and cringe. Why are you pressing him about a cat in his domain? 

“Fuck, okay, wait,” You try again, “Hi, Mr. Miller, I’m Ellie’s, uh, friend. We were roommates some time ago— “ 

Some time ago? Who the fuck are you? Shakespeare? Emily fucking Brontë? Get a fucking grip. 

You almost drop the fucking vase when the door opens. Your coughs are uncontrollable when you see Ellie, eyes flicking between you and the ring light camera. Why the fuck does she look so good? Cartier watch, black button up and slacks, hair… neat. She’s about to trigger your asthma! 

“Uh… you okay?” She questions flatly. You’re still choking on your own esophagus, but you send her two thumbs up anyway. You’re great! Terrific! Immediately scared shitless when a… big ass man holding a black furball creeps up behind her. He’s not as dolled-up as Ellie and it makes you less insecure. Why the fuck do you have this hoodie on? You should’ve at least worn some trousers! 

“Nice to meet you.” His voice sounds like grovel. Gravel? You can’t fucking think right now! He adjusts Pickle in his grasp so he can extend a polite hand out to you, “I’m Joel. I’m Ellie’s father,” He sounds courteous, but there’s something simmering beneath his pupils as he stares at you. 

His grip is strong when you accept it. You’re going to vomit, “I-I’m — I mean, hi, I’m, uh… Me’n Ellie used to live together—“ You sound like a frog who just learned how to speak. 

“I’ve been told.” He hums.

Meow!

You almost start bawling at your baby’s cry. She's so big now and her coat is so shiny! She’s eating well. Ellie accepts the flowers with dusted cheeks before stepping aside and allowing you entry. You’re instantly hit with the smell of garlic… Can the whole bloodline throw down in the kitchen? 

“Nice home!” You crack and cringe. You cringe so fucking hard. They both say thanks in unison, but her father’s is gruff while Ellie’s is delicate like petals. She can’t stop staring down at the flowers. Joel finally sets Pickle down so he can head back into the kitchen, and she follows him without hesitation. 

She doesn’t remember you. Your heart shatters. 

“Thank you for the flowers,” You hear Ellie say from beside you. You swallow the lump forming in your throat with a smile. “No problem… You look, um, great.” And you smell like heaven. Like clouds before the rain. 

Her face gets redder and she grins behind petals, “Thank you. I got called in today. For… editing and whatnot.”  

You snicker, “Whatnot?” 

“Shut up. C’mon.” You follow her into the kitchen where she sets the vase in the middle of the dining table before waddling towards her dad, who stands over the stove. You stand back and watch as she playfully punches his upper arm while he stirs the simmering pot, cracking jokes amongst themselves while Pickle paws at Ellie’s calf. Your doting smile vanishes at their laughter; What a little happy family. Are you breathing? 

You turn to face the living room and breathe in as deep as you can, eyes glued to their maroon couch. You crack your knuckles and release the wind in your lungs before repeating. 

“You’re okay, it’s okay. You knew what it was before you came,” you whisper to yourself. Ellie mentioned how close her and her dad were way before you got here, so why is the pain in your chest so sharp? 

A hand comes down on your shoulder and you jump, “Sor — fuck, sorry — “

“Are you okay?” Ellie asks, concerned. 

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine! Jus’ looking around,” You laugh shakily and note the large paper crane on the TV stand. You point at it, “That’s so cool! Did you make that? I love origami.” 

“No, my dad did— “

Fuck, “Oh— “

“Yeah, um— “

“D-Do you have a restroom?” 

She observes with worry, “… Yeah, right down that hall, to the left— “

“Thank you, BRB,” You’re practically running to the fucking bathroom. The door closes and locks and you pace. They have a nice shower curtain: black and white stripes. You count them all from top to bottom. 

“Your dad’s dead, fucking relax, it’s been like that, it’s been like that,” You exhale shakily, tremors building in your hands, “You’re fine, you’re fine, calm the fuck down.” You unzip your hoodie and ball it up before shoving your face in it. Your screams into it are muffled. 

You come up for air and stare into the mirror, “You’re fucking fine. The food smells good as fuck and you’re gonna eat and you’re fine.” You open the door and… kitty’s staring at you. She’s sitting pretty and inspecting your disheveled appearance. 

“Hi, baby. Remember me?” You squat and stick your hand out to her. She sniffs curiously before nipping at your pinky. “Ow,” you coo with a smile. 

“She remembers you.” 

Ellie’s leaning against the wall with her arms folded over her chest. You need her to stomp the fuck out of you with affection; She looks so fucking good, fuck—

“I hope,” you squeak and cough. It scares the shit out of Pickle and she runs. 

Ellie’s gaze lingers on your bare arms. “Can we talk for a sec?”

“Yup.” Sound casual, you think. You sprinkle a shrug in there. She nods before heading down the hall and entering the last door. You can’t hide your shocked expression at the scenery. 

Every inch of the room is covered in posters, most of them about galaxies and all their intricacies. There’s a red racecar bed covered in Regular Show sheets and pillowcases and a bunch of stuffed animals, dresser covered with discarded sticker papers and seemingly empty polaroid cameras. There are fairy lights dangling from the ceiling before coming down and around the bed frame, across the closet, and finally slung over her dresser. There’s little action figures and trinkets everywhere. 

The door closes behind you, “… Is this your room?” 

Ellie snorts, “It was. Not anymore.” 

You laugh, “I’m fuckin’ with it. That bed is crazy, though.” Ellie joins in, scratching at her ear. She takes a few steps until she’s in front of you, still at a distance. Thank God; Any closer and your celibacy goes down the drain. 

“Sorry I only brought flowers. I would’ve brought fucking… cake or something if I knew y’all were gonna cook.” Ellie waves you off. 

“The flowers were pretty. Thank you.” 

Your entire face is on fire, “Y’know what I mean…” You cough. 

“Um… I just wanted to talk to you about something. About my dad.” 

There’s a hole in your chest that’s expanding. She takes your silence as attentive, “He can be really overprotective… like, he’s kinda stubborn.”

“Oh… I see where you get it from,” You laugh weakly, clearing your throat when Ellie doesn’t. “Sorry.” You mumble. Ellie looks down at her feet, “Does he not… like me?” You ask quietly, embarrassed out of your fucking mind. 

“It’s not that, he’s just… I told him a little of what happened between us. Not everything, just some of it!” 

“The… bad part, I’m assuming?” Her silence is enough confirmation. 

Ellie looks like Pickle when she’s guilty. You remember when she hopped onto the counter and knocked over your water cup, eyes large and pleading for forgiveness over the mess she caused. 

“M’not mad,” You mumble, “I probably would’ve done the same thing.” Probably is used very strongly. 

“I’m sorr— “

“It’s okay— “

A knock comes from the other side of the door. 

“Come eat, you two!” 

“Coming!” Ellie yells back before rubbing her hands together. “I’m really— “ 

“Ellie, it’s fine,” You reassure her with a light slap on her bicep… It’s quite hard. “C’mon, uh… I’m hungry?” You brush past her and head towards the door, holding it open for her. “After you?”

Ellie reminds you of a strawberry milk squishmallow when she eases past you, trying to hide her smile and pink cheeks. Your cheeks puff as you release the air in your lungs, shutting her door behind you. 

This is the best eggplant parmesan you’ve ever tasted in your goddamn life. Too bad you can’t enjoy it due to Ellie’s hardcore mobster dad sending you deadly glares from across the table. He hasn’t said a word this entire meal, and you’re not anticipating the minute he does. He’s going to blow a gasket. 

“D’you like it?” Ellie says lowly from beside you. You nod your head with two thumbs up. You can’t hide your smile when you notice all the gooey cheese and noodles eaten off the pieces of eggplant. 

“It’s delicious. Thanks Mr. Miller.” 

“Don’t mention it.” He sounds like he means it. Your heart drops and Ellie scowls at him. Your fingers clench around your fork and you scarf down what you can. It’s so good and you’re so scared and you want this meal to be over. 

You're the last to clean your plate so you stand in a rush, gathering all of the plates and spoons off the table before scurrying to the sink. 

Ellie pads close behind you, “Oh, you don’t have to— “

You cut Ellie off with a nervous laugh, “The least I could do.” The dishes clatter and you grab a sudsy sponge. You waste no time, scrubbing the living hell out of these dishes. 

“Go sit down, Ellie.” 

The hairs on the back of your neck stand at his stern tone, “Wha— “

He slices through her refute, and still manages to sound calm, “Go.” 

You continue to scrub, sighing at Ellie's descending stomps. Joel creeps into the open space in front of the sink, grabbing a dish and another sponge. 

“Ellie told me you’re an artist.” He mutters over the running water.

“Yeah. Sorta.” You reply as calmly as you can. 

“What are your intentions with my daughter?” He gets right to it, it seems. You scrub harder. 

“Just… tryna make things right between us.” 

“Why's that?” 

Word vomit. You can’t help yourself. You’re so fucking nervous. “I-I fuc — sorry — I screwed over someone that was… really great. Your daughter’s a sweetheart and I feel awful with how things left off.” You stumble with a heated face. You catch the arch in his eyebrow and back pedal, “Not like we were — we weren’t dating or anything! Like, not like that! We just — “

“I was a student once upon a time. I know how these things go.” He snickers humorlessly. Your shoulders relax a smidge before he asks, “Why now?” 

“Hm?” 

“Why’d you wait so long to talk to her? The two of you graduated forever ago.” His tone is much calmer than it was seconds ago, but anxiety surges in your gut at his questioning. 

“I didn’t wanna reach out without being in the right headspace. I had… a lot going on and I had to handle it. Therapy’s hard as fu — heck,” You sigh, “I still don’t think I’m doin’ a good job, but… I dunno, it earned me a Michelin star eggplant parm. Must be doing something right.” 

You don’t expect Joel to laugh, but he does. It’s hearty and deep. Very dad-esque. Your heart crushes to dust all over again. 

“Look, kid,” Joel sets the clean plate in the rack before grabbing another, “I wasn’t gonna say much, but Ellie seems to like you… a lot. More than most people.” Your heart flurries back into shape at his observation. You want to ask what a lot means exactly, but he continues. 

“She’s… she gets very attached to people. I know it’s hard to believe but she’s very… sensitive,” His voice is low, but he’s not bullshitting in the slightest. The protective aura has returned and it’s radiating back onto you, pushing you back. Keeping you at a distance from him. From Ellie, “I’m never gonna shit on anyone’s journey, but frankly… if you’re not here to stay, I’d suggest leaving her alone now.”

This is definitely a threat. But you don’t feel threatened. You feel… sad. Joel is doing what any great dad would when faced with an outsider: armoring his cubs by any means. Something you’ve never experienced. If meeting Joel has shown you anything, it’s been what you’ve missed out on your entire life. Little does he know the last thing you want to do is separate from Ellie a second time. Another breakdown is bound to crash into you very soon. You forgot where the bathroom was. 

You’re not going anywhere. Your heart won’t allow it. “I’m— “

You’re interrupted by a loud rumble, instantly followed by the heavy droplets of pouring rain. It sounds like pebbles are being thrown at all windows of their home; Is it hailing? 

“Holy shit,” Ellie calls from the living room window, “Was it supposed to storm tonight?” 

“Yeah, it was on the news,” Joel confirms. Ellie rushes over and points her eyes to you. 

“You’re not driving in that.” She breathes out. Your heart fist pumps, but you maintain nonchalance. 

You shrug awkwardly, “I don’t wanna pry— “ 

“Nah, she’s right. We have a guest room.” Joel sighs, “Ellie, show her where it is. I’ll finish up in here.” 

Ellie’s hand closes around your wrist before guiding you down the hall. The bathroom’s right across from the guest room. On the left side, you note. 

“Fuck a guest room. You’re staying with me.” She mumbles and opens the cupboard. She grabs you some sleep shorts and presumably her father’s sweatshirts. You try to convince yourself that the strong pounds in your chest are from fear of the storm, and not at all from a lesbian slumber party. 

… Fuck. 

The storm is roaring outside. And Ellie’s chiefing in neon astronaut jammies. This feels like a fever dream. 

“They glow in the dark.” Ellie hums around a cloud of smoke from where she sits across from you on the bed. You pause your gawking, “Huh?”

“My pjs glow in the dark. Wanna see?” Her eyes sparkle and your heart sprouts legs and sprints around in your ribcage. 

“Fuck yeah.” You gasp. Ellie’s teeth shine before she puts her joint between her lips and leans across her bed to shut her lamp off. Every fiber of your being tries to not lock onto the smidge of skin that appears from under her sweatshirt when she stretches. The room goes dark around the neon pink and green outlines of the design. You choke out a laugh at the pigmentation; How the fuck are they so bright!

“Sorry if this is boring. I’ve never had a sleepover before.” 

“Shut up, that’s cool as fuck! You gotta battery pack in there or somethin’?” Ellie giggles out a no. A smile stretches wide across your face when you look up at her, hers just as bright. “Are you sleepy?” You ask. 

“Not at all,” she hums as she switches the lamp back on. 

“We could play a gaaame,” You suggest sing-songy. 

“Oh, fuck. Like what.” Ellie huffs a laugh. 

“Truth or dare is a sleepover classic— “

“I’m not licking a toilet seat.” Ellie states flatly. Laughter explodes from you at her face. “I’m not a crazy dare-er like that. The most you’ll have to do is prank call an ex or some shit.” 

“I don’t have an ex.” 

“Oh… Well, a family member.” Ellie nods in acceptance. “Can I ask first?” She asks. 

“Mhm. Lay it on me.” 

“Truth or dare?” 

“Dare.” 

“Show me what’s in your backpack.” 

“…Fuck.” You sigh, and Ellie cackles. “Were you planning this shit?” You ask and stand, walking over to the dresser where your bag sits. You grab it and hand it to her. She wastes no time, stubbing her joint out before rummaging through your shit, sifting through loose-leaf paper and markers used for coloring. You plop down onto her bed and she pulls out your sketchbook. 

“Is it okay if I look?” 

“I dunno,” You smirk, “Can I finally see your fucking portfolio?” 

“Come home with me tomorrow,” she says instantaneously, “It’s there. You can see it.” 

“… Then yes.” 

She flips through pages and pages of visuals you’ve created before your father’s passing. They range from sloppily scribbled orchids, to immaculately shaded depictions of eggplant farms. Ellie giggles when she finds a small comic of Pickle playing with her favorite mouse toy. 

“She still has it.”

“Good,” you whisper. You watch as she studies each page to her heart’s content, fingers dragging across lines that catch her attention. “You’re so good,” she says softly, awestruck and eyes sincere. Your gaze drops to your lap. 

“Thanks,” you match her volume. She hums and flips to the next page. You eye the ashtray on her bed before snagging it, snatching her lighter and igniting the joint. Ellie eyes you like a hawk. 

“I watched a tutorial on how to become a professional pothead… I think I got it down.” 

“Show me.” She whispers and your stomach jolts.

Smoke leaves the lit end of the J and you flick the lighter off. You bring it to your lips and puff your cheeks full of smoke, inhaling as deep as you can before your lungs squeeze. You cough and heave tearfully and Ellie leans in to rub your back. 

“That was better.” She says softly. “I was gonna dare you to hit it anyway.” Your coughing fits calm and you swallow. 

“Shit,” You say. Ellie takes the joint from you and hits it like a fucking pro. She's much closer than she was seconds ago. You examine how her lips curl around the roach, cheeks expanding around carbon before inhaling, allowing the remainder to leave in a bunch of circles. 

“You really blowing O’s right now?” You think you hit it right this time. The jitters you’ve had all day are beginning to dwindle. 

She smiles mischievously, “Mhm.” 

“Truth or dare?” You mumble.

“… Truth.” 

“Did you think about me… after you left?” If you were to lean forward an inch, Ellie’s nose would touch yours. Nose hug. Her face spots are so adorable. 

“Yeah. A lot.” She passes the J back to you and you accept it boldly. You’re releasing your stress with every exhale. Ellie was right; Smoking does feel good. 

“What’d you think about?” 

“Isn’t it my turn?” 

“No.” You smile. 

She shrugs, “I dunno. Just…” Her gaze falls onto her stuffed tabby cat. 

“I feel like you’re boutta say something nasty.” You snicker. 

“Wha — no! The fuck— “

You mock her, rubbing all over yourself, “I thought about your hands, ooo, aaa— “

Ellie smacks your arm a bunch of times before pushing you back onto the bed. You’re howling laughter over her whining, “Bitch, that’s you! Don’t think I forgot about that shit you pulled in the car!”

“You have nice hands! What can I say,” You slur with a dumb grin, “You have, like… classic lesbian hands. All you need is some Hot Topic rings and all the hoes gon’ flock to you.” You take one last toke before the lit end can reach your fingers, stubbing it on the ashtray. 

Ellie seemingly ponders with the theory, “… Is that why a milf ate me out at the club?” 

Your neck almost snaps when it cranes to look at her, “What the fuc— “

“Yeah. Craziest experience I ever had. Like, in my life.” 

“Fuck, Ellie…” Your head flops back onto her Lightning McQueen blankets. “Was it good?” 

“I… I guess. I came.” 

You stare at the star stickers on her ceiling. “You guess?” She only hums. 

“But…”

“Hm?” You urge her to continue. 

“She didn’t… kiss me.” She whispers like it’s dirty to say out loud. You slowly blink at the opaque walls. “I mean, she did, but it wasn’t a real one.” 

“Shame on her.” 

Ellie maneuvers so she’s lying on her back beside you. “Yeah…” 

“Ellie?” 

“Hm?”

“Were you a virgin before I touched you?” 

You expect her to slap the shit out of you again, but she doesn’t. She takes one deep breath before muttering, “Yes.” 

You stop yourself from melting into her bed, turning on your side and propping yourself up on an elbow, gazing down at her. Her eyes are wide as saucers as she looks up at you. You can see her fingers twitching around her pillow, squeezing the fabric of the case. Right on Rigby’s nose. 

“A-Are we still playing truth or dare?” She whispers, her breath hitting your face. She smells like oranges. You shake your head, tongue rolling over your lips. “No.” Your free hand lands on her hip and squeezes. Her jaw slacks around a gasp.

“… Oh.”

“Oh?” You want — need to kiss her so badly. Steal all the oxygen from her lungs so that she has no other choice but to breathe from you. Only you. Your vision is hazy with each travel over her face. She looks so soft, so pliant, so ready and prepared for you to take from her. Just like you hoped. 

Your hand travels, pushing her sweatshirt up just above the waistline of her pants, fiddling with the knot right under her bellybutton. 

You pull at the string until it loosens, “She gave you head?” 

“T-The milf?” 

“Yeah. The milf.” Aggravation seeps through your tone. Ellie’s hips twitch. 

“… Yeah?” She coughs. You hum and hook your thumb under the band and inch them down. They aren’t even off all the way and you can tell she’s naked underneath. 

“How good was it?” 

“I don’t… know?” 

“Yeah you do. How good was it?” You snip, and Ellie winces. “I-I squirted.” She trips over her words and your clit jumps. You don’t say anything, and she seems sad. 

“… Are you mad at me?” 

“No.” Your tone says otherwise. You’re not mad. You don’t know what you are. You don’t like what she’s telling you, though. Fuck milfs… You love them with your entire heart, but fuck them. 

… Yeah. You’re high as shit. 

You sit up and she moves to follow you, but you push her down and she goes limp under your touch. 

“Don’t move. Just lay there.” 

She pouts and you almost kiss it, “Don’t be mad.” 

“I told you I’m not.” You swing a leg over her waist and she sighs dreamily. “How many times did you come.” You’re not asking; She’s going to tell you. You raise her sweatshirt up over her breasts. 

“T-Two — Two.” She moves to throw her sweatshirt over her head but you snatch her wrists, pinning them right on the cushiony mattress. She doesn’t fight you. 

“I want you quiet. Your dad’ll kill me if he hears you.”

Her eyes go glossy and twinkle, “Okay— “ 

“I mean it. Don’t say shit.” 

“M’not gonna,” She whines before her mouth clamps shut. You give her overlapped wrists one last threatening squeeze, watching her fingers go lax before releasing her. You cup her tits and her eyes flutter shut, teeth sinking into her lower lip. You mouth at the valley between her tits and her back arches to follow each swipe of your tongue. 

You kiss all over her ribcage, almost feeling each erratic thump of her heart under your tongue. She keens when your tongue flicks over the rising bud of her nipple, thighs squeezing around your hips. Your mouth latches onto the skin right above her areola, teeth sinking into it before sucking. Her hips raise and she’s breathing like she’s about to faint, and you grin like a fox. 

You don’t let up until a wet maroon mark is left on her tit before swiftly switching to the next one, leaving a much harsher spot on the raised skin. An eager hand scratches down her torso until it brushes the patch of hair that peeks out from under her pants. 

You shove your hand beneath the light cloth and your fingers are drenched in seconds. Your walls squeeze around nothing when you feel her clit jump in excitement. Her squishy lips spread around your middle and index fingers, her throbbing bundle of nerves cinched between them. She keeps making fucking noise and the walls seem to shake. 

“What’d I say.”

“I — m’sorry, can’t h-help i— “

“Be quiet, Ellie.” Your fingers slip over her messy clit in slow, teasing circles. You release her skin until it’s blistering and bruised, quickening the pace of your fingers and she pulses in your hand. Your tongue swirls around her nipple once more, cheeks hollowing when you suckle. 

Your eyes search for hers but her head is thrown back, neck strained and veins popping from beneath her skin. Your lips release the skin and your drippy hand leaves her pants. Your nipples harden under your tee when she reaches for your retreating form, fingers digging into your sweats. 

Her pants are yanked down and tossed across the room, her toes curling in her rainbow-striped socks when your hands hook under her knees to push them up to her chest. Her arms entangle under her bent legs to hold them out of your way. 

“I could fuck you right now with no problems.” You exhale in a daze, “S’fucking drippin’.” You envision how good her pussy will swallow whatever pops in, how easy it’ll stretch around something thick—

Ellie’s eyes shine like you offered her candy and her hole clamps down hard. You chuckle. “You want that?” 

Her head bounces off the pillow in rushed nods. If your mouth wasn’t so fucking dry, you’d be slobbering all over her pussy. “Remember what I said?” You remind her, and she plants a heavy hand over her mouth. You kiss her ankle in appreciation. 

Your fingers move on autopilot, massaging her clit a few more times before inching down, your index pushing past the tight, gripping muscles. Your finger’s swallowed whole in an instant and Ellie’s trying her hardest to mask her squeaks. “Fuck me,” you sigh when she takes another finger with no hassle, walls engulfing your digits in wetness. Her scent is surrounding you and it’s intoxicating. 

“Missed you s’bad— “

“Missed you more, baby. Missed this pussy,” You’re pussydrunk and you’re slipping. That spot in her cunt becomes plumper with each press of your fingertips, “She fucked you better than me?” 

Ellie’s denial is convincing, but that sick part of your brain doesn’t believe her. She loved being touched by someone, wanted by someone. Someone who wasn’t you, and you’re livid, “Nooo— “

You slice through her whine, “No?” Your smile is sadistic and your fingers are relentless, “You said her name like you said mine?” You grit and her eyes cycle into her skull, her hair sticking to her forehead. She’s trying to keep her voice down when she whispers how she only thought about you when she made a mess. She wanted you there, she says, she needed you there to take care of her. 

“Y’fuck me s’good, fuck— “

Your eyes are dead, “I’ll hurt you. Be quiet.” 

Fear flashes beneath her desire and she listens, keeping her sobs to a minimum. The sloppy, wet sounds of her pussy overtake the entire room the harder you fuck in, her nails tearing into her Pikachu stuffie on the corner of her bed. A string of drool dribbles from her bottom lip to her sweatshirt, her eyes glowing under the dimly lit lamp. 

Her walls shake and throb on you, “Gonna cum, baby?” You grin manically at her dumbed-out expression, cheeks wet and eyes droopy. You coo at her and force in as deep as you can, curling your fingers up, fighting against the tight contractions of her walls. 

“Make a mess on me, baby, I gotchu, c’mon— “

A long, drawn-out moan escapes Ellie’s lips, and you’re so hypnotized by the heavy spray of juices that lands on your thigh that you don’t even bother to shut her up. She’s drenching her sheets and blankets and you and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. You’re fucking wave after wave out of her and she’s practically riding your hand, groaned curses and dazed squeaks of your name bouncing off the walls. 

It feels like minutes pass when her orgasm slows, inner thighs drenched and dripping with slickness. Ellie’s entire body shakes and her thighs squeeze around your hand as she attempts to catch her breath, but you’re not done. You’re not satisfied. She didn’t give you enough. 

You climb onto her and your lips connect in a simmering kiss, her wet mouth smacking against yours. Her cold hands land on either of your cheeks and your hips roll downward on hers. She whines into your mouth and tries to meet your hips but you force them back onto the mattress. She yanks at your shirt in attempts to rip it off but you don’t let up, lips slipping down to connect with her neck. 

Your wrist twists downward until you're met with her sticky bush once more, spreading her lips apart and shoving your fingers back inside her. She chokes a wet gasp when they hit right where she needs, her arms wrapping around the back of your neck to hold you close. You’re babbling nonsense in her ear as you work her, telling her how she’s stuck with you, how you’re never leaving her side again, demanding that she says you're the best she’s ever had. And she does, and either you’re fucked out of your mind, or she means it. 

You barely catch how your hips move like you're fucking her, driving into her as hard as you can and she takes it, stretches her legs wider so you can reach the spots she’s never been able to on her own. She’s saying your name like a prayer, like it’s all she’s ever known, and it’s breaking you down, only to build you back up so you can crash back into her. You missed her so fucking bad and you’re unleashing all of your feelings on her body and she eats all of it. How could you leave her when she fucking needs you this badly? You’ll never forgive yourself. 

She’s warning you, crying about how you’re going to make her squirt again, begging you to slow down because she can’t take what you’re giving her, but you feel so good and you know she does, too. You can’t stop even if you want to. You want to drain her, live inside her for the rest of your days on Earth. You’re forcing space for you inside her.

Her nails dig into your shoulders as she cums. She’s unapologetically loud and it flows directly in your ear, and your own noises leave your mouth and land onto the clammy skin of her throat. The jets of fluid that leave her are stronger than the last, and you laugh. Laugh in ecstasy and joy and pleasure that you can’t even feel, but it’s there. Right in your chest. 

You’re not done. You’ll never be done with her. 

The night evaporates with you in between her legs, slurping every bit of cum and stress that you may have caused since knowing her from the source until the sun shines through her blinds, drinking from her like you’ll die without her taste on your tongue. She lets you do whatever you need to feel satiated, but it’ll never be enough now. 

You’ll never be done with her. 

Ellie’s naked form jolts awake when ticklish breaths hit her shoulder. 

You’re beneath her, slumped, pantsless legs entangling hers and arms twisted every which way as you slobber and snore. A smile grows on Ellie’s face at your peaceful expression; She’s never slept that good in her own bed. She doesn’t want to wake you, but she has to pee so fucking badly. 

She shifts in her position and instantly cringes at the soreness in her legs. Warmth coats the crests of her cheeks when she sees the discarded sheets and pillowcases that were changed only hours ago on the floor, head plopping onto your shoulder to hide in your neck. Your snoring gets cut by a guttural cough and Ellie laughs to herself when your snores pick up again. 

She’s not a morning person in the slightest, so why the fuck is she so happy? Is this the post-sex glow that her friends always tell her about? Is she still considered a virgin if you only used your fingers and tongue? She doesn't feel like one… Sex rules are fucking dumb. She stops stressing before she ruins her morning. 

The pangs in her bladder are getting on her nerves; She wants to cuddle. She sighs and shifts on top of you, trying her hardest not to disrupt your deep slumber. She manages to separate and clothe herself before waddling down the hall and into the bathroom, trying to ignore the aches in her thighs. You wrecked her shit… What the hell. 

The second she leaves the bathroom, she smells coffee. Her dad’s up. She might vomit. 

The two of you weren’t that loud. Definitely not. He couldn’t have heard. He didn’t hear! Ellie’s stealthy as she tiptoes through the hall… until the fucking floorboards croak from beneath her and she nearly faints. 

“Come out, dipshit. I know it’s you.” 

Her eyes squeeze shut and she curses to herself. She reluctantly appears from behind the wall, her dad sitting comfortably on the couch with a filled mug and newspaper, Pickle napping on his lap. He peeks from above his reading glasses. 

“Think we needa talk.” 

“… Fuck me.” She whispers before shamefully limping into the living room. She flops onto the couch and glues her eyes onto the decorative rugs under the coffee table. 

“She seems nice.” Her dad sips his mug. Ellie’s face burns. 

“She is.” She mumbles. You took such good care of her after last night. You got her in the shower, brushed her teeth for her when she was damn near sleepwalking, watched her down two bottles of water. Her heart flutters at how soft your eyes turned when you kissed her to sleep. 

“Is she your girlfriend?” 

“… I dunno.” He hums and sips. 

She doesn’t know. You’re not dating, but Ellie thinks you like her… She thinks. She likes you… a lot. She bites at her nails. 

“You like her?” He asks lowly; She knows he knows. 

“Yeah…” Ellie whispers, cheeks rising on their own. She covers her face when he smiles. 

“Just… take your time.” Joel advises gently, “Did she tell you she’s in therapy?” 

Ellie’s ears perk and her brows furrow, “No.” She sits up. Her dad’s gaze softens, “Wait til she brings it up, then. Y’all should talk before things get serious. It’s only been a couple days.” 

Ellie knows her dad is right, but it’s hard to control herself when she’s around you. She naturally gravitates towards your aura; It’s comforting and she doesn’t want to lose it again. 

A gentle clatter comes from her bedroom and she stands. You’re awake. 

“I love you, kiddo,” Joel says, and she smiles softly. “Love you, too.” 

She scurries down the hallway and enters her bedroom, seeing you sprawled out on the floor, all wrapped in sheets. 

Your eyes are droopy when you croak, “Hello.” Ellie snickers. 

“Hi. What happened.” 

“I was reaching for, like… an orb in my dream and I guess I did it in real life,” Your voice gets so raspy in the morning, and it tickles her ears. Ellie can’t stop laughing. She helps you stand before kissing your cheek. 

“Good morning,” she wraps her arms around your neck. 

“M-Mornin’,” You squeak, eyes flitting around, “Uh… How'd you sleep?” 

“Good.” She’s lost in your brown eyes. They’re warm like the sun. Why won’t you look at her? 

She follows your line of vision down to your fiddling hands before whispering, “You okay?” You simply nod. Ellie’s heart stutters nervously. 

“Do you still wanna come over later?” 

“… Yeah.” Your attempts to disguise your stiffness fail. Ellie feels a lump forming in her throat when she detaches from you, and you search for the new pair of pants she gave you before you went to bed. Ellie watches silently, crestfallen. Something she did triggered your aloofness, so she turns to leave the room.

Her voice cracks, “I’m gonna… shower again— “

“Ellie.” 

She turns, “Yes?” 

Her fists clench when you walk until you’re standing in front of her, warm hand coming up to hold her cheek before kissing her. It’s soft and makes Ellie’s fingers thrum with excitement. It only lasts seconds before you pull away, and Ellie chases your mouth.  

“I’d love to come over. I think we… should talk about some things.” You say quietly, and Ellie silently agrees. You let her go and she wants nothing but for you to pull her in once more, shrouded in your warmth. 

You’re making her bed when Ellie leaves for the bathroom, body falling against the door to calm herself down. You’re not upset with her, and you want to come over… to talk, whatever that means.

The hot water burns her skin; She spends her entire shower thinking about how she can make you as happy as she feels. 

taggiessssss :3 @dyk3ang3l @ellieloml @inf3ct3dd @fromminaa @womenofarcane @sawaagyapong @mina-281 @aouiaa @bbglmfao @i00rii @sakiigami @starologist @southelroys @diddiqueen @trackinglessons @ellieswhorcrux @villainousbear @p4ison1vy @tohoko @yuckyfucky @dollyfleurs @elsbunny222 @sevsbimbo @amiorca @alittlextrahoney @gato-chino @topiatwin @r3wbeef @elliesatchel @muthafuckingstargirl @callmewhenyoukan @macaroni676 @draculurasblog @ellieaesp @@gravygranules @elsblunt

[its-vannah]

Sweet Nothing | Jacaerys x Reader

A/N: My goal is to finish this Masterlist by December, and I've got to say that this is one of the most wholesome fics on this whole list. I dearly loved writing it, and I hope y'all love reading it ❤️

Warnings: Childbirth, intense pain, labor, birth, lots of fluff

Midnights Masterlist

Another restless night had gone by, with bouts of sickness and fever. Laying in bed, feet propped up, you tried to ease the pain in your stomach.

You were only eight months pregnant, but you felt as though the baby could arrive any day now. Praying to the Gods to give you another month, to ensure the safety of both you and your unborn child, you hoped they answered.

I found myself a-runnin' home to your sweet nothings

Jacaerys had insisted on being by your side throughout it all. He had instructed your handmaiden to care for your oldest son, Arewyn, while he tended to you.

Slowly opening the door to your shared chambers, he held a cold, damp rag in his hands. Standing at the side of your bed, he placed the rag over your forehead in an effort to break your fever.

That I'm just too soft for all of it

He sat beside you, gently running a hand over the curve of your stomach, a soft smile on his face, "I can hardly wait, my love."

You let out a content sigh, the baby kicking against his hand, "I don't think the babe can either."

Placing your hand on top of his, you guided him to the upper part of your stomach, "Just wait..."

A hard kick came, and Jacaerys released a breathy laugh, "A strong one we have, don't we?"

"Oh, I'm sure of it," You winced at the pain in your lower stomach, exhaling slowly, "Too strong."

"Any day now, my love, I'm sure of it," He said, pressing a kiss to your stomach, and then your forehead, "Is there anything I can do?"

You shook your head, "I don't believe so, but..."

I spy with my little tired eye

Pausing, you saw the door opening from the corner of your eye. It was slow, as if each push was a struggle.

Tiny as a firefly

Seconds later, a small boy peeked his head through the door, pushing his body through, his eyes wide as he saw you.

A large smile plastered on his face, he ran towards you, his feet slapping against the stone floor.

Desperately trying to get up on the bed, he motioned for his father to lift him up.

And smooth-talking hucksters

"Is the baby here? Can I see it? What's it's name? Is it's name Arewyn, too? Do we have the same name? What does it look like? Like me?"

The constant questioning typically drove those in the palace mad, but Jacaerys found it endearing. He remembered when Joffrey was that young, only three and full of questions.

Jacaerys grinned down at his son, lifting him into his arms and setting him on his knee, allowing him to face you.

You say, "What a mind"

"He has a mind of his own, doesn't he?" Jacaerys said, trying to tame his son's head of curls which he had seemingly inherited from his uncle.

Arewyn searched the room, "Where's the baby?"

You pointed to your stomach, "Not here quite yet, my love."

"When is it going to be here?"

"Soon, my sweet, have patience," Knowing fully well it was impossible for a four year old to practice the art of patience.

This happens all the time

Shaking your head, Jacaerys smiled, nuzzling his son's cheek, "Always asking questions, aren't you?"

"Tell me, Arewyn, where is Pia?" You asked, caressing his small cheek, "She was supposed to watch you."

Arewyn furrowed his brows, crossed his arms, and huffed, "She wouldn't let me see you and the baby. So we played a game. She hid, and I found her."

"So where is she?" Jacaerys asked.

He shrugged, "I didn't find her yet."

Everyone's up to somethin'

The two of you shared a look, shaking your heads, "He's too smart for his own good."

Feeling a sharp pain in your abdomen, you held back the urge to cry out, not wanting to scare your son. Suddenly, you felt warm.

Grasping Jacaerys hand, you shot him a look, "Go fetch the Maester."

He jumped up, Arewyn still in his arms, and promised he'd be back shortly.

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

Every time you pushed, you felt a stabbing pain inside you. Although Arewyn's birth had hurt, you hadn't expected this birth to be worse.

They said the end is comin'

A fresh stream of tears cascading down your face, the maester promised it would be over soon.

Out glad-handing each other

Jacaerys held your hand, which was quite the fest itself with how hard you were gripping him, tighter with every push.

Nearly out of breath, you shook your head, suddenly dizzy, "I can't..."

"You should be doing more"

"You must, Princess," The Maester urged, "You need to push more."

Struggling to breathe, you kept pushing, crying out in pain.

After what seemed like hours, you heard the cries of a newborn baby, begging for it's mother.

The wetnurse lifted the babe, a smile on her face as she wrapped it in a blanket, "A boy, my prince."

Jacaerys smiled as she handed the babe to him, as you were too weak to hold him in your arms.

We almost forgot it

Watching as your husband rocked him slowly, back and forth, you nearly forgot about the pain.

The Maester sent a handmaiden to grab fresh linens as he tended to you, and she returned with not only the linens, but little Arewyn, too.

Outside they're push and shovin'

Rushing to your side, he struggled to climb on the bed. Using all his might, he gripped the sheets and sat cross legged beside you.

Attempting to lean over you to get to his brother, Jacaerys reached out a hand to stop him, "Careful, Arewyn. Your mother is still weak from the birth."

And the voices that implore

Groaning, Arewyn tilt his head to get a better look at the babe, a soft smile on his face, "Is it—"

"A boy," You answered, "We have yet to chose a name, my love."

"Then pick one," He urged, excitedly, clasping his hands together, "You can name him Arewyn."

Jacaerys shook his head, "That's your name. He needs a name of his own."

You gazed up at him, "Not quite a name of his own, but a memory of another."

It took him a moment to connect the dots, but once he did, he pursed his lips, "Are you sure?"

"I'm certain."

Jacaerys looked at your eldest son, turning the bay to face him, "Lucerys the second."

Arewyn smiled at him for a moment, before looking between his parents, "That's a long name. Can I call him Luc?"

To you, I can admit

Memories struck Jacaerys, of the times he and his brother had spent together, before he nodded, "I couldn't think of a better name."

All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothin'

Before the births of your son's, you and Jacaerys shared a strong, beautiful love. And even after the addition of your heirs, that love continued, with only one difference. It was stronger. It was unconditional.

[miguelhugger2099]

The Best Thing

Summary: Miguel O'Hara, star Quarter back of the Nueva York Spiders, lives lavishly with all he could want. What he didn't want is a little girl popping up at his doorstep claiming to be his daughter. The Game Plan AU. <<Prev Next>> Football Player!Miguel x Ballet Teacher!Reader, Gabriella is Miguel's daughter, No warnings Art: rusticfurnace on twt and ethiobirds on tumblr!

Miguel sits in front of Gabriella, leaning on his knees with his elbows. Gabriella stares back at him with wide eyes. She tries to give him a weak smile but it drops when Miguel takes a deep sigh, his leg shaking. Then in a hysterical chuckle, he shakes his head. “No, no. No!” Miguel’s gaze hardened at the little girl. “Tempest and I never had a kid.” His jaw clenches. Gabriella stands up and walks over to him, her hand rummaging through the big pink tote bag at her side. She pulls out a white envelope. “She wrote you a note.” She says plainly before walking past him to take a better look around his penthouse. Miguel snatches the envelope with a dry chuckle and tears it open without a care. “A note,” He chuckles again. His deep maroon eyes read the printed letters, his ex-wife's signature at the bottom. “Miggy, I know this is a surprise but Gabriella is your daughter. I need you to watch her for a month as it’s an emergency. I’ll explain when I get back….Tempest.” Miguel reads aloud, his tone softening and he sighs at the end.

Gabriella stares at all the pictures of Miguel plastered over the shelves and walls. She tries copying some expressions, frowning in some and pouting in others. Her attention is snatched back to Miguel when he calls out to her. He waves the envelope in the air. “You expect me to believe Tempest wrote this? That this automatically makes you my kid? Anyone could’ve written this!”

Gabreilla sighs again, reaching into her tote bag. “Here’s my birth certificate.” She hands him a sealed yellow packet and walks away again. “And your name is on it.” Miguel can only chuckle again. “My name? On your–there’s no way.” He slips the paper out of the packet and sees the fine print. For a moment, he prays Gabriella is dyslexic and confused his name with someone else. Gabriella Monroe. Father: Miguel O’Hara His leg shakes anxiously as he takes his cell phone and calls up his most trusted confidant. “Get here. Now.”

– A woman with bobbed brown hair and thick pink sunglasses bursts through his doors. Her white heels clack on the tile floor as he keeps one hand in her fluffy white trench coat and the other holding her phone. Her unamused eyes meet Miguel’s panicked ones as soon as she steps inside. Miguel gulps. “Fix this, Lyla.” He steps away to show Gabriella sitting at his kitchen island, delicately brushing her doll's hair. Lyla gasps and nearly drops her phone, covering her mouth in shock which prompts Gabriella to jump as well. Lyla drags Miguel to the side, her manicured nails digging into his bicep. “It would’ve been nice to know this early on.” She hisses as low as possible so the child in the room doesn’t hear. “I didn’t know!” Miguel hisses back and Lyla resists the urge to roll her eyes. “You didn’t know you had an ex-wife?”

Miguel waves his hand, dismissing her sarcasm. “It was a long time ago–we were young and stupid. We thought we were in love but it-it didn’t last for a year! And we never had a baby.” He emphasizes the last part of his sentence, brows furrowing and voice oozing with conviction. Lyla smiles tightly, not believing him for a moment. With Miguel’s rep, she’s more surprised there haven't been more baby scares. “Okay, Migs.” She chuckles, taking a deep breath, her hands clasping together. “Is there just any possibility–even the tiniest ones– where she could be yours?” She asks. She sees Miguel about to answer. “Really think about it.” Miguel looks up, digging through his brain in a panic. “I-I don’t know! We went through the papers, the divorce was final. She-she came by to pick up some of her things at my place and she-we-we…” Miguel falters, brows relaxing as the memories rush back. His eyes widen slightly–her lips, her voice, the anger and frustration and love that needed to be released for one last time. Miguel chuckles and pats his stomach, looking towards Gabriella and pointing at her. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry.” He walks over to the fridge but Lylas accusing tone stops him from opening it. “I’m sorry, when did that ‘she-we-we’ happen?” She follows behind him and watches as Miguel bonks his head on the fridge door before grunting and facing Lyla again. “Like nine or ten years ago.” He whispers. Lyla turns to Gabriella with a smile. “How old are you, sweetheart?” Gabreilla perks up. “Nine.” Both Lyla and Miguel deflate. “Congrats, Migs.” Lyla says monotonically.

“Oh, God–” Miguel groans and rubs his face with frustration as he walks away to pace in the living room. Meanwhile, Lyla tries some damage control. She approaches Gabriella on the other side of the island, leaning her elbows on the marble counter and placing her chin in between her laced fingers. “Hi, sweetpea, let’s talk. So, the letter says your mom isn’t coming back for a month. Did she just decide to leave you here?” She asks, her smile tight. “She’s helping the starving kids–” Gabriella starts but Lyla cuts her off. “I’m not trying to hear that.” She says flatly. “Did she just decide to leave you here?” “I begged her.” Gabriella swings her feet as she sits in the high chair. “I said ‘Well, why don’t I stay with my father?’ and she said ‘Well, baby, he doesn’t know about you ye–” Lyla interrupts her with a groan, her hands waving in the air with a hint of annoyance. “I get it, I get it, whatever. Then who else can you stay with?” She sighs. Miguel claps his hands from the living room, approaching the two with a smug laugh. “I got it! Haha, Tempest has her mom..uh..Keke…Alicia…” Miguel lists off names, trying to remember the name of his ex-mother-in-law. “Amelia!”

Gabriella inches an eyebrow up, a shadow of annoyance. “Cecelia.” She corrects. “Cecelia!” Miguel laughs, shaking little Gabriella’s shoulder. “Same thing.” He mutters under his breath with a smile. “What about her?” Gabriella looks down, her fingers nervously wringing together. “She’s, um…she’s dead.” Lyla scoffs, resting her hands on her hips and stretching her lower back. “That’s convenient.” Both Miguel and Gabriella look up towards her, silently judging. Lyla pouts, flicking her bangs away from her face. “What?” She whines before staring back at Gabriella. “Does your mom have a phone? Email?” Gabriella shakes her head. “They don’t have internet there.” Lyla pokes her cheek with her tongue and crosses her arms. “How did you get here again?” “We flew to Nueva York here together and then she put me in a cab.” Gabriella recites her story for the billionth time. “And the cab just somehow dropped you off at some man’s house?” “Not some man! My father!” The little girl insists. Lyla points at her as if catching her in a lie. “So you say!” Gabriella frowns, her bushy eyebrows furrowing and her nose scrunching up. “Want a paternity test?” Miguel chimes in, oblivious. “That’s a great idea! Let’s do that.” Lyla meets Miguel’s eyes in a panic, shaking her head. She tilts her head to talk a little away from Gabriella. “As long as they don’t have needles, I’m–heh–I’m not good with those.”

Lyla grabs his arm again, dragging him close as she whispers to him. “Not in the middle of negotiating with our Patrick’s Burgers deal. If you take the test there’s a high chance it’ll get out to the press and the public will hate you for ditching your kid–if it turns out to be true–and all of our money will go down the drain.” Lyla sighs, bringing her hands up to rub her temples. “Lyla. Lyla-” Miguel turns to take Gabriella’s seat, spinning her to face Lyla and they both look at the incredibly stressed woman. “We don’t even look alike.” Miguel smiles his pearly whites, Gabriella looking at him for a glance before looking at Lyla again. She matches Miguel’s smile lines, the plump lips, and shiny gleam in her big brown eyes–a missing tooth in her grin. “Oh no,” Lyla draws out with sarcasm. “Not at all.”

The world still spins, with Miguel having practice to go to until it was so rudely interrupted by a 4 foot girl. He walks out of his apartment building, the doorman that had called Miguel about Gabriella in the first place standing outside. Miguel huffs in annoyance, his daughter behind him and now in his care. “Thanks for the heads up, Larry.” Larry barks a laugh, whistling for the other doorman to bring in Miguel’s car. “Told ya she was cute.” He cackles. Miguel’s car pulls up, the driver door being lifted up and Miguel gets in. He opens the passenger door for Gabriella, tsking. He ushers her to hurry inside. “C’mon, let's go.” He snaps. Gabriella looks inside the car and shakes her head. “No backseat.” “So what?” His face contorts, irritated. “If we get in an accident, the airbag will hurt me.” She clings to her tote bag strap tightly to her chest. Miguel bangs his head back. “I don’t have time for this, please.” Still, Gabriella crosses her arms, stubborn and planting her feet in the ground. Miguel settles for putting his football helmet on top of her head and it flops forward, covering her eyes. On the way to practice, Miguel is asked questions by Gabriella. “I’ve got four weeks to make up for eight years, mkay?” She pulls out a binder from her tote bag, flipping open the book to a page of messy handwritten questions. “It’s simple: I ask, you answer.” She lifts the helmet on her head up so she can see what she’s writing.

“So for example, if you asked me my favorite thing to do, I’d answer with ballet. Now, what’s yours?” “Football.” He grunts, honking his horn and shouting at the traffic while she writes in her binder. “And if you could only save one thing in a fire, what would it be?” “My Heisman.” Before Gabriella could write it down, Miguel interrupts her. “No, no, no, wait.” He lifts a finger and smiles. “My limited edition Miguel O’Hara Spider Sneakers.” Gabriella rolls her eyes. For the remainder of the ride, Gabriella continues to ask questions and they feel endless. Miguel gets tired of it, telling her no more but she insists. “Just one more question.” She perks up, shuffling in her seat and lifting the helmet up slightly to look up at him. “What’s the best thing that ever happened to you?” Miguel sighs, kissing his teeth and can’t shake off the feeling he’s had for a hot minute. “Hey, I got a question for you. Why didn’t your mom just bring you here herself?” Gabriella’s smile drops and she looks down in her lap. Her eyes cast towards her tote bag and she smiles again. Her hand digs inside and she pulls out a tupperware box of cookies and presents it to him. “Want a cookie?” She squeaks. Miguel tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “No, I don’t want a cookie and stop avoiding the question.” “But you said you were hungry.” She frowns and lifts the box higher after popping the top open. “And I made them special for you.” “Ugh, fine, fine. Gimme that..” Miguel shoves his hand to grab a cookie, taking a giant bite out of it. “Your mom.” He reminds her, mouth full of cookie. “I told you it was last minute..” She fiddles with a crumb.

“I just can’t believe Tempest would do something like that. Letting her daughter just appear all alone–it doesn’t sound like her.” He mutters out loud to himself. He coughs after taking another bite of Gabriella’s cookie, scratching his tongue with teeth. Does it feel a little swollen? Still, he speaks his mind. “I know what happened.” Gabriella winces, peeking meekly through the front guard of the helmet. “You do?” Miguel coughs. “She screwed up her hair again, didn’t she? Hiding away in embarrassment?” “No.” She grimaces. “All that bleach and dye finally destroyed her curls, didn’t it?” Miguel checks his mouth, feeling strange but he still ends up finishing his cookie. By the time Miguel changed into his uniform, his mouth had gotten worse, his tongue swollen and giving him a lisp. They both enter the field house, Miguel’s tongue still bothering him while Gabriella walks behind him, her head swiveling around to soak in the place. Miguel annoyingly looks behind him, to see her lingering behind. “Let’s go!” He slurs and her little legs hurry to stand beside him. “What do you think, you can just roam around safely or something? Stay close, little lady.” He speaks, his lisp becoming more apparent.

“Are you okay?” Gabriella frowns, tilting her head. “Do I sound okay?” Miguel snaps, bending down to her height. “What’d you put in those cookies?” He jabs a finger to her tiny bag. “Milk, flour, eggs and cinnamon-” “Cinnamon?! Cinna–I’m allergic to cinnamon!” He hisses through his lisp. Gabriella’s face falls, genuine remorse crossing her face but Miguel is too peeved to notice or even care. “Oh, I’m sorry…” “Oh, ‘I’m sorry’? All you gotta say is ‘I’m sorry’? I sound like this and you’re ‘sorry’?” He stands up straighter, glaring down at her and shaking his head before walking away. Gabriella watches his back as he walks away. “I’m allergic to nuts!” She calls out, hoping that information would help him feel better–or at least be a little useful. It seems to fall flat.

Taglist: <3: @maiyart @aphinthestars @byjessicalotufo @mochi73 @peachey-pie @beezusvreeland @scorpihoooe @having-a-time @slut4oscarissac23 @iamperson12280 @planetxella @fandomtrash5092 @miguelsfavwife @juneonhoth

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

Behind the Crime

Warren Lipka x f!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, oral male receiving, dominate warren, underage drinking, underage smoking, use of marijuana, rough sex, hint of choking, talk of robbery, um yeah i think that’s it

summary: from the moment you were brought into the heist, you knew working with warren was going to be hard…

word count: 3.4k

a/n: sorry for not posting guys i have not been on the grind lately. i watched this movie and omfg evan was so attractive i just needed to write. if you’re the real warren lipka just scroll this is about evan…

~~~

You sit back in your chair, the crew members adjusting your mic. You’re starting to regret doing this interview, but it’s too late to back out now. Everything’s already set up, the camera is about to be rolling. The interviewer is sitting a few feet away from you, notes in his hand. He waits for you to give him the signal that you’re ready. You nod, he begins.

“So, y/n, how did you become involved with the group?” He asks.

“I was first approached by Spencer when I was eating lunch outside one day...”

~~~

You were sitting alone, the cool fall breeze almost too cold to be comforting. You didn’t pay much mind to it though, you were more focussed on your studying. You were flipping through the pages of another history article when suddenly there was a presence beside you. Looking up at them as soon as you noticed, you recognized the boy as someone from your class.

“Can I help you?” You asked, your tone polite.

He looked nervous as if he were about to ask you out. “Hi, uh, I don’t know if you remember my name, I’m Spencer we have Art History together.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve seen you,” you replied. “Do you need help with the homework or something?”

“No, I actually wanted to talk to you about something else, if you’re not busy or anything,” he said, his voice quiet.

You look away for a second before replying. “Sure, sit down if you want I’m not busy.”

He smiled at you before quickly sitting at the spot across from you. He put his bag on the table, you could see him take a deep breath. Was he really going to ask you out? You thought he was cute, but definitely not your type. You started to pray he wouldn’t say anything along those lines.

“I started to ask around a week or two ago about people who are good with computers and stuff, a lot of people told me you were the best person to go to,” he started. He lacked confidence in his voice, you felt bad for the poor guy but paid close attention to his words. “I need some... help with cameras.”

“What kind of cameras?” You asked, intrigued.

What he was saying was true, you were decently good with computers. You mostly would hack into places and disable things you didn’t like, like the cameras on the public library computers. It wasn’t anything illegal, at least you didn’t think it was illegal. It probably was, but you didn’t care.

“Just you know cameras in... semipublic places...”

You raised an eyebrow. “Like what kind though? Phone, laptop, desktop, security?”

“Security,” he answered quietly. “But before you say no listen, how does a couple hundred thousand dollars' worth of payment sound?

“What?”

“I won’t tell you the details till I know you’re on board but let's just say something is going down and we need help with the cameras. The pay would be huge and all you’d have to do is just mess with some cameras for like twenty minutes.”

You only stared at him; your mouth slightly hung open. Was he being serious? Was he really asking you to join him in a potential robbery that would pay hundreds of thousands of dollars? You never would’ve expected to be asked such a question on a cloudy Thursday at lunch. You shut your book completely and look around to make sure nobody is close.

“This money, it’s guaranteed?”

He nods. “As long as we get the job done, you’ll have it.”

You knew it was crazy, you knew whatever was going to happen would either result in you going to prison or having to run off into hiding. But the thought of being able to pay all your student loans off and have extra money to live off of was more appealing. Hacking into cameras wasn’t that hard, and it wasn’t going to hurt anyone. Unless it was.

“If you’re trying to get me to make sure a murder or rape isn’t on camera I’ll snitch,” you warned him.

“Oh no, nothing like that is happening at all. It’s just you know a robbery,” he replied, his expression genuine.

You nodded your head, convinced whatever he was asking couldn’t be that bad. “Okay, yeah, I’ll do it.”

~~~

“What was your first impression of the guys?

You smile. “They were really cool, funny, just overall really fun people to hang out with.”

“Do you remember the first time you met all of them?”

“Of course, like it was yesterday...”

~~~

The house you sat in front of didn’t look like a typical criminal's house. It looked like an average American’s family house actually. You were parked out on the road outside the house Spencer told you to go to, you were meeting the rest of the people involved with the robbery. It had been about ten minutes of you sitting out there debating whether or not to go in before you got a text from Spencer asking where you were. You sighed, praying to God this decision was the right one before getting out of your car.

You knocked on the front door with a shaky fist. You started to regret your decision, you thought about turning around and leaving, but the door was opened before you could act on it. An older woman stood in front of you, she looked to be in her 50s.

“Oh, you’re very pretty,” she said, making your cheeks turn red. “You’re here to see Warren, right?”

You had no idea who Warren was, but you nodded. The lady's smile grew, and she opened the door for you and ushered you inside. She directed you to the basement entrance, asking you a million questions you had no answers to. After those few but excruciating painful minutes though, you walked down the basement stairs and finally caught sight of Spencer.

There were three other guys in the room and all of their eyes were on you. Two, along with Spencer, were sitting on a couch. One of them was skinny with glasses, the other muscular with no glasses. They didn’t grasp your attention though. The last guy who was standing did. He had long dark curly hair, and eyes to match. His eyes met yours before you watched them slowly move up and down your body. You didn’t know how to react.

“Guys, this is y/n,” Spencer said, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Hello, I’m Eric,” the guy with glasses introduced himself.

“Chas,” the muscular guy spoke, not paying much attention to you. “Are you sure this was a good idea, Spence? How much do we really know about this chick? No offense.”

“Shut up, we agreed,” Spencer hissed. He waved you over and you complied, walking to the couch and sitting on the end beside him.

The standing guy took a step forward and held out his hand to you. You looked up at him before accepting his handshake. His hand was rough, you liked the feeling of it in yours. “I’m Warren and you are our cameraman or woman I guess.”

You laughed. “I guess.”

“How much has Spencer told you?” Warren asked after letting go of your hand and stepping back. It was then you noticed the maps on the wall with drawings all over them, the layout looked familiar.

“Just that I need to hack some cameras and that it’ll pay me a lot,” you answered. “I don’t even know what you guys are stealing.”

“Well y/n, I’m sure you’ve been to your own school's library right?”

You nodded.

“Have you ever taken a tour of the library’s rare book collection?”

You nodded again.

Warren smirked. “Then you know exactly what we’re stealing.”

Your face fell and you immediately looked at Spencer and the rest of the guys. “Are you serious? You guys want to steal historic books?”

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Chas mumbled from his chair.

“Shut up Chas,” Warren quickly snapped. He looked back at you, his dark eyes engulfing yours completely. “We’ve been planning this out for months, and you are the last piece to our puzzle y/n. Think about how much you’ll be earning.”

You didn’t say anything. Maybe it was a bad idea.

~~~

“Chas eventually stopped being cold to me, I actually think in the end he became my closest friend in the group,” you say, finishing your story.

The interviewer gives you a look. “Well, besides Warren right?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you reply, a confused look on your face.

“I have to ask if the stories are true, you know about you and him. The other guys say something changed between the two of you after a party you all attended. I mean, didn’t the police even question if your involvement had a deeper meaning than simply the money?”

You shake your head, giving your best performance. “Me and Warren were only ever best friends, there was never a deeper meaning behind anything.”

~~~

Music was pumping through your body, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head you could feel it. It had been a few weeks since you met the guys, and they all wanted to do something fun before the heist. So, a frat party was naturally the easiest option. That’s where you were now, already two shots and half a joint in. You didn’t know where Spencer, Nick, and Warren were, but Chas was dancing with you.

Though the two of you got off on the wrong foot, you and Chas quickly learned how well you get along. He was a good friend, all of the guys were. You liked how easily they could make you laugh and brighten your mood. They were all good people who you enjoyed being around.

Warren was the only one that you felt different for. You didn’t know why, but from the first day you met you knew your feelings for him would be different than the other three. The way he looked at you alone was completely different than the others. There was always something darker in his eyes, something you knew wasn’t supposed to be there for simply a friend. Every time the two of you looked at each other, your stomach filled with butterflies. You wanted it too. But in those first few weeks, nothing had happened. No matter how much either of you wanted it.

After some minutes of you and Chas dancing, Warren and Spencer appeared. They asked if the two of you wanted to go out and smoke, you both agreed and followed them outside the back. Not too many people were in the backyard, but there were enough for there to be a bonfire going. The four of you found an empty spot near the fire and sat down. Warren took out a joint and lit it before passing it around.

“Where’s Nick?” You asked after taking a hit.

Spencer shrugged. “Probably with the weird kids doing weird stuff.”

“He’s not that weird,” Chas replied. “He’s just awkward.”

You watched as Warren took another long hit of the joint. Because of the weed and alcohol, you found yourself even more attracted to him than when you were sober. You wanted so desperately to run your fingers through his hair, you wanted to hear his voice as you touched him. He suddenly met your gaze, his lips curled up into a mesmerizing smile. You wanted to kiss him. It was too much for you to handle.

You swallowed and stood up, brushing the dirt off your shorts. “I need to um use the bathroom.”

You didn’t wait for any of their replies. Instead, you rushed back into the house straight to the kitchen. You poured yourself a shot, downing it before giving it a second thought. You needed these feelings to go away. How were you supposed to work with Warren if you couldn’t even look at him without thinking about having sex with him? It made you feel awful. A hookup couldn’t be the reason the robbery went bad, you refused to let that happen.

After another shot, you started to forget about your feelings. In fact, you started to forget about Warren completely. All you felt was the burning sensation of the alcohol in your stomach and chest, it felt good. You stumbled out of the kitchen and into the hallway, grabbing the railings of the staircase for support. Suddenly, you felt a presence next to you, their hand on your back.

“Y/N, are you good?” It was Warren.

You turned your head and looked at him, God how could he look even better? “No- I’m not okay.”

“You’re wasted, you need some water,” he said. He moved his hand around your waist and pulled you up straight. You felt like you were on fire. “Come on, back to the kitchen.”

“Why are you here? I just- I just wanna forget about you,” you mumbled.

He started helping you walk back to the kitchen. “What? Why would you want to forget about me?”

“Because... I want you but I can’t have you. I thought you- felt the same that’s why it’s been so hard to resist,” you spoke, stumbling over your words. “I can’t look at you without thinking about you fucking me.”

Even in your drunken state, you could still see the cockiness on Warren’s face. He lifted you up onto the kitchen counter effortlessly before turning and getting you a cup of water. You leaned your head back against one of the cabinets, your head was spinning. You couldn’t think straight.

“Drink,” Warren’s voice filled your ears.

You lifted your head and grabbed the solo cup from his hand, downing the water faster than ever. When you finished, you threw the cup to the floor, your eyes meeting Warren’s once again. He was standing close enough that if you reached, you could touch him.

Perhaps it was because of the alcohol, or perhaps it was because of how long you’d felt the tension between you two, that gave you the courage to gently place your hand on the top of his head. His hair was soft, just like you’d expected it to be. You smiled and played with his curls. He didn’t object, you were glad. You needed this.

“Do you want me?” You asked, your voice barely audible against the loud music.

“What do you think?”

You shrugged. “I thought so, but I could always be wrong.”

“Maybe I should make it clearer,” he said. He grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand off his head before stepping closer to you. “If this house wasn’t crowded, I’d fuck you right here, right now.”

Your heart was racing, your cheeks bright red. You couldn’t believe this was happening. Warren was still holding your wrist, it sent electric shocks throughout your body. His eyes began to shift from your eyes to your lips and so on. You swallowed; a lump had formed in your throat.

“There’s probably an empty room somewhere,” you mentioned. “You could take me to one of them and show me you mean what you say.”

Warren raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, you’re pretty drunk.”

“I’m not- I swear. I consent, I’ll remember all of this in the morning,” you replied quickly.

“All right.”

Before you could say anything else, Warren scooped you into his arms and began to carry you through the house. You didn’t know whether to pretend you were drunk so it wouldn’t look suspicious or stay awake to also not make it look suspicious. You chose to stay awake and within minutes you and Warren were alone in a bedroom, your lips connected.

The kiss was fast and rough, everything you expected from him. His arms were wrapped around your waist, he towered over you. You wasted no time, immediately kicking off your shoes and pushing Warren back until he fell onto the bed. He pulled you on top of him, guiding your hips in slow motions over his clothed erection. You felt like you were on fire, you needed more.

You broke this kiss and leaned back so you were straddling him. You pulled off your shirt and bra, Warren followed your actions. Once your eyes fell upon his toned abdomen, you audibly moaned. You quickly leaned down again and kissed his chest, beginning a trail down his body. Each breath that left his mouth made your pussy drip even more. And when you reached his navel, his breaths turned into soft whispers.

“Keep going.”

“Please.”

“I’ll do anything.”

When you no longer had any skin left to kiss you looked back up at him, his eyes were already on you. He got your signal and instantly pulled his shorts and boxers off, leaving him completely naked. You weren’t surprised at his size; you had a feeling he’d be big. You started off by slowly stroking him with your hand, the expressions on his face already enough to make you cum.

After a minute or so of that, you bent down and pressed a small kiss to his tip. You loved the way his leg twitched. It made you proud. So, you took him into your mouth. He gasped, one of his hands finding its way to the back of your head. He didn’t push you; he only twirled your hair back into a ponytail-like style and gripped it tight. You moved your head up and down, taking as much of him in your mouth as you could. You were never a fan of giving head to guys, but with Warren, it was a different story.

Not much time passed before Warren pushed you gently, telling you he wasn’t going to last much longer. You didn’t care, you wanted him to finish in your mouth. But he told you he wanted to have sex, so you stopped. You peeled off your shorts and underwear before you climbed back onto him. His naked body against yours felt unreal, you were almost convinced this was all part of your drunken imagination.

However, when Warren pulled your head down and began to kiss your lips again, you knew it had to be real. His hands gripped your ass, kneading and playing with your skin. You positioned his tip at your entrance, you were so wet you didn’t need any lube. You broke the kiss and looked into his eyes, you wanted to know it was okay. He gave you a nod and so you began to push yourself down on him.

He filled you well, just the perfect amount. You had thrown your head back, a moan escaping your lips. You hadn’t had sex in months, and this was the perfect way to break that streak. You started to move your body forward and backward while simultaneously going up and down. Warren’s grip on your ass tightened with each movement you made.

“Fuck baby,” he moaned. “You do it so well.”

Your confidence was boosted; you began to move faster. This only lasted a few minutes though, much to your dismay. You weren’t too athletic; you didn’t have good stamina. Warren noticed this, and without saying anything he flipped your bodies. Once on top of you, he began violent thrusts. You almost screamed from the pleasure; you’d never felt anything remotely close to it in your life. He hit your cervix each time, it made your back arch off the mattress and your nails dig into his back.

“Warren,” you whimpered. “Oh, fuck Warren.”

One of his hands wrapped around your neck. He didn’t squeeze, he just rested it there. You felt the knot in your stomach form at this. It felt so good to be dominated by him. It had been your dream for weeks, and it had finally come true. You closed your eyes and let the feeling of Warren fucking you fill your senses.

When you came, you practically screamed his name. You swore you could see stars. You’d never experienced an orgasm so hard in your life. Warren came a few seconds after you, you felt his dick pulsing inside you. He collapsed on you. You didn’t care about how his weight crushed you, you still held him as the two of you began to come down from your highs.

~~~

As the crew packs up, you remain in your chair, staring blankly out one of your windows. The interviewer is still across from you, but you don’t notice until he speaks.

“Just tell me one thing, off the record,” he says, grabbing your attention. “Did you love him?”

A small smile grows on your lips. “With all my heart.”

[cieloclercs]

what would you say (if i told you i love you)? — charles leclerc

PART: 5/? (read part 4 here)

summary. in which childhood best friends blur the lines between what they’ve always known, and something more

pairing. charles leclerc x artsy!reader

warnings. it’s GROVELLING time !! sad charles, sad reader, swearing, everyone still kind of hates charles (as they should) angst but not quite as angsty as the last part

face claim. tara michelle

author’s note. i hope this is enough suffering for you guys 😭 i’m weak tho so there’s a tinyyy bit of progress at the end 👀 i feel like this one’s a bit messy so i’m sorry about that?? it’s also kind of just setting up the next part but oh well 😭 anyways, LAST PART COMING UP NEXT ☹️ i’m gonna miss this series :’(

NOW PLAYING | Singapore 2023 post-FP1 interview: Charles Leclerc

COMMENTS 32k

username i’m still charles’ number 1 hater rn but he looked so sad at the end… ☹️

username girl no we need to be strong! don’t fall for the sad puppy dog eyes (i know he’s cute but srsly don’t) 🫠

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username sir don’t try and blame your shitty mistakes on y/n 😭😭

username HE LOOKS SO SAD I CANT 🥲

username i really hope y/n sees this and realises he’s actually sorry

username no way that’s too easy. charles needs to apologise properly !!

username oh my GOD the way he started smiling when he said y/n is his ‘lucky charm’ AND THEN THE WAY IT DROPPED WHEN HE REMEMBERED THEY’RE NOT FRIENDS ANYMORE IM GONNA SCREAM 😭😭😭💔💔💔

username charles do you see what you’re doing to us charlesy/n stans?? PLEASE JUST TELL HER HOW YOU FEEL FFS 😫

username i swear if these two don’t pull their heads out of their asses soon I WILL COMMIT MURDER

username so real bestie 😔

username it’s such an invasion of privacy to ask about this though 😭

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username CHARLES YOU DONT GET TO ACT LIKE THE VICTIM WHEN YOU’RE THE ONE THAT’S CAUSED THIS

username so true. he needs to stop feeling sorry for himself and apologise 🙄

liked by yourfriend and 47,837 others

yourusername always on my mind ☁️💫

view all comments…

username SHE’S BACK IN MONACO GUYS EVERYBODY STAY CALM

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leclerc_pascale Bienvenue à la maison, ma fille ❤️ / welcome home, my girl

yourusername 🥰

arthur_leclerc YOU’RE BACK

yourusername did you forget? i literally saw you twenty minutes ago 😭

username the caption 🤔

username we can all agree she’s talking about charles, right?

yourfriend ma femme 🤩 / my wife

yourusername mon amour 😘

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username forget her art SHE IS THE ART RIGHT THERE

charles_leclerc belle / beautiful

username EXCUSE ME??

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username charles get tf out of here 😭

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username CHARLES IS HERE GUYS HOW ARE WE FEELING

username i’m so conflicted rn

username like i want them to make up but at the same time he needs to SUFFER like he made y/n suffer

username fr, make him squirm a little 😌

username idk guys, if charles leclerc commented ‘belle’ on MY instagram, i’d be on my knees in an instant 🫣

username girl please 😭

username charles babe please go away you’re ruining the vibes x

username i swear to god if he’s here just to fuck with y/n’s head again i’ll fucking kill him

username he wouldn’t do that

username @charles_leclerc if you want to win her back this is NOT the way to do it

arthur_leclerc @charles_leclerc what did i tell you? 👀

username HAHAHA ARTHUR STOP

joris_trouche @charles_leclerc you should listen to our advice mate 😃

yourfriend @arthur_leclerc @joris_trouche shut up both of you 😒

joris_trouche yes ma’am 🫡

username they’re all ganging up on him 😭

liked by formula1updates and 9,736 others

f1gossip Charles Leclerc and Y/N Y/L/N spotted at the same night club in Monaco 👀

view all comments…

username OH MY GOD IS IT HAPPENING??

username there’s no way this is coincidence charles is boutta beg for forgiveness i’m calling it

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username AHAHAHA YES

username what i’d give to be in that club rn 😔

username fr y/n better be roasting him 😭

➜ part 6

taglist: @cxcewg @incoherenciass @formula1mount @allywthsr @meabhcavanagh @driveswiftly13 @zzblooda @gaslysainz @be-your-coffee-pot @siovhanroy

[szynkaaa]

Not My Circus, But Unfortunately That Is My Monkey

Next Chapter ✦ Read it on AO3

Guess what, I wrote a one-shot for my disaster children Sun Wukong and OC. I plan to write more, whenever I have some ideas that I need to get off. Not a writer, and English is not my first language! This is mostly self-indulging crap.

It is written in 1st POV, from my OC's, but I also use 'you' (2nd POV??) when she is referring to the Destined One/Sun Wukong. Imagine basically all the one shots are diary entires or letters she wrote addressing to him. Books that inspired me to write in this style: Cat and Mouse by Günter Grass, Stolen by Lucy Christopher and You by Caroline Kepnes.

Here is my OC tag with art and backstories that I am making up for her which may or may not get mentioned in my one-shots.

Stories will not be written in chronological order of their adventure, I will write whatever comes to my mind. It's also posted on my AO3

In Which There Was Only One Bed (There Wasn't, They Are Both idiots)

It was around the hours of the Ox when I heard light footsteps pacing outside my room. The door to my room in the Stone Palace on Mount Huaguo was not fully closed. I liked to leave a bit open, just wide enough for me to hear more clearly if there is anything happening outside the door and I need to get ready to fight for my life – habits I picked up from my travel with you that seemed to not be going away any time soon.  

I laid bundled up in three layers of blankets on a thin mattress on the ground close to nearest exist in the room: a window with no glass panels. A peach tree grew right outside said window, with the nearest branch to the window close enough for me to jump from the ledge over and climb down the tree to run away if needed. Even though you assured me that the Stone Palace is a safe place, and no harm can happen to me, after months of traveling with you and having far too many close encounters with death, I was not able to sleep anymore with all the doors and windows shut tight. It’s funny because before all of this, I couldn’t fall asleep before making sure that all doors were closed – and that included wardrobes too. I was so sure that if I left a wardrobe open, something was going to crawl out of it and drag me away as a kid. Now I fear that if I keep all doors closed, I will be trapped inside with whatever was already hiding in the room before even being able to escape. 

The pacing in front of my door stopped. Logically, I knew that it was you outside, and yet my heart pace still picked up, thinking that maybe, just maybe some yaoguai managed to get pass you is now to finish me off. There weren’t many creatures living in the Stone Palace. So far, it’s just you and me. You told me that while there are still some monkeys living on Mount Huaguo, there were still many things you needed to get sorted out before things would go back to the way it was before - before the Monkey King retrieved the scripts from the West, before he embarked on a long journey of sixteen years, before he was buried under the Five Element Mountain for 500 years, before he wreaked havoc in heaven. Back when the halls and mountain was filled with joyous laughter and mischief and happiness. A simpler time, you said once. But you were greedy and ambitious and wanted more.  

The pacing stopped. 

Keeping my eyes shut and pretending to be still asleep, I slowly reached for the dagger (a gift from the 4th Spider Sister) under my pillow. I opened one eye and glanced at the door. The door creaked slightly, indicating that whoever was standing outside was pushing it open now. And then the pushing stopped briefly, like they were hesitating. I slowly moved the dagger to under my blanket, heart beating wildly, praying that I will not have to use it. Did I even know how to swing a dagger? I didn’t, but better to have a weapon than none. I closed my eyes again, pretending to be asleep. 

This time, I heard someone knocking on the door.  

“You’re awake.” came a voice standing outside. It was you, Sun Wukong, stating facts rather than asking if I was awake at this ungodly hour.  

I released a relieved breath, not knowing I was even holding it and opened my eyes again. “Yeah, I am. What’s up?” I asked. I didn’t need to see your face to know that your eyebrows briefly furrowed at my ‘what’s up’. You got good at understanding the unusual way I talk, but there were still times where you couldn’t understand what I was trying to say.  

You pushed the door open and walked in, your eyes wandering from the empty bed and then to my form laying bundled up in three layers of blankets – due to the chilly night air - on a thin mattress on the floor. Confusion was written all over your face. I sat up from and put the dagger aside as you walked towards me, and then crouched down.  

“Why are you sleeping on the floor? Is the bed not to your liking?” you asked. There was worry etched into your face, your tail lowered to the ground. You were out of your armor, wearing a simple hanfu top and loose pants. The hanfu was not properly tied up, giving me a good view onto your fur-covered upper body – the only part showing some skins were your chest and neck. It’s very likely that up until few minutes ago, you were also in your own bed, trying to sleep.  

I wrapped my blankets around my shoulder and leaned back against the wall. “The bed is fine. It’s just...” I trailed off, suddenly feeling very silly for sleeping on the floor.  

You noticed my hesitation, and sat down on the floor opposite of me, legs crossed. I knew that this usually meant you were waiting patiently for me to find the right words to say what I wanted.  

Ah fuck it. You have already seen me at my worst, what is one more silly confession? “The bed is too soft.” I blurted out.  

One of your eyebrows perked up. “Too soft?”, you repeated gently. I half-expected you to mock what I said. The stories I read about the Great Sage Equal to Heaven were running through my head, how the Monkey King would easily mock and tease others for their weakness. But then I silently berated myself for even thinking like this about you – you’re not like this anymore. That was you long in the past. I was still getting used to the ‘new’ you. The you that inherited Sun Wukong’s relics and minds and memories.  

“I think I’m just too used to sleeping on the cold hard ground outside. I’m having hard time falling asleep these days on the bed, so I just move all the things down here to get some sleep. It’s silly, I know. We are not traveling anymore and I know this is a safe place but-”  

“It’s not silly.” you interrupted me, and looked me in the eyes with an intense stare, making my breath hitch. “I want you to feel comfortable here. And if this means you need to sleep on the floor, then so be it. If you need ten blankets to sleep with,” you continued, patting my three blankets, “then I will find you the best silk blankets in the three realms.” 

A smile hushed over my face at that statement.  

“Please do not run away again.” you finished, and a heavy silence hung over us. Again. I lowered my eyes, thinking back about the time when I could not accept that you, the Destined One, have fully reincarnated into Sun Wukong. At that time, it seemed to me like I lost a best friend and they were replaced by a look-a-like with a different personality. Toppled with the fact that finding all six artifacts did not send me back home, it was too much for me to handle and I ran away, hiding in the Zodiac Village for a few weeks processing everything. You went from not talking a single word to suddenly being able to say anything that came into your mind – it was new and foreign and just felt so wrong at that time.  

My actions at that time hurt you deeply, but you didn’t give up and came to visit the village every day, talking to everyone and just checking up on me while I was hiding away in the blacksmith’s cottage, like the coward I was.  

Things were not back to the way it was before between us, and I don’t think it ever will be – and that’s okay, I realized. Just because some things have changed, it did not mean it was for the worse. It was just different, but not in a bad way. 

Wiggling a foot out of my blanket layers, I gently nudged your leg. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” Your shoulders visibly relaxed, and then it was my turn for asking questions. “Why are you awake at this time pacing in front of my door?”  

“I could not fall asleep either.” you replied, arms crossed like it was the most obvious answer. Duh.  

“Okay, yeah. I figured out that much.” I rolled my eyes. Typical monkey, not giving me a straight answer. “What is keeping you awake?” I rephrased my question. 

At that, your shoulders stiffened up and you avoided looking at me. It must have been something bad if you swallowed your pride to come over this late at night to see me. I pressed my lips into a thin line and nudged you again with my foot, to which you then simply grabbed hold of it. “Why is your foot freezing cold.” You asked instead. 

“I’ve been dead for seven years.” shot out of me sarcastically, as I tried to tug my foot back into the blanket, but you were holding onto it with an iron grip, and then you started to massage my foot with both of your hands to get some warmth into them.  

I felt the heat creeping up into my ears and tried to stay focused. “You’re avoiding my question.” Still holding onto the three layers of blanket, I shuffled a bit closer to you. You were still massaging my foot, putting all your attention into it to make sure it was warm.  

“You should be grateful the Great Sage is massaging a mere mortal’s foot.” you snipped back. 

Stupid rock monkey.  

Using my other free foot, I tried to kick you for that sassy comment, but of course you saw it coming and caught my second foot in your hands too – which was also freezing cold, and you started massaging that one too, very focused on the task at hand. 

I let you do it for a couple of minutes, till I could feel my toes again.  

“Hey Wukong...” I started; you didn’t pause what you were doing. “Please tell me why you couldn’t sleep?”  

Your movement briefly stopped, and then continued, your eyes avoiding mine. I bent forward a little bit and then grabbed your face with my hands, gently gripping the hair on your face and tilting your head up so that you were looking at me. You looked haunted, as if your head has been replaying some bad memories on repeat in your head like a broken record. You stopped massaging my feet, and moved your hand to grip mine that was holding your face, but you didn’t remove them from there. 

“I... I can feel it.” you started, eyes drifting off again. 

I moved my fingers a bit to massage your face, knowing that you loved it when I did this. “Feel what.” 

“When I close my eyes, I am back in the battle field. Fighting against his- my sworn brother. Against the Yaoguai I fought at my travel. The three-eyed bastard and his mutt. The anger of the Court killing my kin, and how terrified I was gambling with my life-” you spoke, your hands gripping my hands so tight that I winced slightly, to which you immediately loosened them and then ran your finger up and down against mine as a form of apology.  

I knew that by obtaining all six artifacts you would also gain Sun Wukong’s memories. However, it didn’t cross my mind that it also means you would have all the bad memories too, including the one where you had to kill yourself in order to be completely free.  

I was never really good with words, or knew what to do to make a friend feel better. But I knew I did not – could not – let you walk back to your room alone after what you just confessed. 

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” From the corner of my eyes, I saw how your tail slightly perked up at that.  

You hesitated, before replying, “I do not want to cross any boundaries and make you uncomfortable.”  

My eyes softened at that, knowing that you were referring to me still adjusting to the new-old you. “I mean. It’s not like it would be any different from when we shared a bed or bedroll when we were traveling.”  

Your tail was now up from the floor, swishing left and right, a sign that you liked the proposal. Sometimes I think that you didn’t even know your tail was moving on its own, giving away what you were feeling.  

Your hands stopped gripping mine, and then you scrunched your nose and said in a very distasteful tone, “The Great Sage does not sleep on the floor.”  

I see, back to the snobby dignified king act. I knew that this was your attempt to cover up for the honest moment we briefly shared few seconds ago 

Say what you want, the Monkey King is a bit of a tsundere. 

Slapping your face lightly with both of my hands, I then proceed to lay back down and closed my eyes. “Suit yourself. You can carry me to the bed cause I ain’t movi-”  

Before I could finish that sentence, something lifted me up along with my three blankets and then I was placed over a shoulder like a sack of potato. All I could see was a monkey tail swishing left and right before the room turned again and I was deposited ungently onto the bed, still cocooned up in my blankets. You motioned me to scooch over to the far end of the bed and then laid down next to me, with one arm under your head and the other resting on your stomach. “I need a blanket. Why do you have three of them?” You asked.  

I stared at you, and you stared back, slowly raising an eyebrow. We both knew that the raised eyebrow meant ‘Are you really going to make this hard because this is a fight you will not win but I will indulge you if you want to’. Then I smiled in surrender, and shuffled around a bit so that I was out of my blanket cocoon and held up half of the blanket as a silent invitation for you to come closer and get under the blanket with me.  

You did not need to be told twice. I lifted up my head so that you could put your arm under my head while I moved also closer to you, staring at the two moles on your exposed neck. You then moved the blanket over to us and placed your over arm around my body. I instantly felt much warmer, warmth that three layers of blanket could never provide. Wiggling my arms, I moved a bit back to make some space for my hands, before placing them on the exposed skin on your chest that was not covered by fur. 

Just like my feet, my hands were also freezing cold. You knew I had bad blood-circulation, and yet for some reason you never seemed to be prepared for whenever I decide to use your body heat as a personal hand-and-feet-warmer. Or maybe you did but didn’t mind it that much.  

“Why are your hands freezing cold mortal,” you hissed, but instead of pushing me away you grip around me tightened. Before I could give a reply, you said “And do not tell me it is because you have been dead for seven years.”  

I grinned, feeling my hands warming up, and then proceed to tuck my cold-again feet between his fur-covered legs. You let out a defeated sigh, and then rested your chin on top of my head. “The Great Sage, reduced to a mere warmth comforter for a mortal.” 

“Mhmmm.” I mumbled out, sleep finally catching up to me. ”Night night, Kiwi.” I said drifting off.  

Something that felt like a pair of lips brushed my forehead.  

Do you still see flashes of red, and feel the burning sensation of pain on your chest when you close your eyes? Do you still hear the sound of your Jīngū Bàng clashing with Erlang Shen’s spear, or when you laid in your sworn brother’s arms, taking your last breath before you crumbled into ashes, the wind carrying it away? You told me that the nightmares stopped whenever I was sleeping next to you. 

Now I wonder if you are having them again, sleeping alone in your bed that was too big for one lonesome Monkey King.  

[haveihitanerve]

Bruce & Jason centric in that they find a hobby they can do together and actually bond over.

Bruce helped Dick with his acrobatics when he was younger, acting as a spotter. Jason goes in drives with Dick.

Bruce plays minecraft with Tim and is concerningly good at it (Bruce is good with building, Tim is good at speed running). Jason and Tim are always getting into classic olderbrother-youngerbrother dynamic and feud about the smallest things, but they somehow end with a truce of "..Wanna get ice cream?" and it works 9 times outta 10.

Bruce and Damian spend time drawing together in the designated art room. Bruce, of course, does well with architectural designs, but he occasionally dabbles in portraits, and Damian does the opposite. Jason and Damian bond over their memories and time in the LOA.

But what do Bruce and Jason bond with? Sports? Games? TV Shows? Books? Ever since Jason came back as Red Hood, their relationship has been awkward at best and very strained at almost worst.

I feel like they have lots of things to bond over, idk really- for sure books, some other headcanons i have are boxing, it seems like something they both like to do, otherwise history because Bruce loves to know and jason loves literature :) but heres my attempt at writing this for you

Jason hadn't planned on being in the Manor. He was only here, quite honestly, because Tim really wanted his laptop but he really didn't want to come home because he was injured and he might run into Alfred, or worse, Bruce, and Jason could understand that so he had reluctantly agreed and left the kid at his safehouse, and was now at the Manor.

He prayed he didn't run into anyone. Dick and Babs were out on a date, he knew, which meant Batgirl would once again make an appearance tonight, and they wouldn't be home until around three, Alfred was in the kitchen and wasn't planned to leave it for at least another half hour, until he finished his late night cup of tea and chapter of his new book, and the rest of the kids were holed up at Jason's apartment. Unfortunately.

Jason sighed, pushing open Tim's bedroom door to snag his laptop. Duke had asked him to swing by his room too and grab some things if he was "going over there anyway" and Damian didn't even need to ask, Jason stopped by and grabbed Alfred the cat... except the cat wasn't in his room.

Jason fought a groan. If the cat wasn't in the demon brats room then he was anywhere else in the house, and the most likely case was that he was with one of the people in the house, because despite being a cat, the creature was like a goddamned dog, constantly seeking affection and running up to people for pets.

Jason cursed Bruce's nature for adopting children and Talia for ever forcing him to create his own, throwing all the stuff he'd collected into his duffel bag and heading deeper into the Manor. On the hunt. For a cat. What even was his life anymore.

Sure enough, light was streaming from the billiard room, because of course they had a billiard room, and Jason could hear the distinct sound of a cat meowing. He winced, pushing the door open slowly, and found Bruce hunched over the billiard table, Alfred the cat draped across his shoulders, fiddling with some things. Jason cleared his throat.

Bruce glanced up, and after a small frown of confusion at seeing who it was, lit up. "Jason! What are you doing here?" Bruce seemed to regret the words the second they came out of his mouth, judging them to be too harsh, but Jason came further into the room, lifting the duffel bag.

"Tim and the others asked me to grab some stuff." Bruce nodded thoughtfully, glancing at the clock. "Will they be home soon?" He asked carefully. Jason shrugged. "prolly not. They can crash, its fine." Bruce nodded. "Okay. Good." There was a beat of awkward silence.

"Oh uh, Damian wanted the cat." Jason coughed, gesturing to Alfred. "Oh!" Bruce nodded, slipping the cat off his shoulders and handing him to Jason. "Right... well." Jason coughed again. "What are... you doing?" Bruce blinked at him a few times, like he'd never expected Jason to show an interest in his work, which was crazy giving the way Jason had died

But quickly recovered, gesturing him closer. "Stamps. I collect them." "You collect stamps?" Jason asked dubiously. Bruce nodded emphatically. "Oh yes. They're so fascinating. They tell a story. Like this one, for instance, is from World War Two. Or this one, the Persian War. Despite everything, people still find time to write letters, to communicate with each other."

"Huh." Jason nodded, leaning over the table to look at the rest of the stamps. Bruce had quite the collection. "I can show you more, if you'd like." He offered uncertainly. Jason took a step back. "Right. Yeah. No, I- I'd like that." Bruce blinked. "You would?" The words were careful. Weighing. Jason nodded, swallowing.

"Y-yeah. I- uh, I gotta get back to the others," He lifted the duffel bag. "But uh, maybe some other time. This seems... really cool." Bruce smiled. "Truly? Well... good. Thats good. I- I'll uh. I'll leave them out then. For next time." Jason nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Next time."

The letter arrived a week later, an ancient stamp on the front, and a detailed description inside, a bit too detailed, but Jason appreciated it. He began searching, scouring everywhere he could with every piece of free time he had, and sent his own back, adding in pieces of information and evidence about Killer Croc that he'd been meaning to share later anyway.

It became their thing, a little bit of back and forth, and soon the letters grew longer, only a paragraph dedicated to actually explaining the origins or story, and more about their lives, their old life and their new. It became a game, leaving stamps out for the other to find, trying to guess what year the stamp was from without opening the letter, and randomly sticking stamps onto evidence to see if the other person would be able to guess it. A thing. Bruce smiled every time he thought about it. And if Jason showed up more at family functions, and allowed Bruce to wrap an arm around his shoulders to the surprise of everyone else... well, that was their little secret.

[chaengluva]

Fear Me, Love Me

I was inspired by Regina in the all black outfit to write this

Regina George x Reader: 2.2k words: Masterlist

Requested: Yes/No

Regina rides a motorbike in this :)

————————————————————————————

Everyone knew when Regina George was coming to school, they could all hear her coming, which made everyone tremble in fear.

Almost everyone, except for one girl that was, Y/n 'Imi'ike, which happened to be you. When you heard the sound of you girlfriend coming into school, you got excited and rushed out to greet her instantly.

The loud sound of Regina's famous motorbike engine made the ground vibrate and the school freeze in fear, then there was you, a drama freak, (Lowkey a dork) Smiling brightly as you waits for Regina to park her motorbike.

As soon as she steps off the heavy vehicle, you run after her, giving her a hug before she can take her helmet off, making her jolt back in surprise before chuckling under her breath, hugging you back, "What a warm welcome." Regina says happily, removing her arms to take off her helmet, but there is something that's stopping her.

"I missed you." you smile, still having your arms wrapped around her, which makes the taller girl giggle. "Baby, move your arms away." You do what she told you, moving your arms so she could take of her helmet, as soon as she does, she leans closer to give you a kiss, her hands wrapping around your waist to pull your body closer.

When she pulls away, she takes off her gloves and reaches out her hand, silently asking for you to hold it, which you do, the two of you were so lucky to have homeroom together, the whole class knew about your relationship with the queen bee, no one would dare question it, but everyone was wondering how did you end up with Regina George?

For more context, let's back track. You have always been a loner, being the younger sister of Janis 'Imi'ike already set your reputation low with everyone as soon as you started at North Shore.

Everyone thought you'd be crazy obsessed with art and they were surprised to see you were hopeless at the subject. You were talented in other things but you're main focus was musical theatre, you thought this would stop everyone from calling you an art freak but you were wrong, they still did.

After musical theatre, you're favourite subject was Maths, you were doing AP Math which resulted people calling you a nerd, it didn't hurt your feelings, but nothing would prepare you for what happened on April 12th.

You nervously held your books as you walked to the theatre, you were just praying that you would get the lead, Heathers as your favourite musical and your dream role was Heather Chandler. As you got closer, your nerves grew stronger as you saw the crowd around the door, Janis and Damien said that you were definitely going to get this role, but you still had denial.

You pushed through the people to be able to see the paper, you read over the names and a bright smile landed on your face as you saw that you got your dream roll, you screamed, texting your sister. Then happily walking away to your locker.

You were taking your stuff for first period, you felt a tap on your shoulder that was a little aggressive so you turn around to face one of guys on the football team, James Brown. "Hi James, what do you want?" You say with a bright smile on your face, still feeling happy about what happened earlier.

James wasn't happy, he had an angry expression on his face. "You stole my Girlfriends role!" He yelled, shoving you into the locker, you groaned in pain, "I'm sorry, I don't understand?" You say, confused with what he was so mad over, "My girlfriend's dream role was Heather Chandler! And you stole it! You're not even talented! You can't sing!" He yelled, making you flinch.

"I'm sorry but I don't know who your girlfriend is.." You say in a calm voice, hoping it would calm him down. Spoiler alert, it didn't, "Jessica Dove. She's much more talented than you, the only reason you got the role is because the directors want to fuck you!" He yelled, you tried not to take offence to what he was saying, you knew he was just trying to offend you.

As soon as she noticed you weren't taking offence he threw a hard punch to your face, you were taken back by what he did and was in to much shock to fight back, even if you did have fast reflexes, James held both your wrists preventing you from hitting back, he hits you in the face a few more times.

You can see he reaches up his arm to throw another punch, you squint your eyes, waiting for it to happen but it never comes, when you open your eyes, you see another hand, covering James' hand, and throwing him back.

You see that his facial expression turns to frightened and he rushes away, you don't know who saved you, before you can take a look at the figure, everything goes black.

You wake up in a different place, you panic, rushing to sit up because you don't know where you are, strong arms are on you, pushing you down slowly, you turn to look at the girl, you gasp and you're heart stops, you see the girl you have had a crush on your whole high school life.

Regina George, the name you have heard from your sister but you still couldn't help follow along with everyone else and liking the tall blonde. "R-Regina? What are you doing here?"  You ask, voice slightly breaking, "I saw James hitting you and I couldn't allow it to continue," She said, voice sweet as honey as she runs her fingers through your hair, you look to the side and see a mirror, you see that your face is ruined, a black eye and many bruises and even a bit of dried blood covered your face.

"My face is ruined. I won't be able to do the musical." You say, turning around, not wanting to face the mirror anymore, Regina George shakes her head, still playing with your hair, "No. I spoke with my Dad and he called the school, they agreed to postpone the musical."

You open your eyes and smile at the girl, leaning in to give her a hug, she giggled at your cuteness, when you pulled away, the two of you looked into each others eyes, you thought she was about to kiss you but you shook your head, "If I'm being honest I thought you would just leave me there." You say, slightly giggling.

Regina grabs your hand and looks at you with a shocked expression on her face, "I would for some normal losers but you're different Y/n." She smiled, looking into your eyes, then back to your lips.

Then it happened, the thing happened that you have been wanting to do since 9th grade, you felt her lips against yours.

So that's how everything happened, Regina skipped to stay with you in the hospital and you came back wearing some of her clothes and her arm wrapped around you possessively. No one expected the relationship, but it mostly a shock to your sister. When she first saw the two of you, she was in heavy denial and thought it was two people who just looked exactly like you but as she got closer, she realised it was you and Regina.

It took a while to get used to and she is still grossed out but she has never seen you this happy to go to school so she's fine with it, but if Regina ever does anything to hurt you, she won't be afraid to mess up Regina George's life.

That brings us back into the present time, Regina was holding your hand very tightly and couldn't help to notice how tired you looked, when she sat down, she grabbed your waist before you could sit down and dragged you to sit in her lap, none of the other students said anything because this was normal for them.

"What time did you get to sleep last night baby." You stay silent and don't say anything, she looks at you with her scary eyes, which always makes you spit the words out. "I didn't" You whisper very quietly, "What was that?" Regina asks, because she couldn't hear what you said, "I didn't get any sleep." You repeat louder, followed by a big yawn right after. Regina looked at the smaller girl in concern, you were always rehearsing or studying, she felt bad that you had no time to sleep, she allowed you to sleep on her chest for homeroom, you feel asleep quickly.

When she knew you were asleep, she pulled out her phone, texting Janis if its okay if she takes you home and looks after you, Janis said the Idea was perfect and that you needed the rest, Regina gulped knowing that she would have to do a lot of convincing for the next part. So she called Janis, thinking that it would be easier.

Janis picked up, wondering why Regina decided to call her, "What's up Regina? Are you taking Y/n home?" She asks, "I am but.. I came here on my motorbike." Regina says, Janis nods like Regina can see her, "Yeah that's fine but-," Janis slowly processed what that meant so she stopped talking, "Do you have a helmet for her? and safe clothes to wear?" Janis asked, Regina quickly answered with a smile on her face, "Yes! I bring a spare one everyday just in case." Janis hesitates before saying, "Okay."

The tall blonde girl smiles brightly, hanging up the phone and waking you up, she doesn't say anything she just garbs your bag and her bag and holds your hand and walks out of the school, you were to tired to process what was happening, when she brings you to her motorbike and just stands there, your worries go up high, "What are we doing? We have school!" You yell, starting to panic, the blonde pulls you in for a hug, calming you down.

"Your sister agrees that you need rest, so I'm taking you home." You frown, not even denning the fact that your so tired, she puts on your helmet and your motorbike clothes on, making sure that you're very safe, you have ridden on her motorbike before but it was scary every time. She put on her helmet and helped you on before she got on herself, you wrapped your arms around her tightly, not daring to let go once.

When you got to her place, she took you to her room right away, allowing you to rest on top of the blankets and she ran a bath for the two of you, it had only been 10 minutes but when she was done setting up, she came back to you sound asleep, she almost felt bad waking you up.

It was worth it, she woke you up and guided you into her on suite bathroom, you looked at her with happy puppy eyes when you saw what she did for you, she lit the room with candles and the bath was filled with warm water, bubbles and flower petals.

Regina undressed herself first, taking off all her clothes until she was completely stripped, you started at her for a few seconds but brought back to reality when Regina clicked her fingers and started to help you out of her clothes, Regina hoped into the bath first, she allowed you to come in after her, your back against her front with you in between her legs.

She started to wash your hair, making sure to massive the scalp, her fingers were so relaxing, you ending up falling asleep, while you were asleep, she cleaned your body, trying her best not to wake you, 30 minutes later, she had to wake you up, she lightly shook you causing you to let out a whine. "It's okay baby, you can go back to sleep soon." She whispers, helping you out of the bath.

She dried you up, giving you some of her clothes to change into, guiding you to the bed, she knew you wanted to get under the covers and sleep but she had another plan. She lied you down on your stomach after she took off the shirt you were wearing, putting some cream and oil in her hands she started to massage your body, starting at your shoulders, you were so stiff she made sure so massage every muscle to make your body less tender.

When she was down she put your shirt back on and pulled the covers over you, walking down stairs to set up another surprise for you, when you woke up, you felt happy, you felt stress free, you weren't thinking anything other then, "What is that amazing smell." You got up quickly and rushed downstairs, smiling when you saw your tall girlfriend, cooking you some pasta.

You walked up and wrapped your arms around her waist, still feeling slightly sleepy, she smiled at your cuteness, bringing you turning around to pull you in for a hug, "How you feeling baby?" Regina asks, hugging you tightly, you look at her smiling, "Hungry." The blonde girl giggles and nods her head, serving you and herself some pasta.

When you were finished you put your dirty dishes in the dishwasher and rushed up stairs, you were excited to get back to sleep but stress came back when you realised you had school tomorrow, but all stress went away when you felt Regina's arms wrap around you and you felt calm.

This goes to show that even the motorbikes don't hide how soft Regina George is for you, and everyone knows it.

[remushrts]

getting a piercing with barty . . .

— pairing: barty crouch jr x gn!reader

— a/n: inspired by my friend who wanted company to go pierce her ear <3 (not proofread)

— warnings: needle mention and brief description of getting a piercing (yk the process), no blood or anything though, and i think that's all!

For all of his faults, one of Barty's biggest qualities was that he was up for anything. It didn't matter how insane - some might say the more insane or stupid, the better when it came to Barty - or how late or how unusual, if you could pitch him an idea, he was in for it. This time, you thanks the gods he is. The only word that had made through to him was "piercing", and he was up and ready to leave despite it already being the middle of the afternoon.

"Didn't we need to schedule or something?" You ask as Barty drags you by the hand through streets and more streets, seemingly lost, until he turns two corners over and spot the place he got his piercings at, after Dorcas insisted they would get inflamed if he kept doing it at home (his ear was already nearing infection, to her credit).

"Nah, don't worry, trouble." He shrugs it off, holding the door open so you can enter.

The place is small, decorated with a black, white and red theme and many goth, almost grotesque art pieces on the walls. The one that attracts your attention the most is a heart on the wall, stabbed with pins and piercings jewels on display. You hear Barty talking to someone as you analyse the different types of needles and jewelry, thinking about which one to get.

"Trouble, you're up!" You hear his voice, looking in his direction confused, he has nothing but a smile as he points to the counter. The assistant gives you a sheet of information to fill and once you're done, takes you to a different room. Barty of course, goes with you.

"Evan's doing it for you. Same guy who pierced my bridge and most of my ear, and my tongue... You get it, right? He's good." He tries to calm you down.

"Yeah, and if you faint, I'm piercing your septum." A blonde guy enters the room and jokes, preparing a needle and instructing you to lay down on the stretcher in the middle of the room as he puts on a pair of gloves. You can't say the hospital-like smell is any calming for your nerves.

"Two for the price of one!" Barty smiles as you hold your breath nervously. "Don't worry Ev, trouble's not gonna pass out." He double checks with you, standing on the opposite side of the stretcher you're laid on, his fingers finding yours to give an encouraging squeeze. "We good to go?"

You take a deep breath before nodding, and Evan holds your head in place before stabbing the needle through your skin. A sharp pain blooms in the spot, and you squeeze your eyes at it, expecting blood or more pain, but it never comes. Despite from a little discomfort and some warmth, there's nothing. Evan gives you a smile, letting you know he needs to put the jewel in place. Barty pokes his head to watch, as you flinch slightly at the sensation.

"See, we're done already." Barty says, helping you sit up, his hand supporting your back. "Trust me, doesn't hurt as bad as a regular needle. And you'll probably take better care of it than I would, so it's gonna be easy." You all but nod to him, praying for him to be right as you get a ton of instructions to follow, what to not eat and what to avoid in general, all while Barty makes commentary and Evan cuts off to correct him and tell you to actually do the opposite and finally, come over if there's any problem at all. He's sweet, makes you think even if there's none, maybe you'll come around for another piercing soon enough. Maybe let Barty on the waiting room this time.