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hunnylagoon · 8 months

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When I Was Your Girl

Stage Fright

Rockstar! Ellie Williams x pop star! Reader

‘Fame is a poison most would drink happily despite the warning of a slow and painful death’

Premise: You and fell in love as nobodies and fell out of love in the limelight. Now you are forced to deal with ghosts who haunt you like a melody.

Warnings: small mentions of drinking and drugs / wee bit of violence / Ellie is a dick

Fake albums mentioned: Solstice / Smokey Eyes

I've never been anything more than a joke.

I'm so childish they took it for maturity, and I'm so serious they took it for silly.

Even since I began my career, I was spotted at eighteen by a skeezy producer when I sold myself at a strip club to make ends meet, because dreaming never paid the bills. I wish that I had been found somewhere else, maybe one of the restaurants I sang at on karaoke nights or the park where I poured my soul into art through my uncle’s old acoustic guitar.

"How are you feeling right now?" A tanned woman with slick back hair shoves a microphone into my face while an emotionless man holds the camera. "I mean, seven years in the industry and you've just received your first Grammy nominations."

"I'm feeling kind of freaked out, to be honest," I face the woman with a sheepish smile on my face, trying the best I can not to look at the large camera lurking beside me.

"Rightfully," Her teeth are so white that they almost blind me and I get distracted by myself as I try to figure out whether they are veneers or not. "Do you think you'll be bringing any hardware home tonight?"

She moves the microphone back to my face and I flinch out of instinct, we both laugh for the camera but I can tell she's annoyed "Honestly, I'm just happy to be here, as corny as it sounds it is such an honour to be around so many incredible artists."

"So humble," She smiles then turns to the camera to address the viewers "I think we all know she's gonna be sleeping tonight with a golden gramophone under her pillow," She forces a laugh, trying to capture the raw essence of this overly manufactured moment. The interviewer turns back to me "Now, I know this isn't your first rodeo, is there anyone here you aren't looking forward to seeing, you don't have to name any names."

Fuck I hate these bloodsuckers. She is so obviously trying to milk my broken engagement which was still very much fresh. I uphold my false smile though and shake my head "Nope, if anything I think I'm looking forward to some mingling,"

She looks irritated, covering it up only by a close-lipped smile. "Well, then I'll let you get on with that."

I give her a curt wave and continue my way down the red carpet, maneuvering through other celebrities, we all have common ground, we are blinded by the flashing lights. I try my best to avoid any more journalists but I see Abby Anderson speaking to one and sneak up behind her, tapping her on the shoulder.

She turns around and greets me with a huge smile "I was wondering when I was gonna see you," Abby smiles and slings an arm around my shoulders looking to the journalist while I glance at the camera "I'm telling you, this girl needs to clear some space out on her trophy shelf."

I grin at her, genuinely. Abby had always been kind to me, we first met when I was nineteen and the both of us signed up for Atlantic Records. "She's just being nice," I say.

"And she's just being humble!" Abby squeezes me, it's a simple gesture but it means the world to me, it's her way of saying 'I got you'.

I shake my head "Abby is gonna be the real winner tonight."

The man holding a microphone in front of us smiles "We'll see who's right, my bet is both of you," He turns his attention to me directly "So I understand that you took a bit of a break after releasing your album, Solstice, is this considered your comeback?"

"Nope," I smile despite wanting to snatch the microphone from his hand and beat the camera with it until it shatters "There isn't anything to come back from."

He tilts his head giving the over-animated 'Are you serious?' look for whoever is watching. Every journalist was like a vampire trying to bleed me dry. The journalist, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit that exudes both sophistication and confidence searches his mind for another question "Well your album honestly was such a work of art and there has been talk that you are working on another one, is there anyone here that inspired any of those songs?"

"Nope."

"I think we should ask Ellie the same question," He laughs at his joke like it was funny.

"And I think we should be heading off now," Abby answers for me and guides me away from the barricade of reporters and journalists, away from the cameras prying into my soul.

As I walk along the red carpet, I don't bother to stop and pose for any more pictures, I pick up the long skirts of my dress and usher myself to weave between the other celebrities. I nearly turn my ankle and take a tumble, wow, sure glad that 30 photographers caught that moment.

I was drenched in a deep, enchanting shade of midnight blue, the gown captivated with its sleek silhouette. The magic shows in the intricate details that adorn the fabric, reminiscent of the cosmos itself. Delicate embroidery of constellations graces the entire dress, forming a celestial tapestry that seems to come alive under the harsh shine of lights. The celestial patterns are meticulously sewn into the fabric, resembling a night sky filled with stars and constellations, creating an ethereal and otherworldly charm. Paired with the constellation dress, I wear a diamond choker and matching teardrop earrings.

I had lost Abby at some point in my little runaway leaving me to get into the auditorium where the award ceremony is to take place.

Nearly the very second I walk in I hear a man yell my name, he is seated in the second row and it takes an awkwardly long amount of time for him to jog over to me. "Hey, kid!" He grins, hugging me, I don't hug him in return, I just freeze. It was Graham Wilson, I could smell the liquor on his breath.

Graham Wilson was a man who used to write very successful rock songs in his twenties with his band (the majority now deceased), he was nearing his sixties and was the definition of a has-been. I remember when I was a kid and I would listen to him on my iPod; though in recent days he's become known for ridiculous stunts, DUIs and homophobic tweets, even better known for how he found out I was gay and announced that he was no longer homophobic because, in his words 'Those gays can sure write good music' and then thanked me in his tweet, even tagging my account.

His frame carries the weight of a bygone era, specifically his beer belly. His once-lustrous, shoulder-length hair has succumbed to streaks of gray, hanging limply around his face like faded echoes of a rebellious past. Despite the passage of time, a few remnants of the rockstar allure linger - a faint scar above his right eyebrow, a reminder of a wild night in an underground club, and the subtle tattoos peeking out from under the sleeves of his wrinkled suit jacket.

"Hey, Graham," I give him a tight-lipped smile out of courtesy, in no means do I wish to talk to him.

"You better win best album tonight," He gives me a hard slap on the back. Every time I see him he acts like we're friends just because he was a judge on a singing reality show that I was on seven years prior.

"I'll try my best," I try to excuse myself but he speaks again.

"I said seven years ago when I saw you on that stage that you were gonna be a star so don't let me down," He points a finger at me and gives me a weird smirk. When he smirks I almost think he's having a stroke until he starts to laugh and reveals his rows of teeth that are beginning to rot from his not-so-subtle drug abuse.

"Okay," I give him a nod and a quick wave goodbye to sneak away and pretend that I didn't converse with him. It seems like I'm early to take my seat, people are still piling in and being ushered to their spots, and seat fillers are standing around sheepishly while they try to take discreet photos of celebrities.

My seat is on the end of row two, right on the aisle, I feel myself split into a grin. If you weren't aware, Who sits where is a major status symbol. And though awards show organizers may deny it, it's awfully convenient to be sitting in the front row or on the aisle if you're about to accept a ton of trophies.

I was shaking with nerves, I got nominated three times and maybe there was hope that I would win at least one category.

When I saw Ellie I almost wanted to hide my face, she walked in with a new girl she slung her arm around, Jesse, Dina, and Cat in tow. I'm thankful to see that they're sitting front row of the opposite section of me and have yet to notice me.

I'm not sure if you have ever fallen in love, dated, gone on tour, moved in together, adopted a dog, written a couple of songs, got engaged, then broken up with someone and had the entire thing be documented publically but it's not the best feeling when you have to be in the same room as them again.

Everything with Ellie used to be so perfect.

The first thing I ever noticed about her were her eyes, her sad eyes. She looked like a puppy that had been kicked around for far too long; neglected and mistreated by whoever was cruel enough to show her such torment. Her eyebrows furrowed like each thought running through her head was a worry.

It's hard to look at her now, I know this girl inside out but we are strangers.

I liked to pretend that the beautiful girl she was with was just there for show but I knew it was untrue when I saw her snake her hand around her waist just like she did to me. She runs through girls like they're cigarettes, she uses them until they burn out or she grows sick of them.

Two years ago at this very same award show, Ellie accepted Song of the Year for the song she wrote about me, 'Everlong'. She had even invited me on stage during her speech and announced to the world how in love she was with me.

If only I knew I could come to hate someone I used to love to death.

My hate was only solidified when Ellie and the Ashmen dropped their most recent album titled 'Smokey Eyes' just three months after our broken engagement. The entire album was about me and dear god it almost ruined my career.

Ellie had managed to paint me in a horrible light that made me seem like the scum of the earth. She wrote about me having substance issues and overall just sang happily about how much she despised me. Her song 'Me vs Your Friends' wrecked me. After speculation began over that song online, her fans decided that they loathed me just the same as Ellie did; this meant that I was doxxed, sent death threats, had my home broken into, and forced to move.

She wasn't the slightest bit sorry.

I spent the award ceremony dazed out, to be truthful, these types of events were boring. They dragged on for ages and you had to sit through the same generic speeches over and over again of people thanking their parents and producers, I hated both of those.

I watched as Amelia Swan walked on stage, she was a nepotism baby, the daughter of some big-shot director and beautiful all the same. In the glittering spotlight of the grand award show stage, a vision of elegance takes center stage as the next announcer for the evening. A beautiful woman, her porcelain skin seemingly kissed by moonlight, graces the audience with a timeless allure. Her dark, cascading hair frames her face in a sleek, sophisticated manner, accentuating the delicate features that radiate a captivating charm.

Draped in a resplendent pink gown, the fabric sits tight against her slim body. The gown is a masterpiece of design. Its silhouette accentuates her figure with tasteful precision, while the soft hue of pink complements her fair complexion.

"Hello!" She smiles and the crowd begins to cheer "I'm going to cut to the chase because I know all of you are as excited to find out the winner as I am."

Amelia begins to go through the nominees, my breath hitches in my throat when she says my name, though I play it cool the best I can and smile softly when the camera zooms in on me in the crowd.

Her eyes, framed by carefully styled lashes and a hint of rosy eyeshadow, exude warmth and confidence. Lips adorned with a subtle shade of pink curve into a welcoming smile, inviting the audience to share in the excitement of the announcement.

"The winner of Album of the Year is..." I could've sworn I nearly passed out when Amelia said my name.

Nothing felt real, it was like I was living the dreams that I made up when I was a little girl staying up late in my uncles back yard, talking to the indigo sky and speaking to it with delusions of security and stardom.

I shake when I stand up from my chair. The person next to me hugs me and I don't even know who she is but I hug her in return.

Amelia gestures for me to join her on stage with a huge smile on her face. I make my way down the aisle and up the steps leading to the stage. Amelia handed the statue of the golden gramophone to me along with the microphone to give my speech.

At this moment, the stage is my kingdom "I didn't prepare anything because I honestly didn't think I would win but I'd like to thank my little sister, Marceline, and my late uncle, Richie, god rest his soul. Everything I've done leading me to this moment has been for them, every lyric, every night I'm up till dawn writing. Even though Richie can't be here in person, I carry a little piece of him with me everywhere I go, he's all around me, I see him in the songs I write, in the melody of an acoustic guitar, and in the faces of those gentle enough to show me kindness."

The audience applauds for me, even Ellie who stares me down bitterly. I had sung in front of thousands of people but it would never compare to this moment.

I wipe a tear away from my eye "I would also like to thank all of my fans, you guys are just the fucking best," I giggle through my crying "I feel like you've been sent down by Richie and Marceline I know you're watching me right now, please give my dog some love for me. Please know that I don't come from anything, I was born from dirt and dreams for something more than a ratty town in Canada."

I lived for the applause.

"I mean, I've always been good and never great so this means a lot to me-

Ameilia places a hand on my shoulder to stop me "There was a bit of a mix-up," She announces "I'm sorry, love, you didn't win," She says just to me, dark eyes full of remorse.

"What?" I almost think it's a sick joke.

Amelia holds the microphone to her face to be heard by the audience "I'm not joking," She shows the contents of a card to the crowd "The real winners for album of the year are Ellie and the Ashmen for their album Smokey Eyes." Gasps sound from the audience and I can only imagine what those watching from home are doing

The camera pans to where Ellie, Dina, Jesse, and Cat sit, Ellie is laughing; not laughing, cackling, it only grows and now she's laughing so hard she can barely breathe. Suddenly I didn't feel like I was king of the world, it felt like the desolation of a hangover had hit me in the span of 90 seconds.

Dina gives Ellie a harsh elbow to her bicep, telling her to be respectful. The four of them rise from their chairs and make their way up to the stage, where I stand, paralyzed.

"Congratulations," I give Ellie a tight-lipped smile and hand the award off to her.

She smiled smugly at me and took it "Thanks, smokey eyes," Ellie held the statue up to display it. Smokey eyes was a nickname she had given me when we first met since I always had dark circles she said they looked like smoke from a forest fire. I told you that album was about me. What made me more mad is that it was such a stupid fucking nickname.

My mouth goes dry, it tastes like salt and failure.

I take many steps back, trying to hide myself at the back of the stage while I watch the Ashmen bathe in the glory I thought was mine.

"I didn't prepare anything because I honestly didn't think I would win," Ellie begins to mock me "But I'd like to thank my best friends, Dina, Jesse, and Cat, I couldn't have done it without you," She motions at her band members beside her "But I also couldn't have done it without my dad, thank you, Joel, you're out there in the cheap seats but I fucking love you," She waves out into the crowds somewhere before handing the microphone off to Dina.

"I am so beyond grateful-

"No!" Someone yells from the ground and all attention turns to him "This is not fair!" Graham shouts, walking up the stairs. Everyone in the room looks at one another trying to figure out what is going on. Graham snatches the microphone from Dina "I'm proud of you four but listen."

Everyone is silent completely, no one is sure what to do so we let Graham continue.

"I met everyone on this stage seven years ago," He throws one arm out for dramatics "Except for Amelia, I don't know you," Graham is more dishevelled than he was when I saw him earlier that night "Let me tell all of you that Ellie was in love with this girl since the day they met!" Graham points at me, now things are getting weird, well weirder. “I know because I was there and you all saw it on TV!”

It was no secret that Ellie and I were together since we met on Road to Stardom, a singing reality show where people compete for-well, stardom. Every step of our relationship had been very public, not by choice but by unfortunate circumstances. It is for this reason I was afraid of what Graham would spout next.

"Without her, Smokey Eyes wouldn't have ever been written, Ellie would've had no inspiration for it," He babbles "But more so my point is, Solstice deserved to win, Smokey Eyes is mediocre at best!"

People in the audience look genuinely concerned, I spot Abby in the third row. She has one hand covering her mouth from pure shock, her eyebrows are furrowed and she almost looks like she's going to throw up.

"Solstice is the best album to listen to when you're high off salvia on your bathroom floor!" Graham points back at me.

I see Cat mutter something to Jesse along the lines of "He's not wrong."

"Smokey Eyes has three good songs and Solstice has thirteen!" Graham suddenly stops to turn and look at me, he grabs my wrist "Come up here and finish your speech," I shake my head no but he pulls me up anyway.

I freeze, petrified. My eyes are wide and my lips are pressed together in a thin line. I didn't know what to do. Why wasn't anyone doing anything?

Graham's head suddenly snaps from me to Ellie where he takes an intoxicated step closer to her "Give me that damn award, you don't deserve it, especially not after mocking the woman who inspired it!" He lunges for the statue, at first Ellie is stubborn and holds onto it tight.

After 30 seconds of Graham trying to pry the stature away, Ellie gives up and releases it, figuring it best not to fight with a drunk man; in doing so Graham's elbow flies back from sudden loss of resistance and hits me dead in my nose. I yelp out in pain bending over into a crouch and clutching my nose. Graham stumbles back and trips over me, though he is still holding on tight to the statue.

Jesse approaches him slowly. "Hey, man, It's me, I think we should all just settle down and talk this through," He tries to act cool but his eyes are full of worry "I agree, I think Solstice is a great album and it really deserved to win."

Graham clumsily rolled onto his stomach and then stumbled back onto his feet. He was staring Jesse down like this was the Wild West.

Dina rushed over to me to make sure I was okay "Let me see," She gingerly moved my hands away from my nose, it had been knocked crooked and blood was pouring down to my chest where it pooled at the neckline of my dark dress.

Graham chucked the golden gramophone at Cat who jumped back when he did so and took a swing at Jesse who didn't move an inch or even shudder from his drunken punch. It also didn't help Graham that he was a solid four inches shorter than Jesse. Just as Graham was hyping himself up to send another hit, two bulky men grabbed either of Graham's arms and dragged him off the stage and out of sight.

I went home that night with nothing more than a broken nose, and no award but I could rest knowing that night went down infamously in history. My blood dripped onto the stage of the Grammys.

That was the night I truly became famous.

Grade eight- Age thirteen

Middle school is hard.

Even harder when you have two friends, one of them is a guy who is obsessed with Star Wars and is hardly at school because he's always having an allergic reaction, and the other friend is my English teacher. I ate lunch in her class while he graded schoolwork on days that Milo was too sick to show up for school.

I never understood why kids are so fucking mean. Like sometimes I'm having a good day and then I remember when I sang at the middle school talent show.

Some kid who was destined to have a blunt in his hand finished doing tricks on his skateboard rolled off stage and it was my turn.

In the dimly lit auditorium, adorned with colourful decorations for the annual school talent show, I took center stage with my guitar, a blend of excitement and nervousness etched across my face. The hushed whispers of the audience faded as I strummed the first chords, the notes carrying the beginning to the first of many performances in my life

"If you gave me only one wish,

I wouldn't want to feel this way.

They told me I'd have your memory

But all I want is you to stay

And I can't stop my mind from haunting me,

It's like a scar on a butterfly's wing,

I wanted you to know."

I had worked tirelessly to perfect the lyrics to my first ever song, begging my uncle who was far more practiced for his input. This was way back when I still lived in fuck ass nowhere Alberta, I had that country twang in my high voice though it carried a specific tenderness.

"This beautiful pain that I feel is all because of you

And one day these bones will heal

And they'll leave me with the truth

And I'll give you everything if it's the last thing that I do.

This beautiful pain, this beautiful pain

This beautiful pain for you."

However, as I sang my little heart out, a different melody began to play in the background - the snickers and hushed comments of some classmates who couldn't appreciate the vulnerability I laid bare on the stage. Their laughter, like discordant notes in a once-harmonious piece, reverberated through the auditorium.

"If I sailed the world on stormy seas

Chasing sunlight that I can't see.

I was a dreamer here before,

Before I woke up and fell to the floor

And I'd climb to heaven if I could find you,

Even with a scar this butterfly flew.

I wanted you to know."

I spotted one group in particular, they hated me already and this would give them all the more reason to bully me.

"This beautiful pain that I feel is all because of you

And one day, these bones will heal

And they'll leave me with the truth

And I'll give you everything if it's the last thing that I do

This beautiful pain, this beautiful pain, this beautiful pain."

Maybe the lyrics were the slightest bit corny but I was thirteen and these girls were being little cunts. I bit back the tears I so clearly wanted to release when I saw a teacher had to walk over to the group of girls to stop their laughing. It wasn't just that one group though, kids scattered all over were fighting back giggles and that made it hurt all the worse.

"And all I'll ever need

And all I'll ever be,

Within every part of me is this,

This beautiful pain that I feel is all because of you

And one day these bones will heal

And leave me with the truth

And I'll give you everything 'cause it was all I ever knew.

This beautiful pain,

For you."

As the last note hung in the air, the room was divided. Some applauded, recognizing the authenticity of my performance, while others continued their derisive comments. So the majority who liked my singing were teachers, but that didn't matter, at least my music got through to someone.

The rest of the day was even more difficult than my three-minute performance, at least that was over quickly but the comments from Kennedy and her friends left me leaving school in tears.

I didn't go home that day, I walked the extra ten minutes to get to my uncle's house. Lugging my guitar and newfound hate for music with me. The façade, adorned with a mismatched collection of potted plants and a welcoming, hand-painted sign that read ‘Home Sweet Home’ hinted at my uncle's efforts to infuse joy into his surroundings. The paint on the wooden shutters might have faded, but they held stories of many seasons gone by. The roof, patched with a variety of materials, showed the resourcefulness of my uncle in their attempt to shield the interior from the whims of weather.

He tried to make the house look nice for me and my little sister. He was by no means rich in money but rich in what mattered, the love he had for me was overflowing.

It wasn't a particularly nice neighbourhood either, his house was small, with two bedrooms and a basement I wasn't allowed in. But every time I think of the chipped blue walls, I feel a warm sense of nostalgia run down my spine.

"Who's there?" I hear Uncle Richie call from the kitchen where he is cooking something.

"Just me," I yell back, dropping my guitar case on the ground and belly-flopping onto his old brown leather couch that had more tears in it than I could count; he had tried to stich some of them up with embroidery floss but ultimately gave up, deciding to let it be since he couldn't afford to replace it.

"Why aren't you at your mom's, Chickadee?"

"I don't wanna see Mom right now, she's gonna put me in an even worse mood," I call back grabbing the TV remote off of the water-damaged coffee table.

"What happened?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

Minutes later Richie walks into the living room to join me, he carries a bowl of Kraft Mac and cheese with two forks shoved in it, he taps the bottom of my socked feet, signalling for me to move them so he can fit on the couch with me. Uncle Richie has a buzz cut and beard stubble that I have never seen him without, he has never been seen without a flannel on, not as long as I've been alive. What I remember the clearest about him though was the scar beneath his right eye, when I was younger he would tell me that he got it from a pirate though I stopped believing that. "So are you going to tell me why you're sulking?"

I ignore him and he reaches for the remote to turn the TV off "Hey, I watching that," I mutter.

"Well I'm waiting for you to answer me, Chickadee," He tilts his head "Or you won't get any kraft dinner."

"I sang at the talent show today."

"And?"

"Everyone made fun of me."

He furrows his eyebrows "Why would they do that?"

"Why do you think?" I snark "Because I'm not good enough and I'm a bad singer and I have a shit guitar." I immediately regret my words. Uncle Richie was the one who gave me that guitar, it was all he could manage with his income, it was his back when he had dreams of his own but he fixed it up so I could pick up where he left off. The guitar itself had a cracking between the face and the side that was being held together with duct tape, not to mention the whole thing was basically reinforced with superglue and there were Sharpie drabbles on it of poems and potential songs Richie started that I will be sure to finish.

"This is the best guitar in the world," He reaches behind the couch where I left it slugs the case onto his lap and opens it to showcase the guitar "Because it's full of something money can’t buy, there is love built into this guitar and every time you play it you feel that love."

"I don't feel love when I play," I say, eyes brimming with tears.

"Then you're not playing right," He smiles, discarding the case on the floor "Did you play the song I helped you write?"

I nod "Kennedy said it was worse than shoving nails into her ears and that my guitar was decrepit and even more fugly than I am."

"Well Kennedy is a little cunt," He answers "Don't tell anyone I said that." His words make me giggle. I watch him intently as he begins to strum some chords on the guitar, the beginning of Beautiful Pain, he stops when I don't sing the lyrics, glancing at me until the words finally fall from my lips.

After the first two Stanzas, he hands the guitar off to me, nodding his head along to my gentle strums.

When I finish the song and strike the last chord, Richie claps a huge smile on his face "Do you feel the love yet?"

"I dunno."

"Then play again," He says "Don't think about those bitchy little girls," His tone is dead serious "You just gave all of those people a free performance, in ten years they are going to be paying hundreds just to get a bad seat at one of your shows and they will buried so far in the back of your mind that you won't even remember their names or all of those awful words they say to you, the only words that will matter are the ones you sing."

"So what do I do?"

"Play music because you love it, it doesn't matter if it takes you anywhere or if it makes you any money. That's why you should play, play for love not greed."

Wordlessly I begin the song over again, blocking out the rest of the world while I softly sing the lyrics. I strum each cord perfectly, my singing to match. I will forever think back to this moment, this is where I can pinpoint the exact second I fell in love with music.

I wrap up the song and Richie speaks up "Do you still want to watch TV?"

I shake my head "Can you help me write another song?"

Sinjinisoverboard: I love love love the new single but does anyone else miss her debut era?????? I feel like she's sold out

woodmonkey92: Reply to Sinjinisoverboard╰┈➤ this is so true, I remember when she would sing in parks and she was actually happy just being herself

theend_is_n3ar: Reply to woodmonkey92╰┈➤ bruh you don't remember that, she was a nobody when she sang in parks plus she literally got heckled and ridiculed by her classmates so bad that she gave up on singing in public and almost gave up on music as a whole

user37768638493: Reply to sinjinisoverboard╰┈➤ as much as I love her it really seems like she's fallen off the rails

conner_stoll_it: She's not even the same person anymore. I fell in love her original music and who she was when she wrote it, then she signed with a record label now she's an in-genuine copy of every pop star.

Alina_b12: Reply to conner_stoll_it╰┈➤ you fell in love with her old music?? 💀💀💀 she wasn't even past 100 subscribers when she released her debut album and after she released she literally gained 11 listeners on Spotify to get a total of 24 so don't lie and say that you heard it before hearing her mainstream music

Luciaisdonewithlife: Reply to conner_stoll_it╰┈➤ Her old music was so relatable, she got famous and it’s kind of hard to relate to someone who's net worth is more money then I can even fathom

hazeinmorningcraze: Reply to Luciaisdonewithlife╰┈➤I think that's why it was so easy for everybody to side with Ellie during the breakup, Ellie kept true to who she is, her girlfriend however did not.

Luciaisdonewithlife: Reply to hazeinthemorningcraze╰┈➤*fiancé

hazeinthemorningcraze: Reply to Luciaisdonewithlife╰┈➤ ew don't remind me

maiya_onthec0ast: Reply to conner_stoll_it╰┈➤ We should remember that no one listened to her when she released her debut music. She said in an interview that before she signed with Atlantic Records she had 24 listeners and 76 subscribers. We only know who she is because of her mainstream music, you aren't better than anyone for needlessly hating on her.

stargirlthesequel: God who else misses the southern twang she used to have in her voice?

Vampire_empire2: Reply to stargirlthesequel╰┈➤LMAO acting like you know her is crazy

Aline_b12: Reply to stargirlthesequel╰┈➤parasocial relationships are really becoming apparent rn

thismightbeskylarwwhiteyo: It's soooooo annoying when people hate on Solstice for being mainstream like all Ashmen discography isn't top on charters since they dropped their first album

dancedancerev0lution: Reply to thismightbeskylarwwhiteyo╰┈➤I've been saying this! Ellie has been in the industry way longer, she's always had a big fan base, even when she was still a solo artist!

elliespurplemonster: Reply to thismightbeskylaarwwhiteyo╰┈➤ Ellie Williams on 🔝

call_urm0ther: Reply to elliespurplemonster╰┈➤ kys she treated her fiancé horribly

elliespurplemonster: Reply to call_urm0ther╰┈➤ how would you know that????? Were you there??????

follow_kendra88: Reply to call_urm0ther╰┈➤Ellie was the one who was treated horribly in that relationship, have you even listened to Smokey Eyes?

ellies_no2girl: Reply to call_urm0ther╰┈➤Ellie was so in love and just got used for fame 🥺💔

call_urm0ther: Reply to ellies_no2girl╰┈➤fuck off with your cringe ass emojis

sorryyileft___:You guys are so weird for saying Ellie was used by her ex for fame, they literally were on the same show at the same age at the same time and got thrown into the limelight at the same time, Ellie and the Ashmen just got more popular.

mybodyisacage: Reply to sorryyileft___╰┈➤Ellie had a bit of a YouTube presence before she was on Stardom, it wasn't a crazy number but it was a cult following and that's why she won Stardom, bc she had fans to begin with then gained even more after being on national television

elliespurplemonster: Reply to mybodyisacage╰┈➤She didn't win bc of following she won bc she's a good artist

mybodyisacage: Reply to elliespurplemonster╰┈➤I never said she wasn't

bodhi_van34: I thought the whole thing at the Grammy's was an act until I saw all those news articles about Graham Wilson getting arrested

carlyswarly: Reply to bodhi_van34╰┈➤They did a drug test when he got arrested and found coke in his system

may0mayyyo: Reply to carlyswarly╰┈➤A busboy who worked the event said that Graham was doing cocaine in the bathroom

body_van34: Reply to may0mayyyo╰┈➤ LMAO WTF

charlotte_5freakingdidit: EVERYONE IS TALKING ABOUT ELLIE WILLIAMS BEING MEAN TO HER EX BUT GRAHAM WILSON LITERALLY ASSAULTED A POPSTAR ON STAGE AND TRIED TO THROW HANDS WITH JESSE LMAO IM DIFFUSING

juliaa__stirling: The way Ellie was laughing when Amelia said she messed up the cards was so rude and immature. Her fans are insane for defending her. All of that just because her ex fiancé gave a speech about working hard, imagine how she felt after being so honest with everyone just for her to not actually win and think about how she feels now reading all of these posts.

botoxangel: Celebrities have feelings too, Amelia made a mistake she's probably embarrassed but not as embarrassed as that poor woman is for putting her soul into a speech just for her ex and all of her fan girls to ridicule her for a mistake that wasn't even hers.

karaleaah778: Reply to botoxangel╰┈➤exactly! And why are people blaming Amelia??? She was given the envelope by someone else, she genuinely thought her friend won.

carlosislost: Why is Graham even invited to these events?????????

katie_katelynsm1th: Reply to carlosislost╰┈➤Bc it's funny when he causes a scene

howto_nevrst0ppbeingsad: I know you guys think this Grammy situation is so funny but it's really not. Graham is clearly mentally ill, this is a cry for help.

elleryc3llery: Reply to howto_nevrst0ppbeingsad╰┈➤Dude it's hilarious

3emmettttt: Reply to howto_nevrst0ppbeing sad╰┈➤The way you're worried about the has been and not the girl whose nose he broke

allysaaaa663638: LMAO THE WAY SHE ACTUALLY THOUGHT SHE WON THE AWARD AND SHE DESERVED IT SHDBDBEGHWWBSV

jessicadacoolest: Ellie is so real for laughing bc I would've done the same tbh

hennyrumwine: Dumb bitch deserved to be hit lollllllll

4444carmencarmen4444: I love the Ashmen's music but I hate Ellie sm, I just feel like she's a fuck girl and she gives me very rude vibes. Like laughing at her ex and then mocking her heartfelt speech is INSANE anyways stream Solstice

sittingwaiting_wishing: I honestly have hated Ellie since the breakup, she's changed so much since then. She used to be funny now she's just mean.

carissaandher_h0ttakes: I still think it's kind of crazy that Dina and Jesse followed through with Ellie on Smokey Eyes because they were really close to her when she was engaged to Ellie, can't imagine how many ties that album severed

elliessmokeyeye: Reply to carissaandher_h0ttakes╰┈➤I think about this all the time! She was literally the god mother for Dina and Jesses kid

carissaandher_h0ttakes: Reply to elliessmokeyeye╰┈➤it make me think that she might've done something to them to make them hate her the way Ellie does, Ellie did say that she didn't write all of the songs for Smokey Eyes 🤔🤔🤔

"Do you see how this backlash doesn't look good for anyone?" My agent, Caroline asks after showing me several Twitter posts that are under the trending tag.

"Well, it's not really my fault."

"Nonetheless, I think It's time for a rebrand." She sets her phone face down and looks at me from across her desk "Do you remember when you went on tour with the Ashmen when you were around twenty-one?"

My eyes go wide, I'm already shaking my head "Please-

"This is an awful event that you can turn into an amazing opportunity and capitalize on it," The backdrop behind Caroline is almost blinding, it's an annoyingly hot LA day and I want nothing more than to be back in Canada and swimming in lakes with my little sister.

"Caroline, mentally I can't handle a tour with Ellie."

"Mentally, you're gonna have to," She says, getting stern "Your fans either hate each other or they love both of you and feel like their parents have divorced."

I know that I will argue with Caroline for the next hour and threaten to fire her but eventually, she will win, so until then I am preoccupied with thoughts of everything but Ellie, soaking in the last moments I will have until she envelopes my brain and suffocates me from the inside out.

I am sure that with Ellie, I will die before winter comes and I am doubtful that I will ever bloom again.

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happilychee · 9 months

Text

how fairy tail takes care of you when you're sick

cw: descriptions of being sick

I have covid and I wanted to cheer myself up :(

♡ it's a normal day at the fairy tail guild. the job board is crowded with papers, drinks and food are flowing, someone's starting a fight (natsu), and the air is filled with lively chatter. there's only one thing off: you're not there.

♡ gray is the first one to notice. he's at a table with lucy, cana, and erza. he and erza just got back from a stealth mission that paid them well, and he's looking forward to relaxing. except... "where's [name]?" he asks. lucy furrows her brow. "they weren't in yesterday... should we check on them?" gray nods, and the four of them leave the guild hall.

♡ you feel like someone threw you through a wall. your nose is clogged, feeling stuffy and congested. your throat itches and every time you cough it feels like you're hacking away at your lungs. there's a building pressure in your head, a pulsing pain that signals the onset of a migraine. you think that you'd be able to handle the usual symptoms of a cold, except for the burning aches in your lower back. your coughs shake your entire body as your muscles scream in protest, and you curse whatever virus decided to infect you.

♡ you manage to get yourself out of bed and into your kitchen, hoping to make yourself some rice or hot tea with honey. instead, you start seeing black spots swim across your vision, and the world starts tilting like you're swaying on the prow of a ship. you lower yourself onto the cool tile floor, relishing in the soothing temperature against your burning skin. you're so out of it that you don't register the knocks at your door turning into insistent bangs.

♡ finding you half passed out on your kitchen floor was not on gray's to-do list for the day. his worried hands hover over your shivering form, unsure what to check first. erza settles the matter by scooping you into her arms, Requiping out of her armor as she carries you to the couch.

♡ gray takes charge of the kitchen, your favorite recipes coming to kind. he settles on a warm and hearty soup, sure to soothe your hunger and your aches. he starts chopping vegetables, turns on the stove, and soon enough, the kitchen is filled with a delicious and appetizing aroma.

♡ erza is the one who takes your temperature, gets you back to enough coherency to explain your symptoms, and then finds the right medicine for you. she props your back up with pillows, tucks a blanket around you, and feeds you the disgusting cold medicine that porlyusica and wendy swear by.

♡ cana would love to help you and take care of you, except lucy looks pale as a sheet and a little green. she helps the blonde sit at the kitchen table, patting her arm soothingly. lucy mumbles that her mom passed from an illness, and seeing you so sick makes bad memories come back. cana soothes her, reassuring her that you'll be fine. lucy only relents when your eyes crack open, and you direct a gooey smile at her.

♡ you fade in and out of consciousness, snippets of sound and touch registering in your brain. someone is petting your hair while singing, their soft hands braiding and unbraiding your locks. a hand trails over your back, warm and calloused fingers digging into the knots in your shoulders. you purr under the sensation, leaning into the comforting touch. a soft arm, usually covered in armor, wraps around you to sit you up as a chilly hand brings a spoonful of something warm and delicious to your chapped lips. cold bangles brush against your skin as someone lifts you up, carrying you to the land of dreams.

♡ when you regain consciousness, your friends don't let you lift a single finger. gray cooks every meal for you with cana as his sous chef, erza is on top of your medication, natsu distracts you by telling silly stories, and wendy casts pain-relieving spells to help you recover faster. lucy refuses to leave your side until you're fully healed, so she's always fluffing your pillows, bringing you hot tea with honey, and feeding you snacks. the only time she calms down is when you ask her to read for you. her calming voice lulls you in and out of sleep as you listen to her read about a fairy tale princess's adventure.

♡ levy drops off books at your place so you can occupy your mind. most are either your favorites or her recommendations, but gajeel manages to sneak in a spicy book or two, which has you laughing so hard you start coughing.

♡ mira cooks up a storm in the guild hall, partially out of a desire to help you and partially out of worry. there's enough soup to feed fairy tail ten times over, and she insists that half of it be sent to you. lisanna ans juvia also stop by with some homemade baked goods. juvia gives you a steaming hot loaf of banana bread, some cookies and muffins, and a bunch of pastry buns. "it's just a cold, you didn't have to do all this." you try to reason, but no one listens to you when you look nauseous and your shoulders are shaking.

♡ there's someone at your place every day while you're recovering. it could be natsu and happy raiding your pantry and making a mess, it could be lucy and gray cleaning up their mess while erza yells at them, it could be wendy with balms and salves and a story to tell you, it could be the strauss siblings with more food and cheer than you'd ever seen before, it could be juvia with gajeel, lily, and a basket of your favorite buns. point being, fairy tail doesn't take their eyes off you for a moment while you're under the weather.

♡ when you feel well enough to come to the guild hall, everyone starts cheering. laxus fires up the grill, mira pours drinks in a flurry, and cana drags you into some drinking game. the entire guild hall roars to life, partying the night away, because what better reason is there to celebrate than the return of a dear friend?

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sanguineterrain · 1 year

Note

hii i love your work and wanted to send a request in :)

can you do “you’re just going to leave me here?!” and “i’m gonna come back for you , do you hear me?” for jason and reader? 💛

maybe they’re on a date and there’s a robbery nearby or a villain crashes a gala they are attending? also maybe the reader knows he’s red hood? or it’s early in their relationship that he hasn’t told them yet? idk if that makes sense, but if you pick this up i can’t wait to see where you take it! 💛

OH IT'S EMOTIONAL ANGST TIME! hurt no comfort 😈 thanks for requesting nonnie 🥰

jason todd x gn!reader | tw: angst, reader feels hurt, lying to protect a superhero identity (is red hood a hero? he is to ME.) i may write a pt 2 to this if there's interest 😎

****

Jason checks his phone for the fourth time tonight. You haven't even received your entrees yet.

"Everything okay?" you ask lightly.

Jason looks up, eyes wide. "Oh. Yes. Sorry, baby. Sorry."

You nod, trying to smile. "It's okay."

He puts his phone in his pocket. You try to relax and focus on your date. This place is upscale, much pricier than you're used to, but Jason had insisted. He'd said he hadn't been doing his due diligence of being your boyfriend and should take you out on more "proper" dates. You'd told him that was silly, of course; you'd be content to go anywhere with him.

But he's been acutely distracted these past few weeks, and you're starting to form terrible explanations in your head for why that might be.

You try to ignore it. You just want to spend time with your boyfriend; it's been so long.

"Oh my God, guess what happened at work today," you say.

Jason leans in, smiling. "Tell me. Was it Peggy from Marketing again?"

"Yes!" You laugh, shaking your head. "She's such a pain. I was in my cubicle when—"

Jason's watch starts to blare, the beep shrill and insistent. He curses and quickly taps at the screen. You slump back in your chair.

"Shit," he says and looks up at you.

You suddenly feel exhausted.

"Baby, I'm so sorry," Jason begins, rising from his chair. "God, fuck—you have no idea how sorry I am. It's my family, they—something's happened with my brother. He needs my help, unfortunately."

"So you're just going to leave me here?" you ask, mouth dropping open in shock. "Jay, we planned tonight two weeks ago!"

He winces. "I know. Fuck, I know, sweetheart. I'm so, so sorry. I'm gonna come back for you, okay? It'll be an hour, tops. Look, order anything you want. I'll leave my card, it's on me—"

You shake your head and stand. "No, Jason. I'm—look, I know your family is important to you, but you've done this a lot this past month, and it's not just hurtful, but it's starting to feel a little intentional. I don't know if I'm some kind of placeholder or, or—"

"Hey, no, no. You're not a placeholder. Please don't say that," Jason begs, reaching for your hand.

You keep your hand out of reach, eyes beginning to heat up.

"I'm going home," you say. "I hope your brother's okay."

"Sweetheart, please, come on. I don't wanna fight."

"Me neither," you say tiredly. "So we won't. Good night, Jason."

His watch beeps again, this time with a phone call. You walk out. It's a nicer part of Gotham, so getting a cab here isn't a problem.

Jason catches up to you instantly. He looks terrified, and it breaks your heart, but you don't have the energy tonight.

"Can I–can I call you tonight?" he asks, voice cracking.

A cab pulls up to the curb. The valet opens the door for you. Jason takes a step forward.

"I'd rather you didn't," you say quietly. "I need some time to myself, Jay."

Jason takes a step back.

"I'm sorry," he says again, desperate.

You sigh. "I know you are."

You get into the car. The valet closes the door. Jason watches you through the window, tugging at his curls like he does when he's stressed.

That night, your bed feels cold. You toss and turn for hours, trying to shake the feeling of a phantom arm snaked around your waist.

Jason doesn't call, like you'd requested. You cry anyway.

#SORRY (<- is not sorry at all 😈)#its angst time yall #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood fanfiction #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #inbox #blurb

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silverflqmes · 5 months

Note

agszc with self care/slice of life comfort?

i've been feeling really down with myself for a bit now & i could use that extra push of feeling a bit better :,) perhaps some ideas could include like: maybe distracting the reader from a failed exam by going shopping together, grocery shopping and cooking a meal together at home, perhaps that one rp with noya where he was kissing insecurities away (hi yes its sky), maybe a pep talk to help with motivation, hmm what else ALSO U DONT HAVE TO DO THESE EXACT THINGS IM JUST GIVING IDEAS... i just want the boys there for me soBS (esp zack and cloud since yk favs.)

໒⦂ 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐇𝐂𝐒.

notes. hey queen i did headcanons for this because it seemed better suited, i hope the post helps you feel better at least, you can do it<3

genre. comfort + crack

for @melukonova <3

ft. sephiroth, cloud strife, zack fair, genesis rhapsodos, angeal hewley

gender neutral! reader.

➫ 𝓢𝗘𝗣𝗛𝗜𝗥𝗢𝗧𝗛 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ for whatever reason that your day and mood has been sullied, sephiroth is already on it and is doing everything in his power to try and make you feel better.

⌗ he’s not the best with handling emotions, as he has difficulty with understanding his own, but wants to help — it hurts him to see you ache like this and to know he couldn’t prevent your suffering🙁

⌗ offers to masamune whoever brought your pain, even if it’s an inanimate object incapable of fighting back.. it’s sweet of him ( and it becomes difficult to suppress your smile )

⌗ just kidding ( not really. ), he comes to the conclusion that a self care day is likely the best approach to make you feel better — genesis had brought the idea up once before

⌗ sephiroth wasn’t exactly one for worrying for his well being, he didn’t have much time to sit down and do so anyway.. but he figured he might try that out with you

⌗ and so, after getting off work, he made a point to grab some supplies from the store, which included these super cute kitty headbands to push your hair back!!

⌗ self care portion of the day ensues and ends with takeout and some cuddling on the couch to some silly sitcoms. laughter cures the blues right? so that’s just what he’s going for to see you smile again<3

➫ 𝓒𝗟𝗢𝗨𝗗 𝓢𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗙𝗘 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ having a bad day? cloud’s been there and is ready to lend an ear to listen. he isn’t the most optimistic person and doesn’t have the best way with words, but he is willing to help!

⌗ he’s a bit awkward with the advice ( he might interest you in a sarcastic comment- kidding, maybe.. ) and words of consolation, but he’s doing his best and is determined to get his words across to you.

⌗ he offers to take you on a delivery with him, a drive can help sometimes with getting out of the house and just getting fresh air — or well.. as fresh as the air can be in midgar / edge..

⌗ part of him thought you would be reluctant and would argue on why and how you should continue to rot in your bed — but you were oddly willing ( maybe because you always have to ask to join.. )

⌗ either way, made his job a hundred times easier and he was glad to see you cooperating with him because he thought he would have needed to drag you by the ankles..

⌗ the drive goes nicely, you can feel yourself begin to calm down as you hold onto him and watch the scenery pass you by; it’s such a simple thing but it’s quelling your nerves and intrusive thoughts, thankfully

⌗ once the package is delivered, cloud spares a little of his time before your scheduled drive back home and takes you out for lunch along with a little stroll around the town🫶

➫ 𝓩𝗔𝗖𝗞 𝓕𝗔𝗜𝗥 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ zack is the definition and embodiment of an emotional support animal. whatever, or even whoever, decided to ruin the flow of your day, he’s there to provide comfort!

⌗ has a pretty good grasp on emotions, even if there are some things he might not fully get, but he wants to help in any way he can! seeing you sad is the worst thing ever, how dare, whatever hurt you, steal away that smile of yours??

⌗ his best course of action is to take you out and doodle up a list of activities for you to do to uplift your mood. distraction is temporary, of course, but it works its course and he was going to make it succeed!

⌗ said list includes visiting the arcade, a walk through the mall, buying you flowers, feeding and petting any strays with your leftovers from where you guys ate and maybe even karaoke while the night is still young..

⌗ should the karaoke go as planned, it would be a mission to get zack out of there LMAO he wants to do cheesy romantic duets with you and boyband songs..

⌗ despite your whines and protests, they do not fail to make you grin and wash away whatever ickiness you had felt earlier.

⌗ it’s a full day that ends up getting you tired by the final activity, but it was all part of the plan!!! distraction and getting a good nights sleep! perfect, right?

➫ 𝓖𝗘𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗜𝗦 𝓡𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗦𝗢𝗗𝗢𝗦 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ how dare someone or something sour your mood and evening! genesis is completely distraught and is prepared to do whatever means necessary to exact his revenge..

⌗ fires will be set ( not really but it sounds like a really good idea at the moment ESPECIALLY BECAUSE TUMBLR DIDNT SAVE MY SHIT AND I HAVE TO REWRITE THIS — im sorry.. um moving on.. )

⌗ in the end, fires were not set.. he opts for taking you out to dinner and bringing you to loveless avenue because it just works, and he wants to spoil you with gifts<3

⌗ dinner was lovely and like a fairytale — i mean being with genesis in general was like a fairytale, but he somehow always seemed to exceed your expectations..

⌗ you’re feeling slightly better as you exit the vicinity, taking an idle walk down sector eight since he insisted on a stroll — not because he wanted to check the loveless merch, definitely not. of course not.

⌗ he ends up buying you something your gaze lingered on a little longer than you had planned for, which you protested on at first.. but then you gave in, because it was genesis — aaand he also bought it regardless of what you said..

⌗ he walks with you hand in hand on your way home and proposes his idea of setting fires if you were still upset. you of course, say no.. i mean, psh a fire??? yeah, right..

➫ 𝓐𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗔𝗟 𝓗𝗘𝗪𝗟𝗘𝗬 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ bad mood? rough day in general? angeal is prepared to do whatever is necessary to help you through your mood — anything to return your happiness to you rather than this funk you’re in.

⌗ his best course of action was to take you to the market to buy the necessary ingredients to prepare your favorite meal! they say food cures any blues, perhaps that applies here as well?

⌗ unwilling as you were to leave the comfort of your bedroom, he managed to get you out with the promise of pushing you in the cart..

⌗ yes you wanted to be pushed in the shopping cart, who wouldn’t want to be pushed in a shopping cart after a shit day?

⌗ the small joyride seems to lift your mood a little and he even bought you some of your favorite snacks to have after the meal he’s preparing<3 what a guy🥰

⌗ arriving home, he immediately gets to work on dinner, and after a few back hugs from you along with a brief sway while he waited on the food to finish, it was finally time to set the table!

⌗ nothing too fancy but you appreciated it nonetheless, as you could taste the love and care in each bite you took. truly angeal was the gift of the goddess!!!

notes. okay uh this is not the best quality because stupid tumblr did not save ( GET AN AUTOSAVE FEATURE PLS I CANT DO THIS ANYMORE ) — but i hope you liked it and that you feel better mami<3

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

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cupcakeslushie · 2 years

Text

————

Patreon Ko-Fi <— Commissions open!

——————

First of all I just wanna say, I am so flattered by the response from y’all for this little au!

This fandom is the best. ❤️💙🧡💜💛

———————————————————

None of my AUs are based off existing fanfic! Only my own artwork and replies to asks! ✌️

The main story behind the this AU actually started from a simple concept of me re-watching Arcane and thinking how interesting Donnie would be as Jinx, and wanting to sketch a few ideas. This led to me wondering about the other boys and everything spiraled into splitting them up as follows: Donnie grew up with Draxum from the beginning as his personal test subject, driving him mad like Jinx. Leo and Mikey get separated from Splinter and Raph about five years after Splinter escapes with them. Leo gets kidnapped by the Foot clan where Shredder is alive and trains him as his pupil as revenge against Splinter. Mikey finds his way into to Big Mama’s loving arms until she gets bored of him and throws him into her Battle Nexus. Raph is the only one to stay and be raised by Splinter, who is more diligent in his teachings. He befriends April and they grow up together, training to become ninja. Eventually the boys find each other again.

Mikey’s rescue arc: The starting point of the entire story!

Leo’s rescue arc: Currently running!

If you wanna read it on AO3! (Each new arc will be added, after they are completed!)

Shorts!

Stuck On You In The Leg

Leo's Cringe Moments 1, 2, 3

Don't ask Donnie about his past

Raph & Donnie bonding

Brutus Animatic - Leo and Raph's storyline

Donnie and April being silly

Usagi & Leo's history

Maps- Raph and April meet

Rise/Ew crossover

Distractions-ways the boys help Donnie on his bad days

Leo's concerns over Draxum

Leo & Splinter argument

Thirds- Donnie has a bad day

Raph Time- Something's been bothering Raph

Old Secrets- Mikey and Donnie get into a bit of a spat

Important tags are also in the search bar

#Sep!au life -a ton more everyday moments for the brothers

#Sep!au infodump

#Sep!au ref

#Sep!au future- Doomed timeline

#Sep!au fanwork - all the lovely works I've received!

Also massive timeline for anyone looking for a clearer explanation of events and don’t want to have to scavenge though all the mess of my previous replies!!!!!!

BOYS AGES

Warnings: This story has plenty of humor and family fluff but it can and will get pretty dark, please take care when checking it out. TW for child abuse, blood, horror, experimentation, self harm, mental health issues, abandonment issues, mind control, dark humor, and language (mostly from Mikey and Leo lol).

———

As far as anyone looking to make something based of the Separated AU, I am totally okay with most anything as long as credit is given but I will not be chill with tcest of any kind. I also ask you include no romance aside from the confirmed ships.

You can absolutely make anything that covers the things I’ve already mentioned in my replies, or if it’s just fam shenanigans, hanging out and dealing with recovery. I would love to see it and share it! You don’t have to bother with asking for the O.K. in that case. But I do ask that you maybe hold off on anything anyone might consider plot related or that’s not been addressed in the asks, and would be mostly speculation, cause I’ll be covering a whole host of before, and after reunion events, either in quick sketch comps or comics. If you’re still unsure you can always ask me. I would consider myself pretty easy going, so I’ll probably only say no if I think it’s something I have plans for, or if it really just doesn’t fit with the feel of the AU. I’m more likely to say yes if you have an idea of what you wanna do. Please, be specific in your ask, if you can. I don’t like telling people flat out no, so the more info I have the better!

That’s all for now! Again, I wanna thank y’all for being so awesome. I look forward to causing you all pain in the future!

#ask slushie #separated au #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #sep!au infodump #sep!au life #sep!au future #sep!au ref #sep!au fanwork

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wat-the-cur · 3 months

Text

(I wrote most of this when I was tired and in pain and it shows. This is so much babbling nonsense it’s untrue. I don’t even think I properly adhered to the “based on vibes” system I intended to follow. But I’m still posting it, because silly and fun.)

Been feeling like utter crud for the past three days, so I’m about to distract myself with Jay ratings. I’m rating the Jays based on vibes. No introspection, just waffle. Enjoy!

Clerks Jay - Listen. The GENDER. Not enough is said on the gender envy factor of Clerks Era Jay. The baseball cap we sadly never see again, the hair up to show off the buzzed sides, the little necklace, the huge earring. He doesn’t feel like he’s wearing a costume, either. Throughout the film clothes come off, go back on, hair goes up and down and moves through various stages of dishevelled, as he fucks around outside the Quickstop all day. It’s one of those details that make him feel more real. This is the Jay who’s probably most like someone you’ve known, for better, or worse. For as minor as his role in the film is, as well, he has some depth to him that get’s sadly overlooked. Boy steps up to defend Veronica before anyone else, even though his conversation with Dante is overshadowed by Silent Bob’s one iconic line. Degenerate with a heart of gold, and one of my top Jays. (9/10)

Mallrats Jay - Brother vibes. Mallrats Jay is pure brother vibes. He is both your little brother and your big brother, and he is not as cool as he thinks he is, either way. His breath smells like stale Monster (that you had to buy for him), and he has never washed his arse correctly in his life. Would flip you off your chair and break your elbow for a handful of fries, but he would also beat up your bullies for you (with help from Silent Bob, of course). Also very gender, but not in the same way as Clerks Jay. Mallgender, great silhouette. Somehow much cuddlier. I would cuddle him. (7/10)

Chasing Amy Jay - Moody. The moodiest bitch. Beam me up, Stroppy. This is Jay in such a foul fucking mood, it almost stops him being funny. Almost. Apparently, anger makes him fluffier, too. He’s strangely fluffy when he appears. Yet another example of Jay giving the same opinions as Silent Bob, just in a crasser way, and so getting overlooked. And speaking of Bob, points for the subtle callback to Jay’s previously established repressed bisexuality and his crush on Silent Bob, via jealousy towards ex-girlfriend. (6/10)

Chasing Dogma Jay - “Ew” is, perhaps, a strong word, but.....hhhuuuuggggmmmnng 😬. Sincerely, certified worst Jay. Kevin Smith took Jay’s sex pest tendencies and jacked them up to eleven, here. I’m not trying to clutch pearls, it’s just not funny. It’s long been established that Jay frequently has women tell him to fuck off, even pepper spray him for being pushy and annoying. And he is both of these things. However, in the movies we never see him forcibly grab women, or threaten them with violence. This Jay does both, and it honestly feels like a huge departure for the Jay we’ve seen previously. Both Clerks Jay and Mallrats Jay were shown to have female friends. I struggle to imagine this Jay having any, because feels genuinely unsafe to be around. And while it’s not out of character for him to expect sex as a reward for heroism, the implication that he wouldn’t have saved Bethany if Bob hadn’t gone for it first does feel out of character. #NotMyJay. The only saving grace of this Jay is his few cute moments with Bob, as well as almost coming out to him during a tirade. (4/10)

Dogma Jay - Now this. This is some good Jay right here. This is about the last we see of moody bitch Jay, established in the previous two iterations. But, in spite of that, he is not without his sweet side. Boy couldn’t care less about the world ending, but you refuse his “girlfriend’s” request and make her sad? You get your expensive shit stolen. That’ll teach you. This is the film that really pumped out the ship fuel for JayBob and you can see why. I’m convinced the main reason Jay is one of the prophets is that he is Bob’s emotional support jackass, that is his primary role. Looking and acting every inch the repressed bisexual he is CONFIRMED to be. But honestly, this look? Best Jay look since Clerks. Ear, nose and tongue pierced. Got his catchphrase on his beanie. Look at that cosy outfit, our boy is so warm. Chasing Dogma explained that these are not, in fact, Jay’s clothes, hence why they don’t fit. But he looks so damn snuggly in that huge jacket, and the red/black/grey combo looks so good on him. (8/10)

Clerks: The Animated Series Jay - Everyone shut up and look at him! Look at his cheeky little face. He’s just a little guy. Just a little prankster. He does a gay little walk that pisses you off. Bless this little man, I love him so much. (10/10)

Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back Jay - To fit the lighter tone of the film, Jay goes back to something closer to his Mallrats appearance. Manchild, rather than manteenager. School boy with a crush. He even gets addressed as “Little Kid” by different characters throughout the film, like it’s acknowledging this. This film has a lot of fans divided, but even if you’re not a fan of the View Askewniverse, or Jay and Silent Bob as a duo, I think it would be hard to hate this Jay. There is something very innocent and genuine about him. We see what is alluded to in Clerks, that Jay really just wants a kind, sweet partner. Also, this is possibly Jay’s best known outfit, either due to the popularity of the film, or just how bright it is. Honestly, I like it. Especially the Berserker shirt, he’s still supporting Olaf! (8/10)

Clerks II Jay - My wife. My cupcake. My actual fucking babygirl. I want to sit him on my lap and hand feed him his Mooby meal. I fucking love Clerks II Jay. He feels like if Clerks Jay got some character development. He’s still rowdy, still horny, still not too bright, but he’s getting softer. He’s getting more self aware. He’s on the cusp of something. This Jay probably wakes up in Silent Bob’s arms each morning, because he’s remembering to be grateful for the good things in his life (Because Silent Bob is such a good, friendly friend, thats completely and totally it). The little old ladies at church love him, they’re always tucking his hair behind his ears. There is something so fun and sweet about Jay and Bob carrying around that little pocket Bible, knowing they actually met God not too many years ago. I just love it, I really wish they had stuck with this. Also, the little flicks in this Jay’s hair, and his coat that can easily slip off the shoulder live in my head, rent free. (11/10)

Jay and Silent Bob Reboot/Clerks III Jay - Look, I know. I know that Reboot was cringe. I know that Smith and Mewes looked like old men struggling to do what used to come naturally. But Reboot touched my heart, okay. Look at this man. Look at this old, undiagnosed, moderately freshly out of the closet man. He finally passed the cusp he was on in Clerks II. Watch him attempt to protect and bond with his long lost daughter, whom he loved almost immediately. Watch him cry over all the years he missed out on raising her. He’s running a business with his not so heterosexual life mate. Probably believes they’ll have to elope to Fiji to make it official, or something. He pretends dealing is still illegal in the area for the nostalgia. He agrees to help Randal make his film, and happily distracts the hospital staff so an ill Dante can watch it. Why? Because the clerks are his friends now. He’s too old to bear grudges. He’s goofy, he’s happy, he’s peaceful. He drinks cocoa with his last joint of the night. And he gets pegged, that’s confirmed, too. I need more old, happy Jay. Also, back to the bright colours! (10/10)

#view askewniverse #jay and silent bob #jay/silent bob #jay derris #clerks #clerks 1994 #clerks ii #clerks 2 #clerks 3 #clerks iii #mallrats #chasing amy #chasing dogma #dogma #dogma 1999 #clerks: the animated series #jay and silent bob strike back #jay and silent bob reboot

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bradshawsbitch · 2 years

Note

“Shut your mouth before I shut it for you.” With our boy Rooster!

oof, we love our boy Rooster! but we also know our boy can have a bit of a temper... thanks for requesting it!!

disclaimer: It's funny how I promised myself I'd never write this trope, but here we are lmao.

description: the squad is enjoying a night at the hard deck, and some fucker makes nasty lil dumbass comments that makes rooster pissed.

warnings: bar fight, misogyny, feminist king!Rooster, protective Rooster, mentions of blood

(y'all already knew i had to use this gif)

Bradley was, according to himself, usually a very level-headed man. Except for if you mentioned his father. Or his mother. Or Maverick. Or you, for that matter. But other than that he was cool as a cucumber. He never really figured himself to be a jealous type, either - he usually trusted people to do their thing and he did his.

Which is why, when looking back at the incident that had gotten him into his current predicament (you, holding an icepack to his split lip), he figured maybe he had been wrong.

It had all started off as any old night at the Hard Deck. Coyote and Hangman occupied the darts board, Phoenix and Bob were laughing at something that had happened during their flight earlier that day as they racked up a game of nine-ball, and you were dancing to the jaunty tune of Shania Twain's 'Man! I Feel Like a Woman' whilst Rooster sat by the bar, nursing a beer and a big grin watching his girlfriend dance and laugh with Halo. As Shania sang the line 'let our hair down', you looked at Rooster, flipping your hair and swaying your hips seductively with a little secret smile on your lips, enjoying your time letting loose after a week's hard work flying. He grinned back at you, sending you a quick wink and relishing in the giggle that slipped past your lips before you turned to Halo again.

"This is why I don't think women should be in the navy," a voice scoffed from beside Bradley, who turned to look at the man sat next to him for the first time since he'd sat down. Bradley had hardly noticed him at all until he spoke up. Seeing as Bradley considered himself a level-headed man, he gritted his teeth - surprised at how young the man beside him was.

"C'mon man, the first female aviator in the Navy was 1978. Don't you think it's time to let it go?" Bradley grumbled, having read through the female history of the Navy, just because he thought it was important to know. 1978 was a long time ago, sure - but he figured they'd let women do what they wanted before that. But apparently not. The man raised a brow, and Rooster just knew this was going to be a painful conversation to have. But he would have it, because if he didn't - who would?

"What are your reasons for thinking women shouldn't be able to enlist?" Rooster continued, glaring at the lieutenant sat next to him.

"Well, it's obvious isn't it? They're obviously weaker both physically and mentally. And then there's-- all of this," the man gestured to you and Halo having fun on the dance floor, now doing a silly move where you bumped hips before jumping the other way and bumping the other side. Rooster frowned, looking back at the young man.

"Because they can dance?" Rooster was bewildered, and he could feel his cheeks turning red with anger. That level-headedness of his was being tested thoroughly by this man.

"They're sluts, man! They're just looking to fuck anything that moves, okay? Fucking shaking their asses and hanging off any lieutenant that'll look their way. It distracts the whole team, honestly - it throws the whole order off," the man obviously couldn't think of a reason other than his own damn misogyny.

"Don't fucking talk about them like that. What gives you the right?" Bradley seethed, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Oh, I see - which of the whores are you fucking?" the man stood up, laughing condescendingly at Bradley. This made Bradley get out of his seat, standing at his full height, still keeping his distance before he growled out;

"Shut your mouth before I shut it for you, fucker" the man stepped closer to Bradley, and Rooster furrowed his brows as he pushed the man in the chest to make him back down. That was apparently the straw for the other man, who immediately swung at Bradley, his fist making contact with Roosters chin and lip. Bradley was too surprised to be able to brace himself for the impact, and his head snapped to the side at the impact, stumbling for a moment before his eyes grew black with rage. He was shouting now, telling the fucker to get the fuck out of the Hard Deck, easily putting his strong arm around the other mans neck in a headlock, dragging him to the door and giving him a hard shove in the back so that he landed on his back on the ground.

"Don't you fucking ever talk about our girls like that again!" Rooster shouted, pointing his finger at the man before spitting blood right at his face.

The bar had gone eerily quiet as he returned. He saw you making your way towards him, a concerned look etched on your face. He looked around a moment before he barked that everyone should mind their business. Everybody started before returning to hushed conversation.

"Rooster, what happened?" your eyes were filled with worry, your hands finding his face as they gingerly cradled him, and his large hands settled softly on your waist.

"Don't worry about it, darling.." he mumbled as you grabbed his hand and led him to a booth, where you scurried to ask Penny for ice and some medical equipment. You tended to him silently, brows furrowed.

"I was just helping Penny ring the bell," Rooster joked, smiling at your exasperated look. His anger had disappeared the moment you'd laid your hands on him, and now you stood in between his legs, your hands gingerly tending to his split lip. He was looking up at you with so much adoration that you started to feel your cheeks heat up.

"It was kind of hot," you admitted, the sight of Rooster's biceps flexing in his black t-shirt forever ingrained in your brain. Bradley smirked, his hands gliding down to rest at the swell of your ass, bringing you closer to his broad chest, your other hand resting on his shoulder as you looked down at his gorgeous form.

"Yeah?" Rooster smirked, wanting to kiss you senseless for admitting that to him.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #thanks mak!!#300 celly

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fayes-fics · 2 years

Text

A Close Shave

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Benedict’s wife tries to help him get clean shaven…

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI due to brief mention of vaginal sex, flirting, teasing, shaving.

Word Count: 0.8k omg actually a Drabble holy shit, shame it’s not any of the Drabbles I’m supposed to be writing

Authors Note: Unbetaed. This is not what I’m supposed to be writing at all. Just a silly tiny piece, based on this anon fic request from 4 months ago. I hope you enjoy Nonny, although at this point you probably don’t even remember sending the ask lol <3

“Stop that”, you admonish playfully as his hands run heavily down your sides and grasp your hips, pulling you onto the growing bulge in his trousers.

“Then don’t sit on me in such an appealing way, my love,” he smiles crookedly, a clump of shaving cream sliding down his neck at the movement.

“Benedict, are you really trying to distract a woman holding a cutthroat razor?” you raise an eyebrow waving your hand slightly to show the weapon you wield.

“Your offer to shave me was not meant to include you straddling me like this,” he answers drolly.

“How else am I supposed to do it?” you frown, looking at the chair he is reclined in and your surroundings.

“Stand behind my head?” he chuckles as if the answer is obvious.

“But then your face would be upside down, and I wouldn't be able to see under your chin; that’s a stupid idea,” you sniff dismissively.

“Well, I’m quite sure a barber would not be allowed to practice if they tried this technique,” he jests gently, his hands wrapping around your back, running fingers across your spine.

“What a shame for them. It’s really a rather nice seat,” you smirk and lightly gyrate your hips, pressing down on his rapidly hardening cock.

“You are just doing this for sport, aren’t you?” He shakes his head slightly in disapproval but doesn’t exactly look upset about it.

“Maybe,” you singsong, “but hold still, darling. You want to look nice for the ball later, do you not?”

“I want to fuck you more,” he says casually, but with a tone he knows flusters you every time.

“Benedict Bridgerton!!” You exclaim in mock outrage. Then lean down and whisper in his ear, “you had better. I’m not wearing any underwear today.”

His groan is lewd, and his hands flex on your body. “For god's sake, remove this shaving cream at once. We need to go to bed right now,” he asserts, pushing his pelvis up against you so much your feet leave the ground.

“Oh, I’m sorry, husband. I will only have sex with freshly shaven men today….” you tease, running a hand up the sheet covering his chest. “So lay still, and if you let me get this done, there will be time before we have to get ready.”

He is suddenly quiet and compliant.

You take a calming breath, then start to shave near his left ear. Little gentle motions as you hear his stubble rasp under the blade, wiping the cream onto the damp rag to your side. You make steady progress and just listen to the sound of his breathing, humming gently to yourself to maintain focus. But after a while, you just can’t resist a little flirtation, a slight tease.

“You are a very handsome man, husband,” you sigh as you watch more of his face being revealed.

“Don’t”, he warns, muffled, trying not to move his lips or face too much as you pass the sharp instrument over the round of his chin.

“What? I just speak the truth,” you shrug, lowering your face right over his. “Can I not tell my husband how attractive I find him? How much he arouses me?” You are goading him now.

His breath is a harsh exhale of hot air across your lips, and there is a pained noise from the very back of his throat. “Stop teasing me,” he grouses, narrowing his eyes.

“Oh, husband, that’s not a tease,” you chuckle. “A tease would be telling you I sat in the window and touched myself watching you fence with your brothers earlier. So very commanding with your epee.”

He growls and roughly pushes away the hand that holds the razor, and in surprise, you lose your hold on it, and it clatters to the floor loudly. He grips your wrist, breathing heavily, staring at you, lips parted slightly. “You did what?”

“You heard me,” you reply, feeling a little triumphant.

He roughly tugs your dress upwards around your thighs, grabs your hips, and you squeak as he stands up in one swift, fluid motion, wrapping your legs around him. He commandingly strides out of the bathroom and towards your bed. You feel his chest heaving against yours, his cock branding hot through his trousers at your inner thigh.

He throws you down on the bed, his face still half-covered in shaving cream. Crawling over your body.

“I believe I said I would only fuck a freshly shaven husband,” you point out, but your panting reveals the lie behind the words.

He gives up fighting the layers of your dress and just grabs the material and rips it all the way to your hip with a heated snarl.

“Sorry darling, half-shaved will have to do. You can’t tell me you touched yourself and not expect this,” his tone low and dangerous. You wind your arms tight around his shoulders, hands clutching the back of his neck as he unbuttons his trousers roughly and spears into you hard, hot, and so very invasive.

“Fuckkkk,” you call out with a gusty exhale, throwing your head back and closing your eyes. God, you will never tire of that feeling.

An hour later, when Eloise asks why you have whipped cream on your neck, you realise you missed a cleanup spot. Benedict’s smirk is priceless.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @wysteria-clad @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton smutmas #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton

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cherubispunk · 1 year

Text

CHERUB (PART I) - Dealer!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: your uncle can’t pay for his weed, joel finds another form of payment.

a note from Lucy: SHEEE'S BAAACK! im sorry but someone had to do it. I took it into my own hands. Hate myself...but I love this. When fleabag said ‘I am a bad feminist’>>>.

playlist | alternate banner by THE cherub @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

wc: 3377 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! no outbreak (but Sarah still dies sorry), no use of y/n but joel calls the reader ‘Cherub’, porn with little plot, bombastic age gap (reader is in her early 20's and Joel is in his late 50s), Smut, dubcon, P in V sex (unprotected), Creampie, Cumplay, dom!Joel sub!reader dynamic, sex as payment for drugs, allusions to oral - m receiving, Fingering, ever so slight assplay, Choking, gagging (not on his d tho *sigh*), panty sniffing and stealing, Light Spanking, mentions of using drugs such as weed, alcohol consumption, Smoking, use of pet names (baby, cherub, angel, good girl...etc), Joel being foul mouthed, cursing, dirty talk, spitting, spit play. Some of the most animalistic, disgustingly wretched and vile porn I have written thus far...with so little plot that this earned me my place in hell. Big Dick Joel Miller comes as his own warning.

series m.list | m.list

It was no delicate whisper, or hushed uttering that Joel Miller was now everywhere in you. Scraping the backs of your teeth, festering like a virus in your bloodstream. Melding to the marrow of your bones. The walls of your cunt.

He had a devastating habit of seeping through the cracks of your closed lids. Ready to pillage and plunder his way through your head in its numbed state of sleep. When you could have finally— finally stopped and not felt. But he ebbs deeper.

He did not belong there.

He would not belong there. You’d not give him closure to live and breathe in intimate parts of your anatomy. The only place he would be from now on was between your legs. And maybe in your bed until the wee hours of the dry morning.

That is where you would let him sit.

That is where he would stay.

You hate him. You hate his face. You hate his voice. Hate his fucking temper. But worst of all— the cataclysmic catalyst in your small world of four bedroom walls—you hate how you don’t hate him at all. Not really. Your heart wouldn’t let you. It would break your own ribs clean in two to lurch from your flayed chest and into his palms. If only he’d open them.

Joel Miller gnashed you between his teeth to let you splatter past his lips on the sun cracked dirt. He circled you like a wild cat. His pretty gazelle. Graceful, light on her feet. You felt the splintering distraction of him in the base of your skull. Dull and aching. Still there to rot into earth.

You came for the pleasure but you stayed for the pain.

Distraught with him, you contemplated desertion. Something akin to treason for his tyranny. Cowardice churning at your gut. The pleasure you would draw from the curling scowl of his coarse brows. The thin line you’d make of his lips and dark mist of hickory that would cloud his eye and better judgement.

But then what? You soon learned that if it wasn’t devastating, reaping its agony in your silly little fractured chest— you didn’t dare need, nor crave it. Joel Miller was harrowing.

Broken. Broken, broken, broken — Maimed, shattered, blistered to burst like waterlogged paint. He made you all, and nothing. Made you shrivel into your own shell at the phantom of his thought. Baring your teeth at the need to divulge in feeling deeper than satiation.

—

You’d cycled back home, hair damp and lank with rare Austin rain. Slow circles of the pedals around a pivot, swerving gently from one side of the empty road to the other. Eyes ahead of you. It was like you were floating in a daze under the yellow saturation of the streetlamps. Past shabby housing estates back to the trailer park you called home. Tips from tonight tucked into the pocket of your apron, ready to be stored under the mattress in the moth bitten pillowcase. Ready to find your flight out of this town.

You skidded to a halt in the pebble speckled dirt outside your trailer, brakes squealing in protest. Standing to lock up your bike to the railing by your uncles beat up, busted down truck. A heavy thunder cracked above, a swollen storm cloud rolling in to send the summer out on its departure with a bang. September was here. And the air smelled acidic with the promise of downpour.

Glancing at the trailer next door, you came to realise your neighbour was in. Lights on, music rattling aluminium walls of his shabby home. You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes at him as he caught your eye in his window. Watching, thumb swiping over his lower lip as he eyed you in your uniform. A stupid yellow dress and pinafore, scuffed mary janes, frilly white socks. Ketchup stains. Doe eyes glued to him, you saw a swallow pass down the thick column of his throat. His deep hickory eyes were dark black in this light, pupils blown to devour the colour.

Before the heat licking up your cheeks could pull to your centre, you moved one foot in front of the other, crashing through the door. The TV was on, a barbaric film of screams drowned out the thunder outside, rattling in your ears. Jarring? No. The regular. Your uncle, ever the washed up cop out he was, was on his fifth beer, no doubt would send a nightcap of whiskey down his throat before lugging himself off to bed. The bottle hung limp in his drunken hand, loosely dangled over the armrest of the leather couch.

He did not spare you a glance.

“I’m home.” You called out to him, waving out a hand in his direction. His sunken stoner eyes didn't drift from the box television in front of him. Merely garbled grunt, followed by a beer burp passed his lips. You sighed through your nose, teeth set on edge. “You had dinner?”

Another grunt. One you took as ‘the fuck do you think?’

You sighed, “Okay, i’ll throw somethin’ in the oven, yeah?” This time he did not spare an answer.

You took it as a blessing. Could have been worse. He could have struck you for being late, taking on overtime for Dee, the young mother who worked alongside you on friday evenings. You needed the money. Uncle Luke got laid off last month, turning up to the impound lot drunk, reeking of hard liquor and staggering around machinery.

So you left it at that, disappeared to hide your money, counting out the bills into piles of ten. Just shy of ninety six dollars. All gathered and stuffed under your mattress. Next was dinner. Nothing much in the fridge, a box of frostbitten waffle fries, out of date in the back of the freezer. Or leftover pizza from the night before. Why not both. ‘Have a feast!’ you humoured yourself dryly.

It was an hour or so later into the evening when your uncle finally spoke up, empty plate resting on his beer belly, another belch to punctuate the first words he said to you all evening.

“Do me a favour and drop by Joel's will ya, doll?” You sat up, looking at him from the lazyboy seat you perched in, feet kicking down from the coffee table.

“Joel’s? Why?” He looked over to see your brow furrowed in question.

“Usual dealer is outta town. Joel’s hookin’ me up with some in the meantime.”

“Come on,” You sighed, tilting your head at him the way a parent would do with a child in pity, “I thought you were clean.”

“It’s just weed.” He snapped, voice gruff in his thick drawl, slurred. “Aint gonna fuckin’ kill me. But you might. Expensive brat.”

The thought flickered across your mind to argue. Fight back. Tell him you were fighting tooth and nail for the rent due next month. But the bruise of his handprint and the simmering burn of his slap to your face the night before stopped your words dry in your throat.

“Fine.” You sighed.

And so, with heavy feet and a grudge in your tight chest, you ambled on over to the next door, knuckles rapping on his door three times quickly.

Joel Miller opened the door with a puff of air out his nose, cigarette hanging loose from his lips. A barrel chested man in a tight wife beater and low slung dirty jeans, brow set in stone. The corner of his lip curled into a sneer of a smirk, taking no shame in the fact he was eyeing you head to toe. The devil down smirk. It made something disgusting tug at your insides, pool deeper in the thick of tension.

“What can I do for you?” He asked in a drawl, crossing great oaks of arms over his chest. The neck of his tank let tease a smattering of salt and pepper hair over the top of his chest. Bristly, wiry. You ignored the urge to feel it catch in your nails. Do the same with the scruff, scant over his jaw. The same gradient. Just as coarse.

“Um,” You eyes dropped from their ogling to the step your feet were planted on, head hung with them, “Uncle Luke said you had somethin’ for ‘im.” You mumbled after clearing your throat.

“I do.” He nodded, pinching his cig between his thick thumb and forefinger, taking a drag and parting it with his lips. He squinted as he exhaled, the stench of the cigarette catching bitter in your nose. “He sent you over here to get it? A sweet lil’ thing like you.”

You nodded hesitantly, still not daring to look at the man in front of you. Above you. He chuckled inwardly at your display of subservience, cock twitching behind the zipper and denim of his jeans. “Look’t ya.” He mused, tossing his dying cigarette onto the gravel, hooking his tobacco stained fingers under your chin to lift it. While your head tilted up at his touch, your eyes strained to stay on the floor. He watched as the stretch of your neck struggled to accommodate a nervous swallow, skin rippling deliciously under his hold. “Lil’ angel aint ya?” He thumbed your head to the side, eyes relishing in the sight of more skin, the wash of yellow light over your profile. “A Cherub.” Cherub. That’s what he named you. His little Cherub who was defiled and taken in a heated, frantic assembly of limbs. Pulled to fire at hell's mouth. Joel Miller's mouth.

Still you looked down. “Look at me, Cherub.” And with a heavy sigh you did. That was what was so easy about Joel. It took nothing to obey. Nothing to give in and keel over at his side. “That's better.” He mumbled under his breath, watching the rise of your chest. You could feel the pert tips of your breasts pebble at the meeting of his eyes, mixed with his touch. How delicate it was now. How deranged it would be later. “Come on in…Cherub.” He practically crooned the pet name, stepping aside.

You passed the threshold, a mistake for the best and words parts of you. Because stepping across that line was the damning event in your experience of Joel Miller. Pandora’s box had been opened, left to decay in the woods somewhere as evil poured guilt free from it.

He rummaged around for a second, pulling a clear plastic ziplock bag from a duffel in the corner, dangling it in front of your face. A dirt green, clustered in form. You reached to take it, but he snatched it back with a cruel smile, making the walls of your stomach curl in dread, jaw clamp shut.

“Luke’s gotta pay up, first. He give you money for me?” You shook your head. His eyes clouded darker. “No?” He raised an amused brow, “How you gonna pay for it, Cherub?”

You're stumped. “I– I…” Your voice died in your throat. But Joel can seemingly peer inside you to your own mind, part it like a page of a book or your own legs.

“I don’t want your money, baby.”

“Woulda been mine, anyway.” You sigh. And he narrows his eyes at you, tutting in disappointment.

“I can think ’f one thing that’ll make it up to me.”

And that's how you ended up here. His thick, intruding fingers hooking into your mouth, unhinging your jaw as he speared you on his cock. Everything about him was larger than life. Even the way he breathed was domineering. Fucking you with flared nostrils that gave way to a billowing a breath. The other hand at your neck, revelling at the feeling of your pulse hammering under his splayed palm. Worming your way though cracks in his thick ribs while took you.

He had folded you in half, pressed the knobbles of your knees up to the sides of your head as tears ran thick, hot and slow down your temples. He made it hurt. But you loved it. Needed him to evaporate into air so you inhale him. Devour him.

He grunted, watching in furrowed brow amusement while his thumb pressed into the soft flesh under your jaw, middle and forefinger coated in your slick form earlier and now your own saliva.

It was a primal image. One some may find disgusting. To see him bent over you and ravaging your cunt raw. Bleeding you dry of a semblance of sanity. It was so easy when the tip of his hot, angry cock nipped at the mouth of your cervix with vigour like that. His hand is at your throat, pressing a purple bruise into your flesh over the old one made by another man. For you to marvel at later when he once again staggers from bed to refresh himself with a cool beer, clutching the ache that curled at the base of his spine.

In his eyes, you needed a big god. A man to keep you to yourself. Never have you stray. Ground you with the slamming of his pelvis into your hips. Legs parted for him to eye the very core of you. The seam he would part with two fingers, hot, needly, wet for him. Aching and pinching and shuddering around his digits, tongue, dick. Letting him invade you like the good girl he told you you were, crooning into your ear with hot damp breaths.

Joel dredged up an ache of humanity in you that felt numb so long before. Lay dormant in the chasm of your stomach. Swallowed like a peach pit to choke on later. After the sin had dried like the sweat on your skin.

“Fucking easy, ain’t ya, Cherub.” He would say as he penetrated your walls, invaded your mouth with his fingers. His lips draw open mouthed, wet kisses to the delicate column of your throat, down the bone between your breasts. Then he leans back, watching intently as his hips slow to grind, dragging the slick of your walls to drench the base of his cock. Ready for you to take down your throat later if he wished to meld you into that position. A hand let free the grip on your throat, instead watched with fascination as he slapped your tit, took the swell of it in his palm, cupping it, tugging at your pearled nipple. “Gonna take all of it for me, Cherub.”

You garbled out a yes, a cry of submission to him. Before, Joel never felt the acidic aftertaste of guilt for being selfish. Since he lost Sarah, he took it upon himself to have what he wanted and when he wanted it, without a damn for the rest of humanity.

The only time he felt a shred of remorse was when he stole you; Hid you away from the warm, nurturing touch of others' more loving, less brutal hands. But you were his Cherub. All that was pretty a beautiful and to be desired in the world.

With his lip between his teeth, his thumb swiped tight circles over your swollen clit, slick aiding him in the fluidity of his strokes, heavy balls drizzled in your arousal as they slap wetly against your ass. A nod and his fingers slip further into your mouth, opening your jaw wider to peer inside. A glob of his spit drooled past his lips, splattering thick and warm upon your clit. It slid down to your entrance, where he punctures moans out of you, shaft stretching you, fucking you out, and thrusting with the intent to break you. You can feel the curve of it, the vein that runs steady on the underside of it. Heavy, full. You remember the slap it sounded out when you reached to pull it free. Before he parted your legs wide and sheathed himself in your pussy with one swift wane of his hips.

Joel smiles when you sob and break down for him, pull back a layer for him to slip into you. The walls of you drag him down into a grounding. A centre of a universe. Gravity strong enough to implode, create dark matter, compress tightly into a black hole. The centre of his universe.

“Does my baby want it?” He crooned, and you yelped a yes, strangled by his being. The scent of him clinging to you, your sex. It gnarled at your skin. Scratched marks into flesh. “Does she want to come for me?”

You didn't have to nod, he made you with his grip on your jaw. It was going to be your answer anyway. “Want you to say it for me too, Cherub.”

“Yea, Joel!” You yelp, voice shrill, and cracked like the callus on the heel of his hand. “Yes!”

He grins, wicked and wrapped with the inter to tear you apart from the inside with the jackhammering of his cock inside you, The delicious, toe curling numbness of it inside you.

“Come on, Cherub, sing f’me.”

“Yes-” It's a shriek, a quick, frenzied shriek. One that filled the hollow of your chest and then deflated it. “Yes! Please, please, please- Please!”

Your begging melts in his ears, the sight of eyes rolled back, mouth open for him. And he needs to feel, reaching between where the two of you join with your own hand. The base of his cock now between your middle and ring fingers, his length swiping your fingers in combined precum and slick as he bucks his hips violently. The headboard shakes and trembles beneath his frantic movement. And he presses the heel of your hand into your clit, having you seeing stars. Crying to the heavens you fell from.

His little Cherub. Plush skin and plump curves for his teeth to sink into and mark his territory. Whenever he may please now.

“Come.”

And you do, screaming his name to him as a numb weight fills the pit of your core, has your pussy pulsing in waves, ebbs and flows. It sucks him deeper, a lew squelch gaining his attention when his lower abdomen and balls tighten. He lets out a strangled groan, filling you with one final push upon your cervix.

It has you gasping for air, chest heaving when he looks down between you, the white sticky ooze of his come seeping from your walls, softening cock still sheathed inside of you. Not ready to pull from the warmth your cunt hugs him with.

“That’s it, angel, down you come.” He coos, before sifting his hips, leaving you to whine as your gaping hole fluttered furiously around nothing.

He stands, pulls his jeans on, fly still undone, belt buckle loose and clinking at his sides. He swipes your underwear from the scattering of your clothes over the musty carpet, bringing it to his nose to inhale. “Part of the payment.” He mumbles, not that you’re listening, mind still swimming in its pool of oxytocin. And he slips the lace into his jean pocket, baby pink peeking out from denim.

“Better get back, Cherub.” Joel said plainly, fingers dancing over your used hole, as cum dribbles gluttonously from it, down your crack to your puckered asshole. He thumbs it gently and you squeal, squirming away. His hand clamps down upon your thigh, dragging you back down the mattress to his unyielding touch.

“Don’t be ungrateful now.” He growls, collecting the creamy spend with two fingers, scooping it back inside you. Your body jolts from the intrusion, but gathers itself again and desire swims low in the swell of your belly. “Want it all in ya’. Fillin’ you nice and good for me, Cherub. There we are, that’s it.” He smiles, eyes unmoving from your cunt as his fingers disappear inside and stretch it out, scissoring you to overstimulation. “Maybe one day i’ll get to use this one too…” And you feel his thumb once more at your butt, adding the smallest tease of pressure.

Joel pulled back, clapping a hand down on the plush, malleable skin of your thigh.

“Up ‘n out, Cherub, ‘fore your uncle gets suspicious.”

You know Uncle Luke won’t know any different. He’s passed out on the sofa when you get in, legs trembling with an ache weighing the marrow of your bones. You shut the door with your back and a shaking huff, tossing the weed onto the coffee table, retiring to your room, sobbing to nothing and no one but your grimy pillow, licking your wounds like the wounded bitch you had now become.

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