#I just wanted to double check that I made the purchase I was thinking of before I said smth 😭

[reinemichele]

I guess it's better that this happened after I bought ema but...

[muwapsturniolo]

✯𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐦 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬✯

IN WHICH...Y/n is tired of Chris and his negligence towards her, so she decides to pull out her Freakum Dress.

WARNINGS.... mentions of cheating (it doesn't happen) drinking, manhandling, hair pulling, slapping, choking, spanking, pussy slapping, titty slapping, sucking on fingers, stomach bulging, raw sex, rough sex, dom! Chris, overstimulation. cum play, cream pie. I think that's it.

"Stop i'm not ready yet!"

Y/n shouts as her friends pose in her body mirror for pictures. She quickly fixes her hair, removing her lace band and running a wide tooth comb through the curls. She smiles at herself in her vanity mirror before snapping her fingers towards her friends.

"Pass me my dress!"

Layla grabs the dress hanging on the hook and passes it to the robe-clad girl. Y/n gawked at the dress, a Cheshire smile on her face. She drops her robe and begins to slip the see-through material over her body.

The dress, if you could call it that, did little to nothing to cover her up. It was her favorite color (baby pink), and completely see-through. The lace material was sewn into roses and the front was held together by a very thin metal bar.

Her boobs were on display, the only thing covering them were the brown pasties on her nipples.

"Girl he is going to beat your ass!" Layla laughed pulling the dress down a bit to cover the girl's ass. Y/n slaps her hand away and smacks her lips.

"I don't care, he should be acting right!" She exclaims in annoyance as she checks herself out in the mirror.

The whole purpose for her going out tonight was because Chris had been neglecting her, and she was fed up. In her opinion she doesn't ask him for much, really just wanting his love and affection, and she hasn't been receiving that. She knows Chris has to work, but he's been brushing her off, ditching her to hang out with his friends, leaving to film and not coming home until 5 am, they haven't even had sex in two weeks! She was tired of being left in the house alone for too long, so she called up her girls, pulled out her freakum dress, and started getting ready.

"Exactly! Since he wants to act up, you should too! It's been a minute since we all went out anyway, the streets are yelling for us!" her friend Thalia proclaimed as she sipped her twisted tea.

After she slips on her Playboy heels and takes a few pictures with her girls, the group leaves the home, ready to take on the night.

The whole ride Y/n was reading Chris's texts, smirking when she saw him frantically asking where she was going. He ended up calling her and she quickly declined the call, putting their messages on DND and turning the music up in the car.

It's not long before the group arrives at the club. Drinks were immediately purchased thanks to a few guys who found the group attractive, wanting to bag at least one of the girls for the night and rock their world.

One of the boys made it a mission to lay it on thick with Y/n, staying close to her and never her go without a drink. She knew what he wanted, with the way he kept looking her up and down licking his lips, the way his eyes lingered on her chest, how he did a double take when he mistook her skin-colored thong as her being underwear-free, it was obvious what he was looking for.

"You know, your outfit is really nice," he whispers in her ear, both his hands planted firmly on her waist. She giggles and rolls her eyes, pulling back to glance at him.

"Yeah?" She questions as she bats her lashes. He nods and leans down, attempting to catch her lips with his. Y/n ducks the kiss, moving her head to the side.

She finds this whole interaction hilarious.

This guy whose name she doesn't even care to know, is trying so hard to get her attention, attempting to lure her into bed with him. little does he know, Chris is going to be the one to tear this dress off of her tonight.

But little did Y/n know, her friends were posting pictures and videos on their privet stories, and Chris saw all of them.

She was only made aware when she felt herself being pulled back into someone's chest, their breath fanning over her ear.

"I suggest you walk your ass out of here and get the fuck in the car."

She smirks to herself and turns around, throwing her arms over Chris's shoulders. "I don't want to leave, derrick is buying me another drink." She purposely whines. She can tell by the way his eyes narrow that he's fed up with her antics.

One of his hands grips her hair while the other grips her jaw, his face inching closer to hers. Before he can open his mouth to put her in her place, another voice is heard.

"Get your hands off my girl bro!"

Y/n is yanked away from Chris and pulled into 'Derricks' hold, a drink being placed in her hands.

Chris's usual bright blue eyes were already a stormy blue, but seeing this asshole touch his girl has his eyes teetering on the edge of grey. "Your girl?" Chris raises a brow and has an angry scowl on his face.

Y/n leisurely sips her drink, watching the heated interaction as if it were a rerun of her favorite show.

"Yeah, my girl!" Derrick exclaims, his grip tightening on Y/n's waist.

"Do you know that your girl bounces on my dick every night?" Chris deadpans. Derricks tenses and Y/n rolls her eyes.

Chris was never one to be afraid of voicing their sex life. If he could give a TED talk about it, he would.

Chris glowers at 'Derrick', daring him to say something. He takes the hint and drops his hand from Y/n's waist, walking away without a word. Chris's eyes land on Y/n, the two holding such an intense gaze, that she results to looking away.

Chris takes a menacing step forward, grabbing her jaw and forcing her to look at him. "Finish your drink, and then we are going home." He demands, his voice penetrating.

"What if I don't want to go home?"

Chris's face becomes choleric, his eyes finally turning grey. He snatches her forward and throws the drink on the ground, not caring about the glass scattering across the club floor.

Y/n breath hitches, as the hand on her jaw travels to her throat, squeezing the sides tightly.

"Get. The Fuck. In. The Car. NOW!" He doesn't even give her a chance to walk herself, simply grabbing her arm in an iron-like grip and dragging her through the club.

She stumbles as he takes long and fast strides, the two of them making it to the car in record timing.

Despite Chris being angry with her, he still opens the door, smacking her ass harshly in the process of her crawling in. She yelps in shock, turning to give him a dirty look, but she's met with the passenger door slamming in her face.

She grumbles to herself as he climbs in the car, quietly starting the engine and driving off.

The ride was quiet for the most part, the only sounds being the busy streets of California.

They soon make it home, y/n stumbling due to the multiple drinks she had. Chris watches with dark and low eyes as she leans against the wall to take her heels off. Y/n can feel his hungry gaze burning into the back of her head, but she ignores it, choosing to walk into the bedroom.

She makes it into the bedroom, walking towards the closet to grab clothes, but she doesn't make it that far. Chris is quick to grab a fistful of her hair, wrapping his hand in the brunette curls as he pushes her down on the bed.

A mix of a yelp and a gasp exits her throat as his hand comes down hard on her ass, leaving a burning sensation on the jiggling flesh. "You think it's funny to go out of the house looking like this? Huh?" He doesn't give her a chance to answer, slapping her ass once again.

"You think it's funny letting another guy touch all over you like you're his? Letting him buy you drinks?" Another smack is given.

"I think I'm hilarious actu-MMPH!" Chris cuts her off by shoving her face into the comforter.

"Shut the fuck up!" He uses his free hand to hike her waist up, her back arched and face still shoved into the blankets. He goes to yank her underwear down, but stops seeing the damp patch seeping through the skin-colored material.

"You're wet sweetheart-" He takes his ring and index finger, using both digits to rub over the damp material, spreading her wetness around even more. Despite her eyes being closed, she still manages to roll her eyes back, letting out a shakey breath at the feeling of finally being touched.

"-listen to yourself." He demands, his fingers still working her through the underwear. The only thing the two can hear is her wetness moving around, making an erotic sloshing noise. "What are you wet from, hm?"

Y/n manages to lift her head, her body still leaning back into his touch,

"Derrick."

Chris is quick to flip her around, Y/n yelping as his hand slaps the folds between her legs. He loops his fingers through the underwear and tears them off of her, flinging the material somewhere in the room. He roughly shoves two fingers into her seeping hole, immediately thrusting and curling them. Y/n moans at the rough pleasure she's receiving, feeling all the built-up sexual frustration finally being taken care of.

"You're such a fucking whore, telling your boyfriend you're wet from another guy. He didn't even touch you. Are you that desperate and touch starved you get wet from a guy smiling at you?"

She whimpers and arches her back from his degrading words.

"Pathetic"

Chris yanks his finger away and slaps her glistening pussy once more before shoving his wet fingers deep into her mouth. Y/n chokes and gags, her eyes clenching shut and burning as tears form in her eyes. She opens her eyes and stares up at Chris as she manages to suck on his fingers.

He pulls his fingers away from her mouth, trailing them down her chest as she pants heavily. Suddenly, he tears the thin lace material from her body.

"Chris-Shut the fuck up!" He slaps her across the face and smashes his lips against hers. His hands find their way to her breasts, tweaking and twisting at her nipples. She whimpers into the kiss, the stimulation of her nipples going right to her core. She bucks her hips, begging for any type of friction. Chris smirks into the kiss, pulling away and hiding his face in her neck, biting and sucking at the warm and salty skin.

"You want me to fuck you? I thought you wanted Derrick?" He teases, using one of his hands to discreetly pull down his sweats and boxers. Y/n mewls pathetically at his words, "You, I want you! Chris ple-" her jaw drops open and her hands fly to his back, digging her nails into his skin.

Chris grunts feeling her warm and wet gummy walls clamp around him. He doesn't waste a single second in snapping his hips against hers, the sound of skin slapping quickly filling the room. He grunts as he sits up on his knees, pulling her closer by her thighs to go deeper.

Chris pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth, his fingers leaving prints on her plush thighs. He watches as Y/n writhers in pleasure, her body jerking with each thrust. He looks down at where their bodies connect, but he notices something, something that unlocks this primal urge in him.

He allows one of his hands to leave her thigh and pick her head up, forcing her into an upright position. He angles her head down, forcing her to look at the bulge in her stomach.

This is a first for both of them. Chris always fucks her deep, but not deep enough to the point where he can see himself in her stomach

"look at the shit-fuck-" he uses his free hand to press down on the mound, grinning wildly as Y/n sobs at the feeling.

He lets go of her, allowing her head to drop back down on the bed. He throws her legs over his shoulder, leaning forward and basically bending her in half. He wraps both hands around her throat, pistoning his hips at a brutal pace.

Y/n is in heaven, this is all she has been wanting for the past two weeks. Due to his hands being wrapped around her throat, the only noises falling from her mouth were small whistling noises mixed with wheezing. Her eyes roll back and Chris lets out a dry laugh.

He lets go of her throat, watching as she gaps for air, but his thrusting never stops. " That jackass-fuck-he can't fuck you like this could he?" Y/n is too cock drunk and busy trying to breathe properly to answer, causing Chris to slap her breast.

"Answer me mama. You were all talk earlier, run your mouth like you always do."

Just like before, Y/n doesn't answer.

Chris growls and pulls out, flipping her on her hands and knees before shoving himself right back inside of her. Her back arches upward, looking like a cat stretching. Chris shoves her back down onto the bed, grabbing both of her hips and yanking her back into his thrusts.

She hasn't even had one orgasm yet and she's already overstimulated. Not being able to handle it, she reaches back and pathetically attempts to slow him down.

"C-Chris wa-Stop fucking running and take it!" He swats her hand away, shoving her head back into the blankets. Her legs kick wildly, almost as if she's throwing a tantrum. The whole bed is shaking and scratching at the floor from the brute force of his thrusts. he's shocked the mattress hasn't fallen through the wooden bed frame yet.

By this point, Y/n is sobbing from the pleasure and pain. Her once flawlessly done makeup was ruined. Her lipstick is smudged all around her mouth, even on the blankets. Her mascara and eyeliner dripped down her face creating a stream of black salty tears.

"C-close!" she sobs out, her body shaking.

Chris grunts and yanks her back by her hair, her hands shakily holding her up.

"fuck- whose pussy is this?" She moans loudly in response, her fingers gripping the white bedding tightly.

"Tell me whose pussy this is, or you're not cumming."

"Yo-fuck!" She yelps as Chris starts swiping along her clit, drawing figure eights. "Tell me baby, you know I always want you to finish, but if I have to leave you hanging I will." He rasps out. Chris is on the brink himself. He knows this is going to be messy, her juices are already running down her thighs and there's a thick white cream sitting on the base of his dick and abdomen.

"Oh fuck, it's yours-Chris Chris Chri-" Y/n shakes violently as her orgasm rips through her, a loud scream falling out of her mouth as her juices splash onto the bed.

Chris moans loudly and finally lets go, filling her up to the brim. He lets go of her hair, allowing her face to fall forward and back into the bed. Both of them stay in place, panting heavily. Chris slowly pulls out, watching with deranged eyes as his dick falls limp and his seed begins to drip out and onto the comforter underneath them. He bites his lip seeing her hole clench around nothing. He takes two fingers and smears the creamy residue around, nothing but love and possessiveness swarming in his chest.

He turns her onto her back, settling between her legs. He wastes no time and dives in, licking and lapping at her folds like a dehydrated dog. Y/n whines, trying to push his head away from her aching folds. eventually, he does pull away, their mess all over his chin and some of it in his mouth.

He moves to hover over her, forcing her mouth open and quickly spitting their mess into her mouth.

"Next time you decide to wear a fucking dress like that, remember this." He shuts her jaw, Y/n immediately swallowing the creamy liquid and spit.

He picks her up and carries her to the bathroom, getting ready to run the both of them a bath.

As his back is turned to her, a small delirious smile makes its way onto her face,

Thank god for her Freakum Dress.

𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 🍑: @mattslolita @thenickgirl @guccifrog @luverboychris @zayyluvz @mrsmiagreer @chrisssluttywaist @78yaz @hoesformatt @freshloveforthefit @3lizaluvs @mattsturniolosgirlfriend @jetaimevous @luxy-nyx @ts-is-my-spirt-animal @iihrtsturniol0 @idontexistman @katw4shereee @madisturn @starlace111 @zivall @adoreindie @imwetforyourmom @sturnsxplr-25 @sturncakez @theyluvme-2315 @moonk1ss3d @@babyalliah-777 @sturniololol @oliviasturniolo21 @ariithereyet @blahbel668

[sadhours]

Bully - Part 3 of 3

warnings: 18+ minors dni, this is practically all smut, inexperienced reader, fingering, oral (f receiving), handjob, losing virginity, p in v, unprotected sex, controlling parents, I think that’s it.

taglist: @bbyhargrove @whore-of-the-pumpkin-patch @shamidreamer @180-fuck-me @rosey96 @hargrovesswifee @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @amberpanda99

Fussing over yourself in the mirror, you worry that your dress looks like a nightgown. It’s a white satin, tight in the chest but once it meets your waist it flows down mid thigh. You believe your mother was under the impression it is a nightgown and that’s why it was an approved purchase. However, out of all your clothes, you really like how this looks on your body the most. You pair it with knee high socks and a pink cardigan. You’d just finished your make up and hair, matching your eyeshadow to the cardigan and putting on an obscene amount of lip gloss.

You worry you’re jumping into the deep end before getting your toes wet. You’ve never held hands or kissed a boy yet here you are, determined to lose your virginity to Billy Hargrove. Partly, to get it over with but mostly, because he made your entire body ignite whenever you thought about him. You glance over at the clock, it’s nearing eight and you think you hear Billy’s Camaro in the distance so you put your shoes on and grab your purse, hooking it around your shoulder. You double check your bed, standing at a few different angles to make sure the clothes and stuffed animals shoved under the duvet resemble your sleeping body. Then, you turn the lamp off and carefully crawl out of your window. It’s awkward to do and you’re naturally clumsy but you manage to land on the ground without making too much noise. You slowly pull the window back down and duck under it, staying still as you perk your ears up, trying to hear if you’ve already been caught.

After you’re sure your parents haven’t roused from their room, you slowly creep your way along the back of the house and hop over the waist high fence. Once you hit the sidewalk, you see the blue Camaro parked six houses down with the headlights off. Your inclination is to run but you don’t want to seem too eager, so you walk slowly. You pull open the door and ease into the passenger seat, turning to see Billy dressed in a dark green button up, his chest exposed and you notice his gold necklace on display as always. You wonder if he ever takes it off.

“Hi,” you greet him shyly, pushing your hair behind your ear and Billy leans over to hook a finger into the top of your knee high sock.

Biting his lip, he drawls out, “You look sexy.”

Your cheeks heat up and you look down bashfully, twirling your hair in between your fingers. Billy tugs on your sock and smirks up at you. Panic starts to rise up your chest, worried that your mother is going to come running down the street.

“Can we go?” you ask, glancing back to your house.

Billy chuckles, “I forgot I’m sneaking you out.”

He turns the car on, shifting into gear and whipping it around. Billy speeds, you look over and see he’s pushing 50 and the speed limit on your street is 20. You yelp, reaching over to grasp at his bicep and squeeze your eyes shut. Billy lets out his signature laugh and presses his foot on the acceleration further, definitely getting up to 65. When he finally slows down to turn, you let out the breath you were holding in heavy pants. Billy feels his dick twitch from the way you sound, he moves his hand from the gear shift to your thigh and squeezes and a high pitched sound leaves your throat. You’ve never heard anything like it come from you. The feeling you get is overwhelming, not having been touched that way before. It’s like you have to pee really bad but it’s different, somehow.

“You’re gonna be loud,” Billy exhales, shifting in his seat.

“What?” you question, squeezing your thighs tightly together.

He doesn’t clarify, he just laughs again. You look out the window, looking at him is just making that peeing feeling worse and worse. When you recognize the businesses lining the streets, it’s clear where Billy is taking you. Your heart swells when you realize he’s actually taking you on a date.

“Are we going to the movies?”

Billy shrugs, “Maybe.”

But you are, he parks on the street and hurries to open the door for you. He takes your hand and closes the door behind you. You see a couple kids you recognize from school loitering outside and you assume Billy is going to drop your hand. He does, only to wrap his arm around your shoulder as he walks with you. He nods to the kids but you avert your eyes, feeling shameful in the outfit you’ve chosen yet feeling special that Billy has chosen you.

“Two for the Jason movie,” he says to Robin Buckley, one of the few people at school who actually treated you like a human being.

She looks wide-eyed at you with Billy’s arm wrapped around you but cheerily says, “Two tickets for Friday The 13th Part 2. Seven dollars and ten cents, please.”

Billy drops his arm to reach for his wallet, trading Robin the money for the tickets. Once you get inside, his arms around your waist and he leans into ask, “You want some popcorn or something?”

The thought of eating in front of Billy makes your stomach churn so you shake your head, “I’m okay.”

He guides you towards concessions anyhow, “We can share a soda, at least.”

You giggle, walking up to the counter and he points to the selection, “Which one?”

“Cherry coke,” you answer meekly.

“One large Cherry coke,” he tells the employee as he pulls his wallet out again, handing him a bill.

When the guy slides the cup across the counter, Billy hands it to you and as you walk towards the theatre, he rests his hand on your ass and you cannot help but let out a soft sound. Billy laughs lowly in your ear and you worry he might have to carry you the rest of the way. Shockingly, the theatre is empty and the trailers have already started. Billy still chooses seats that are tucked in a corner, figuring it’ll fill out soon. He has you sat next to the wall and you look at him curiously, these definitely aren’t the best seats. You know your neck will hurt from this angle but Billy doesn’t plan on you two watching the movie anyways.

He wraps his arm around the seat, letting his hand fall onto your shoulder and leans close to you.

“Do you like scary movies?” he asks, voice low but his mouth is so close to your ear.

Your mother hasn’t let you watch any, so you don’t know. You feel embarrassed to admit it but you do.

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen one,” you whisper, watching as Billy’s face erupts in shock.

“So do your parents just keep you in a basement when you’re not at school?” he questions and his tone is playful but it’s not far from the truth.

You blush, smiling as you tell him, “They’re very protective.”

At home, your mother lets you watch an hour of TV a day but she has to watch it with you and pick what you watch so most days, you chose to read alone in your room. When you do get to see new movies, it’s only movies made for kids.

“Clearly,” he scoffs, “If you get scared, I’m right here. I’ll distract you.”

The promise makes your heart flutter and your stomach warm. You’d snuck a Steven King novel once and you thought you handled it well, so you hoped you would be fine during the movie. He reaches his left hand over and grabs yours, lacing your fingers. Billy tilts his head to look at you and the feeling between your legs returns. The movie opens and Billy looks around to see the theatre is still empty. He smiles, feeling like the luckiest guy in the world. He leans over to kiss you and he expects you to follow his lead but instead you let out a shaky breath and keep your eyes glued to the screen.

“Have you ever kissed someone before?” he asks, but he figures he knows the answer.

Embarrassment flooding your senses, you shake your head, “I’ve never even held hands with a boy until right now.”

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

Panic, now, you turn to look at him, “I don’t know how.”

Billy chuckles, bringing his hand up to caress your jaw, “It’s natural, you’ll get the hang of it quickly. It’s what we’re meant to do.”

“You and I?”

“Men and women,” he mumbles, “It feels really good. You wanna try it?”

“Okay,” you whisper, wanting it more than anything even though you’re equally as terrified.

Billy starts out slow, turns his whole body as he pulls you closer. You see as his tilts his head and you figure, that’s what you’re supposed to do so you do the same. He chuckles and shakes his head, making you second guess this whole kissing thing. You’re horrible at it and you haven’t even done it yet.

“This way,” he tilts your head in the opposite direction he’s tilted his.

“Just like this,” he mumbles before he leans closer as he pulls you towards him. He gently presses his lips to yours, moving them slightly and then pulling back. Your fingers dart up to ghost along where his warm, soft lips touched yours.

“Can we do it again?” you ask, eagerly.

Billy chuckles again and at first, you didn’t like it but the more he does it the more it makes you feel good. At least he’s having fun.

He leans in again, colliding your lips harder than the first time. Billy scolds himself in his head, he knows he needs to take this slow but he wants to shove his tongue into your mouth so desperately, wants to completely ravish you right here, right now. The sound you emit only fuels his desire, he wants to feel you all over.

You two keep kissing like that, Billy is careful not to slip you his tongue yet. It’s a line of soft pecks, your hands grip his shirt tighter and tighter each kiss. You feel dizzy already but Billy seems antsy and you know there’s more to kissing than just this, you’ve seen a fair share of couples in the school hallways with their tongues down each others throats.

Pulling back, you tell him, “You can do more.”

He nods, grabbing onto your cheeks and pulling you to his lips again. He slowly licks against your bottom lip, expecting you to part your lips but you’re frozen, the sensation of his tongue against you incredibly overwhelming.

You feel as he smiles, “Open your mouth.”

Dropping your jaw open, Billy laughs softly and knocks his nose against yours, “Not that much.”

You’re sure your cheeks are bright red, but Billy’s a good teacher. You can tell he doesn’t want to stop even though you have no clue what you’re doing. You lessen the distance between your lips and Billy’s hand on your jaw guides it just right. He’s ecstatic, he’s never had to teach someone how to kiss and he’s floored by how arousing it is. He licks into your mouth and can’t help but squeeze your jaw when you moan softly. This is the most erotic thing you’ve ever experienced, you feel as if your core is on fire and the wetness seeping from you is brand new. He was right, this feels so good. You want to feel his tongue all over your body. Squirming a tiny bit, you know that you also need to do something with your tongue so you hesitantly rub it against his and you feel his lips curls up. You’re flushed with confidence while Billy’s a bit concerned, he’s never been this turned on in his life and he fears he’s going to cum in his jeans just from kissing you. He continues though, licking into your mouth but retreating every so often to kiss your lips. After a good minute, he pulls away and you’re both panting.

“How’d you like it?” he’s desperate to know, eyes scanning over your flushed face.

“More,” you whisper, grabbing onto his shirt. Your stomach is in coils, you feel like you’re about to burst and the feeling is frustrating. You wonder when you’ll get some type of relief, that part has to come soon otherwise you’re not sure why people do this in the first place.

“Anything you want, baby,” he growls, pulling you to him for another kiss.

Billy cannot hold back anymore, though. He knows he’s being sloppy but you’ve got nothing to compare it to and that gets him going. You keep letting out these sounds, they’re driving him mad. Once he finally pulls away, you’re shaking.

“I feel weird,” you admit, squirming in your seat.

“Like you’re gonna explode?” he offers and you nod vigorously, he explained it perfectly and you’re relieved he knows what you’re talking about and that maybe he’s feeling the same way.

“There’s a way to help that,” he explains, “But I don’t know if you’re ready.”

“Please,” you beg, anxious to subside this ache.

Billy bites his lip, “I can touch you. Between your legs.”

You giggle, excitement bubbling up. Your mom had told you that only boys get pleasure from this kind of stuff but now you know she’s lying. All you want is for Billy to keep making you feel good.

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” you murmur, already spreading your thighs.

Billy doesn’t hesitate, he smoothes his hand over your thigh and then squeezes it and you moan out. He panics a bit, “Think you can be quiet?”

“I’ll try, I’m sorry,” you apologize, ashamed.

“Don’t be sorry,” he grins, “It’s really fucking sexy, but we’ll get caught.”

You nod, urging yourself to be as silent as possible but once his fingers press against your clothed core, you let out another moan. He bites his lip, pulling his hand away.

“I know what we can do,” he whispers, standing up and reaching for your hand.

You follow his lead and once you make it to the hallway, he wraps his arms around you from behind.

“Keep walking, need you to be in front of me,” he mumbles against the shell of your ear.

It’s an odd request, but as you’re walking, you can feel his erection pressing against your butt and you understand. You don’t know where to walk though so once you’re in the lobby, you stand still and Billy laughs softly.

“My car,” he sings into your ear, springing your feet back into action. He moves away from you only to rush to the drivers side and get in. You do the same, sitting back on the seat and looking at him. You’re worried you’d ruined the date but Billy seems happier than usual. He starts the car up and throws it into drive, flooring down the road. He keeps looking over at you, similarly to how he would at school but there’s something a little more urgent in his eyes.

“Where are we going?” you ask, tucking your hair behind your ear.

Billy smirks, “Somewhere you won’t have to try to be quiet.”

You don’t expect that to mean a stretch of road outside of town, lined with forest. However, you’d let Billy take you anywhere if he’s going to touch you like he did in the empty theatre. After he parks, he crawls into the backseat and looks at you expectantly. You turn to face him but remain seated in the passenger side.

“C’mere,” he purrs, patting the leather seat next to him.

With a curt nod, you awkwardly maneuver over the center console and plop down next to him in the back. He looks you in your eyes, placing his hand on your cheek and leans in to kiss you again. Billy doesn’t go slow this time, he erection still straining in his jeans while he slides his tongue past your lips. You feel like your body is vibrating, made worse when he moves his hand down between your thighs and pushes them apart.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he inquires, dragging his fingers up and down your soaked panties.

You gasp, gripping onto his shoulder in attempts to ground yourself. The question he asks completely misses you as all you can focus on is the firm pressure of his fingers. He nudges his nose against yours, finding a spot that makes your body jolt when he rubs against it.

“Have you?” he asks again, pulling back to look at your face.

Your mouth feels so dry suddenly but you try to answer him anyhow, “Not really. Sometimes I touch down there but it doesn’t feel like this.”

He grins, he almost looks wolffish as he shows his teeth. He still looks very pretty, though. You really like the curl of his eyelashes.

“Why don’t we get your underwear off?” he suggests, hooking his fingers into the waistband.

“Uh,” you panic, looking up into his blue eyes.

“It’ll feel even better,” he promises, waiting for you to say yes.

His smile helps your decision, “Okay!”

“Atta girl,” he praises with a kiss to your lips as he pulls your panties down your thighs and knees. You help him by kicking them the rest of the way off, eyes trained on his. He licks his lips as he gets a view of your pretty pussy, returning his fingers to slide through the dripping folds.

He was right, you can’t help the sounds flowing out of your lips. You keep your hand on his shoulder, like you’ll float away if you don’t. Billy nudges his nose against yours, smiling at you when you look at him.

“How’s this?” he drawls, his voice thick as it meets your ears.

You’re in heaven, you think. Your mom had been wrong all along, if this is what boys wanted then you’ve been missing out for so long. There’s nothing selfish about Billy’s hands, it’s very clear that this is all for you and you only. You feel like you’re a fragile piece of glass and only Billy know’s how to handle you.

“Nice, it’s nice,” you pant out, moving your fingers up to grab at Billy’s hair when he circles his finger along your entrance. A strangled moan erupts from your throat as he slides the finger inside you, the sound embarrasses you but Billy seemed to enjoy it, his mouth forming into an open, impressed smile. He moves his thumb to your clit, moving it in rapid circles and your vision begins to blur as you melt back against the seat, eyes fluttering shut as the pressure building in your stomach starts to rise.

“A-ah, Billy, I,” you try to tell him how overwhelming the feeling is but you figure this is supposed to happen, you’re supposed to feel like you’re going to combust.

Billy manages to slip a second finger into your tight hole, his free hand moving up under your dress to squeeze your breast. When he curls his fingers, a cry leaves your lips as you shake beneath him, your entire body feeling on fire as your orgasm rips through you. You chant his name out, your legs snapping shut and trapping his hand between them. Billy laughs softly, moving his hand from your breast to cup your jaw and pulls you into another heated kiss. You feel ridiculous, unable to keep yourself from whimpering as the aftershocks of your orgasm rip through you. Billy smiles into the kiss before breaking away, pulling his hand away from your core and then brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking your juices off of them. It heats you up all over again, you smile shyly at him.

“How’d you like that?” he asks, pulling your underwear back up your legs.

“Hmm,” you feel like you’ve lost your voice, so you clear your throat before answering, “I liked it a lot.”

“Good,” he smiles, tucking your hair behind your ear and you wonder what comes next, how Billy’s going to take your virginity.

“What do we do next?” you ask, looking at the bulge in his denim.

Billy coos, “Aw, baby, you want more already?”

You nod and he smirks, “Nothing tonight. We gotta take it kind of slow, I don’t wanna break you.”

“Break me?” you ask softly, holding onto his wrists because you fear you might start crying if he goes anywhere.

Billy laughs again and leans in to place another kiss on your lips, this one is sweet though. “Not the right word choice. It might be overwhelming. Let’s just take our time with it,” he says. It’s not something he’s done before then again, Billy’s never been with a virgin and he doesn’t want to fuck things up. He really likes you and while it’s purely sexual, he thinks he might like to actually date you.

-

For weeks, you continue to sneak out to meet Billy. You still haven’t seen or touched him where you want to most but every time, he fingers you and kisses you just like the first night. Sometimes you actually go on dates but mostly, he drives somewhere to hide you both from watchful eyes. Today, however, he’s asked if you’d come to his house to help him study. In the day time.

“I don’t know if I’m allowed to,” you admit, trying your best to think of a way to lie to your mom.

“Just make up an excuse,” Billy suggests, curling your hair around his finger while he looks down at you.

Billy no longer hid his feelings for you from anyone. He still bullied you but it was because you admitted to him you liked it. Granted when you did, he was whispering filthy things in your when he was pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy and you’d say anything to make sure he didn’t stop. You’d replay his words in your head when you were alone at night, trying to make your fingers feel as good as his. You would climax but it was no where as hard as when he did it.

“Like what?” you ask, hoping he could find a good enough one to get past your mom.

Billy grins, “Tell her you’re trying out for something or you joined a club.”

You know those won’t work, your mom was too involved in your school life that she would be suspicious. You shake your head and sigh, “I’m sorry. She’ll say no.”

Billy pouts, “Please.”

He wanted so desperately to get you on his bed, it was fun in the backseat of his Camaro but it was cramped.

It’s hard to say no to him but you can’t imagine a scenario in which your mother would allow you to stay after school. Part of you wants to say screw it and just go with Billy but you know she’ll call the police. You two needed to plan it better.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, your stomach churning as you read the disappointment on his face.

Billy frowns, “How about this weekend? Saturday? Any time from 9-5?”

You giggle, flattered at how eager Billy is to ‘study’ with you. “Saturday. I could say I need to go to the library.”

“I’ll pick you up there,” Billy kisses your cheek before he heads off to class.

The thing is, Billy isn’t anticipating your mom following behind you into the library. He’s parked outside, leaning against the hood of his Camaro smoking a cigarette when your mother parks a few cars down and you shoot him a sympathetic look, a silent apology. His plan is yet again foiled and he’s fuming but he can’t just drive away like you want him to. He waits a beat and heads inside the library, scanning around until he sees you sitting at a table, alone with your books spread out in front of you. He stalks over and plops down in the seat next to you.

“Billy!” you exclaim and then immediately lower your voice, “My mom is here. She wouldn’t let me go alone. You have to leave before she sees you.”

Billy grins, placing his hand on your thigh and squeezing, “I had to see you.”

You love the way his fingers digging into your flesh makes your whole body tingle so you melt into it a bit, your breath hitching up into your throat. He leans close to your ear and whispers, “Let’s study.”

Billy’s fingers inch up your thigh, grazing your clothed core. Your eyebrows shoot up as your eyes widen, but Billy notices the way your pupils dilate so he continues stroking you through your pants.

“We can’t,” you mutter, “Not here. We’ll get caught.”

“Only if you can’t keep quiet,” he whispers back, biting his lower lip.

You gasp as he applies more pressure, focusing your eyes on the textbook splayed in front of you. You’re torn, you want Billy to stop but at the same time, it feels amazing and you find yourself getting excited at doing this in public.

“I can’t keep quiet,” you breathe, and Billy knows this is true.

“Who are you?” your mothers harsh voice whispers as she stomps over to the table. Billy’s hand retreats and he grins up at your mother, flashing his pearly whites. You know this is bad, Billy is too pretty and your mom told you good-looking boys are trouble.

“I’m Billy,” he extends his hand to her, “Y/n’s classmate. Nice to meet you.”

Your mother doesn’t take his hand, instead she starts gathering your books and stacking them.

“We’re leaving,” she tells you, her seething voice makes Billy’s smile falter. He was always so good with mothers.

You nod, grabbing your backpack and shoving your books into it. You follow her to the counter to check out her books, not turning to look at Billy as he remains seated at the table.

In the car, she begins ranting at you. It’s nothing new, but her tone is a bit more frightening. You’d never had a boy interested in you before so your mother is more terrified than she’s ever been.

“You are not to talk to that boy,” she instructs you, “They only want one thing and he is no exception, no matter how nice he is to you, he is not different.”

You just nod, looking out the window.

“Do you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” you recite, “I don’t talk to him. We just have a class together.”

“Is that the boy you were wearing makeup for?” she asks, not believing you.

“I wasn’t wearing makeup for a boy,” you promise.

-

Billy’s at your locker the following Monday morning, a new plan formulated. He knows it will take some convincing but you won’t have any interruptions and that’s what he wants.

“Ditch class with me,” he pleads, grabbing your wrist as you reach for the dial on your locker.

“I can’t,” you tell him, an incredulous look on your face, “I’ve never skipped class before.”

“Please?” he brings your hand to his mouth and presses kisses against your knuckles, “for me?”

You heave a sigh, loving when he touches you but you’re scared. You know the school will call home tonight if you skip class. Maybe there was a way to intercept it, answer it before your parents do.

“Where are we going?” you ask, uncertainty still etched on your features.

“My house,” he says, smirking down at you, “No one’s home.”

Oh. Billy wants to do this, now. You slowly turn and nod to him, wanting to please him any way you can.

“Okay,” you reply, your cheeks stained red.

He smiles even bigger, taking your hand and tugging you through the halls.

Billy’s bedroom is interesting. It stinks like cigarettes and he’s messier than you thought, clothes strewn about. He has music posters of bands you’re not allowed to listen to and one of a lady in a zebra print bikini. You don’t resemble her in any way and wonder why Billy is interested in you and not a woman like her.

He closes his bedroom door and kisses you, walking you back until your legs hit his bed and you fall back on it. You look up at him, watching as he lowers to his knees before you. He hikes your knee length skirt up and starts kissing, from your knees to your upper thighs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles against your skin, eyes trained on yours.

All the stress about ditching school fades away as you look down at him. He looks angelic and you think there’s no way this could be bad. Not with the way he makes you feel like everything will be alright. He grins against your thigh as you let out a high pitched noise, foreign to your ears. You’re not sure why but sometimes when Billy compliments you, you make weird noises.

“Can I show you something?” he asks, lips dragging against the warm skin of your thighs.

“Yes, please,” you reply with a pant. The feeling of his mouth so close to your core makes you feel elated beyond belief.

He unbuttons the side of your skirt, inching it off your legs. He leans back and starts to untie your shoes, pulling them off so your left in your blouse, underwear and socks. Billy’s pulling your panties off soon after, discarding them carefully next to your skirt. He wraps his hand under your thighs and tugs you closer to his mouth, spreading your legs as he does so. His eyes sparkle up at you and then he sticks his tongue out and your hands grip the bedspread in anticipation. When his tongue meets your aching heat, you fall onto your back and moan out. This feeling is extraordinary and you are immensely thankful Billy wanted to show you this. He moves his hand from your thigh to grab your hand and guide it to his head. At first, you just keep your hand awkwardly on his head but when he sucks your clit into his mouth, you grab at his curls and whimper.

This is ten million times better than his fingers and you can feel the familiar pressure building quicker than ever before. Your other hand knots into his hair while Billy drags his tongue through your folds and initially you’re upset he’s moved away from your clit but then his tongue starts probing your entrance and you let out another loud moan.

“Oh, Billy!”

He moans against your core, the vibrations sending shockwaves throughout you. You prop your elbow up so you can look down at him, your eyes meeting as he starts lapping at your clit. You come quick, as soon as Billy moves to slide two fingers inside you easily. You shake around them, crying out his name repeatedly while your orgasm rips through you relentlessly. But Billy doesn’t pull away, he keeps curling his fingers and licking against your clit until you’re pushing his face away.

“Billy, Billy,” you pant out, “S’too much. I can’t…”

He chuckles, pressing kisses against your thigh as he sits back.

“You taste so good,” he praises, wrapping his hands around your calves.

“Feels so good,” you reply, breathlessly.

He stands up, grabbing a hold of your face and kissing you deeply. You can taste and smell your slick, it’s all over his mouth and chin. It’s not unpleasant but you wouldn’t say it tastes good. He pulls away and smiles at you, his eyes are darker than usual and you lean forward to kiss him again.

“You want to touch me, now?” he asks and you nod enthusiastically.

You still hadn’t seen or touched Billy’s cock but you’ve desperately wanted to. You want to learn how to make him feel as good as he makes you feel.

“Yeah?” he bites his lip and pushes your messy hair off your forehead.

“Yes, yes!”

He lounges back against his pillows and motions for you to follow. You sit on your knees beside him and wait for him to take his pants off. Billy unbuckles his belt and pulls it through the loops. He’s going too slow so you reach your hands over and begin unbuttoning his jeans. He hums happily, letting you take the lead. You pulls his jeans down his thighs and he kicks them the rest of the way off, you can see the outline of his length in his white briefs and a small wet spot which intrigues you. You had no idea guys get wet too. You bite your lip nervously as you slide your fingers into the waistband and pull his underwear off. His erection springs out and slaps against his stomach, a gasp leaves your lips as your eyes take him in. You’ve got nothing to compare it to but you like how it looks, you wrap your fingers around it and look up at his face to see his reaction.

Billy let’s out a breath, his lips curling up as he watches your hand. “Tighter,” he instructs you and let’s out a throaty hum as you obey him.

“Yeah, like that,” he whines out, the pitch of his voice something you’ve never heard and you love it. It shoots straight to your core and you feel yourself soaking your thighs.

“Spit in your hand,” he says and you look up at him with wide eyes.

“What?”

“Feels better wet,” he grunts out and you let go to bring your palm to your mouth. His eyes follow so you avert yours, feeling embarrassed as you gather all the spit in your mouth and push it past your lips into your hand.

“Atta girl,” he praises, his voice low and deep.

You wrap your fingers around his cock again and look back up at him for further instruction. He places his hand on yours and shows you what to do, how to stroke him. He lets out a soft moan and pulls his hand away. You mimic the motions he’s shown you, making sure you’re not holding him too loosely. Your curious how his face looks while you’re doing this but you feel entranced by the view of your tiny hand wrapped around his length. It’s making you squirm where you sit, wanting to feel some relief. Billy seems to notice because he pats his thigh.

“Sit here,” he suggests and you listen, placing your knee on the other side and lowering your aching core flush with his thick thigh.

You continue stroking him, grinding down against his thigh as you do so. Moans tumble out of your mouth as you watch your hand working him.

“Faster, baby,” he encourages and you move your hand a little faster, glancing up to his face. He looks blissful, mouth agape as he watches you jerk him off while you writhe against his thigh. He scrunches his nose and you let out a little giggle because it’s so cute.

He smiles, “What’s so funny?”

“You look cute,” you tell him, accidentally curving your hand on the upstroke and Billy lets out a moan.

“Fuck, keep doing it like that.”

You nod, smiling as you bite your lip and repeating the motion. Your clit drags against his thigh in just the right way and you whimper, your upper body leaning forward.

“Such a good girl,” Billy whispers, hand grabbing onto your thigh, “Are you my good girl?”

You nod frantically, “Yes, I’m your good girl, Billy.”

“So good,” he moans, “gonna make me cum, already.”

Remembering how good Billy’s tongue felt on you, you lean forward and experimentally lick his tip.

He groans loudly, “Yeah, baby, such a quick learner.”

You smile at the praise, proud of yourself for doing so well. Billy’s fingers knot into your hair and he keeps letting out these pretty little whines that make you grind against him harder. Since it worked so well the first time, you keep up your pace with your hand and lick all around the head of his cock.

“Fuck,” he sits up, “I’m gonna cum. Lay down.”

You obey, laying on your back and watching as he straddles your waist, pushing your blouse up above your tits while he relentlessly strokes himself with his right hand until he’s spilling all over your hips and bare stomach. Intrigued, you press your hand to it and pull away to see white strings connecting your palm and belly.

“It’s kinda gross,” Billy admits, chuckling softly as he moves off the bed and grabs a t-shirt from his dirty laundry and cleans his cum off your stomach and hand. He presses a chaste kiss against your lips and smiles.

“You did so good for me,” he nudges his nose against yours, “Did you have fun?”

“Mhm,” you nod, “I wanna do it again.”

“Soon,” he kisses you again, “Let’s get you back to school for now.”

-

“Do you wanna come over to my house on Sunday?” you ask Billy the following Friday.

He smiles at you, wrapping his hand around your hip and pulls you close to him.

“Your house?” he asks inquisitively, his eyebrows raised.

“Yeah,” you nod, “My parents go to church from 8 until 1. I’ll pretend I’m not feeling well and you can come over.”

“What are we gonna do?” he teases, smirking as your cheeks turns a deep red shade.

You hide your face against his chest as you giggle, grabbing onto his jacket. He pulls you back so he can look at your face, palm flush against your cheek.

“We’re gonna have fun,” you inform him.

“Sounds like a plan, loser,” he smirks before placing a kiss on your lips, lacing your fingers as he walks you to class.

Saturday night, you don’t sleep well because you’re dripping with excitement. So when the next morning rolls around, you look exhausted and your mom notices when she comes to wake you up. You whine and roll over away from her.

“I don’t feel well, mom,” you admit, hiding your face from her so she can’t see the smile you’re unable to hold back. “Can I stay home and sleep in?”

“You want me and Daddy to stay back to take care of you?” she asks, rubbing soothing circles in your back.

“No, I’ll be okay by myself. I don’t want you guys to miss the sermon,” you mumble, rolling onto your back as you will your face to keep your secret.

“Okay, honey,” she says, “We’ll stop on the way back and get you some soup.”

“Okay, momma, thank you.”

When you’re sure you can hear their car leaving the garage, you spring up and run to your closet to change into one of your outfits you keep hidden. You forego wearing bra and panties, pulling your prettiest lace blouse on and a short black skirt. You pull on a pair of thigh high socks so you don’t feel quite as exposed. Next you sit at your vanity and style your hair carefully, smiling proudly when it lays the way you want it to. You put on some light makeup and hide the products back in the drawer, covering them with notebooks. As you admire your work, you hear the familiar purr of Billy’s Camaro barreling down the street. You rush to the foyer and peek out the window to see Billy parking several houses down. He climbs out of the car, looking casual in a t-shirt and jeans. As he walks up the walkway, you open the door and smile excitedly at him.

“Hey, darling,” he greets you, “Don’t you look cute today.”

“Hi, Billy!” you chirp, extending your hand and once he grabs it, you pull him inside and close the door. You don’t want any neighbors seeing and telling your parents. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into a tight hug, making you squeal as he lifts you off the ground.

He sets you down and kisses your forehead, “Why don’t you show me your room?”

“Okay,” you gush, leading him down the hallway and into your room. Billy looks around, seeing the gaggle of stuffed animals strewn across the floor. Maybe you should’ve cleaned up before he arrived. He purses his lips as he keeps looking around.

“It’s very pink,” he observes and you flush.

“My mom decorated it,” you admit as you shut your door. “Sit,” you suggest, pointing to your unmade bed.

Billy listens, kicking his boots off before he sits back on your bed. You straddle his waist, wrapping your arms around his neck and collide your lips with his. He makes a surprised noise, arms circling your waist as your tongue grazes against his lips. He parts them, allowing you access as his eyes flutter shut. Billy’s shocked you’re making the moves here but he likes it, it shows him you’re just as eager as he is.

You pull away once you’re too flustered, looking into his eyes as you confess, “I wanna have sex.”

“Oh, you do, huh?” he teases, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Uh-huh,” you nod, smiling wide.

“Well, I can’t say no to you,” he nudges his nose against yours, lifting you off the bed as he stands. Billy turns back around and lays you on your back, resting your head on your pillows. He positions himself between your legs and flips your skirt up, staring down at your exposed and glistening pussy. He gasps softly, eyes flicking back up to yours.

“You little slut,” he exhales, his fingers pressing to your hole and gathering your slick before dragging it up through your folds. “Soaking wet just for me?”

“Yes,” you pant out, squirming from his touch, “Just for you, Billy.”

He grins up at you, moving his left hand to push your top up to confirm his suspicions that you’re also not wearing a bra. He chuckles, bringing his fingers up to his mouth so he can suck your slick off of them. Then, Billy pulls your shirt up and over your head before dragging your skirt off, just leaving you in your socks. Feeling a little too exposed compared to him, your hands cover your tits. He scoots down and lowers his head between your thighs, his hands pushing them apart. You hold his eye contact as he licks a broad stripe up your slit, you let out a soft moan. Even though you’re the only two in the house, you feel like you need to keep quiet.

Billy focuses in on your clit, his tongue drawing circles against it. You whimper, squeezing your breasts as you watch him work. He nods his head slowly, dragging his tongue through your folds as he does so. His eyes are the prettiest shade of blue, sparkling as they peer up at you. And he’s so good at this, pulling the sweetest sounds from your throat as he works at your pussy with his expert tongue. When he enters you with his fingers, your back arches and your left hand grabs at his hair.

“Billy,” you whimper, “feels so good…”

You watch his lips curl up from between your legs, it urges you to the edge and you know you’re not going to last much longer. His left hand digs into the flesh of your thigh as he pumps his fingers in and out of your, the obscene sound of how you’re practically pouring into his hand fills the room. You can’t keep your voice down, cries of pleasure bubble out of your throat and Billy doubles down on your clit, lapping at it feverishly. He curls his fingers every time he pulls them out, dragging against your wall. He slips a third one in and you climax instantly, thrashing up against his face while your hand in his hair holds him firm. You grind against his face, riding your orgasm out as you cry his name repeatedly.

He pulls away when you relax, quickly ripping his shirt off and throwing it behind him. His fingers fumble as he tries to unzip his pants, his hard on ready to burst out as he wants nothing more than to bury it in your tight, soaking hole. He worries for a second that he hasn’t stretched you out enough but his overwhelming arousal pushes the thoughts away. He gets his pants off finally, briefs peeling away with them. He positions himself, grabbing onto his cock and presses his tip to your entrance.

“It’s gonna hurt a little bit at first, baby,” he warns you, “but I’m gonna help you through it and then it’s gonna feel so fucking good. Are you ready?”

His words are breathless as they leave his shiny, pink lips and you want nothing more than to be stuffed full of him.

“I’m ready,” you whine, “Please, fuck me, Billy.”

He groans lowly, dragging the head of his cock through your folds to spread your slick across it. You feel as he presses it back against your entrance and he begins to push it in and he was right. It burns as he slides the tip inside and your body freezes, your legs shaking as they threaten to shut. He moves his left hand under your ass and angles your hips up a bit, pushing an inch deeper.

You whimper, this time in pain instead of pleasure. Billy nods at you, “You okay, baby?”

“Mhm… it just burns,” you admit softly.

It’s taking everything in him to not jerk his hips forward and slam in his cock in your tight pussy. He lets out a shaky breath as he presses his thumb to your clit, rubbing it in circles. It helps, relaxing you enough to where he can push in another couple inches.

“Billy,” you whine.

“I know, baby,” he coos, “As long as we go slow, you’ll be okay.”

He continues stimulating your clit, pulling out a bit before pushing forward again. Slowly, but surely, he bottoms out inside you and once he does, the burning subsides. He leans down to kiss your jaw, making sure you’re comfortable before he rolls his hips gently. The sound that falls from your lips sounds like one of pleasure.

“You okay?”

“Yes,” you pant, “feel so full…”

You’ve heard that sex could hurt, but you didn’t understand until now. However, it was a bearable pain, it wasn’t excruciating. Billy was doing his absolute best to be gentle with you, peppering your face with kisses as he starts thrusting slowly. The more he does it, the better it feels and you relax under him. He grits his teeth at the feeling of your walls squeezing him, you’re so tight he keeps fighting to gain his composure, not wanting to hurt you but his entire body is telling him to fuck you senseless.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” he asks through clenched teeth, closing his eyes tightly.

“Uh-uh,” you breath, unable to control your hips as they roll up into him. “Keep going…”

He moans out, his pace quickening at the confirmation. He grabs onto your jaw, turning your face to his while he thrusts into you harder. It pulls a grunt out of you but your eyes tell him it feels good.

“Your pussy is so tight, baby,” he coos, digging his fingers into your cheeks, “you’re such a good girl for me.”

“I’m a good girl,” you babble without thinking, your voice sounds funny with your mouth squished between his fingers.

“Yeah, you are,” he praises, drilling into you faster and harder.

Your spread your legs further apart, staring into his eyes. The feeling is overwhelming and lovely, you want to tell Billy you love him, that you love him but you can’t form words. Instead, short moans and cries fall out of you and Billy’s thrusts falter and he curses himself. He doesn’t want to cum already. You guys just started but the sounds you make and tight your pussy is gripping him is making it increasingly difficult. Your beautiful, doe eyes looking back at him aren’t making it any easier so he ducks his head down and starts licking at your nipple. You moan out, your eyes closing as you lay your head back onto your pillows. Billy moves his hand between your bodies so he can rub at your clit again, his hips rocking into you relentlessly. You’re quickly pushed over the edge, your orgasming crashing into you like a ton of bricks as you scream his name out. Billy let’s you ride it out for a bit before chasing his own, grabbing onto your hips as he drills into you impossibly hard and fast. You keep crying out his name, the sensation of his cock hitting your most sensitive spot over and over is excruciatingly pleasant. Your body thrashes around underneath him and Billy’s hips falter, pushing deep into you as he fills you up before he knows it’s happening. He’d meant to pull out but his own orgasm is abruptly ripped from him and he didn’t have time. He collapses on top of you, a panting mess while he attempts to kiss you.

You wrap your arms and legs around him, squeezing him tightly as you continue to whimper against his open mouth. It’s all ruined too quickly as you hear the front door open and slam shut.

“Honey! We’re home,” you hear your mothers voice.

Billy’s jumping off the bed, you follow suit and usher him to your closet, shoving him inside and grabbing your robe. You close the closet door and throw the robe on. You hop back into the bed and pull the duvet over your body.

“We were too worried about you so we left early,” your mom says as she opens the door.

You feel Billy’s cum leaking out of you and your eyes widen when you realize his clothes and boots are on display on the floor. Your mother notices your makeup first.

“Why are you wearing makeup?” she asks, furiously and then glances down to Billy’s boots sitting next to your bed. “Is there a boy in here?”

You spring out of bed, gathering Billy’s clothes and boots as your mother makes her way to the closet. You’re panicking but you know she’s already found you out. She opens the door wide and is met with a naked Billy, sweaty curls sticking to his forehead while he holds his hands over his junk. You watch in horror as he smiles at your mother.

“Hi,” he says, “I was hoping we’d formally meet before this but…”

You mother interrupts him by yelling your fathers name, “Grab the shotgun!”

Billy’s face falls and you quickly hand him his clothes, eyes telling him to run. He grabs them and books it for the door, down the hallway and out the front door. Your dad stands in the kitchen, watching as the naked boy runs from your room out the front door with his jaw dropped. You figure you’re already a goner so you step outside the door, waving to him as he gets in his car.

“Bye, Billy! See you tomorrow!” you call out and you can see him laughing, shaking his head before he starts up his car and peels out of the neighborhood as fast as he can.

Your mother yanks you inside and slams the door.

“If you think you’re going back to that school, you are sorely mistaken,” she shrieks but you can’t find yourself to care that you’ve upset her. You’d do anything to do that again with Billy.

[joelswritingmistress]

Last Halloween: Chapter 6

Summary: After a tragedy involving Joel happened on Halloween one year prior, the town now shuns him while ignoring the details of the now closed case. You are seemingly the only one to offer empathy to a man the town is making out to be a monster.

Warning: Angst/Mild Language

Pairing: Joel x f!reader

"Things are moving so fast." You locked yourself in Jessie's room, more or less holding her captive in there while you indulged in all of your feelings for Joel.

She laughed when you pinned yourself against the door and leaned your head back against it.

"Do you want them to?" She asked honestly, despite the silly nature of your conversation.

You sighed and hugged your body. "Yes. I mean.. I just wanting expecting any of this. I thought I would offer him a free coffee or maybe just be friendly with him when he came into the shop." You sunk down into a seated position. "I never thought I'd feel like this about him.. and so fast."

"Did you find out how old he is?"

You cleared your throat and purposely muffled your response.

"What?" Jessie asked, swigging from a Poland Spring bottle.

"He's.. 41."

Jessie almost spit out a mouthful of water. She put a hand over her mouth and you could see water begin to trickle out from beneath her palm. When you began to giggle, she let it out with hearty laugh and immediately began to wipe the water off of the front of her shirt that came bursting out.

"41!?"

"Shh.." you put your finger to your lips and laughed.

"That's like.." Jessie began counting on her fingers, "Carry the one," she joked as if the math was that incredible. "He's 14 years older than us." She wiped the lingering water from her chin and glanced down. "It's on the hardwood floor."

"I'm sorry." You laughed and then shrugged. "I can't get enough of him. When I'm not with him I'm thinking about him."

"Are you gunna put out tonight?"

"Jess!"

"Oh, spare me the "that's not ladylike comment"," she said with another laugh.

"I wasn't going to say that."

"Well, it's an honest question that I need to know the answer to for scientific purposes."

You began to laugh again and sighed. When she continued to stare at you, awaiting your answer, you smirked. "If I didn't have to work today I probably would've already."

"You're really into him," Jessie concluded.

"Yeah, I am."

"Just be careful," your friend said. "I don't want to see you get hurt. But at the same time, I'm happy that you're this happy."

"Thanks." You smiled.

"Now I need a hot, forbidden romance and we'll be all set."

"We could double date," you teased back.

"We could definitely double date." She smacked her lips together and eyed the ceiling. "41. Wow."

"Stop."

"I'm not making fun," Jessie explained. "I'm just.. wow. You're a woman amongst girls."

You rolled your eyes and reached for a duffel bag in your friend's closet just in case Joel invited you to stay over.

Jessie pranced over toward you and opened the bedroom door. "I'll help you pack."

The lead up to seeing Joel again was somehow like someone was fast forwarding and moving the clock in slow motion all at once. You made iced coffee after iced coffee. Every time there was a lull in the customer rush you were checking your phone. If Joel texted you, a rush of dopamine sent your brain into overdrive. If he didn't, it was the exact opposite.

By seven o'clock the coffee shop was dead. You looked over toward the little table where Joel had sat so many times.

And then you thought of him sitting there alone again and again, and you never said a word to him. It had been weeks, months. He was always alone. He had no one. His walls were closing in and you had said nothing.

Despite having a good day with Joel and having some silly talks with Jessie, you felt your chest tighten and then tears began to streak down your face.

Joel was so alone for an entire year, you thought and cried harder. He didn't deserve that.

You hoped no one would walk in to purchase a coffee at that moment. The abrupt rush of emotion came out of nowhere and hit you like a wave.

You rushed to scribble a makeshift sign on a paper plate that read, be back in five minutes, before walking to the bathroom to decompress. In there, alone, you allowed yourself to feel it. You cried hard and it felt good to let it out.

What triggered this? You thought. The table? The fact that Joel had confided in you and told you the whole story earlier that day? The fact that he was such a sweet, vulnerable person who had to deal with both grief and disrespect every single day? The fact that he had to deal with it all alone after he almost died? Or maybe that you were falling hard for him so quickly? It was everything. All of it. It was one big emotional rollercoaster.

You finally heard the jingle of the bell that let you know a customer had entered the place. With a deep breath you got yourself together but cursed when you looked at yourself in the mirror.

"Fuck!" You had spent a little extra time doing your makeup earlier and now you were left with running, black mascara making you look like, what you thought in your mind, a combination of Uncle Fester and Beetlejuice. Not to mention the puffy redness of your eyes.

"Be right with you!" You shouted, attempting to wash your face up as best you could without messing up your hair before heading back out into the shop.

"Black coffee, please." Joel stood there in front of the register with a wide smile on his face. All at once you wanted to laugh and cry. "What happened?" He immediately ran around the counter when he recognized you had been crying.

"I'm fine." You smiled and tears began to fall as he pulled you against him.

"Did someone come in here? Did someone-"

"No," you cut him off and pulled back to look at him. "No, I.. I just looked at the table where you usually sit.." you took in a deep breath and his hands fell to the sides of your face. "And I just started thinking about what you told me today and all you've been through and I just.." you shrugged and your voice cracked, "..started to cry."

You took in another deep breath and felt more tears leak down your cheeks when you closed your eyes for half-a-second. You reopened them and smiled, trying to ease the concern that was written all over Joel's face.

"I'm okay," you assured him, sliding the heel of his hand to your lips to leave a gentle kiss there. "I was just having a moment but I'm fine." The last thing you wanted was for Joel to see you so bent out of shape.

"I've had a rough year," he said keeping one hand on your face. "But.. I finally feel okay. Because of you." Joel added. "I'm happy."

Joel's presence eased your mind and you took a long, decompressing breath. Tears continued to wreak havoc on your eyeliner.

"So much for makeup." You motioned to your eyes and managed a laugh.

"You don't need it." Joel used his thumbs to dry beneath your eyes and then retrieved some napkins from the holder on the countertop.

"Thank you." You inhaled deeply again and dabbed at your eyes once more. You could tell Joel still looked concerned you reassured him that you were alright.

He pulled you in for another hug and you held him hard.

"Sorry," you said, "If you had walked in, like, five minutes earlier I probably wouldn't have cried. I just had too much time to think." You looked up at him, "Still want that black coffee?"

Joel grinned and then leaned down and kissed you once on the lips. "I'll tip well."

You chuckled and parted from him to prepare it.

"No egg sandwich tonight, though. I'm about to go home and make spaghetti for my girlfriend."

Your head whipped in his direction and a smile spread across your face. "Your what?"

"You heard me." He smirked back.

You capped the coffee cup and rounded the counter again, placing the beverage down on the counter so you had both arms to wrap around him when you kissed him.

"I'm your girlfriend?" You asked against his lips.

He smiled back. "I don't know. Are you?"

"Well, am I the one you're making spaghetti for?"

Joel nodded.

"I guess that makes me your girlfriend then."

"Mmm." He leaned down and kissed you again. "Are you okay?" Joel asked. "Do you want me to stay or-"

"No, it's okay. I'm fine." You couldn't keep your hands off of him and kissed him again. "Especially now."

"You sure?"

You nodded and reached back to give him the coffee. "Don't forget this."

"Thank you.I'll see ya soon."

"Okay."

Joel leaned back in to kiss you once more and then headed outside. You walked to the window to make sure he got back on his bike safely. When he began to speed away you sighed and took a moment now to soak it in - that you were Joel's girlfriend now. Not that you hadn't felt that way, but the fact that he was the one to bring it up and phrase it in those words made you swoon even harder.

You eyed the clock on the wall, knowing the last half hour of work would drag. But you knew there was the greatest prize waiting for you when you were finished.

7:35 slowly tucked its way to 7:40. You wiped down everything, served the lone customer a stale scone and then got everything in order before finally locking the doors promptly at 7:59.

"Okay." You took a breath, attempting to keep your racing thoughts in check, and made your way to your car, immediately putting Joel's address into the GPS on your phone.

Six minute drive. You eased the car onto the main road, passing the town green that sat across from the coffee shop, and rounded a bend that lead you in the right direction.

No music played. You hadn't even thought to put your playlist or the radio on. The robotic female voice was your guide. Take a left.. drive 0.2 miles and take another left. Take a right. In 500 feet, the destination is on your right.

You remembered what Joel had said about going slow so you didn't miss his house. When a smashed up mailbox came into view with Joel's house number dented in at an impossible angle, you scowled.

"Assholes." Someone had smashed his mailbox. The driveway followed in between a pair of towering trees and you eased your car down.

The house emerged after a thick patch of oaks and maples gave way to the front yard. Lights shined in the oversized front window that sat beneath the low, overhanging roof of the front porch.

You saw a truck parked in front of a detached garage set back to the right side of the house. Joel's motorcycle was beside it.

When you eased your car behind the truck you took a deep breath and gave a glance at yourself in the mirror and glanced at the duffel bag in the passenger seat. You weren't about to bring it in, but you hoped he would ask you to stay.

"Okay, here we go," you whispered to yourself as you clicked open the door and made your way up the little sidewalk to the front porch.

You reached a hand up and gave a knock, eying a small lantern-like lighting fixture to the side of the door.

A second or two later, the front door opened and the butterflies in your stomach came back full force.

"Hi." You greeted him with a smile.

"Hi." Joel stepped to the side with a hand still holding the door open. "Come in."

You sighed through your nose and walked in past him. Joel grabbed your forearm gently and you closed your eyes when he connected his lips to yours in a brief, but intense, closed-mouth kiss.

When you parted, he towed you by the hand. "Come on. I'll give ya a little tour."

"Oh, Joel, your mailbox was, like, smashed in."

He nodded with a little helpless grin. "I saw it." He shrugged. "Come on."

CLICK HERE FOR CHAPTER 7

@untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @grogusmum @ghostwritesthings @strawbunnyx

[hauntingcryptids]

Keep It On

Whittaker!Doctor x Reader

Summary - The Reader keeps getting distracted by The Doctor dressed in her new outfit accessory and needs The Doctor’s attention as soon as they get back to The TARDIS.

Based On This Request - Anonymous said - “Reader Fem is so hot doctor 13 with a suit and waistcoat, that when you are in bed you ask her not to take it off with them. (no need to be smut, if you don’t want to or don’t feel comfortable)

Warnings - making out and foreplay leading to smut but no actual smut, sexual discussions. So Minors DNI!!!

Word Count - 1982

A/n - I was thinking about The Doctor’s waistcoat from “The Haunting of Villa Diodati”, but because that episode is so plot-driven I didn’t want this story to revolve around that episode. So, let’s just imagine that The Doctor wore something like that at a different time. I also think that I made this more of a Gender Neutral Reader rather than a Female Reader, I hope that that’s okay. Established Relationship. The other companions can be whomever you wish them to be. Requested by a lovely anon(thank you for the request)! I don’t know how good this is, but I had a lot of fun writing it even though it took me forever to edit. I hope that you enjoy!

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

The Doctor had been distracting you all day and the worst part of it all was the fact that she wasn’t even doing it on purpose. If she had woken up and decided to tease you throughout an adventure, then you would arguably have the right to be frustrated and upset with her. But The Doctor didn’t do that. She just got dressed and went about her day. Yet she didn’t even realise the lascivious effect that she had on you. 

The Doctor chose to spice up her usual outfit with a floral vest today. She did so innocently. Annoyingly innocently. She was taking you and the rest of her companions to a planet that had stricter, more Victorian-like guidelines when it came to fashion. You and your friends were all dressed fancier than your normal attire, but The Doctor, in her floral vest and button-down romantic blouse, continued to catch your eye. If you were being completely honest with yourself, The Doctor always caught your eye, but there was just something about her in that waistcoat that caused your brain to melt.

The time you and your friends had on the planet was incredibly fun. You had gone to a carnival filled with many alien rides, games, and foods, all the while you were longing after The Doctor without her notice. Eventually, though, the day had to end. Before returning to The TARDIS, however, The Doctor joyfully purchased alien ice cream for all of you to try as a small nightcap. Then The Doctor piloted her beloved ship to overlook a beautiful nebula as you and your friends said your goodnights for the evening.

“You should be getting some sleep, too. We all had a long day.” The Doctor said to you as she double-checked the protections she placed on her TARDIS.

“But I want to spend some alone time with you.” You walked up beside the alien and wrapped your arm around her vest-covered waist before leaning your head against her shoulder. The Doctor warmly nuzzled her head against yours before wrapping her own arm around your shoulders.

“Office time, fun time, or bedroom time?” The Doctor questioned, eager for your answer. This was a question asked between the two of you often in order to clarify certain situations rather than assuming what each other wanted. “Office time” referred to anything non-sexual and TARDIS-based: i.e. hanging out with The Doctor while she’s working on her ship, or in her study. “Fun time” stood for anything non-sexual that didn’t inherently involve The TARDIS: like watching movies, going on an extra adventure, or cuddling together. Finally, “Bedroom time” was code for more romantic and sexual activities: formal dates, making out, and obviously anything sexual.

“Bedroom time, if you are okay with that?” You turned your head to look at The Doctor for her answer and immediately you were captured by her star-filled hazel eyes. A wide smile spread across her face when she locked eyes with you.

“Of course I am okay with that, my little star.” The Doctor pecked a kiss on your nose before grabbing your hand and running down the TARDIS hallway toward your bedroom. You erupted into a fit of giggles, trailing after your ecstatic alien, very thankful that The TARDIS walls were soundproof.

Upon reaching your bedroom, The Doctor opened the door to your room with enough energy and excitement to rival that of yours upon first seeing her in her waistcoat earlier. She then flung you through the doorway, causing you to again laugh at The Doctor’s antics. Then she closed the door behind the two of you, smiling like the adorable mad woman with a box that she was. 

You skipped forward until your torso was pressed up against The Doctor’s chest, a mirror of her smile written on your face. Before The Doctor could compliment your loveliness, you fully pressed her against the door of your room and captured her lips in a searing kiss. Immediately, you could feel The Doctor’s sweet smirk against your mouth, telling you that if you hadn’t kissed her she would have done it for you. Her hands ghosted over your body momentarily until she eagerly grasped your waist and pulled you as tightly against her body as she possibly could. 

Unfortunately, you had to break away from the kiss in order to catch your breath, but much to The Doctor’s enjoyment, she didn’t need to stop for breath and could continue to tease you while you recovered. Now The Doctor could kiss and nip and bite at the skin of your throat. You sighed and moaned at the feeling of her perfect lips against your skin and the pressure of her hands roaming over your body. The Doctor was the only thought in your mind..

“You love teasing me, don’t you?” You breathily asked.

“Whatever do you mean?” The Doctor hummed against your skin. You were going to retort back, but as soon as you were about to speak The Doctor bit down on your pulse point.

“Doctor!” I loud, moany version of The Doctor’s name erupted from your mouth as your body curled into The Doctor’s, now desperate for some sort of friction.

“Of course I love teasing you! When I do, you make noises like that.” The Doctor giggled into your neck.

The intoxicating nature of The Doctor was causing your brain to blur, all you could focus on was her and nothing else. Your beloved alien was making you too flustered when you wanted to keep some sort of control. So, you pulled her face back to yours to resume kissing. You pushed The Doctor further against your bedroom door, cradling her beautiful face in your hands. After a moment of welcomed shock, The Doctor moved one of her hands to caress your upper back and with her other hand, she began to grope your ass. Then, before you could do anything to stop her, The Doctor flipped the two of you over so your back was now pressed against the wall. This sudden change took you by surprise, causing you to gasp and allowing The Doctor to slip her tongue into your mouth. 

You moaned into The Doctor’s mouth, which was a sensation that always made her weak. She was practically vibrating from the excitement of kissing you, holding you, and having your body pressed up against hers. In her flustered state, you flipped the two of you again. You tried to remain in control of the situation, to show The Doctor how passionately you cared for her, but you were quickly becoming more and more distracted by your alien lover. The Doctor grabbed you by the hips to ensure that you remained tightly against her body. Then she led you backwards until the back of your legs met the edge of your bed. The Doctor broke apart from the kiss this time. She kissed a path from your lips to your ear.

“Get on the bed.” She whispered passionately before kissing the shell of your ear.

A wide smile spread across your face, which The Doctor instantly mirrored. You then jumped on the bed with eagerness but stayed in the middle because your shoes were still on. The Doctor first kicked off her shoes with an adorable huff. She rarely ever fully untied her shoes at the best of times, but when something as urgent as being with you was occurring she never bothered to even untie her boots. She simply undid the laced bow and then kicked them off frantically. You giggled as you watched her now, but her attention soon fell back on you after her mini battle with her boots.

The Doctor placed her leg up on the bed and then gently grabbed your ankle. She placed your ankle on her knee and massaged the flesh there for a moment. Then she patiently untied your shoe with an almost sacred reverence for your belongings and before removed it softly. The Doctor pressed a delicate kiss to the inner skin of your ankle and then returned your leg to lounge on the softness of the bed. Immediately she showed the same treatment to your other ankle.

With your shoes now off, you scooted up the bed, Finally, The Doctor began to join you on the bed. Finally, you were experiencing what you had imagined since you first saw The Doctor in her waistcoat this morning. Finally, you could relish in having The Doctor’s full attention on you.

Your beloved alien kissed her way up your body, up your thighs, on your hips, all over your stomach and chest and neck. Occasionally, she would make minor detours in order to pay extra special attention to her favourite parts of your body. Eventually, she made her way up your body until she was fully hovering over you. The Doctor smiled at you like you were the most precious being in The Universe and then kissed your forehead with reverence.

“You are so cute.” The Doctor said softly, lovingly.

“And you are so handsome, Doctor.” You bumped your nose against hers.

“Really?”

“Absolutely! Especially in this outfit, Doc.” You caressed your hands up and down her waistcoat-covered sides, while subconsciously caressing her calf with your foot.

“So that’s what’s gotten you all worked up. I’ll need to dress like this more often, then.” The Doctor smirked down at you, her golden hair framing her face like a halo of starlight. She might be an alien, but in your eyes, she was an angel.

“You absolutely must!” You eagerly responded, causing The Doctor to laugh at your enthusiasm. She then moved to hold your face in both of her hands, her body weight fully on top of you, and kissing you passionately.

With yours and The Doctor’s lips finally reconnected, The Doctor moved her leg in between your legs and lightly put pressure on your crouch. Slowling, teasingly, she shifted forward, grinding her leg against your most sensitive region. You moaned into her mouth, grabbing a fistful of the fabric of The Doctor’s vest.

You and The Doctor continued to make out like this, building up the pressure and want between your bodies. Every once in a while, your beloved alien would expertly remove a piece of your clothing with nimble fingers until you were left beneath The Doctor in just your underwear while she remained completely clothed. Now she could touch you, grop you, caress you freely. Just as you wished, Your make out session stopped, however, when The Doctor moved to unbutton her waistcoat. Quickly, you grabbed her hands to stop her from doing so.

“Can you keep it on?” You asked, want heavy and evident in your voice.

“You want me to make you feel good like this?” The Doctor, despite her different anatomy, was breathing heavily from excitement. When she was like this, completely desperate for you, she didn’t need much convincing to try something new. However, she would be lying if she said that she never imagined ravishing your body while she was fully clothed and you were naked. Admittedly though, those imaginings were usually taking place in the console room of The TARDIS, but The Doctor’s excitement over this new opportunity never waned. She was not going to let this opportunity pass her by.

“Yes, please, Doctor.” You begged breathlessly.

“Good.” The Doctor smirked before placing one sweet kiss on your lips. She would have wanted to tease you a bit more if she wasn’t so excited, probably something involving removing her underwear with her teeth. However, The Doctor was too eager to do that right now. She kissed you once more with a fervour while her hands ripped your underwear from your body, leaving you completely bare beneath her. Finally, The Doctor was going to grant your wish and make you feel good in her beautiful waistcoat.

[artist-ellen]

I just wanna say that I love all your character redesigns, they're all very beautiful! I also wanna ask if you have any recommendations of sites or books for researching historical fashion.

Thank you so much! I’ve had a lot of fun over the years <3

Historical fashion is a very big amorphous topic so take all of my recommendations with their usual grain of salt and keep in mind that the most important of things are primary sources and authorial context. For example: the portrait of a Queen is generally going to be the beautified propaganda version of the day, but still a primary-ish source of her fashion. Channel your inner historian and examine your sources critically. Who recorded this history? Why?

Photographs are stellar. While there were “photoshop” tricks those usually don’t change the clothing. Extant garments? Bog bodies? Gold mines. So never be afraid to dig into clothing that has been preserved or displayed.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that what kind of fashion and when it happened is going to set the parameters for the majority of your research. It’s too big a topic to have an easy answer, tragic I know. However there are communities upon communities online that specialize in certain historical moments, countries, styles, art, etc, etc, etc.

If you want a really great general overview by decade of Western/European fashion I recommend the website Fashion History Timeline. They don’t have a lot in their Medieval or ancient sections but 14th century to 21st century is a LOT of ground to cover while still being an easy to navigate website.

If you want even more Renaissance to vintage clothing research to the point where you could make or purchase those items yourself there is American Duchess.

And finally, honestly, someone has probably made a YouTube video about it. Double check their research and sources but if you want a plain speech audible research paper with visual aides… it’s kind of the place to be. University lecturers have slide videos up about fashion, the historical “cosplayers” do a ton of research and trial and error construction, history buffs will tell you all about it. There are so many talented people out there, from ‘Not Your Momma’s History’, ‘Off the Great Wall’, ‘Mochi Hanfu’, ‘Dandy Wellington’, ‘Bernadette Banner’, ‘Priorattire’, ‘Pinsent Tailoring’, Mina Le and so so so many more!

And I think that’s everything for now? Let me know if you have more questions

[gavisuntiedboot]

heyy babes!!! idk if ur taking reqs or not but i randomly had this thought of how would pedri and gavi act/behave/be around a gf!reader that's slightly fuller and she's just not in a body positive mood or like in general what's the vibe

unless that isn't up ur alley which i totally get🧍

love u❤️‍🔥

No Other

WARNINGS: mentions of e*ting d*sorders, poor body image, fat phobia?, and other similar themes. Don’t read if uncomfortable!!

"Are you sure you got your correct size?"

You looked up from your phone at the register and the woman standing behind it.

"Excuse me?" You asked, trying to make sure you heard her correctly. You were defensive and put off the question.

"Are you sure you got the correct size? For the lingiere? " She repeats, smiling sweetly at you, still holding onto your items.

"You don't think I'll fit into that size?" You asked, albeit a little more hostile than you intended, but you were mad. You had been feeling rather insecure in the way you looked recently, and this was not helping. You felt like everyone was staring you as you walked around the department store, judging your looks and figure. You felt the sales associate's brows raise every time you picked up something and put it in your bag. And now, as you were trying to make a 4-digit purchase, you were still being perceived as undeserving of the items.

"Oh my ma'am of course not! I'm so sorry I didn't mean it like that - it's just we can't do exchanges on the lingerie items, so we ask everyone to double check the size before. I'm so sorry!" The cashier replied, terror showing in her eyes at the possibility of offending you and having you not purchase anything. Your mouth opened and cheeks heated up, embarrassed at your little outburst.

"Oh, no I- I misunderstood you. My fault." You muttered, grabbing the bodysuit from the counter and checking the size again. It was the right letter, but it still made you sad that the letter on the tag was not an "S". You handed it back to the cashier, who packed you up as fast and silently as possible, thanking every deity she knew that you hadn't been offended. You swiped your card, grabbed your bags, and walked out of the store. Your friend stood there, scrolling through her feed as she waited for you. You walked up to her, glancing at her screen, and saw the last thing you needed: more girls that you thought were prettier than you. Tall and tan, large chests, flat stomachs, big butts and tiny legs.

"You ready to go get lunch?" She asked, recognizing your presence.

"Um," you said, looking down at your feet, "I think I'm going to skip out on lunch today. I'm seeing Pablo later and I don't want to be bloated." Biting your lip, you avoided the inquisitive stare she was sending you.

"You didn't have breakfast though, and you're not seeing him for another what? 5 hours? You need to eat something. Come on, we're going to lunch." She said, grabbing your hand and pulling you in the direction of the restaurant. You sat through lunch, picking little bits off your friend's plate, sipping on a Diet Coke and pretending that you had been hit with a sudden bout of nausea to prevent you from ordering your own plate. Your friend finished her meal, concerned looks persisting despite her saying nothing. She dropped you off at your place, rolling down the window as you walked off.

"Eat well at dinner with Pablo tonight, okay?"

You nodded and gave her a soft smile, waving as she drove off. The house was silent and still, just the environment you needed at the moment. Your phone lit up with a notification as you put your shopping down.

*@urnameoutfits just posted*

You opened the notification, finding photos of you from your date with Pablo a few weeks ago. You were in a pair of black leather pants, a dark green bodysuit, and some Jordan 1s for a casual dinner. You smiled fondly at the photo of Gavi’s arm around your shoulders, the two of you looking deeply at each other and smiling. It has been such a good night, one where you could both go out and enjoy each others’ company without worrying about training the next morning. You knew you shouldn’t, but you decided to take a look at the comments.

@user : they’re so cute together 😭❤️

@user : I neeeeeed those Jordans in my life!!

You smiled to yourself, enjoying the positive attention. You had spent a long time working to be comfortable in your relationship with Pablo. It was heart warming to see the public start to warm up to you as well. But then you continued to read.

@user : why would she wear something that makes her look bigger than the planet Earth???

@user : imagine being an athlete w a fat gf 😳

@user : a restaurant is actually the last place she needs to be right now

You quickly closed the instagram app, tossing your phone on the bed and breathing deeply. Your body image was something that you had struggled with since your early teens. It started with your family, who would always comment on the amount of food you ate and were always curious about your exercise. Then it was your friends in school, who always skipped lunch and using coffee or cigarettes as meal replacements. They would offer you clothes to borrow, but they just wouldn’t fit in the same way. It started to weigh on you physically and mentally.

You did a lot of work on yourself once you met Pablo, but not in the healthiest way. You refused to eat anything “unhealthy” in front of him, and pushed yourself past your limits of exhaustion with your workouts. You would go home after your dates and cry into your pillows, intense stomach pangs of hunger hitting yo through the night. This is how you persisted for the first couple months of your relationship. That was until he decided to surprise you one day after practice and found you on the floor of your bedroom, crying because your jean size had 2 digits in it. He dropped to the floor and pulled you into him, caressing your hair as you shook with sobs. You explained to him what had been going on, and you saw the pain deep into his wide honey eyes. He would have rather been stabbed than learn you were suffering.

Since then, he has worked with you to help your body image, and not just in the “he tells me I’m beautiful” way. One day after practice he found you curled up on the couch, teary eyed and doom scrolling through instagram models. He took your phone from your hand, and went through to remove anyone you followed for “body inspo”. He blocked the word “fat” and several other synonyms from your comments. He helped you find a nutritional therapist that you could talk to and get more help from than Pablo himself could provide. And obviously he reminded you through his actions and words that he thought you were stunning.

You walked over to the bag and pulled out your purchases. You had gotten a gorgeous black lace bodysuit that was going to hug every curve. As much as you wanted to just wear it out to dinner, it was still not socially acceptable to just wear lingerie to a restaurant, and so you paired it with a deep marrow cropped button up and a black skirt. Laying them out on the bed, you moved towards the shower, wanting to feel your best for your date tonight.

When you got out of the shower, you clipped back your hair and slipped into the bodysuit. It was a little tight, and accentuated more of your middle than you would have liked. You put the skirt on as well, and avoided the full length mirror in the room, running quickly past it to do your hair and makeup at the vanity. You smoked out your eyes and dried your hair, wanting to give off a “I was born sexy” type of look. Your phone chimed with a message.

[pablito ❤️‍🔥]: I’ll be home in 20 mins amor. Can’t wait to see u 😚

You smiled at your phone, finishing off your makeup while trying not to hyper fixate on the size of your arms in the mirror. You finished your makeup, and now it was time to finish getting dressed, your least favorite part of the experience. You walked over to the long mirror and stared at yourself in the outfit. Everything was wrong. Your shoulders looked too wide and manly, especially when paired with your arms. You felt your stomach looked larger than you thought it was, with virtually no waist to be seen. You turned to the side, grimacing in disgust. Your legs were too short and stocky. You felt that your face looked too round from the side. Wrong wrong wrong. You felt tears building, and you tried to hold them back as to not ruin your makeup. You didn’t want Pablo to know you had regressed.

You had a lot of low points on this journey. When you first appeared in Pablo’s life, you heard a lot of girls say you weren’t a threat because of how you looked - that they could steal him from you. Just when you had gotten over this incident, you found yourself in a TikTok titled “footballers with fat girlfriends”. And now it seemed everyone was eager to find an opportunity to berate your body.

Pablo walked into the house and shut the door, listening for you. He wanted to surprise you with flowers, and so he peered around the living room looking for you. When he didn’t see you, he moved quietly towards the bedroom, opening the door.

“I hope you didn’t miss me too much while I was- amor what’s wrong?” He asked. He stood behind you, eyes meeting yours in the mirror. Your eyes were red from holding back tears, and once you saw the bouquet in his hands, the flood gates had opened. Tears were flowing freely down your face, taking your makeup and your dignity with them. Pablo threw the flowers on the bed behind him and rushed to you, holding you in his arms once again.

“Baby, what happened? What’s wrong?” He asked, concern and worry evident in his tone.

“It’s me. Im wrong.” You said quietly, tears still falling. He put one hand on each side of your face, cupping your cheeks and pressing his forehead to yours.

“Mi vida, don’t ever say that. You’ve been a blessing in my life since you entered it, and it hurts me more than anything to see you upset. What’s wrong?”

You looked at him in the eyes, seeing the pain and hurt and worry there. You didn’t want to be the cause of Pablo’s distress.

“It’s just… my body again. I know we’ve talked about this a lot but I’m just not happy with how I look. I never am. And when I get closer to accepting it I always have someone telling me I’m gross because I’m curvier. Even tonight I wanted to look good for you and I can’t even do that. By thighs and stomach are too big and stand out too much and I’m sorry that im never going to be pretty enough to deserve you.” You said, your last words coming out as barely a whisper as your tears began anew.

At that last line, Pablo felt something within him break. He was staring at the love of his life, watching her shake with sobs because she thought she wasn’t pretty enough for him. And for what? Not being a size 0? His chest was tight and breathing shallow. He wanted to help you in any way he could. He wanted to give you his eyes from his skull if it meant you could see yourself from his perspective just for a moment. He wanted to declare you the most gorgeous creature to ever grace the earth. He wanted to be beside you at all times, making sure to other man ever got the full pleasure of witnessing your beauty. He wanted you to love yourself the way he loved you.

“Mi Amor, Mi sol, Mi vida. You are perfect. Every since inch of you is the definition of perfection in my eyes. Since the moment I met you, I knew that I would never look at anyone the way that I wanted to look at you. There’s no other hand I want to hold. There’s no other eyes that I want to see. There’s no other lips I would rather kiss than yours. I want to trace every curve you have until I can sculpt you from memory. I want to kiss every inch of skin until you start to believe how much I worship every part of you. I don’t want a skinnier girl - I want you. You’re the love of my life. My soulmate. And I believe, truly, that every single inch of you was created just for me. You are everything I want and more than I deserve, and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to convince you of that.”

You brought your hands up to rest on top of his as you looked him straight in the eyes. You could tell he meant every word. You were his godsend, his gift from heaven, and he would never question the perfection of the Lord’s creation. He thought every day how lucky he was to be the one receiving your love.

You pulled him in and captured his lips in a slow, soft kiss. Tears were still falling, but now they were tears of happiness. Tears of love. You pulled his bottom lip into your mouth, licking along it, and continuing to slowly kiss him as you wrapped your arms around his waist. Pablo’s hands remained on your face, and he pulled you in closer than you thought possible. The kiss deepened, and neither of you wanted to break it. You both wanted to stay in that little bubble, lips pressed together and hands warm.

Pablo eventually pulled away, going straight back to looking in your eyes as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“You look absolutely breathtaking tonight.” You scoffed at this, rolling your eyes slightly.

“I’m being serious. That skirt, those legs, the color red on you… you look amazing.”

You kissed him once again, and then leaned your weight against his chest. You sniffled slightly, wiping wet mascara tears from your cheek.

“I’m sorry I made us miss dinner. And oh my God the flowers!” You said, bumping up to lit them in water. Pablo watched you scurry around, looking for vases and other things. You looked like you had been crying, but your eyes were softer now, and there was a smile playing on your lips.

“Don’t worry about it, amor. Your happiness is the most important thing to me.”

You walked back up to him, laying against him again as he turned on the TV in the bedroom. He looked down at you, catching a glimpse of lace from his top-down view.

“Amor, are you hiding something under that shirt?”

You looked up coyly through your lashes, blushing slightly and a smile on your lips. You stared undoing the buttons on your shirt.

“It was supposed to be for after dinner, but I think I’m going to retire it after today. It doesn’t look very good.”

You said this as you finished the last button, letting your shirt drop from your shoulders. Pablo took his bottom lip between his teeth, continuing to watch as you stood and removed the skirt as well. You stood before him, only covered by some thin fabric and lace.

“You’re right. It doesn’t look ‘very good’, it looks incredible.” He said, quiet and somewhat breathless. He beckoned you over and you crawled to him, situating yourself in his lap. He played with the hem on your breasts.

“You must have gotten this custom made, Amor. Who else has the body to look this good? Not one soul on this earth.”

You giggled to yourself and tried to hide your face in embarrassment. Pablo notices and started attacking your neck with kisses.

“Thank you, Pablo. I love you, you know that?” You said, sinking into the feeling of Pablo’s lips on you.

“I love you more. I’d do anything to see you smile.

~~~

A/N: hey guys! I got a couple requests to do something like this so I hope y’all liked it!! I said this in another post but I’m not a super curvy or plus size girl, and I don’t claim to me. I just would like to add some requested diversity in what the reader might look like. As always, I love reading feedback, so feel free to leave it in the comments or send it to my ask box. Love y’all ❤️‍🔥

[3ofpents]

The Jersey Devil & The Pine Barrens Pin Stripe // Fabric design for @shapeshiftersvt and The Cryptid Collection

Oh it's time for my favorite cryptid, the Jersey Devil.

We've reached the first fabric design that was a direct adaptation from its coordinating travel poster. Here, let me show you, I think it's pretty obvious.

This wasn't the first based-on-the-poster design that I did, but it was the very first poster that I did. I mean obviously. I grew up in New Jersey and, save for a 9 month stretch in Brooklyn after I was born, and a 2 year stint also in Brooklyn in my late 20's, I lived there for about 30 years. The Jersey Devil has always and will always hold a special place in my heart.

So why on earth is there a version of this pattern without it???????

Easy! Remember when I said that some of the fabric designs were created with Eli's runway looks in mind? Well here's the concept sketch for the Jersey Devil design:

The initial concept while we were brainstorming and finalizing the fabric designs was to create a skirt suit with the trees-only design (Pine Barrens), with a binder or sports bra in the Jersey Devil design peeking out from underneath. I can't speak entirely to Eli's thought process, but I believe part of this decision was made with the photobombing idea behind the posters in mind, where the cryptids are sort of semi-hidden, or at least not the focus of the image. And part of it was aesthetic, not wanting to have multiple moons all over the outfit that might even get cut off and such.

I want to say I had a decent time with this one, and I think I did in the end. But I have to admit that it ended up being a little frustrating because it took a lot longer than I expected it to. Or that I thought it should, considering I was just recreating a slightly altered version of an illustration that I'd already done. It took a while to get the trees right, especially because for some reason that I kept getting a single pixel wide line across my horizontal seams that, like. The only way I can explain it is that it was as if the canvas was a single pixel shorter on the bottom than the image, so every time I smoothed out the seams and moved the tile back, that single pixel line would come out of hiding and break up the whole image because it didn't get edited, so the colors were in the wrong places.

This was NOT the case, for the record. I expanded the canvas multiple times in my attempts to fix this thinking that was what was happening. And yet it kept happening. I don't remember if restarting my computer fixed the problem (I often have issues with things on my screen not appearing properly when I need to restart to free up some memory); if I confirmed that it was just a weird visual glitch in Clip and that it wasn't visible anywhere else; or if it just stopped happening because I stopped moving the tile multiple times to double or triple check it and it was happening at the point of moving it. But I got it fixed, obviously.

And I'm pleased with it! I think if I'd put this one further down the list and so had more experience under my belt, I would've done it a little differently. Really mainly the tree repeat. I think I would've done a larger tile to get more trees, for more trunk shape variation; and to have more room to get a more gentle curve back and forth.

But the essence of the thing is still there, and I still think it's a cool concept (one that Eli came up with, I forgot to mention!) with the trees being stripes. And of course I love my flying Jersey Devil. I need draw more Jersey Devil art.

As always, if you'd like to order your own binder or sports bra with either of these fabric designs, you can find them (and the poster print) here, on the Shapeshifters website. If you do, we'll finally be able to get a photo instead of the mockups I made up there.

If you want to purchase the fabric for your own sewing projects, you can do so through our Spoonflower shop. Important to note that the Pine Barrens stripe runs vertically along the length of the yard; and the Jersey Devil stripe runs horizontally, and the pattern repeat is a full yard, so there's only one moon on each yard.

[fictional-crushes-unite]

Cheater, Cheater

Keys x reader! Based off an idea by @loliakeoghan23​

Before the story of Free Guy begins, reports of a hacker stealing user codes pile up to the extent that Antwan enlists Keys to track the culprit down or risk losing his job

TW: Cursing, sexual themes, actual crime

The furious clacking of the keyboard’s tiles echoed around the room as Y/n’s eyes fixated on the screen, finger whirring as she fired repeatedly at the digital avatars.

The Harlequin-style character shot in accordance with each click, sending the surrounding players to the ground.

“You’re pretty good at this,” the chat crackled to life through her headphones as the player count dropped. Y/n rolled her eyes at the condescending tone and flicked down her mic. “I’m no expert,” she replied coquettishly in a sugary voice. “Just playing for fun.”

Clearly it was the right move, as the guy seemed to gain more confidence from her answer. “Your boyfriend help you rack up all those levels, babe? Pretty high score for someone who’s using it for rec.”

Jeez, that was predictable, Y/n smirked, used to the ‘smooth’ lines of Free City’s most frequent players. Judging by his skin and gamer tag, this dude was either some geeky teenager or a thirty-year old who was still dependant on his mother.

Pulling up a sidebar, she started implementing lines of code into the program, mining through the available data as her opponent kept obliviously blabbering on. “I’m just saying, there are hardly any gamer girls that get this far. And the ones who do are like, threes at best.”

Y/n grimaced, stalling long enough for the information to transfer before discreetly moving her character into the enemy’s line of fire, yet not enough so it looked purposeful. 

The gun sound effect mixed with the guy’s triumphant exclamation brought her back to the game, where a heavily decorated YOU LOSE floated over the image of her opponent’s avatar dancing idiotically.  

“Sorry, baby, tough luck,” he crowed, more focused on collecting the onscreen rewards to realise his entire financial information log had been compromised. “We could do this again sometime, I could give you some pointers?” he added hopefully.

“Thanks, but no,” Y/n sighed, double checking the info transfer before exiting the match. The game disappeared into it’s small window, revealing the clear numbers of every purchase ever made with his account. 

Sliding her headphones down around her neck, she started scrolling down each date and timestamp until she got to the core signup information. Free City’s account creator was sketchy from the beginning, with little to no credit security, yet every player needed bank information to join. It was like they were ASKING to get hacked.

“You spend a surprising amount of money on video games for someone with no income, Mr...Brandon,” Y/n mused aloud as she copied each code down and encrypted them. “What would your mother say if she knew you linked her debit card onto your account as well?”

“I really hope you learn your lesson from this, honey” she tsked, 

_____________________________________________

“Keys, Keylime, K with a capital E, what is up, man?” Antwan called from behind his desk. 

Keys hesitated awkwardly as the doors slid closed. “Um. Hi. I heard you wanted to talk about something?”

Antwan hopped up, his jacket swishing as he made his way around the table. “Well, I was just thinking about you, bro! I wanted to see how you were doing, ask how’s the wife, you know,” he shrugged. 

“I’m not married?” Keys protested weakly as Antwan wrapped his arm around his shoulder. His boss nodded, clearly not interested. 

“Right, right, that’s cool. So I had a little question I wanted to run by you, being the smart little nerd you are.” 

He opened his mouth to respond, before Antwan kept on talking. 

“I was talking to my dudes in Account Security, that boring stuff, yeah? And usually those meetings are a total snooze. But this week, they had some new stuff to blab about. You got any complaints about bank info being whisked away?”

Keys frowned. “Yeah, uh, we got like four this week. But I checked through the player data base and there’s no record of any breakthroughs.”

“Hmm. See, that’s the fun thing. I know that there’s a hacker, with a cute setup in a dingy basement somewhere, and they’re smart.”

Antwan tapped the side of his head. “But I, my geeky little man, am smarter. Which is why I’m assigning you to finding our fun little thief.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Keys closed his eyes, trying to process what he was saying. “You want me to find a hacker, who could be literally anywhere in the world? Don’t you have a security team for this kinda thing?”

“Aw, bro, those guys are pathetic. Besides, you’re more than capable. Think of it like a mystery, Detective Hair Gel, assigned to you from the King himself.”

“You’re kidding.” Keys deadpanned.

Antwan smiled, pulling Keys along with him to the large windows at the back of the room. “Look out there, bro,” he said seriously, gesturing to the city beneath them. “There are people out there in danger, losing their hard earned money to this secret villain. Don’t you feel the urge to defend your fellow dudes?” he asked seriously. 

He turned to stare at Keys, a momentous look on his face. “This mission, if you so choose to accept it, will make you a hero.” Suddenly his whole expression changed. “Besides, if you don’t, I’ll have you fired.”

“Antwan, what-” 

“Nice talk, man,” Antwan said nonchalantly, shooing him out. “Good luck on catching the hacker!”

“-but I’m not-” Keys started, before the door slammed in his face. “-going to catch the-damn it.”

_____________________________________________

Keys collapsed into his chair, sending it spinning in lazy circles around his cubicle. 

Mouser looked up from his own desk, a scrutinising look on his face. “What happened in there, man? You left and came back looking like you haven’t slept in weeks.”

Keys groaned in response. Tilting his head back to the ceiling to avoid Mouser’s inquisitive gaze. “Antwan’s making me track down this prick who’s stealing user codes.”

 “Oh, man, that’s awful.” Mouser chuckled. 

“Tell me about it,” Keys griped. “My job is riding on tracking down some deadbeat loser.”

Mouser shook his head. “A genius deadbeat loser. I’ve gone through some of the user complaints, and there’s like, nothing there.”

Keys sat up. “So what, I can’t track this guy,” he put down a finger for each point. “We have no idea how he’s managing to get in the accounts,” Another finger. “And finally, my career is on the line if I can’t figure this out.”

He shrugged, exasperated. “I’m screwed.”

“Man, you can do this,” Mouser argued, leaning on the divider between the desks. “Use the MIT smarts.” 

Keys glared at him.

“I’m serious! This dude is pretty good at taking advantage of idiots, right? So act like an idiot and pull a full whamo on him”

“So what, you want me to just parade around in hopes that this one specific hacker decides to hack me?”

Mouser shrugged. “Sure. Catch a fly with your web of smarts, I guess.”

“Thanks, man,” Keys sighed. 

_____________________________________________

Y/n hummed along to the music playing on her speakers, nodding her head to the beat as she swiped through the Free City menus.

“-and the haters’ gonna hate hate hate,” she sang along quietly, clicking on her avatar. The pixelated figure appeared on screen, along with the customisation menu. Scrolling down, she settled on a lower grade cutesy costume, and selected the Online Play option. 

Y/n leaned forward in anticipation, fingers resting lightly on the keyboard. As the dial up appeared on the screen, she paused her music and lowered her headphones over her ears. 

When the game finally kicked in, she immediately noticed the classic “I’m-an-angsty-teenage-boy” combo, and sighed in disappointment. Easy marks, with next to no security whatsoever. Sad.

She barely had to do anything, letting the appearance of her character do most of the work as the players shot and fired in accordance. 

As she entered in the code, her phone rang, loudly blaring from beside her. “Shit!” she muttered, scrambling to shut it down, quickly entering the last line of numbers before quickly exiting the lobby. 

Pressing the button on the screen, she exhaled, letting some of the tension roll off her. Putting the phone on silent, Y/n pulled her headphones back on and reentered the game.

_____________________________________________

From across the city, Keys sat forward, startled by a security error in the mainframe. A small mistake, only a couple letters misspelled, gave him a pinpoint of someone entering through a backdoor. 

“Bingo,” he grinned, typing in the error location. 

His avatar appeared onscreen, in his default customisation, as he entered the lobby address into the game bar. 

He inhaled deeply as the screen displayed the loading symbol, plugging in his earphones and focusing on the screen.

_____________________________________________

mister-mk86 has joined the lobby

The words popped up at the top of the screen, momentarily distracting Y/n from the current menus in her inventory.

She scanned over the player bio, looking for any irregularities that could equal a bot or scammer. Coming up with nothing, she exited the profile and focused on the game.

new message from mistermk86

Y/n groaned. Predictable, really. The lobby had gone down to significantly less players, all newbies or bots at this point. She clicked on the message.

Hey

“Wow. How eloquent.” Y/n scoffed, pulling up her keyboard. 

_____________________________________________

Keys stared at his screen, watching the typing indicators in the message board.

rebelfan is typing...

Hi there 

He smirked, quickly typing a response.

_____________________________________________

mistermk86 private match?

She rolled her eyes, but clicked on the invitation.

The icon over her character appeared, showing the game type and weapons menu. Navigating it easily, she selected her defaults and began playing.

Part 2----> Coming soon

[digi-tama-in-your-pocket]

I have to share my stupidity somewhere. I ordered a digimon pendulum device thinking it was one of the 20th devices, but it's one of the the originals. I wanted lopmon. Like a fool.

Well... on the bright side, now you have a Pendulum Original. I'm not going to pretend the 20ths don't render the originals mostly obsolete ( even with the DM20th having a higher poop rate and only one training minigame, I still feel like it's better to just have a DM20th over a DMOG ) but there's still something really cool about having an actual vintage device. Double for Pendulums since they didn't get the same worldwide releases as the bricks.

But yeah, I've learned to be very thorough when checking out listings. If they don't list the date the device is made, it's best to examine photos carefully, look for tell tale signs, copyright dates, differences between it and known modern devices, like with Digimon, they need two screws on the originals as opposed to just one on the remakes. Also it's just a good policy with old electronics, I hesitate to buy anything that doesn't show a working screen.

I also made kind of dumb purchase, I bought a Digimon Original way back when, I mostly bought it for the box as a display piece, but I stil thought it would be cool to have an actual original Digimon, since my colletion at the time only included modern releases and remakes. Unfortunately, the DMOG that came in the box was almost entirely non functional, it made sound, but the display was messed up. That minds me, I really do need to make a PSA about certain Hitorikko bootlegs that have been popping up on Ebay...

Anyway, I wish you luck if you do decide to find a Pendulum 20th, they're excellent devices. I think the only flaw, aside from needing more than one to get all six of the original eggs, is how prone they are to memory loss. Just hit reset every time you change the battery and hopefully you'll be fine.

[thegreenhordes]

Pristine Journal - Mother's Woes

First Entry: I bought this journal for my alchemy recipes, poisons and potions and poultices. I have so many now that organizing them is simply a must. But to my delight, my sons bought me a proper recipe book in the upper city market just this morning! I know we have the coin to spare, but I've always tried to be frugal in my personal purchases. I don't dare say no to such sweet gifts from my boys, however! Eclipse told me it was my little Penumbra who suggested the recipe book as a gift, my sweet boy. My eldest has always been the more resilient and steadfast, but Penumbra is so very observant and curious. I hope he never loses that spark. I decided to use this journal to write as I please. Life updates, reminders, perhaps planning a soiree or two? My dear husband does love a good opportunity to show off his wealth to the common ponies. Pomp that he is, but I love him so. Third Entry: Reminder: I need more Amaranth and Dulcinea flowers. I appear to be running low on Baslisk venom- I'll need to go through all the hoops and red ribbon to get more of that imported, but staying stocked up on my reagents and ingredients is always worth it. And don't forget! Eclipse has training with Captain Freefall tomorrow. I'll need to wake him up early if he's going to be able to drag himself out of bed and to the training grounds. Eighth Entry: Penumbra scared me out of my wits today! Always so quiet, that foal, but his father finds it impressive so I won't discourage too much. I was in my nook preparing ingredients I needed for a potion- Eclipse has a bit of a cold, and my remedy will fix him right up!- I turned around to look for the cave mint and found myself looking down into the eyes of my youngest. I nearly jumped out of my hide! I ask him what he needs and he just asks to watch me work. It wasn't anything dangerous today so a I allowed it, but Moon and Stars, that gave me quite the fright! I did break one of my flasks, an old one I hadn't used in a while- the label was muddled so I couldn't read what it was. I had my boy sit on the opposite side of me to keep him away from it while I cleaned. other than that, the day was relatively peaceful. Eleventh Entry: I have a bit of a fever today, and I'm feeling dizzy. perhaps I caught Eclipse's cold. Regardless, I'm staying in bed today. Thirteenth Entry: I'm still feeling a bit woozy, but otherwise fine. Next week is Penumbra's birthday, and I wanted to get some things planned. I can't believe he's going to be ten! My sweet boy. To Do: - Pick up decorations from the craftspony I hired three months ago. - Order a cake from the baker- simple decorations, not too heavy on the frosting, Penumbra doesn't like things that are too sweet. - Pick up the gift I commissioned and finish wrapping the gifts my love and I made together. - Double check the guest list to see if there will be any last minute adjustments to seating. - Start preparing the ballroom for the event! Less hasty work later if we start now. Twenty-First Entry: I don't know what happened. I just.. Collapsed. One moment we were all singing and dancing, my little boy giggling as his older brother shoves cake in his mouth. The next, everything went black. I woke up an hour ago and have been trying to piece together what happened but nothing comes to me. My love says it was sudden and that everyone was concerned. The boys were scared, as was he. It was strange... While I strained my ears to listen to my husband, I just kept thinking about how good he smells. Final Entry: Reminder: Ask the physician why my teeth look like that. [The rest of the Journal is Empty.]

[olderthannetfic]

Sorry to drag an old corpse out of its grave long after it turned to dust, but in hindsight, what bothers me about the Hogwarts: Legacy discourse is the language and tactics surrounding the issue.

I am a Disney boycotter. I don't purchase anything attached to the mouse and I do my best to inform the people around me about why it's not a good idea to give them more money. I vote with my wallet, and as little as an impact it may have, I feel good about not contributing to the company. However, if I see someone wearing a Disney merch item, subscribing to Disney+, or enjoying a Disney movie, it has never occurred to me to call them all sorts of heavy names that should be reserved for people who actually hold bigoted beliefs. I never felt the urge to end our friendship.

Enter Hogwarts: Legacy. I had no interest in the game whatsoever, but then it started trending. "Support this and you are a transphobe", plain out there in large quantities. "Support our bullying or you are evil. No, I'm not throwing trans people under the bus for my own gains. What are you, a transphobe?" I did my own research and found out that this is a product I would not buy either for the same reason that I don't buy Disney products, but much less money goes to people I do not want to support in this case than for Disney. The huge campaigns to bully people, take away their choices, and misuse trans people and jewish people for the sake of petty hatred of intellectual property and their love for discourse made me think so little of the boycott movement that I ended up watching a livestream of the game to check it out and found that it was not nearly as offensive as the people who got angry at it say it was.

The takeaway from this is that there are ways to protest without using oppressed identities as your shield and alienating your loved ones who are just regular people that like a piece of entertainment. If the H:L protesters informed people about the reasons why they shouldn't purchase the game but told them it's perfectly fine if they make the decision to buy it anyway, then the boycott would've been far more successful. Our job as boycotters is to offer people the information they need to make the decision that they don't wish to support a cause, not to make them so afraid they yield to us and end up following our demands out of fear of being targeted for something small. This tactic causes people to double down because no one wants to yield to bullies. Now, the boycotters will be remembered as those bitter people who made a stink about a video game but who didn't do anything except make people think trans people and jewish people are annoying nags when the majority of people who complained don't even care about those two groups, they just used them as a scapegoat.

Don't be like the H:L protesters. It hurts your cause. Daryl Davis is a good name to look up in this case.

--

[incorrectshantaequotes]

Rotty Rotten's Dream Team, pt. 1

Business is as usual in Lazytown, with Rotty Rotten cooking up another scheme to thwart Shantacus' efforts to keep the town active and healthy, and a great one too, if she says so herself - after all, four heads are better than one! Cloning herself was a genius move...only, well, she didn't actually clone herself, per say, and none of them know how to be proper villains, but no matter! She'll make this work! Even if it takes a musical number! Especially if it takes a musical number.

NOTE: This takes place after the last April Fool's fic, but you don't need to read that one to understand this one. I still have not watched Lazytown, but we all know that song. You know the one.

--

Sometimes, Rotty Rotten really had to stop to appreciate her sense of interior design. After all, most people wouldn't exactly be clamoring for an underground location - even before Shantacus rolled into town and got everyone moving, most of the inhabitants did enjoy being in the sun, and Rotty could fully admit to herself that she occasionally liked to go out in it too. But she did make it an extremely tough decision! Not only did her house have the appropriate flair for a villain like herself, but also had all the luxuries she could ever want - a heavenly, fuzzy couch, the largest TV in Lazytown (technically, Shantaflop had a bigger one up in her blimp, but she barely used it so Rotty decided it didn't count), and a fully stocked mini-fridge! All the things she needed to lay around and do absolutely nothing. Even when she wasn't actively slacking off, it helped give her lair a nice, cozy feeling. Put her in a good mood. Especially when she was about to get a scheme rolling, such as right now.

"Come on, come on, just a little bit more..." Rotty Rotten tapped her foot impatiently, a bit giddy as she looked down at her watch to check the time again. She almost went over to her laptop to double check the estimated delivery time, but the doorbell rang before she could, and her grin grew wide. "Aha!"

She rushed over to the door, opening it with aplomb before nodding to the deliveryman outside. "Thank you, good sir! Here's a tip for you, and have a wonderful day!"

With that, she rolled her package inside and shoved the door closed with a quick backwards kick, giggling to herself as she rolled it further into her lair over to her workspace. Rotty would have gone with a full evil laugh as she set the package down, but frankly she was far too excited to be that composed, so she settled for letting her giggles get louder before she pulled out the box cutter. "Alright! First, let's double check to see if this is the right thing..."

She took a moment to circle around the package, carefully looking it up and down and nodding a bit to herself. It was taller than her by a fair margin, as she expected, and the box did seem to fit the dimensions of the item she ordered. "...hmm, got the right address...name's on this thing...'handle with care, arcane material inside;' sounds about right...think the only step left to take is to just cut the box open!"

With a push of her finger, she flicked the blade out and ran the box cutter down the side facing her. Carefully - still wanted the box intact in case this did turn out to be a wrong order - she pulled out the object inside with bated breath...and her grin grew wider still. "Oh, yes! This...this is perfect! Shantacus will never see this coming!"

Rotty did let out an evil laugh this time, eyes glinting with glee as she took in her latest purchase from over the internet - a grand, full-length mirror, with an ornate silver framing around the reflecting surface. One could easily mistake this for a completely ordinary mirror, but Rotty Rotten knew better. She'd made sure to triple check her sources, go to the seller with the best and most honest reviews, and read through the PDF of the user's manual the seller graciously provided on request five times over. She hadn't really dabbled with the arcane before, and didn't really intend to after this, but the end result would be well worth it. She knew she had a tendency to put a bit more confidence in her plans than was entirely earned, but this was different. It wasn't so often that her plans could be so simple and yet so effective, after all!

The plan had found its way into her head around this time the week before, as she'd looked over the blueprints for a potential trap for Shantacus. Capturing the blue-clad heroine was easier said than done - the woman had superhuman speed that Rotty couldn't react to, an uncanny intuition to avoid her tricks after plenty of exposure to her, and a tendency to be extremely...for lack of a better word, flippy. It was very distracting, for reasons she was not going to say out loud (especially because, after that one time she sprained her ankle, she was fairly certain some of the kids had a betting ring regarding her and Shantacus, and while Rotty might not have had any stake in it she was determined to win). All of which was to say, most of her Shantacus traps had to be Rube Goldberg-esque contraptions, or required Rotty to lure her in, neither of which were ideal. And then, out of the blue, it hit her - what if...she just got a helping hand? Or, to be more precise, made a helping hand?

It was so simple, Rotty wasn't sure how she could've possibly missed it before! With enough people working to set up traps across Lazytown, Shantacus couldn't possibly dodge them all! And once she'd finally captured Shantacus, victory would be hers! The only real issue was, how to do it? Her first thought had been robots, but she'd seen enough sci-fi movies to know how that would go: they'd probably decide to overthrow humanity, or worse, the robots would unionize, and Rotty would have to deal with the one evil she dared not unleash, even on herself...paperwork. Urgh. Rotty Rotten was all for unions, but it just wasn't worth dealing with one herself. So, with robots firmly placed in "no," the next logical step was clones! After all, she was a smart and intelligent woman, right? She could figure out a deal with herself.

Unfortunately, Rotty Rotten may have been good with tech, but she wasn't that good. So, with that in mind, she'd opted for a magic substitute. The Mirror of Selves-Reflection (which Rotty thought was worth the purchase just for the name alone; the name being slightly awkward was far outshined by the wordplay) had been hard to find, but surprisingly simple to purchase! She hadn't known there was an entire eBay website for magic items, but there was. Trying to make sure she wasn't being scammed had been an ordeal, but if this went well...oh, the things she could do! Finally, with a copy of her own mind to help her with her goals, Rotty Rotten would catch Shantacus once and for all, and then...! Well, she hadn't figured out what she'd do after that, but she could workshop something with her clones. Part of the benefit of having four heads instead of one!

The only real issue with the Mirror of Selves-Reflection was how it required an elaborate ritual to actually use it, but...there was a reason Rotty had requested the user's manual before she actually got her hands on the mirror.

"Alright, in you go!" Without much fanfare, Rotty Rotten picked up the mirror and awkwardly stumbled over to a large, clunky machine in the middle of the room, sliding the mirror into a thin slot on the side of a particularly bulky box. With that, she pressed a green button, and she heard the sounds of pipes extending and connecting to the mirror with a hiss of steam, with the slot closing up to hide the process. It wasn't supposed to be used as a battery for a cloning machine, but it was definitely possible, and she didn't feel like going through that whole ritual every time she wanted to clone herself. Besides, what was the worst thing that could happen? No clones?

"Now, for the main event..." Rubbing her hands together with glee, Rotty pranced over to the console for the machine. Setting the number of clones to three for the moment, she then turned her attention to the big switch right in the middle, and pushed down with all her might. A steady hum began to emit from the machine, visible cogs beginning to churn as lights flashed on and off. Taking a few steps back, Rotty Rotten took a moment to appreciate her work as everything began to go faster, the humming rising in pitch as all the moving parts came closer and closer to reaching their peak. To be completely honest, most of it was for show; there really wasn't any complex machinations in there when most of the work was being done by the mirror, but it gave everything a sense of grandeur, and that was the most important thing!

"Alright, Shantaflop, time for you to face your worst nightmare...myself!" With that dramatic declaration, Rotty Rotten let out a full maniacal cackle as every part of the machine reached max speed, cogs whirring fast enough to give Shantacus a run for her money and lights flashing like she was at a rave, the humming of the machine going higher and higher until...ding! With that one little chime, the machine very quickly slowed to a stop, and with eager anticipation, Rotty Rotten ran over to the other side of the machine, where a pipe was sticking out and turned towards the ground. Looking down, Rotty Rotten braced herself for the inevitable weirdness of seeing, well, herself...but she had to stop to do a double take as she actually looked at the results. "What the?"

The thing was, that was definitely her, alright. The green skin, hair, and red eyes were kind of unmistakable, and it helped that there was some purple on all of their clothing. She couldn't exactly call them clones, though! Two of them were younger than her, for one thing - thankfully not kid-aged, because that would have been a hassle, but still younger - and of the two younger hers, one of them was dressed like something out of a high fantasy film, with the her that actually matched her age apparently having a similar taste in fashion, albeit with a more modern touch. It honestly stumped Rotty - the mirror should've made perfect clones, not...whatever this was. Did she miss something? Did the machine mess up the process somehow?

Figuring it was good to double check her sources, Rotty Rotten went back to the package, looking around the cardboard to find...aha! The user's manual, this time in print! Flipping it open, Rotty began to speed-read; hopefully she could find the source of the problem quickly. Warning, blah blah blah, side effects may include, blah blah blah, alternate universes, blah blah-WAIT A MINUTE. Rotty Rotten started scanning that paragraph again, making sure she was reading it right...and then immediately smacked herself in the forehead. "Oh, come on! That is so not cloning!"

All this time, she'd skimmed past the part that went over how the Mirror of Selves-Reflection actually worked, because she assumed she already knew: cloning! It cloned people, because that was what she asked for, and that was how it was presented to her! Except, no, what it actually did was pull alternate versions of herself from different universes. Alternate versions of herself that were living their own, alternate lives, up until the mirror had so rudely interrupted them. Great. Fantastic. So, she was going to have to spend a few hours converting her "cloning" machine into one that would send them all back to their appropriate worlds, because she knew she wouldn't want to be dragged into an alternate universe and be stuck there for the rest of her life, and to make matters worse, she had no idea what these alternate hers were like! They might not even be villains, for all she knew!

But, as Rotty heard a few groans coming out of the pile of alternate selves, she sighed and put the user's manual down for a moment. Alright, whatever. She was just going to have to roll with this and hope for the best. Walking over to her various selves, she started to help them up to their feet.

--

Ow.

That was Rottytops' first thought. And her second and third thought. Her fourth thought, after she got over how sore she was, was "where am I, anyway?" One moment, she was in the family caravan, preparing to ask Shantae out for a date, the next she was here, in a pile of bodies. She couldn't really see much of her surroundings at the moment, with her view being almost exclusively limited to the floor - some kind of blue metal, but not the kind of blue she associated with Ammo Baron. No, this was more of a dreary blue, a shade she'd expect to see in a haunted house. Before she could contemplate what that meant though, she felt the weight of whoever else was in here with her get lifted off, and then someone else's hand reached out to her. "Come on, up you get..."

Wow, sounded like whoever that was had a rough day; she could practically feel the exasperation from here. She also sounded a lot like...Rottytops, weirdly enough, but the zombie girl decided to ignore that for a moment, just accepting the hand and pulling herself to her feet. She looked around, intending to take in her surroundings, but instead she found herself reconsidering her choice ten seconds ago to ignore how the mysterious woman sounded like her, because now Rottytops was wondering - did she somehow acquire three entire clones while she wasn't looking? She hadn't really encountered clones before, but this really looked a lot like a clone situation.

The one closest to her was wearing armor almost like that set she'd found in Shantae's closet a few months ago (her girlfriend had, unfortunately, refused to elaborate beyond mentioning she'd gotten it during the Siren Island incident), only with a diamond-shaped breastplate that covered more of her torso, as well as different coloring - purple with silver trimming rather than red and gold. Oh, and the animal pelts. Those were also there. They were all over her doppelganger, the majority serving to form a pseudo-cloak of sorts as well as a longer skirt, with the others serving as simple decoration alongside a collection of animal teeth and claws. Her hair was done up in a ponytail, much like her Fillin disguise, but other than that she practically looked identical. She also had a massive hammer, the head of the weapon having detailing resembling a castle on the front and back end while a skull sat in the middle. It would be extremely tempting to reach out and smack someone with it if Rotty didn't know that she'd likely fall to pieces trying to swing that thing.

The other two were, thankfully, easier to tell apart from her, because they were clearly older, more Risky's age than hers. The one adult clone that had been in the pile with her had a sense of aesthetic that Rottytops had to appreciate - she wore a tattered purple...wizard's cloak? Trenchcoat? Some sort of hybrid between the two? Whatever it was, it was tattered, purple, and had a set of white ribs around the torso as reinforcement. Out of the four, she had the longest hair, with just enough of it hanging in front of her face to shadow her eyes and make them seem to glow, which, combined with her mischievous smirk...again, Rottytops really had to appreciate the aesthetic, there. She'd somehow managed to land the perfect balance between "monster from a ghost story," "powerful wizard," and "used magic carpet saleswoman," and honestly, Rottytops was considering taking notes. Maybe not too much, though; her older clone was perhaps a biiiiiit intimidating.

That left the only her who, as far as Rottytops could tell, had not been in the pile, and frankly the most confusing one. She was dressed up in a vest and pants with red and purple vertical stripes running up them both, with a dark blue, sleeveless undersuit beneath it, exposing her bare shoulders and the stitch tattoo around her left arm (which confused Rotty a little bit; did she never get that arm detached or something?). Finishing off her choice of clothing were a pair of simple gloves the same shade as the undersuit, as well as a pair of skull earrings that matched Rottytops' own. She also had the closest hairstyle to Rottytops, albeit with some differences; she had more of an undercut, leading to a slightly choppier hairstyle than Rottytops herself, but otherwise it was pretty close.

Before any of them could start talking, the last clone Rottytops had looked at sighed, and spoke up. "Alright, I know my own thought process, so I'll answer your most immediate questions: yes, we're all the same person; no, we're not clones. I was trying to make clones of myself, but I got ripped off with a stupid magic artifact that gave me different versions of myself from alternate universes. Don't ask, I'll explain in a bit here. Now, care to introduce yourselves?"

Oh! Alternate universes. That would've been...her third guess, probably. Second guess would've definitely been secret identical twin she somehow didn't know about. She definitely had questions, but Rottytops was willing to let...herself? Explain herself? That didn't sound right. Man, this was going to be confusing. Still, she gave her older self a winning smile, and said, "Rottytops-"/"Rottytops-"

She immediately stopped herself, and turned to look at her identical self, who frankly looked just as shocked as she was. Her older self in the pinstripe suit sighed wearily, shaking her head. "...we'll put a pin in that. How about you? Please tell me your name isn't the same as theirs, too?"

Her other older self paused to consider the question for a moment, then casually shrugged. "I mean, technically it is? Only my brothers know about that, though. I tend to go by Lich Baron these days."

...oh. That...might explain the intimidation factor. And was also mildly concerning, ringing plenty of alarm bells in her head; aside from Squid Baron being basically harmless, anyone with the name Baron was bad news. And judging by the wary expression of her armored self, that wasn't just the case in her universe, either. Her other older self just looked mildly confused, clearly not recognizing the significance of the title. Which was both relieving, because that meant she probably wasn't a Baron herself, and worrying, because it meant she didn't recognize Lich Baron for the danger she represented. As if to prove her point, her older self spoke up then, "So...what? You just have a lavish house where you store all your goodies or something?"

Lich Baron seemed surprised for a moment, but then the smirk was back, and she let out a slight chuckle. "Yeah, something like that."

Her older self squinted at Lich Baron for a moment, suspicious, but then shook her head, turning her attention back to the group as a whole. "Well, you can call me Rotty Rotten. Now, back to you two - do either of you have another name I can use? Because, fair warning, if you don't, I will just use One and Two."

"Oh! Uh..." Rottytops took a moment to think. Well, she did have Fillin, but she didn't have the outfit on, so would it really feel right...? Eh, everything about this situation was weird; she'd worry about the logistics later. "Well, I did make an alternate identity for myself once. Fillin-"

"-De'Blanc?" Rotty Rotten interrupted, eyes wide in surprise. Rottytops was a bit shocked, herself; apparently that scheme wasn't exclusive to her. Who knew?

"Just the Blank, but...yeah, exactly," Rottytops nodded slowly. "I'm guessing that one's a no-go, then?"

Rotty Rotten looked to the side, a slight blush on her cheeks. "...yeah, let's...not do that one."

Oh, there was a story there. But, out of respect for her older self who was apparently responsible for all of this, Rottytops decided not to ask. Yet. She would put her expert badgering skills to use later. Before she could respond, though, her armored self spoke up.

"So, guess it falls to me to use a different name, then?" She questioned. Now that they weren't talking at the same time, Rottytops noticed that she had a slight accent that none of the others had, including herself. Rotty Rotten started to say something, but her armored self shook her head, lifting her hammer and resting it on her shoulder. "No worries, I'm fine with it. Just call me Cadaver."

"...huh," Rotty Rotten took the name in stride, taking a few steps back to look over them all, and then shrugging. "Well, if you say so. Now! Onto the more important question...are any of you villains?"

Rottytops blinked, caught off-guard by the sudden non-sequitor and the weight Rotty Rotten put on the word villains. Without thinking, she remarked, "I consider myself more of a prankster dabbling in the art of chicanery, personally? I've only done like, one evil thing and felt really bad about it later."

Cadaver raised her hand. "My first few days of existence were as the brainwashed general of an undead army trying to take over the world. Wasn't really me in there, but I still remember all of it. Does that count?"

Rotty Rotten looked utterly poleaxed. "...no, no it does not, and I am very worried about whatever standards your villains hold themselves to. Lich Baron? You?"

Lich Baron simply looked up and answered, "Yup."

"Oh, thank you! I got worried when the Mirror of Selves-Reflection turned out to be an alternate universe thing instead of a clone thing," Rotty Rotten sighed in relief, and suddenly those alarm bells were back in full force. "Alright, Rottytops, Cadaver, go ahead and help yourself to the lair while Lich Baron and I discuss business; I'll be sure to send you back to your homes by the end of the day. Now, Lich Baron, what are your skills exactly...?"

Rottytops looked to her armored self, who thankfully seemed equally concerned about this whole thing. Before either of them could start talking to come up with a plan, though, Lich Baron answered, "Oh, I raise the dead."

Rottytops looked back just in time to see the utter horror and disbelief on Rotty Rotten's face, which Lich Baron seemed completely oblivious to as she went on, "So, you want an undead uprising? I don't know exactly what your plan is, but there's not a lot of schemes that don't go smoother if the hero is busy fighting off an undead uprising. Normally I wouldn't put too much effort into this kind of thing, but you're, well, me, and I happen to have a show I don't want to miss, so I'm willing to give you a...eh, decent undead uprising. What do you say? Sound fun? Have a specific time, or-"

"NO! No undead uprising! Ever! Are you out of your mind!?" Rotty Rotten hissed, pulling her other self close. "Think of the children!"

Lich Baron stared with wide eyes. Rottytops almost felt bad for her; she knew what it looked like when she was faking confusion, so she could tell that Lich Baron honestly didn't get why Rotten was opposed to an undead uprising. "...eh, fair enough, I guess? I'm fine dialing it back; less work for me. Guess I'll just go with...ten skeletons? That sound good? Just ten?"

Honestly, Rottytops thought that did actually sound reasonable, especially compared to the Barons she knew, but Rotty Rotten clearly thought otherwise. "I said no undead uprising, and I meant it! What is WRONG with you!? Ugh, never mind; worst case scenario is fully in play."

Before Lich Baron could say something in her defense, Rotty Rotten turned to Rottytops and Cadaver. "Alright, you two! I am going to teach you how to be villains..."

She swiveled to face Lich Baron with a glare. "And I'm going to teach you how to be chill."

Rotty Rotten turned around, shaking her head as she whispered to herself, "Honestly, undead uprising...what are they doing over there?"

With that, she started to march, addressing the whole group as she walked off. "I'm going to ready the presentation now! It should only take a few minutes, so don't go anywhere!"

Huh. If it were anyone else, Rottytops would be concerned, but her alternate self seemed to have a far different idea of what villainy was than was typical for any of their universes. So, as it was, Rottytops was curious to see where this was going. Maybe she could do something to test the waters real quick...? See how far this goes, anyway. She thought it over, running over different ideas in her head, before stumbling over one that made her grin in anticipation.

Clearing her throat to catch her older self's attention, Rottytops remarked, "Will the presentation include a musical number?"

She expected Rotty Rotten to just be confused, or perhaps roll her eyes at the joke. She did not expect her to actually consider the question, looking very contemplative as she stood in thought. Eventually, she answered, "...no, I don't have one prepared at the moment, but you know what? We ARE doing a musical number later. I will guarantee we do a musical number later. You can bet on it."

With that, Rotty Rotten walked away, leaving Rottytops stunned in her place. Well, damn. She was going to be in a musical number now, apparently. Was that just normal in this universe? Was she the prankee, here? Before she could contemplate this further, though, she was interrupted by her other older self.

"...I am chill, though," Turning to face Lich Baron, Rottytops looked up to see...wow. Was she pouting? She was absolutely pouting. It was kinda funny, honestly, compared to how intimidating she'd been earlier. Maybe she shouldn't get so much of a kick out of what was technically her own misery (or however you'd quantify the misery of your alternate self), but Rottytops was willing to chalk that up to her being a naturally funny person even when she wasn't trying. "I just spook people sometimes, I don't even make my undead do anything! Aside from like, theft, but that's in the job description. What do you guys think? You think I'm chill, right?"

"...eh...?" Rottytops shrugged, giving Lich Baron the universal so-so gesture. "I mean, towards the end, sure, but you did open up with a whole undead uprising."

Clearly despairing, Lich Baron turned to Cadaver, who simply responded, "You're better than Hypno Baron."

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Lich Baron slumped over. "No one appreciates me here..."

--

True to her word, Rotty Rotten had set up her presentation - whatever that entailed - up relatively quickly. Rottytops, or rather, Cadaver, could appreciate that this supposed "villain" was considerate of their time, even though they'd only met because of a misunderstanding in magical artifacts. She'd wasted no time in establishing what the situation was, making sure they all had names to call each other, and - to some degree - informing them of why she'd set up her cloning plan in the first place, even if she hadn't actually said the reason out loud. It was the sort of directness that Cadaver could appreciate.

Truth be told, it was...nice to be able to go by Cadaver again, if only for a little while. One of the only intended freedoms Hypno Baron had given her back when she was first resurrected was her choice of name, and for that, she'd chosen General Cadaver. That name had lasted up until she and Hypno Baron had come face to face with Bolo's party and she broke out of his control, for after he was defeated and she stuck around...well, she knew exactly where she wanted to go, and as much as she liked her name, she saw no point in using a name that they'd only associate with the cold, calculating general at Hypno Baron's side. So, she'd picked out another name, joined Bolo's party (the others still made jokes about how she didn't, you know, ask, like a "normal person," but it worked, didn't it?), and that was that. Rottytops was a nice name, too, and in some ways better than Cadaver ever was, but Cadaver was still the first one she chose.

Shaking her head out of her thoughts, Cadaver sat down next to the other Rottytops, with Lich Baron on the other side. Truth be told, Cadaver couldn't quite get herself to let her guard down around Lich Baron - she was far too familiar with the dangers of necromancers to let herself do that - but, contrasted to how Rotty Rotten seemed to perceive her, Lich Baron ultimately seemed harmless. Or, rather, she could do harm, but she had a feeling most of the time it was very negligible. More like that strange fellow who kept making a nuisance of himself, Squid Baron, than the mad Hypno Baron she was familiar with. And Rotty Rotten, whether she wanted to admit it or not, seemed closer to the other Rottytops' description of a prankster than anything else.

Rotty Rotten pulled down a screen and cleared her throat, and with that cue the lights darkened and something flickered on, projecting an image onto the screen - a simple purple backdrop with gears and skulls on it. Cadaver let out a slight hum of appreciation, then turned her attention to her alternate self as she pulled out a pointer. "Alright, let's give a bit of context first..."

Extending the pointer, she tapped the screen, and the image changed to a serene-looking town with bright, cheery colors. "So! This, right here, is where we currently are: my perfect little hometown, Lazytown! A town where no one did anything, really, and I was able to sit back and relax to my hearts content...well, it used to be, anyway."

The presentation switched to her next image, showing what appeared to be a blue airship, high up in the sky. Cadaver's eyes widened, and her old general mindset started kicking into overdrive - airships were a hypothetical in her world, with no one having the manpower or materials to build one themselves just yet, so to show one so casually likely meant that either the technology they had here was more advanced, airships were incredibly common, or some combination of both. It'd be a fairly difficult target to take down, too, considering the only one who might be able to get into the air was Lich Baron...but, before she could strategize further, Cadaver shook her head and firmly reminded herself that, no matter how reasonable she was and likely would be, this was still the word of someone who actively called herself a villain, so she might want to hold back on the militant strategizing for now.

"You see, a while back, let's say...oh, a year or two now? Someone showed up and decided to get people moving, and that someone's name was Shantacus," Rotty Rotten growled, her tone layered with something bitter as she shook her head. For her part, Cadaver felt her face scrunch up in confusion, and a quick look around showed that her alternate counterparts were equally confused, even Lich Baron. Of course, she was quick to connect the name to Shantae, one of her party members, and she wasn't really surprised to find out she was a hero in this world, but...it was a bit hard to imagine herself at odds with the half-fae girl. In complete defiance of the typical slippery and treacherous image the Rogue class carried with it, Shantae was very earnest, often trying her best to communicate with her team and even the opponent if it was clear they could see reason. And while they'd be at odds in this world, Cadaver also knew for a fact that she wasn't really the type to hold grudges, with Hypno Baron being an exception. Needless to say, something would have had to go terribly wrong for Shantae to be in the same class as Hypno Baron here, and by all accounts, it hadn't - so, she had to wonder, was Rotty Rotten's anger real, or simply performative? A question to consider for later.

"...and with her around, the whole town started getting into fitness, with running and sports and yoga and blegh," Rotty Rotten gagged, sticking her tongue out and shuddering in disgust. Cadaver, personally, couldn't relate, but she did see Lich Baron nod in sympathy. "Do you know how much noise that much running and exercise makes when you live right underneath people's feet? Because let me tell you, it's a LOT! And since I couldn't exactly file a noise complaint for an entire town, and believe me, I tried, the solution was clear - Shantacus had to go! And so, thus began our esteemed rivalry..."

The other Rottytops raised her hand.

"Yes, Rottytops?" Rotty Rotten turned to her similarly-aged counterpart, and Cadaver very promptly reminded herself that she wasn't responding to Rottytops for now.

"Genuine question, can you not just, like...soundproof your place, or something?" The other Rottytops asked, tilting her head with a raised eyebrow. Honestly, she'd been wondering that herself, so she turned her attention to Rotty Rotten.

"Well...yes, I've got better soundproofing now," Rotty Rotten muttered, a blush dusting her cheeks as she looked away from her audience. "But at this point it's the principle of the thing! Lazy is LITERALLY in the town's name; we don't need any of this fitness junk! So Shantaflop can take her sports and her diets and shove it...whatever, that's not important right now! Moving on!"

She tapped the pointer to the screen again, switching the image to another shot of the town. "Now, obviously, the most effective method of getting Shantacus out of town is just catching her myself, but that tends to be very difficult to do for...reasons you are about to witness for yourself. I hope you don't mind if I take a step back, because this is...very depressing for me to watch."

Without further ado, Rotty Rotten tapped the image again, looking away and walking off to the side, but rather than the image changing entirely to a new one, it began moving. Cadaver was impressed and wondered what it was; magic? Technology? Some combination of both? She didn't ponder about that for long, though, as the moving image showed Rotty Rotten peeking out from behind a bench, a comically large net slung over her shoulder. She looked around, clearly anticipating something, and then her eyes darted to the right, and she grinned, jumping up to her full height and swinging the net down-

Cadaver could fully admit she was attracted to Shantae. The girl was clever, but humble, kind to a world that often didn't extend the same kindness to her just because of who she was born to, and incredible in a fight in ways she couldn't help but admire, having an uncanny ability to detect and take out ambushes to the party before any of them were even aware of the danger. It wasn't something she acted on, given that her teammate seemed incredibly shy around her for some reason - she suspected Sky knew, but the druid had grown more and more exasperated each time she asked, so she clearly didn't feel like telling her - but it was nice for her to think about. Maybe, at some point, she'd be able to work herself up to make the first move, but only when she was sure Shantae wouldn't be scared off when she asked.

All of this was to say, she wasn't quite prepared to see Shantacus in action for the first time. The blue-clad heroine adeptly flipped in the radius of the net and out in the blink of an eye, outpacing Rotty Rotten without even trying, and when she zoomed up behind her to give a grin to the villain...the way Shantacus smiled, and the way she laughed, so confident and carefree, got her heart racing in ways she hadn't thought it could anymore, considering her undead nature. Her strategic side wanted to slap her upside the head and make her pay attention, but for once, Cadaver couldn't bring herself to care, and as the moving image unfurled into a compilation of various failed capture attempts, her focus was entirely on how confident Shantacus' gait was, how sure she was in herself, and, to a lesser extent, the way her body had been toned to perfection. She personally didn't quite care about that sort of thing - she thought Shantae's more athletic build fit her more than an Amazon - but it was a nice bonus. All Cadaver could think of, seeing Shantacus, was, how could I get my Shantae to act like this? How could I make her this confident?

A long, drawn out wolf-whistle snapped Cadaver out of her reverie, and she realized with some embarrassment that the compilation had ended without her realizing. Looking over, she took some relief in that she wasn't alone, as she saw that the other Rottytops was blushing like mad, eyes snapped to the screen and wide with disbelief. Before she could look to see Lich Baron's reaction though, she heard the thwip of a robe being raised high into the air as quickly as possible.

Rotty Rotten sighed wearily. "I don't know how you managed to connect any of that to your undead shtick, and I don't care - no undead uprising."

"That wasn't my question," Lich Baron stated, her grin clear even when Cadaver wasn't looking at her.

"Then what was it?" Rotty Rotten snapped, clearly expecting her alternate self to not have an answer.

"Is Shantacus single?" Lich Baron asked, with approximately zero hesitation or remorse. Almost immediately, the other Rottytops' blush grew, and though she didn't have a mirror for reference, Cadaver was sure she had her own, similarly-sized blush. As for Rotty Rotten, she had her own blush beginning to rise as she started to indignantly squawk, trying to form words but failing for a few moments.

"T-that's-Shantaflop's relationship status is NOT RELEVANT to this conversation!" Rotty Rotten finally managed, shaking her head furiously.

"Yes it is," Lich Baron shook her head in disagreement. "Because, well, Captain Shantae is fun and all, nice to tease, puts sooooooo much effort into hiding how much of a softie she is, and I would like to actually get a relationship with her going at some point...buuuuut she also has trust issues up the wazoo, and while I'll still pick Captain Shantae over her every day, Shantacus having NONE of those issues, and being jacked on top of that? Putting up some serious competition there. If she's anything like the good captain, I don't think it'd be too much trouble to seduce her into a trap...and, I mean, if you aren't going to do anything-"

"Absolutely not!" Rotty Rotten hissed, crossing her arms in an X. "There is to be no, and I mean no, flirting with the enemy! Snackcakes is off-limits-"

She suddenly stopped, her blush growing more as her words silently sunk in. Cadaver slowly raised an eyebrow as she considered the clearly more affectionate nickname for the hero, and the other Rottytops' expression slowly turned into a grin of its own, as she opened her mouth to say something-

"You heard nothing. You did not hear Snackcakes, you heard Shantaflop. That nickname does not leave this room," Rotty Rotten shook her head, taking a moment to glare at each of them. "And it especially does not leave this room in front of the kids, because I don't know what bet they have going on with me and Shantacus, but I am winning it, do you understand me?"

"Mhm. Hear you loud and clear, boss," With a mock salute, Lich Baron gave Rotty Rotten a nod before leaning back, clearly pleased with herself.

In the meantime, Cadaver was starting to piece together the picture. Her alternate counterpart was clearly attracted to Shantacus, that much had been made clear, but considering they'd started out in opposing roles and still disagreed on how fitness should be handled in this town (she still didn't get WHY that was their conflict, honestly; she supposed it might just be the weird standards of this world)...hmm. Did she just not know how to make the switch? Was this some sort of elaborate way of flirting with the hero? Cadaver didn't really care much for complicated schemes. She could make them, sure, and definitely understand them, but she knew from experience that so many complex plans had a tendency to fall apart the instant you did something they didn't expect - for instance, braining Hypno Baron with her hammer the moment she snapped out of his control - so she preferred the more direct approach. This would all be so much easier if Rotty Rotten decided to forgo the "villainy" and just ask Shantacus out on a date.

"Moving on..." Said villain shook her head, tapping the pointer to the screen again to move it to the next image. "Normally, in order to get anywhere close to capturing Shantacus I do need to use tricks like that, but there's a reason I was trying to clone myself - if we set up enough traps around town, then it doesn't matter how simple they are, Shantacus will have to fall into one of them eventually. Quantity has a quality all its own, after all! So, I'm going to teach you all how to set up some traps, and then, once we all go around and set them up...bye bye, Shantacus! Any questions?"

Part of Cadaver wanted to ask if Rotten would just go ahead and ask Shantacus out, but she didn't think that'd be well-received. So, she thought of another question as she raised her hand.

"Yes, Cadaver?" Rotty Rotten nodded towards her.

"What do you plan on doing if you succeed?" Cadaver calmly asked, raising an eyebrow. Not once had Rotty Rotten mentioned her plans for after the fact, after all.

Almost immediately, Rotty Rotten's face fell into one of irritation. "Well, I was going to work it out with my clones, but considering I'm the only me here - no offense to all of you, of course - I'm just going to have to figure it out later. Don't worry about it. Anyone else?"

Cadaver, the other Rottytops, and Lich Baron looked at each other, then shook their heads in a decisive no.

"Good! Now, prepare yourselves; we'll be heading towards sunlight in a few minutes!" With that, Rotty Rotten gave a decisive nod, and walked off, presumably to get materials.

Cadaver waited for a few moments, then stood up and began to walk off to a further part of the room from Lich Baron, hammer in hand. As she found a wall and leaned against it, contemplating her next move, she saw the other Rottytops stand next to her out of the corner of her eye.

"So...are you going to help weird not-actually-a-villain-you? Or, uh, us? Or...wow, this is confusing," The other Rottytops shook her head. "But, you get my point, right? Figured I'd ask the only other hero in the room."

Cadaver tilted her head, then nodded. "As long as we take precautions to make sure the traps don't catch anyone else in the crossfire, I don't see the harm. I'm mostly just hoping to convince her to ask Shantacus out on a date directly."

"Ah, okay, cool, cool, I'm not the only one who thinks this is an elaborate date set-up, good to know," The other Rottytops gave Cadaver her own nod, pleased to be vindicated.

Cadaver paused for a moment. "Out of curiosity, how did you get to that conclusion? I know my line of thought, but I want to hear yours."

The other Rottytops very quickly started blushing again. "Well, uh...honestly, when I thought about it, it sounded like something I would do if I was desperate enough? And, y'know, wasn't already dating my Shantae, but that's besides the point."

Cadaver considered this new information, then slowly turned her head to give the other Rottytops' a raised eyebrow and her most deadpan look. What was it Bolo said to Shantae that one time? "You're your own worst critic?" She was certain it wasn't meant to be applied like this, but she was definitely feeling critical of her other self right now.

"...hey, I wasn't saying it wouldn't be stupid, I was just saying I might do it!" The other Rottytops defended herself, then, after a few more moments of being beset by her judgement, sighed. "Honestly, how come you're the only one of us who has their shit together, anyway? And I'm including the adult-adults on this one, not just us young adults, because Lich Baron and Rotty Rotten absolutely do not have their shit together."

Cadaver snorted. "I think my party's druid would disagree with you on that front, but, in short? You'd be surprised how many problems a hammer solves."

The other Rottytops looked at the hammer in question longingly, then sighed, slumping over. "Man..."

She shook her head, despondent, then perked up without any warning. "So! Onto other topics - how about you and your Shantae, eh? You got some kind of relationship going on?"

Now Cadaver felt her own blush forming. "Ah...it'd be nice, but no, not really. She's a little shy around me, so I figure it's best to take things easy before I actually make a move. I don't want to scare her off, you know?"

"...mhm," The other Rottytops slowly turned her head in a mirror of how Cadaver had done so moments earlier, and suddenly she had flashbacks to when she asked Sky about why Shantae was so shy around her. And also felt incredibly judged, for some reason. "Say, out of curiosity, when did this shyness start?"

"Oh, that?" Cadaver thought for a moment, tilting her head. "I took a blow from a Naga for her in a temple - Shantae had been running ragged from going through all the traps in the place, so she didn't quite react to the thing as fast as she usually did, and I stepped in. Took my arm off, but I returned the favor and then some right afterwards. Still remember how awestruck she looked, back then...she'd been a little wary of me sticking around the party before then, but after that? She was happy to include me, albeit with a bit of an issue approaching. Why do you ask?"

"No particular reason. Just got an actual answer to my question from earlier," The other Rottytops nodded sagely.

"What?" Cadaver squinted, looking at her other self in confusion.

"Balance of the universe. Balance of the universe is what's going on with you," With approximately zero elaboration, the other Rottytops started walking away. "Gonna go do a few stretches before we head out. Nice talking with you!"

"Wait, what? What are you..." Cadaver blinked, trying to decipher what the hell that meant, before something clicked in her head. "Wait. Do you know why my Shantae's so shy with me?"

"Yup!" The other Rottytops turned her head, giving Cadaver a view of the shit-eating grin that she now had. "Don't worry, you'll figure it out! You'll just want to bash your head into a wall afterwards!"

"What?" Cadaver squinted, trying to make sense of her other self, but all she got in response was a resounding cackle as the other Rottytops walked away. She still waited to see if there was going to be an actual answer, but after a few moments, she sighed and turned away. At least she got more out of that than she did with Sky. Still, though - you'll figure it out? It couldn't be that obvious, could it? She was so certain there was some sort of complex reasoning behind Shantae's shyness, it couldn't be that simple. Like, say, if Shantae was attracted to her, she'd be able to recognize that for what it was, right?

...

...Oh.

OH.

Her alternate self was right. She did want to bash her head into a wall.

--

This April Fool's fic will be continued...next week!

[tommarvoloriddlesdiary]

Sometimes Harry was prone to tossing and turning.

Night's clutch was ruthless and unforgiving, promising always the long restless drag of pitch-black wakefulness. His body was unable to get comfortable, unable to keep his eyes shut even with yawns so wide tears fell from them. They stained his pillow, leaving it damp and wholly unpleasant. As though he needed a reason, or to try any harder, to lose sleep.

With a sigh, Harry wasn't surprised to find himself in that state once again this evening. His reluctance to use dreamless sleep had only held firm by the sheer inability to make a halfway-decent potion himself. His ever-faithful (and surely disapproving of potion addictions) house-elf made it impossible to purchase them elsewhere, and Harry had tried one too many times to smuggle them away from Kreachers' keen eyes. He swore the elf had the nose of a bloodhound. Nothing got passed him.

On nights such as this, Harry would hazard an attempt to reach out to Ron or even Sirius if it was early enough. He couldn't simply lull to sleep with a long talk, but the comfort and warmth of their soothing voices made it a near thing. So he cast a tempus and—

Frowned when he saw a bleak 02:46.

All right, so Hermione or Remus it was. They were most likely to still be awake with their head in a tome, after all, but they were also a riskier bet. Their concern outweighed the potential for a relaxing conversation. It was always harder to admit what was happening when confronted with Hermione's nervous nail-biting and 'Oh, Harry...'s, and Remus' worried frown and soft eyes.

But with his hand halfway to the floo jar, Harry paused.

There was…one other person.

Someone who kept odder hours than Hermione, Remus, or even Harry himself. In fact, he was nearly certain this particular person never slept at all. But there was no way Harry could just floo call this late at night, right? That would be outrageous. No one but his family or friends would answer him this late and—

I do not have friends, Harry.

And they weren't friends at all, but—

But Harry was calling out, "Slytherin Manor," before he even realised it.

In the broken haze of what could no doubt only be described as the prelude to his inevitable demise and undoing, Harry felt like an idiot. The green-licking flames of floo fire were never warm or scorching, but his embarrassment lent a hand to be a mimicry of its sibling's blazing red-orange heat.

What in Merlin's name was he thinking?! People didn't just call up Voldemort! People didn't just call up the Dark Lord. Harry vaguely realised the sort of double standard he was encouraging, considering Voldemort could damn well call up whomever he wanted whenever he wanted and had done so to Harry now more times than he could count. But! That was clearly different!

Right?

Harry thought back, thinking of Voldemort's claims of checking in on his Horcrux and the shoddy attempt at hiding his desire to simply check in on Harry, that they were. And was once again reminded of that Christmas they had spent together under the guise of ministry paperwork, Voldemort's need for company (and maybe just Harry's company—but he wasn't ready to think on that quite yet) rivalling his own.

So maybe Harry wouldn't get cursed— or worse, laughed at— in the face of his attempt to reach out. Maybe Voldemort wouldn't even answer.

"Harry?"

Fuck.

"Hi," Harry started. Voldemort's head didn't appear in the flames, so Harry assumed he must have answered from a distance. Maybe he caught the call by chance? Honestly, Harry had never gotten over his surprise that he even had access to Voldemort's floo. How many people could say that?

I do not have friends, Harry.

Fine. It was a dumb question, Harry knew. But the pleased (scary) feeling in the deep of his stomach didn't lessen with the acknowledgement, even if it was for a ridiculous reason that only Voldemort would think up. Something like giving Harry open floo access because he didn't trust Harry to protect himself. As though Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived (one title of many), would inevitably be under attack one day, and Voldemort just expected him to floo on over no big deal so the big scary Dark Lord could protect his Horcrux.

"Harry," Voldemort repeated, exasperated. How many times had he called Harry's name?

Harry, still sort of distracted by his thoughts, replied, "Yes?"

"Did you call to sit here in silence, or did you have something to say?" Voldemort questioned. And really, it was a good question because Harry wasn't sure. Sometimes that's what they did, Remus or Hermione, when the questions (interrogation) ended, and they were simply left with the desire to keep Harry company. To not let him feel lonely while trapped awake and unable to rest.

"I…" Harry thought long and hard about what he would say— should say, "called to say hi." He hit his forehead with the flat of his palm and dragged it down over his face. Clearly, not long and hard enough.

There was an eerie pause, and Harry wondered if that was that. Voldemort probably silenced his floo and carried on doing… Well. Whatever it was he did at 3am, and Harry would have to suffer the embarrassment of this moment on top of his inability to sleep.

"Move," Voldemort's voice suddenly sounded much closer.

"What-" Harry started backing away, scooting on his rump and using his arms to help pull himself as the floo flames rose to an impressive height. He had the startling realisation of what was happening just seconds before Voldemort appeared through the fire.

Unsurprisingly, Voldemort didn't use the floo like any normal person. He did not arrive coughing or soot-covered or with the air of pretentious flawlessness that a wizard trained in the fine art of fire travel since birth would have. But he did arrive with an easy sort of controlled grace. Like the flames and bricks of the hearth would never dream of making his travel anything less than prompt and efficient. Or like his magic would only allow total obedience and mastery over something even as simple as floo travel— actually, that last one seemed most accurate.

Harry just knew that if he'd attempted the same, he would have wound up face down on the floor, maybe in another country. Anyway, all of these runaway thoughts were doing an outstanding job of distracting him from the fact that Voldemort was once again in his home and that Harry's response to this unexpected visit was to continue sitting on the floor in his pyjamas and look up at him in startled shock.

Voldemort kneeled on one leg and carefully examined Harry's face. Finally, he leant back and tilted his head once satisfied with his thorough appraisal. "You are not drugged," he said.

"What?" Harry asked again and spluttered out, "Why would I be drugged? Who would drug me?"

Voldemort seemed to give the question some serious thought, "You are impervious to the Imperius, and I can think of several ways someone could get you to ingest, touch, or inhale an unknown substance. As for the why and who, would you like a list?"

Harry glared and summoned his glasses—which he immediately regretted because now Voldemort's face was right there in front of him in clear, perfectly crisp quality. Being this close to him should be very illegal. Harry couldn't pinpoint when he'd started to get so jumpy around Voldemort, but it felt like a recent development in their strange…relationship.

Harry didn't think that was the right word. It was more like they were two planets that happened to share an orbit. Though that somehow seemed even worse. Maybe they were stars in the same constellation? Two bright gas giants like Castor and Pollux, mirrored but distinct.

He stumbled up onto his feet and looked down at Voldemort with his arms crossed as though the thin sleeves and his tight hold could shield him. "No. I'm good without a second opinion on who would like to kill or harm me." Although, Harry wouldn't be surprised to learn that that list was very real. "I guess I should have phrased my question different— why did you think I was drugged?"

Voldemort had that quiet amusement floating through their bond, the kind Harry couldn't spot without the liquid-like tingle that spread slowly in the very back of his mind. He gracefully stood, and Harry lamented the short life of his high ground.

"You floo called me at the notoriously potent witching hour, claiming you only wanted to 'say hi'." Voldemort's raised brows and pointed look said far too much with so little, "I have not lived this long on spite, Harry. I am reasonably distrustful of most unusual occurrences and feel it unnecessary to point out that this is highly unusual."

Harry would feel very embarrassed if he weren't hung up on the fact that, "You came over because you're a paranoid bastard and thought I was going to kill you?" He wanted to say he couldn't believe Voldemort would think that, but it would be a lie. Of course Voldemort would think that. Of course.

"No, Harry. I came over because I'm a paranoid bastard and thought you were sent to distract me as an outside force readied itself for a full-on strategic attack on my manor or through your floo connection." He paused as if to let that sink in and continued, "It is what I would have done."

Crazily enough, that answer was better. And Voldemort smiled teasingly, probably feeling Harry's relief—if it wasn't already clear as day on his face—and added, "Alas. You appear to be yourself. So to what do I owe this call, Harry?"

Harry sighed, a grin fighting its way onto his face. "I really did just want to say hi, you know."

Voldemort hummed, unconvinced, "And I attend wizengamot meetings for the scintillating conversation and their prompt effectiveness at passing completely reasonable, not at all biased, bills. Do we plan to exchange blatant lies all evening?"

"Well," Harry faux pondered, "considering it's early morning, I think we can skip all that." Then he turned, walked out of the parlour, and waved a hand over his shoulder, "Come on. If you're going to be annoying, then at least have the decency to do it over tea."

The amusement pooling in the back of Harry's head was much louder now. As he set about starting the kettle— and kept one eye on Kreacher, who looked about ready to keel over at the sight of (not only Harry doing anything for himself but) Voldemort sitting one leg crossed over the other at the kitchen table— and picked out two large, proper mugs, Harry debated over what to tell Voldemort.

How did one explain restlessness to someone who didn't require rest? How did Harry go about breaching the topic of nightmares and phantom pains to the person responsible for half of them? Harry didn't think it fair to place that burden on Voldemort now. Especially with how different he was and how hard he was trying to be better. Be more.

Harry was pretty sure he didn't even hold it against Voldemort anymore. It'd be like reprimanding a puppy for something it had done over a week ago. Or, in this case, trauma dumping all the bullshit a murderous dark lord had done to him on the very same dark lord who was incredibly insane at the time of inflicting said trauma.

The kettle whistled, and Harry finished up preparing their tea the way they liked it. Harry's, with a small amount of milk, and Voldemort's, who simply preferred a spoonful of honey. Though, he rarely allowed himself the delight for some odd reason. Harry figured he thought it was some misguided show of weakness and kind of wanted to strangle that out of him.

With mugs finally placed and Harry comfortably sitting in the chair closest to the still-warm stove, Voldemort spoke. "Your thoughts are buzzing like Cornish pixies. I cannot say I personally have ever felt so… indecisive," he sipped his tea slowly. Harry wondered if all of Voldemort's careful pauses were intentional or if they all held such gravitas because it was—well, because it was Voldemort. "Harry?"

Harry tilted his head, confused, and said, "Yes?" It wasn't like he hadn't been listening. It was very rare that Harry found himself distracted from Voldemort; if he ever was, it was typically by a Voldemort-related train of thought. So that hardly counted.

Voldemort's silence transition to something thoughtful. "I tend to be singular with my curiosity of you. This results in my insistence on answers, prying them out of your mouth because I cannot pry them out of your thoughts." Harry clung to each slow spoken word with his complete focus but sorely wanted to laugh. They both knew that if Voldemort were determined enough, he'd easily be able to get anything he wanted out of Harry. "All of that to say you need not answer my questions at once, but you do need to answer them. Fortunately for you, I am a patient man."

Harry laughed, "Are you going to sit here and wait around all morning, then?"

"If I must." Voldemort looked very serious. Harry was almost flattered.

"Even if I don't tell you anything?"

Voldemort's face screamed how doubtful that was, but he replied, "Even then." Damn, Harry was definitely flattered.

After tossing his thoughts back and forth a few more times, Harry safely said, "I couldn't sleep."

Voldemort stayed silent, probably expecting Harry to continue on. He shrugged, "That's really it. I couldn't sleep." But Voldemort was far too good at waiting Harry out and simply sat across from him, quiet and intense, elbows on the table and eyes locked to Harry's own as he squirmed and eventually caved.

"Fine! This has been an ongoing thing. I've been dealing with something like insomnia for a while, I guess, and usually, I call up Sirius or Ron, but after a certain hour, they're both out cold. So that leaves Hermione and Remus, who are great and kind and just so concerned, and I didn't want either of them to sit there and look so worried and disappointed and—" Harry took a deep breath to cut off his longwinded spiral. Voldemort was looking at him with a sudden understanding, and Harry could almost hear the 'Ah' like it was said aloud. "And…and I know you don't get much sleep either. So…" Harry trailed off.

Voldemort gave an understanding nod, and for a second, Harry thought he would make a small throwaway comment, something like a joke. Harry even felt the start of it bubbling through their bond, but that now familiar amusement faded into something softer. Something Harry couldn't quite put a name to. Even though their connection was always so much stronger when they were closer together.

"You are welcome to spend your evenings and early mornings with me, Harry," Voldemort quietly murmured. And his eyes were much darker in this light, the red hardly noticeable, appearing almost like a warm spiced brown. Almost like a steeped tea. "You are always welcome…and to much more than that."

And you are so much more.

What could Harry even say? How could he reply to that? Did Voldemort hear how that sounded? Did he even realise? Harry's heart felt like it had stopped beating, but also like it was beating so hard it could cause tremors to the earth. Was he shaking? Was his house shaking?

Voldemort stood, and with a quick flick of his wrist, his and Harry's mugs floated delicately away. He took Harry's chance to reply with them. "Let's adjourn to my manor and talk more there. I have documents needing some minor attention that I wish to finish, and I see no reason we cannot kill two snidgets with one stone, so to speak." Voldemort sighed before adding, "Nagini has also been rather persistently asking after you. She would enjoy your visit."

Harry's strained laughter didn't seem to phase Voldemort as he held out his hand to help Harry up. And thank Merlin for that. Harry didn't think he could move even if his life depended on it. Maybe Voldemort had cast a jelly-legs jinx while Harry was gazing into his eyes, petrified.

Harry took Voldemort's hand and at once startled at his warmth. Voldemort ran cool on a good day and downright icy normally. Harry suspected the hot drink couldn't have lingered this long and wondered if Voldemort had cast a charm on his hand after noticing Harry's slight chill. His small reluctance to leave the cosy heat radiating from the stove lessened, and he held Voldemort's hand a little tighter, a little longer than he probably should have.

Time slowed for just a moment when Voldemort appeared almost surprised by Harry's grip. His eyes caught and lingered on their held hands (and with a softness Harry really should be used to by now—maybe even come to expect); Voldemort ran a slow, exploring thumb over the back of Harry's knuckles. He traced their small peaks and valleys over and over until he finally rested his attention on Harry's ring finger. He dragged one long line down it as he released Harry from his hold.

Then without a single word, Voldemort trailed out of the kitchen, looking back only once to tilt his head and motion for Harry to follow.

And what else could Harry do but follow? Voldemort had taken with him Harry's heart, after all. Stole it right from his chest with a simple touch.

Harry wasn't sure he wanted it back.

[totowlff]

chapter one — wasting precious time

➝ after a completely disastrous date, cassie makes a decision that will change her life

➝ word count: 5,1k

➝ warnings: swearing

➝ notes: this project is something I've been developing with @formationlaps​ and it's one of the things I've been most excited about in recent days. a warning, just for context: the story takes place in 2017, and the chapters do not have a regular time gap between them, as in star-crossed. we hope you like it as much as we do!

It was a very dull Friday afternoon, and Cassie was trying to finish up work for the day, not that there was very much going on. She had a slide deck to finish up, and some copy from one of her coworkers to proof, but none of it was urgent. She played with her necklace — a small silver charm with an engraving on it — as her mind wandered, trying to imagine what her plans were for the weekend without a race to watch. 

She worked in marketing for a motorsport racing team. Not just any racing team, the three-time double world champion Mercedes AMG Formula 1 team. She was going on her 7th year with the team. She started with the team as a marketing intern right after she finished her degree at Cambridge, soon after the Brawn GP team was purchased by Daimler and became Mercedes GP. 

Cassie remembered her parents being horrified, not only at the fact that she’d joined the management course at Cambridge instead of just doing the Classics course like was when she’d started university, but at her getting an internship, and even worse, a job.

She was living the kind of life her parents dreaded her living; she was 35 years old, single, and had no children. But, she had built a life she’d liked, which was the only thing that mattered to her. She had a great job that she loved, an adorable flat in Oxfordshire, a good group of friends, and an active social life. She traveled quite a bit, too. She didn’t have much of a relationship with her family anymore, aside from an aunt, and her younger sister. She went on occasional dates, but hadn’t found the man she wanted to be with forever. She’d broken up with her last serious boyfriend going on three years ago.

Cassie was distracted by her phone vibrating on her desk. She flipped it over to check her notifications, and saw that she had one from Tinder. She hated dating apps, but that seemed to be the way to meet people nowadays. Once in a while, though, prospects were promising. She was most recently talking to a man named Peter. He was a few years older than her, but he was kind and funny, and they seemed to have a lot in common. They’d been messaging each other regularly for the past week, and their conversations had gotten surprisingly deep for a dating app. Cassie had really taken a liking to him already, and looked forward to seeing his messages. They hadn’t met up yet, but the message he’d just sent was him asking her if she wanted to meet for dinner the next night.

“I made a reservation at Pierre Victoire”, he wrote. “For 6pm, tomorrow night, so I hope you like French food.” 

“I love it,” she wrote to him. Truth be told, she had no strong feeling about it either way, but she liked this guy, and really wanted their date to go well. Despite what she’d thought about her parents’ prescribed plan for her life, she had been thinking lately that finding someone to settle down with would be nice, and so would starting a family of her own. As long as her potential partner respected her independence, and the fact that she liked her job. She was never going to be a stay-at-home mother; she liked her job too much for that, and had worked very hard to get as far as she had.

Peter seemed to fit those requirements.

The next day, Cassie spent the morning lounging around her apartment, answering a few emails and tidying up a bit, washing the dishes from the night before and putting the clothes she had used during the week in the wash. She exchanged a few messages with Peter, who said he was looking forward to their meeting later. Cassie couldn't deny that she was starting to feel butterflies in her stomach.

During the afternoon, she devoted herself to preparing for her date. She drew herself a bath spending a while relaxing in the warm water mixed with the lavender bath salts she loved. After her bath, she put on some makeup and styled her hair, pulling it back into a relaxed ponytail.

The hardest part, in Cassie's view, was choosing an outfit. She had to pick something that didn’t clash with her bright red hair, and something appropriate for the restaurant. The bistro they were going to wasn't luxurious enough to require formal wear, but at the same time, she thought she should wear something nice, different from her usual work clothes, or the t-shirts and ratty jeans she liked to wear that her mother had always abhorred.

In the face of such doubts, there was only one person she could count on.

She picked up her phone from her  bed and tapped the screen a few times until she found the name she was looking for. It didn't take long for the face of Helena, her sister, to appear on the screen.

— What's up, Cassie? — Helena said — Everything ready for your date?

She smiled at her sister.

— Not really. I’m actually calling you to talk about what I'm going to wear.

— Are you asking for an opinion? That’s unexpected. Usually you do whatever you feel like doing. Hang on  — Helena said. She turned her face to the side and said something to someone off-camera. It was probably Jack, her husband.

— It's just… The restaurant is casual, but not too casual, you know?

Helena scratched her chin.

— Perhaps you could wear a dress?

— In this cold?

— That’s what tights are for, Cassie — she laughed, before saying something to her son, Icarus, who looked like he was trying to grab at something he shouldn't.

After they discussed a few options, she decided to wear a moss green knit dress, paired with thick black tights and tall black leather boots. It would go well with her black scarf and the black peacoat she had. Helena wished her luck and ended the call, to let Cassie finish getting ready.

The restaurant was fairly close to Cassie’s flat, so she didn't have to leave long in advance. After driving around a bit looking for a place to park her car, a silver Mercedes-Benz CLA 250 leased on the company’s generous leasing scheme, she managed to get a space in front of the Royal Air Force office in Oxford, walking the rest of the way to the restaurant by foot. It wasn’t far, but she was grateful that she’d opted not to wear heels.

As soon as she entered the establishment, she found Peter sitting at one of the tables against the wall, just below a painting of a pastry chef, scrolling through something on his cell phone. Walking over to where he stood, Cassie felt butterflies in her stomach.

— Peter?

The man stood up, smiling.

— Good evening, Cassie. It’s very nice to finally meet you in person.

She sat in the chair across from him, slinging her purse over the back of the chair.

— You look very beautiful. More beautiful than in the pictures.

— Thanks. You also look very nice.

They chatted for a while before a waiter approached them and asked if he could start the service.

— Yes, no problem — Peter replied — Oh, and the wine, as well.

The man nodded and walked away from the table, causing Cassie to raise an eyebrow.

— He's not going to bring out the menu so we can order?

— No, no, I've already done that.

Cassie blinked.

— You already ordered for us? — she asked, skeptically.

— Yes, I already placed our orders, just to make things a bit easier. You don’t mind, right? After all, I'm the one paying.

She felt her heart sink inside her chest.

— No, no, I don’t mind. I just wanted to know what they really served. I trust you. After all, not many people don't like pineapple on their pizza around here — Cassie replied, trying to lighten the mood. 

“I shouldn't have trusted him”, she thought, as the waiter brought the two plates of escargot and placed them on the table.

She hated escargot. She hated it to the point that she threw up at a dinner party put on by her father when she was a child. The dinner was in honor of a French businessman who had visited the family's country home in Chichester to buy some racehorses from her father. Cassie was quickly sent away from the table and went to sleep without dinner that night, as punishment for causing her family such embarrassment.

Taking a deep breath, she took a sip of white wine and picked up the tongs and fork. Cassie couldn’t refuse and risk the slight to Peter, who had probably chosen the dish to offer the most French experience possible. Scooping the contents out of the animal's shell, she felt her stomach churn. “Come on, Cassie, it's not that bad. Just focus on the garlic”, she thought to herself, lifting the meat to her mouth.

The earthy flavor, mixed with butter and garlic, was the same as she remembered from that fateful family dinner. Taking two bites, she swallowed the snail practically whole, trying to push away the memories that kept coming back to her mind.

— Very tasty, isn't it? — Peter said, smiling — I love escargot.

— I do too — she lied, scooping out the contents of another shell and bringing it to her mouth. “Only five more to go”, Cassie thought to herself, trying to suppress the urge to gag or vomit.

She managed to eat the rest of them with the help of a few generous sips of wine — at least the wine was good — and almost cried with joy when the waiter took away the escargot plates. Drinking some water to cleanse the awful earthiness from her palate, Cassie was taking in the surroundings when Peter cleared his throat.

— Well, since we're here, nothing better than taking the opportunity to get to know each other better. You went to university, right?

— Yes, I studied Classics and Management.

— Two very different areas.

— Yes — she laughed — My parents are pretty traditional, so they wanted me to study Classics, but during my third year, I decided to shift to management and marketing.

— Interesting. Why the change?

“I better not start talking about my parents now”, she thought.

— I just found it a little dry. A little dated, I suppose.

Peter smiled.

— And you preferred something more contemporary?

— Yes — Cassie replied with a smile — And I’m glad I did, because I ended up with a job I love.

— Where are you working?

— At the Mercedes F1 factory, in Brackley. 

He picked up his wine glass, nodding without much enthusiasm.

— Interesting.

The conversation continued until the main course arrived, filets of sea bass served with sautéed chorizo, crushed new potatoes, wilted spinach and chive beurre blanc. “At least it looks appetizing”, she thought, taking a bite of fish. After a few seconds of silence, Cassie decided to break the silence.

— And you, where do you work?

Peter looked up at her.

— I'm a solicitor. I work in an office right here in Oxford.

— That's cool — Cassie said — Did you go to uni here?

— No, I went to Queen Mary, in London. But I came here to sit for a specialization and ended up quite liking the city. I expect to be here for the rest of my life, or most of it — he replied.

— And what do you see your life looking like here in Oxford? — she asked, spearing a potato with her fork.

— Ah, I believe it would be working my way up my law firm, with my wife at home, taking care of our children.

Cassie blinked.

— Staying at home?

— Yes, but it would be something discussed with her, not imposed. It's just that, personally, I wouldn't want to see my partner working outside the home, especially in very… Masculine environments.

— Masculine environments?

— Yeah, like law firms, engineering firms, architecture firms… Formula 1 car factories.

Cassie dropped her knife and fork on the table rather loudly.

— Do you have a problem with my job? — she snapped.

Peter was staring at her, his expression slightly shocked, mouth agape 

— No, not at all, I even like Formula 1 a lot. I even think that new kid from Mercedes, as he is called… He won his first race last year, in Spain…

— Max Verstappen?

— That's right, Verstappen, I think he's a good driver, I like him a lot. I just think it's a very… Masculine environment and I wouldn't feel comfortable if my partner worked there.

— And you expect your hypothetical partner would quit her job for you?

— Well, if she loved me, I believe she would.

She couldn't help but let out a wry laugh.

— What if she wanted to stay at her job?

— Then we would have a problem, because I wouldn’t want my partner to not be at home, keeping the house, instead of traveling around the world, leaving me to take care of the children. Especially with so many men around.

— You mean you wouldn't trust your partner? Even if she loved you?

— There's no use in love, commitment is what is necessary. For me, commitment is supporting my career by being a good wife to me and a good mother to my future children.

—So, you require your partner to be committed to your dreams and wishes, but you are not committed to hers?

He didn’t answer.

Cassie took the glass in front of her and downed the rest of the wine in one gulp. Then she removed the cloth napkin from her lap and stood up, grabbing her purse from her chair.

— Where are you going? You haven't even finished your dinner…

— Honestly, Peter, if you had just told me you were a sexist asshole when we started talking, it would have saved us both a lot of time, and saved you some money — she said loudly, drawing a few looks.

— Cassie, I don't…

— Working in a male-dominated environment does not make me any less worthy than any other woman — she continued — I am very proud to work at Mercedes and proud of us being three-time double world champions. Not that you understand anything about Formula 1, do you?

— I do, I watch the Grand Prix every weekend…

— Then you would know that my team's drivers are named Lewis Hamilton and Valtteri Bottas. Max Verstappen races for Red Bull, and I’d hate it if he raced for Mercedes.

Peter's face was red, eyes scanning the room, seeing the other diners staring at them. People were starting to whisper.

— Cassie, would you sit down so we can have a civilized conversation?

—Is it really possible to have a civilized conversation with a man who thinks a woman's place is in the home, cleaning, cooking, and giving birth? — she said, raising her voice very intentionally — A man who doesn't care about the opinion of the woman he has dinner with?

— I didn't say that, Cassie.

— You didn’t have to say it! You simply decided what we were going to eat instead of asking my opinion!

— I decided on our menu because I know French cuisine and you don't...

She gave a sardonic laugh.

— How do you know I don't?

— Well, I assumed…

— I grew up holidaying in France! I've had more croissants in a year than you’ve probably had chip shop platters in your entire life!

Peter was staring at her with a shocked expression.

— Cassie, please…

— What? — she screamed.

— Let's talk in a more private place, more calmly…

Cassie knew that tactic. Her ex-boyfriend used to use it on her all the time. He would suggest that they go talk privately, so he could isolate her and talk down to her, making her seem like she was the unreasonable one.

“Not today”, she thought.

— You know what? Go fuck yourself, Peter.

She practically stomped out of the restaurant, slamming the front door quite abruptly. She didn’t even stop to put on her jacket, carrying it under her arm. Outside, the cold wind was buffeting against her, but Cassie couldn't care less. The irritation coursing through her body was enough to keep her warm. She arrived at her car, got into the vehicle, and took a deep breath.

Then she punched the steering wheel three times, getting all her anger out.

— Asshole, asshole, asshole! — she repeated, anger permeating her voice.

After a few more punches to the steering wheel and a few minutes of deep breathing, she felt better. She drove back to her apartment in absolute silence, not even bothering to turn the radio on.

Cassie arrived back at her apartment, peeling off her boots by the front door and kicking them off with little care as to where they landed. She dropped her purse on her coffee table. Before she sat down on the couch, she went to the fridge, spotting what she was looking for right away — an unopened bottle of sauvignon blanc she’d bought on her last shopping trip. She took a wine glass — an actual white wine glass, because she had separate glasses for reds and whites — out of her pantry and poured it with a fairly heavy hand. The glass was far fuller than would be proper, but she wasn’t sure she cared.

“Ah, fuck it”, she thought, pouring it almost to the top.

She didn’t drink regularly, even as a means of relaxing, but after such a horrific date with someone that she had such high hopes for, who turned out to be the latest contestant in the competition for Oxford’s Worst Man, she figured she deserved it. She pulled a large packet of crisps from her pantry and plopped down on the couch, taking care not to spill her wine. 

Cassie had intended to watch a film until she went to sleep — perhaps Love, Actually, never mind that it was a holiday film and Christmas had been two weeks ago, or Amélie, which she first watched in Year 11 with a French girl at school, but instead, she’d picked up her phone and started scrolling through Instagram. Despite working in marketing, she didn’t like posting much, but she did like to lurk and look at other people’s posts. She followed people she knew in person, of course — friends, some coworkers, people from other Formula 1 teams, and even complete strangers. 

She took a healthy gulp of wine and started scrolling as she munched on the crisps. Sauvignon blanc and Walker’s Cheese and Onion crisps probably were a pairing that would make her parents and their friends faint, but she didn’t care. She’d seen news reports about birth rates around the world falling to record lows, but Cassie would’ve never guessed that was the case, looking at her Instagram feed. It seemed like it was an endless stream of adorably-staged pregnancy announcements with sonogram pictures and tiny pairs of shoes, pictures of small children with birthday cake smeared over their faces, pictures of children meeting Santa.

Cassie never managed to watch anything that night — instead, two glasses of wine down, she was still scrolling through Instagram, with tears streaming down her face. 

She was never sure she wanted children. For a long time she didn’t, because her parents had expected her to start having them after finishing university and finding a suitable man to marry. By the time she finished university, at the institution they’d selected for her, because several generations of her family had attended, she wanted nothing to do with marriage or children. She’d studied management in her third year, which her parents did not approve of, and found that she’d had quite the talent for marketing. She took on an internship, ending up at a company where, for the first time in her life, nobody knew who her parents were, nor did they care. It was refreshing. The job was very interesting, and she was good at it, so when she was offered a permanent position after her internship ended, she jumped at the chance. She’d been at Mercedes ever since.

“Did I actually not want children, or did I just not want to give my parents what they wanted?”, Cassie thought, slugging back the last of her wine. She wiped the tears off of her cheeks and closed Instagram. It was only making her feel worse.

She looked at her clock, and realized that it was almost midnight — time to go to bed, anyway. She lumbered around her apartment, unsteady on her feet while going through her nighttime routine — brushing her teeth, washing her face… Drinking a tall glass of water and some paracetamol, as she knew she would certainly have wine-related regrets in the morning. 

She changed into her pajamas and laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling and letting her thoughts unspool in the darkness.

For a while now, she’d felt like there was a big gap in her life. Until now, it wasn’t obvious what. It was just something whispering in the back of her mind, lurking on the periphery. She had plenty of friends, she was able to travel — she’d actually recently gotten back from a holiday to the Swiss Alps, where she’d spent Christmas and New Years’ with some friends — but maybe coming back to her dark, empty flat every night after work was starting to wear on her. She didn’t really need, or want, a partner, especially if most of the available dating pool turned out to be like Peter, but her mind was starting to change on wanting children.

And she could handle raising a child, even alone. She had a well-paying, stable career, the benefits were generous, Mercedes offered maternity leave and some sort of childcare stipend scheme. And medical science being what it was, she didn’t even need a partner. She’d seen a documentary about the in-vitro fertilization process — it didn’t seem pleasant or easy, but it could work. She’d have some eggs collected, fertilized with donor sperm, they’d put the egg back in, and boom — nine months later, she’d have a baby! She could even pick the father out of a catalog, which certainly sounded better than finding one on a dating app, considering the one that came from the catalog wouldn’t be around to make her feel worthless and miserable, like Peter likely would have, and like Callum did. 

Callum was the last serious boyfriend she had. They’d broken up three years ago. He was very handsome, with striking blue eyes and straw-colored hair. He was intelligent and kind, and he made her laugh. He was a fantastic cook, and had incredibly soft hands. She’d known him from university, and their paths happened to cross again when he took a job as a laboratory researcher and instructor at Oxford University. He was an astronomer, and did things with telescopes, lots of maths, and old computer systems that Cassie didn’t really understand, but they bonded one night when he snuck her into an observatory at Cambridge. He turned on the planetarium so they could “stargaze”, looking at stars and constellations. She told him the stories of the figures from Greek and Roman myths they were named for. They shared their first kiss under the fake starry sky that night, but ended up losing touch after graduation. He got a job at Oxford University, and, knowing she lived and worked in the area, looked her up. They reconnected and ended up dating for a long time, and were to the point of discussing engagement and marriage. She had even given him a key to her flat, and he would stay over frequently. He gradually started becoming controlling, interrogating her about all of her comings and goings, telling her that she had to stop talking to certain friends, questioning her about anyone she interacted with. 

Meanwhile, he would be out until all hours of the night, even when he wasn’t in the lab, without so much as a phone call to tell Cassie he’d be out, so she would worry about him. He was spending time with “the boys” — so he said. When she confronted him, Callum made her believe she was being selfish and trying to control him, while also calling her a bunch of very nasty things. They began to have fights regularly, until one day, she broke down and cried at work when he’d called her in the middle of the day to scream at her over some WhatsApp messages he’d found on her laptop. He’d come to her flat while she wasn’t there, for God knows what reason, and had guessed the password to her computer. She’d been talking to a friend of hers about what to do about him, and she encouraged him to break it off with him. 

She tried to remain calm, lest she look unprofessional, as her desk was in the middle of a floor filled with other cubicles, so she ran to find an empty conference room for some privacy. Callum screamed at her, she screamed back. Her emotions got the better of her and she started sobbing. Cassie realized that Callum was trying to control her, just like her parents had when she was younger. She yelled at him to get out of her flat or she’d call the police, and then hung up. She continued to cry, until she heard the door to the conference room opening behind her. She whipped around to see, to her horror, Toto Wolff, the CEO and owner of the company, walking through the door.

— Toto! I… Uh — Cassie stammered, trying desperately to scrub the tears from her eyes.

— I’m sorry, I thought this room was… Oh, no… Are… Are you okay? — he said, concern filling his brown eyes. 

— Sorry, I… I just had something personal come up and wanted some privacy, I’ll go back to my desk now — Cassie said, hurrying to get up from the chair she was sitting in.

— No, I’m sorry, Cassandra, take all the time in here that you need, I can find another conference room. Unless… Is it something I might be able to help with? This might be too forward of me, but, you know I’m happy to talk to anybody here who needs someone to talk to, whether it’s a work-related matter or not.

Cassie sighed as she walked to the door, stopping in front of Toto. 

He’d started on as team principal and CEO a year after she’d been hired on permanently. Cassie didn’t interact with him one-on-one on a regular basis, usually only in marketing meetings with the rest of her team. She was not one of the people that regularly traveled to the actual Grands Prix. Her direct boss, Victoria, did, and she and the other people that did always spoke very highly of him. 

Her interactions with him had always been positive — he was always very friendly. The company had changed dramatically after Toto, and his business partner, Niki Lauda, took over for Ross Brawn, and for the better, in Cassie’s opinion. Plus, he was, also in Cassie’s opinion — and the opinion of pretty much everyone else in the company — rather easy on the eyes. 

He was tall and lean, but had some muscle, especially on his arms and shoulders. He had a handsome face with a strong jawline and a very distinctive nose. He had dark brown eyes that always looked warm and kind, and thick brown hair that he was constantly running his hands through, especially when he talked to reporters. He had a voice that was deep, but gentle at the same time. He had an excellent sense of humor. He was from Austria, and had an accent that Cassie always thought was charming, especially when he couldn’t remember a word in English and had to try and explain it in German. It was well-known that he was single and didn’t have any children, but nobody in the office could figure out why.   

— No… It’s silly. Just… Relationship stuff — Cassie said, averting her gaze to the gray carpeting on the conference room floor. 

— Hmm… It doesn't seem like it’s something silly if it’s making you so upset — he turned back toward the door, holding it open for her — Come with me. We’ll go downstairs and we can talk about it over some coffee… If you want to. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t feel comfortable doing so, but you certainly look like you could use a break, in any case.

Cassie looked at him skeptically.

— You don’t have a meeting, or something? Isn’t that what you were looking for an empty conference room for?

— Well — he said, a mischievous look coming over his face — Not exactly. I thought I heard someone crying as I was coming down the hallway, but wanted to give myself… What do you call it… Plausible deniability?

Cassie laughed, and walked out of the room behind him.

They sat in the small coffee bar in the employee canteen for a while. It was the first one-on-one conversation she’d remembered having with him, at least for an extended period of time. She was a little nervous about it at first, but found herself becoming more and more comfortable in Toto’s presence, to the point of eventually telling him about her relationship woes. Hearing about Callum’s behavior horrified him. 

— I know I am not what you would call a relationship expert, but I think you definitely need to end it with him. Change the locks to your flat, block his number, everything. And please, take a day off if you need to get it all sorted out — he said. He also mentioned some resources that the HR department kept on file that could help if things escalated.

Luckily, things did not escalate, and she broke things off with Callum that night. She did take Toto’s offer of a day off to sort things out, including changing the locks. One positive thing did come of it, though — even though Toto was technically her boss’ boss, he’d become something of a friend to Cassie, always making it a point to say hello and chat with her whenever he was onsite at the company’s Brackley headquarters. They started getting coffee regularly, too. Thankfully, she never had to talk about anything so dire as Callum again.

— Stupid Callum — she said, to no one in particular. The walls of her flat had no response for her. 

“Great, now I’m talking to myself”, she thought. “Maybe I should just get a cat instead. It would certainly be easier”.

She rolled over and set her alarm on her phone for the next morning — 11am. It was Sunday, and she felt like she’d need a bit of a lie-in, especially after having so much wine. 

Just before she fell asleep, Cassie opened the Notes app on her phone and made herself a reminder.

“Look into the IVF process/doctors in Oxford”.

[pbandjesse]

We got home from the Ren Faire about an hour ago. I have showered and eaten and feel very tired. But I did so good today. I had energy somehow and didn't feel nauseous until the very end of the day when we were back in the car. I honestly just had a lot of fun.

I wanted to sleep more. I ended up waking up a little before 8 and would spend most of the next hour just scrolling on my phone since I couldn't fall asleep again. I got up and took a shower. And was in a good mood.

I would braid my hair. I did two small braids on each side that I twisted and then pulled them to the back to add to the larger braid. And had an extra little braid behind my ear for fun.

I was slightly nervous about my outfit but it ended up working out so well. James would have our backpack with water bottles, snacks, and charger and would hold purchases as needed. And I would have my small hip purse with chapstick and all of the cash we were bringing.

James looked really handsome today. We still haven't been able to find our accessory box but we added some other belts and I think we did a good job pulling it together.

James made me an omelette and I ate it on the floor in our bedroom while I finished putting myself together. It was weirdly humid in here. Which was not comfortable when I had so many layers on. But it was fine. Eventually we would go outside and swing on our porch swing together watching TikToks until it was time to go.

I would have a little sandwich before we left. I thought it would be good for extra energy. And I'm glad I did because our travel time almost doubled what was expected and that was slightly frustrating.

We left a little after 10. James had cleared out the car so we could get the crib from Jess. And we started our journey. The original ETA was 1105. But slowly that time ticked up.

The gps kept changing the way we should go. There was an accident on the highway and we had to get off but it took off 12 minutes. The. We switched again. And again. I was trying to be chill. We had our own tickets. Things would be okay.

I let Jess know and she said their ETA was 1118. Which out was for a bit but then jumped to 1125. And we would finally get there, after being stuck in the line on the road to get in we would arrive at 1130.

We were going to try to link up so we could get the crib first but we were parked so far from each other so we would figure that out later. Instead me and James met Jess and her coworkers, Chuck and Emily at the gates.

I was feeling good. I was excited to just go and walk. And everyone let me just lead the way. Not that I had a destination in mind but I just wanted to walk and get the layout and see things. And it honestly worked out great.

It was warm today but not to bad. I was sweaty but it was the same sweaty I get at camp where I can mainly ignore it. Nothing to be done.

Jess, Chuck, and Emily wanted to get drinks. Chuck and Emily got mead and Jess got a bee sting. Which she shared with James. And we would go and find some snacks. We got fried Mac and cheese bites to share. We got 5 pieces so we each got one. Which was fun. They would have been improved by ranch dressing.

I think the one thing that would have improved today was more talking to Jess. But we were so much on the move and I think with the addition of the coworkers we were distracted. But I was just having a really nice time. Being with my favorite people.

We went to try honey. They had a cranberry one that was me and Jess's favorite. James would buy some buckwheat honey for cooking. And later when we went to pick it up (they let you leave it for pick up since it's glass and a little heavy) Jess would also get a jar of the cranberry honey.

I really wanted to find a new corset today. I've had the same white reversible one since I was 13. But I was slightly overwhelmed by options. I would check out every store that has them but I would wait until the very end of the day to actually pick one. We had a budget and I found ones much above and very below. But we ended up just in the middle which was really nice.

We would get fun drinks. James got a cherry limeade slush. I got a diet Pepsi. I would also get a broccoli cheddar soup bread bowl and Jess and coworkers got baked potatoes. Jess shared the baked potato with me. My soup was boring but her potato was great and I mixed a few spoonfuls into my bowl and that improved it greatly.

We would watch some shows. One was based off of Shakespeare but wasn't (?) Shakespeare. Unclear. But one of James's friends was in the show so that was neat.

I really wanted to play games today. I had given myself a little budget. And I would play the game where you smack a hammer to launch a rubber frog. I didn't get any points but I liked using the mallet. And then I played a game where I had to toss bean bag rats into buckets. I was also not good at that but I had fun.

I was in a great mood today. I was loving people watching. I was just having a lot of fun. We would take a cute little group picture. And walked the boardwalk. Me and Chuck went to the gem store to stick our hands into the buckets of crystals. It was great.

Eventually I found the place you can did the pan mining for gems and I got a bad of those and I ended up with some fun ones! A quartz. Tigers eye. Amethyst. Emerald. Some Jaspers. It was great. I'm going to frame those up I think. I may have another print box I can use in the studio.

The big thing we wanted to see today was the joust. Me and Jess usually go to the first joust. But today we were seeing the second one and that ended up being super fun for me. Cause it was different!

But we stopped for lemon sticks and fruit first. I got pineapple slices. Jess would give me the rest of her lemon stick once she was finished with it.

While we were getting our fruit James would go find some real food. They were the only one that hadn't had a real thing yet. They did get roasted cinnamon pecans, which they shared with me during the Shakespeare show. But they would go and get chicken on a stick and some potato wedges. And we sat on a bench near the joust to eat.

We would get a cute picture together on the lovers bridge. And I just felt so happy today. Secure in our relationship. I saw a couple have a screaming fight and it made me so sad. And I'm glad that our relationship has never been like that.

It was about 230 and the joust would be at 3. And we wanted to try and get seats in the shade. Which was a difficult task. The shade wouldn't actually come through until after 3 but I was able to lead us to the correct side of the field and they were pretty excellent seats. Even if the sun was killing us a bit for a while.

James would go and get us a rootbeer float to share. And Jess gave me her lemon stick. And soon the show started!

Our section was championed by Miguel. The forgotten prince of Portugal. And he did great. He won parts and it was very exciting. Keegan, who is our favorite, has better tricks in horseback, but Miguel was great and it was fun to cheer for him.

The game starts with large rings they have to catch. Then small. Then a course where they race each other. And then after a fake argument the joust starts.

But this is where it was different! The one rider plays dirty and cheats. And then everyone else leaves and came back very very dramatically on chariot! And there were sword fights on chariot! And then Miguel launched himself off the chariot onto the cheater! And then all of a sudden, during this sword fight, princess Luna comes back out and she has a gun??? And she shoots the cheater??? And I was like who gave Luna gun??!! And she sets up the storyline for the last joust of the day at 6 where there is a fight to the death between Miguel and the cheater. It was very dramatic and honestly the artistry of it was awesome. I loved the chariots. They kicked up so much dust but it was so cool looking. And by that time we were in the shade so we were all a lot more comfortable.

But the show was over. We would slowly make our way back to the markets. The main goals were to get the honey and find my corset. But we would do some other things too. We checked out the birds of prey. Jess liked the very small ones. I liked the one that sort of looked like a tiny vulture. She would also catch me up on some work drama. It was just nice to be together.

Jess wanted a juice. This would end up taking forever and I felt so bad that it was like the forgot about her order and then it ended up being mostly celery and it wasn't very good. Disappointing. She tried her best to drink it still but it was just not good.

While Jess was waiting with Chuck and Emily and James for her juice I went for a tiny walk to look at the corsets at a few shops over there. The first one was all Scottish stuff and they had absolutely beautiful pieces but they were all $345. And I would not feel comfortable with that at all. The other one I didn't like the textures and I felt like the staff was ignoring me.

I wandered a little and found a cart that sold hats and I decided I would get one when we were together as a group again. I wanted Jess's opinion on color and such.

I would get a pickle and brought it back to share with Jess. I only wanted a few bites. It was a very nice pickle but once I had had enough I gave her the rest and she was like amazing, I was trying not to eat all of your pickle. But that's why our relationship works so well.

I took them over to the hat cart and Jess and James helped pick the best color. And I felt very pretty in my new soft crown.

We would head to a book store that was next to the first corset shop. They had the best selection and I would have spent more time there when we checked it out the first time but it's very tightly packed and there were two many people in the way. But I got help from a woman who worked there this time. And she helped fit me and I found a black velvet one I really liked. I felt comfortable and like it could be used for lots of outfits and costumes. And it was way under my budget. I was very happy. And it went with my soft crown and I loved how my outfit came together today.

The last stop was to get the honey. James picked up their purchase and Jess got hers. But we were all done. Tired. Feet hurt. It was a long day. We were also all very dusty. So it was time to go. I made sure that me and Jess got a picture together. And then it was time to go.

We decided to meet at a gas station down the street to get the crib from her car to ours. And say final goodbyes.

We all struggled to get out of the parking lot. But we did beat them there. I had been pretty good all day but the walk to the car made me hotter then I had been all day and I stripped off a few of my layers. I was just very uncomfy. And pretty quickly I was not feeling the best. The air conditioning helped. Sipping water helped. But I was really excited to go home.

Me and James waited at the gas station. And when Jess got there we quickly moved everything and had hugs all around. She said she's excited to have me all to herself when we go to the beach in two weeks. And I absolutely agree.

We had a much easier drive home. James phone was almost all the way dead so we used mine and I was tired and just enjoying watching the scenery and listening to a podcast.

We got back here at 6. I was really happy to be back but when we got here poor Sweetp seemed so stressed he threw up right away. Just a little bit I was like. Poor baby.

I cuddled him for a minute. And James gathered themselves because they wanted to run to the grocery store and get gas for the car. But because their phone was dead they took mine and I had there's, just in case.

While they were gone I took a shower. Washed my hair. Noticed I had a blister on my foot. Ouch. Thankfully not to bad.

I went and got my tablet to watch a video and cut up a peach and sipped water. I was not feeling amazing in but I started to feel a little better.

James got home and I came downstairs to make a sandwich. They were doing some chores down there. They would make pasta. And eventually finished the laundry and came and joined me upstairs.

And that's where we are now. James is showering. I'm resting. I am very ready to go to sleep.

I am staying home tomorrow. And the plan is to have a nice lunch date with my husband and then we're going to the Halloween store. I really hope that all the energy I had today isn't totally zapped. We will see.

I hope you all had a great day. And that tomorrow is a beautiful one. I love you all. Goodnight!!